#cradle mall cluster

[sweaterregrets]

Heavens 12- Crack! That! Egg

[victoriadallonfan]

Snag, Rain, Cradle, Love Lost

[heyitschartic]

Thinking about Rains whole deal in Ward, and I think I would have liked to see the version where she just was never forgiven. I understand to an extent why Wildbow decided not to do that. Rain's main motivations are all supposed to be internal guilt, can't forgive herself even if others do, I get it. But, I think a lot of story beats would have hit better if there hadn't been that absolution of what she did.

And by that, I'm talking about beats like the girl at the trial telling Rain to forgive herself or the members of her cluster being turned evil by the mechanics (not a direct absolution, but it acts like one in a lot of ways.) Stuff like that defused a lot of the tension around her previous actions and relations with the Fallen.

It really takes away from what she did to them, and I think all that stuff would fit so much better if it just wasn't there. At the trial, people are furious at her. Snag, Love Lost, and Cradle don't hate her because they're evil, but because she ruined their lives. The three of them descending to greater and greater extremes isn't cause they turned into sociopaths, but a natural consequence of them losing everything they loved and cared about because of her. Rain's story becomes a reflection of Victoria's but from the other side of the mirror.

When Colt finally gets added to the cluster, imagine how much more impactful it would have been if, for once, someone could finally literally see things from her side. When Colt realized Mama Mathers was haunting Rain during the mall scene, it feels like something that should have been much more impactful to the whole dynamic in the cluster and their understandings of her, but it just didn't really feel like it mattered, because by that point they were already too far gone.

I didn't really like Rain when I first read Ward and I think this sort of stuff was a lot of the problem (also I like evil women and she's like the opposite of that, but nevertheless.) The story does a good job of building up her past and reasons she should be hated and makes a way for us to understand her actions. But, it feels like the story is also afraid to actually focus on those actions, focus on the human element of what she did, and so tries to find ways to resolve it without her input.

I think it does a disservice to her story and would have liked to see Rain really tackle what it means to absolve yourself to others when you have truly done them wrong.

[rotworld]

6: Ruins

(previous)

the kind stranger from the diner lets you stay the night and introduces you to his husband.

->sexually explicit. contains mild gore, mentions of hard vore, mystery meat, voyeurism/exhibitionism, implied pheromones, ambiguous consent, mentions of breeding, mild feral behavior.

.

.

.

Glenn does not hop into his car and lead you to his place. He gives you instructions—vague and contradictory, “you’ll know it when you see it,” with a knowing wink and a kiss to the cheek—and says he’ll meet you there. He does this because you’re in Verlinda, and he’s a local. 

Verlinda is further north, of course. Looking at your map, it’s nearly in the top left corner of the page. Some would call it the “city center” or “capital” if they used such terms, home of the Stag. But Verlinda is also the sea of green on the other side of a highway guardrail, the underbrush and turning leaves. Verlinda is every dried up factory town when the conveyor belt stops running. Verlinda is every cornfield when the last farmer dies. Verlinda is every dead mall and empty church, every old house with a coat of climbing vines. Verlinda is everything, everywhere, eventually.

“Sleepy?” the girl asks. She holds her takeout box of syrupy pancakes protectively on her lap.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Long day.” 

You see her nod solemnly in the rearview mirror. She gazes wide-eyed into the distance; looking west. “Home,” she says quietly. “Will home…want me?” 

“Of course they will,” you assure her. She meets your gaze in the mirror, frowning. Not sure if she believes you. “It’s something we all worry about,” you tell her. “But I know you’ll do fine. My friend, who has eyes just like yours? He still lives there. He makes sure everyone has what they need and no one feels left out.” You glance northeast. The pull is a dull ache in your chest, the bitter sting of loneliness. “Your home will want you. I know that,” you say quietly. “You’re very lucky.”

[NOW PLAYING ON THE RADIO: HOW DO BY SNEAKER PIMPS]

This town has been Verlinda for a long time. Cracked concrete gives way to gravel and paved dirt. Main street is a ghost town, gaping windows and leaf-strangled streetlights. An old sawmill buckles beneath the weight of the forest growing up around it, shrubs growing on the roof. Some things are preserved and repurposed. Tourist destinations like the diner have carefully maintained exteriors, the wild trimmed back but not fully tamed. 

By the time you stumble upon the cluster of old, overgrown cottages and mossy cabins Glenn told you to look for, it’s nightfall. The shapes that dart at the very corners of your headlights look animal, antlered and bushy-tailed and cloven hooved, but you never get a clear look. You drive very, very slowly, just in case something should wander into the road in front of you.

Deep in the woods, fenced in by evergreens and cradled by tendrils of ivy, you find the place. Glenn is standing out in front, having beat you here despite the distance. Three excitable children sprint after each other across the yard, yelping and laughing. All four of them turn at the sound of your car approaching, eyes eerily aglow as your headlights pass over them. The house is dark inside, weeds and thistles growing up to the windows.

Glenn walks over and you roll your window down. “Where do you want me to park?” you ask.

“You’re fine where you’re at,” he says. You’ve barely pulled out your keys before he opens your door and the girl’s behind you. “Anything you need carried in?” 

“I’m good, I travel light.”

The children are triplets, looking remarkably like one another and Glenn, all redhead boys with bushy curls and sharp-toothed smiles. “Dad!” they shout, practically trampling each other to be the first to inspect you. They wave at the girl but only stare at you. “Dad,” one says, pointing at you, “is this dinner?” 

Glenn laughs heartily and ruffles his son’s hair. “Dinner’s cooking, isn’t it? These are both guests,” he stresses the word, his tone slightly scolding. “Don’t you remember what I said about couriers?” 

“That there’s…not a lot?” the boy asks.

One of his brothers pipes up, “Not enough to hunt. Population’s too low.” 

“Exactly right.” Glenn starts herding them to the front door, gesturing over his shoulder for you to follow. You hesitate. It’s your first time inside a Verlindan den, but you were explicitly invited. You take a deep breath. The girl looks nervous but she follows you inside.

It’s pitch black inside. There’s an earthy smell, soil and forest, and the faint coppery odor of blood. You hold out a hand in search of a guiding surface, a wall, furniture, something to get your bearings. There’s the hissing scratch of a match being struck and you see Glenn ahead, lighting candles. Slowly, the dark melts away. You’ve walked into a cozy living room. Most the furniture is wood; an antique dish cabinet, a pair of bookshelves, a long table in front of the fireplace. No couch and no chairs, you notice, just a series of rugs, blankets and pillows strewn across the floor. No light fixtures either. You suspect there’s no electricity. 

There’s a muted thunk in the next room. The clatter of a cutting board and the slippery sounds of meat.

“C’mon in, make yourself at home. Set your bag down wherever,” Glenn says. He fusses with the blankets self-consciously, pushing them into more nest-like piles and fluffing the pillows. You see one of his kids pick something up off the floor and trot over to the girl.

“This is my pillow,” he says shyly, “but you can use it if you want. It’s really soft.” The girl watches him carefully, primary eyes narrowing. “Look, it’s got you on it!” He turns it around, showing her the little butterflies embroidered on the end of the pillowcase. The girl takes it from him very carefully, touching the black and orange threads of the butterfly’s wings. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. 

Glenn gives you a brief tour, guiding you around with a hand on your lower back. “Bathroom’s over there,” Glenn he says. “Ah, remind me to light a candle in there. Guestroom is upstairs but you can sleep wherever, just let me know if you need more blankets, pillows, anything like that. We’ll be down in the burrow. There’s room if you’d like to join us but it’s no problem if you like your space. Kitchen’s right over here but, ah…” 

There’s another hard, meaty thunk. Glenn steers you back towards the living room. The triplets have coaxed the girl into laying on the floor with them, paper and colored pencils scattered around. They draw triangular trees, squiggling rivers, and eerie-looking deer with strange antlers. The girl draws home. She gives the smiling people more details; more eyes and more legs. The house with a chimney is at the top of a hill.

“That’s Albie,” Glenn says quietly, gesturing to the boy who gave up his pillow. “And that’s Archie and Arden.” He watches them with proud eyes and a sad smile. “Their mother passed a few years ago. Killed on the road. She’s buried under the willow out back.” 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you say. 

“We’re alright now. We’ve had time, closure. The Stag made it right.” He pauses, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “You know about that, don’t you?” he asks, lowering his voice further. There’s a threat lurking in the words. “You know the law of Verlinda. You’ve never hit anybody, have you?” 

You swallow hard. “Never. I swear.” Courier training is minimal. As long as you have a driver’s license and a pulse, anyone can risk their life on the road. Nobody bothers to teach you much or tell you about local customs. This is the one thing they tell you before your very first delivery, a precaution learned from decades of mistakes and misadventure: the law of Verlinda is vengeance. If you see an animal on the road, you let it pass first. If you hit one, it’ll be the last thing you ever do.

“Aw, I’m just teasing you, courier. You’re a good sort.” Glenn chuckles and squeezes your shoulder. “I’d have known if you’d hit somebody. Wouldn’t need to ask.” 

He turns his attention to the kids lying in a circle, showing off their drawings. Arden has doodled what looks like a pickup truck lying on its side, billowing smoke. The figure beside it is shadowy scribbles, hunched and satyr-like, twisting horns and bloodied claws. “Papa’s awesome!” he tells the girl. “He’s really strong and fast and he knows how to fix the holes in my socks and make big blankets from a bunch of little squares.”

You hear a sharp crack and something peeling apart in the kitchen. Water runs in the sink. Slow, heavy footsteps draw closer and an enormous figure saunters out of the dark. “Glenn,” you hear, a low, gravelly rumble. 

“Hall,” Glenn says, grinning. The man looming at the entrance to the kitchen is much larger than Glenn, taller as well as wider, towering over both of you. Biceps bulge beneath his tight, short sleeves but he’s soft and pudgy around the middle. His hair is long, a loose braid dangling nearly halfway down his back, neatly shaved stubble dotting his chin. 

He’s wearing an apron that’s spattered, top to bottom, in blood.

“Papa, Dad brought guests,” Archie says, using the same careful enunciation his father did earlier. “That one, too.” He points you out specifically. “That’s a courier. So no eating them.” 

“I’ll try to keep it in mind,” Halvard rumbles. That’s a joke, you think. You hope it’s a joke. Halvard walks over to shake your hand and you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. “Call me Hall. Glenn says you’re staying the night.”

“If that’s okay,” you say carefully.

“Fine by me. Boys, why don’t you and the little miss play outside? I’ll call you back when dinner’s ready.” 

“But we just came back inside,” Arden says.

“C’mon,” Archie grumbles, getting to his feet. “They’re gonna talk about grown up stuff and don’t want us to hear.”

“Don’t go far,” Glenn warns. “And don’t go too fast. She can’t see in the dark as well as you can.”

“We know, Dad,” Albie says. He holds out his hand and the girl hesitates, glancing at you first. When you smile and nod, she gingerly takes Albie’s hand. He’s a little too excited and practically yanks her out the door with him, but you think you hear her giggling. The door slams shut and the children’s voices fade. 

“They’re good kids,” you say. “Nicer than some humans have been to her.” 

Glenn clicks his tongue. “Not saying much, I think. But I’m glad to hear it.” He wanders over to the fireplace and lights a pile of twigs inside, fanning the fire until it spreads to the larger logs underneath. 

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Halvard says, gone before you can decline. 

Glenn beckons you over to the fireplace and tugs you down onto the rug beside him. He’s piling blankets around you and on top of your lap, and you have the briefest flash of panic at how heavy they are, how easily he could lean in and tear your throat out and you’d be too slow to stop him. “So,” he says. “Tell us about yourself.” 

You shrug. You’re not really sure what to say. “I’m a courier, but you knew that already.” 

“Child of the road, too.” His eyes are brown but they look gold in the firelight, fixed intently on you. “Where’s home?” 

“I’ve never been there.” 

“Hm. That’s a shame.” He scoots a little closer, burrowing his hand into the blankets until he finds your thigh. His palm strokes up and down your leg gently. “I ask because I’m curious. Sometimes we have a sense for it and sometimes we don’t. You’re closer kin to me than the little one is, but it’s hard to tell. You’re…” He pauses. You hear him sniff the air. “You’re hiding it, aren’t you? Not letting it show.” 

“Glenn,” Halvard growls. He comes back with a large mug, something burnt gold and honey-sweet sloshing around inside as he sets it on the table. “You’re being rude.” His apron’s gone. You push back from the table, intending to move so he can sit next to his husband. He keeps you still with one large hand on your shoulder and sinks down on your other side. Between their bodies, the blankets and the fire at your back, you’re almost too warm, but the air is getting colder as the night goes on. 

“Sorry,” Glenn says sheepishly. “I know, that’s personal. I’m nosy is all. Maybe a little protective. Predator eats prey, and we eat predators. You smell like something I’d eat twice over.” His hand inches up your thigh, giving the lightest teasing stroke between your legs. “You got some sharp teeth, sweetpea, if only you’d let ‘em grow out.” You let out a gasp when he leans in further, nipping your ear, grinding his palm against your clothed sex. You can feel Halvard’s chuckle through his chest, warm and solid against your back. 

“You asked ‘em first, I hope,” he murmurs, reaching around you for the mug on the table. 

“Mm, I’m thinking we’re on the same page. But sure, I’ll ask.” Glenn catches your chin and pulls you into a hungry kiss, all tongue and teeth. He nips at your lip and coaxes you into opening your mouth wider, letting him in deeper. You gasp into the kiss when the hand between your legs gropes shamelessly, cupping you through your clothes. A string of saliva connects you when he pulls away. “How about it, sweetpea?” he says, stroking your cheek. “You wanna turn around, let me mount that sweet ass of yours?” 

You glance back at Halvard, just to be sure. He’s smiling lazily, eyes roaming your body while he takes a long gulp from the mug. His other hand slips into his sweatpants, palming a thick, twitching shape under the fabric. “Fair warning,” he rumbles. “He’s gonna wear you out.” 

Glenn smiles coyly, sliding his hand back down your leg. “Yeah, maybe,” he purrs. “But you’ll like it, I promise.” He grabs your ankle and pulls, sending you sprawling on the floor. You’re flipped over in a sudden, dizzying motion, climbing to your knees before a hand—sharper than you remember, the ends tipped with claws—grips the back of your neck and shoves your face into the rug. Glenn’s face nuzzles your nape and you hear him inhale deeply, pressing his tongue against your skin. “You smell like you’re in season,” he groans, scraping his teeth against your neck.

You manage to get your head turned just far enough to look up and see Halvard in front of you and shiver. His gaze is smoldering. He looks down at you with half-lidded eyes, pants around his hips, hand on his cock. It’s as big as the rest of him; round head, thick, bulging shaft, balls dangling fat and heavy beneath. He strokes himself from base to tip and you realize he’s still not fully hard. 

You don’t know what comes over you but looking at it makes your mouth water. “You’re just gonna watch?” you say.

You hear Glenn cackle behind you. He’s not undressing you fully, just tugging your pants out of the way and leaving them bunched up around your knees like a makeshift restraint. You think they look at each other—Halvard glances somewhere above you and his smile widens. “You say that like I’m not looking at the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he tells you. “Yeah, I’m good with watching. You’re giving me a break.”

You hear a belt unbuckle, clothes shucked to the floor. Glenn’s warm, naked body drapes across your back. He hikes your hips a little higher and kisses down your spine. His cock is hard and dribbling precum when he thrusts between your thighs, grinding his length against your sex in fast, rocking thrusts. “Gimme a drink, babe.” 

“Don’t spill it,” Halvard warns. He takes another gulp from the mug and then leans over you, his hand on the back of your head. You hear them kissing, licking and sucking at each other, while Halvard rakes his fingers over your scalp and Glenn fucks your thighs faster. Halvard’s cock is nearly in your face, bobbing against his stomach. He’s almost fully hard now and you have the sudden urge to take him into your mouth.

You never get the chance. They pull apart with a gasp and you hear what must be a growl from Halvard, low and feral. He settles back down in front of you, setting the mug aside. He’s watching intently, pumping himself in slow strokes. Glenn knocks your legs apart with his knee and he’s breaching you without warning, short, quick thrusts that get a little deeper each time. “Oh shit,” he gasps. “Fuck, you’re tight!” You feel him adjusting, shifting hips higher. Mounting you, just like he said he would. He’s moving fast and panting like he’s on the verge of cumming already.

And then he does. You freeze in shock when Glenn lets out a stammered moan, spilling inside you. It’s not much, just a small spurt, but you feel his balls draw up and his length pulse and twitch. He nuzzles his face against your shoulder and laughs breathlessly. Then he starts pounding into you again. You gasp and twist up the blankets under your hands. You hear him panting and groaning, the obscene, fast-paced slaps of his hips against your ass. 

“Baby, you didn’t warn them,” Halvard says, a lighthearted scolding he doesn’t mean. Glenn doesn’t answer. All of his attention and effort is solely on you, fucking you, breeding you, pistoning his hips and pounding the breath out of your lungs. “He’s gonna cum a lot, honey. Doesn’t mean he’s done. He won’t be done for a long, long time, so just try to bear with it.” He leans back, giving you a full view of his thumb teasing the tip of his cock. “You know the saying, right? ‘Fuck like rabbits?’”

Glenn is merciless. His hips don’t ever stop moving. They slow just a little when he comes, thrusts shaky and drawn out, but he starts right back up again and you feel like he gets faster. Your knees are going to be bruised or rugburned or maybe both after this, but right now, you don’t care. There’s just the heat and the friction, the squelch of cum foaming up around Glenn’s length, the slap-slap-slap of your bodies meeting. 

Glenn slips a few times, pulls out too far and his cock glides wetly against your skin, still rock hard somehow. He whines and starts sinking his teeth into you, playful nips turning to frustrated, angry bites. You have to help him. He’s too clumsy, his hips too insistent. You hold yourself open and press back against him, guiding him back to your sloppy hole. As soon as he’s inside you again, he cums. You’re not sure you can hold yourself up anymore. Your body starts to sag and Glenn follows until you’re both prone. He hooks his feet on the inner side of your ankles and pulls your legs apart even further, keeping you spread open while he humps against your ass. 

You’re starting to feel feverish, sweaty and overheated. You also don’t want to stop. Halvard’s hand speeds up and you feel his gaze burning into you both. “Maybe you should stay, courier,” he says. “Let my husband breed you every night after he’s done mounting me.” 

Glenn cums again just from the idea. He lays his hands on top of yours and changes his angle, rotates his hips just right, and grinds against the spot that makes your toes curl. When he speeds up again, you nearly scream.

“Just think about it, alright? Think about how fucking good you could feel all the time.” His hand’s drenched in thick precum and he’s still leaking more, squeezing himself at the base. He strokes himself hard and just as fast as Glenn fucks you, matching the rhythm. “I could mount you, too,” he murmurs. “Or I could have you in my lap. Hold onto your hips and fuck you stupid. I know you could take it, honey.” 

The fantasy sends him over the edge. He gets closer, grunting softly and muttering a curse as he pumps his tip right in front of your face. You squeeze your eyes shut as it happens. He lets out a low, rumbling groan and thick, sticky cum splatters on your cheeks and chin. There’s so much of it. Blood rushes between your legs thinking about what it’d be like with him on top of you instead, slamming into you, pinning you down with one strong hand, leaving you stuffed so full it’d leak out before he was done. 

You cum with a whine and Glenn follows right after you. The sound he makes is absolutely feral. He fucks you through it and kisses your neck, hips snapping against yours. You’re beyond exhausted, peering up at Halvard for help. He chuckles fondly, rubbing some of his cum into your cheek with his thumb. “Hang in there, courier,” he says huskily. “I’m sure he’ll be done eventually.”

*

Glenn intercepts the kids at the door. You can hear their voices muffled through the ceiling; Archer bragging about a toad he caught and Arden insisting he just saw it from a distance, that it hopped away before they even got close. Albie says the girl got sick and you sit up hearing that. Glenn murmurs something and there’s a long pause. 

“Aw, kit, that’s silk,” he says. “Was that the first time you’ve made it?” Another pause. “It’s nothing bad, but I bet it surprised you. Just means you’re feeling happy and safe.” 

“Don’t even think about getting up,” Halvard says, gently pushing you back down. The burrow is a dark, cozy basement room, a sea of soft things so thick you can’t see the floor. He’s been fussing over you since Glenn finished rutting, whisking you off for a bath and giving you a fresh set of pajamas. His, you assume, because they’re far too big to be Glenn’s. The fabric is soft and slightly floral scented. “You’re going to feel it in the morning.”

“I feel it now,” you mutter. 

Halvard settles in with you, pressing his fingers into the knotted muscles in your back. You melt into the touch and he makes a sound almost like a purr, kissing your shoulder. “Glenn told me you’re leaving bright and early. I’d try to tempt you to stay longer, but I know it’s urgent. But, honey, if you ever come back through here…” He turns you around, pressing his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly, shutting your eyes. “I know where to find you.”

(next)

[tadhgoftheforest]

Facing down the last summer of his—hopefully—final and last senior year at Hawkins High, Eddie Munson gets a job at the newly opening Starcourt Mall's Waldenbooks—like the closet nerd that he is. On break one day, he finds out delightedly that there's a campy nautical ice cream shop called Scoops Ahoy, which to his even bigger delight has Steve Harrington dressed up in the most childish, goofiest, Halloween style sailor's uniform. The sight of that uniform gets Eddie into trouble staking out Scoops everyday. Misunderstanding endsues and Eddie has to figure out how to get out of the mess his crush and that dumb uniform have gotten him into without outing himself.

=

Walking through the mall in the early afternoon, he'd thought no one would be here cause it was early. People had shit to do. But evidently not seeing as how it seemed to be fairly busy. It left him stepping around people and nearly running into a bunch of kids as they tore through the place shouting and screaming. The shrill shouting and screaming also directed him away from the side of the food court that had the Orange Julius and to the other side.

Brain still on the come up, it took him a few minutes to register that he'd sat in front of Scoops Ahoy!—a nautical themed ice cream shop. Eddie's jaw dropped, lips curling into an open mouth smile, as he stared at the place with glee. Absolutely horrifying. The biggest worst idea ever. He desperately wanted to know who was working there and what their uniforms looked like. He imagined that working at that place was literally the bottom of the barrel.

He'd shoved out of his chair and made his way closer, trying to get a glimpse of whoever was at the counter. Absolutely slammed, he couldn't see through the throng of people. So he snagged a table just inside and idly watched, jaw cradled against his palm, elbow jammed uncomfortably against the slick top of the wood table.

Taking gulps of his coffee, he watched kids running all over the store, pointing and shouting as they ordered what they wanted. Parents arguing with kids. Temper tantrums from younger ones. Giggles from clusters of girls as they talked with their heads together, sometimes leaning out of the circle to look at someone behind the counter before starting to giggle again. Some lothario must be back there, then. Anticipation sat heavily on his chest. He just wanted to see the uniform. Wanted a good laugh before he left. Because other than sitting here, waiting on the edge of his seat, there was nothing else holding his interest. He'd decided he'd head home for a few hours and loiter there before driving back to loiter here, but now in the company of friends.

And then the line cleared enough that he could see who was working. He recognized Robin from band. He'd been in band in middle school, interested in trying to play the drums. He'd been on his way out of middle, she just coming in. It's also how he'd met the other guys in the band. Gareth—also just coming in—had the most talent out of everyone on the drumline and had been the most interested when Eddie had started talking about the band. It's how he'd ended up with the younger, curly haired guy being in Corroded Coffin, demolishing the drums while he'd switched to guitar. But apparently him and Robin had made friends in band, so he'd heard and seen about her often enough over the past four years.

Buckley just couldn't win. First, she had that ugly green marching uniform, complete with feathered cap. And now this. A sailor's uniform. But not anything worthy and as professional looking at the marching band outfit, no. This abomination was closer to what he might find for Halloween.

He felt like the Grinch, mouth curling and curling and curling at the edges, delight just tickling his insides. Especially once he caught sight of who she was slinging ice cream alongside. Steve Harrington.

He needed a camera. Desperately. He had to have photographic evidence of the most perfect guy in Hawkins degrading himself like this for money. He had to be seriously desperate for money.

What started as delight quickly started turning towards dread, smile slowly falling off Eddie's face. He sat there watching, head in his hand, as Steve was flirting with a couple of girls at the counter. He looked bashful, boyish. Cute. His little white cap, shouting 'Ahoy', pulling his lion's mane of hair back and off his face. The way the little knot tied in front, almost comically long, made it seem like a boy playing at dress up in his father's clothes. He was smiling, laughing, biting his lip. Looking up from under his lashes as he scooped ice cream, hands out of sight behind the counter.

Fuck. God damn him.

Eddie shoved away from the table, chair screeching in the rancorous din of the lively mall. He quickly stood and hurried away, not quite jogging but definitely not walking away. He tried to keep his eyes to himself, but they lingered on Harrington, drinking in how boyish and cute he looked.

As Eddie nearly ran back to Waldenbooks and through the store and out to his car, all he could think about was how he was going to have to quit. He didn't think he could be in the same place as Harrington as long as he knew the man was wandering around looking like that while he worked. It was one thing to have an idle crush on the douchebag, undressing him with his eyes while at school. It was another thing entirely to suddenly not be free of his unfortunate crush even during the summer. And he looked cute! It was fucking unfair. He was so mad at himself. Not just for liking a straight guy, but an unfairly attractive straight guy that was an absolute utter dickbag. He had no right to look cute and attractive. Absolutely no right. You can't be hot and an asshole.

Read the whole thing at ao3

[nonplatonicsubtext]

🔥

the mall cluster?

god it was SUCH a waste what happened with cradle's character. the mall cluster in general but cradle especially. he's so fucking compelling and the dynamic with rain and the others is genuinely interesting and then it turns out uh oh he was just ontologically evil and infecting everyone else its SO boring. awful

[v1leblood]

i don't personally have an issue with the mall cluster bleedthrough plot point in ward, whether it was ambient or how it happened in canon. my problem is that cradles motivation and also his bleedthrough effect is being a twisted evil fucking cycle path whos Mad hes being made to experience emotions. it undermines Everything that he's an ableist stereotype

[brocktonbay]

This format is outdated but IT NEEDS TO BE DONE

[rainfrazier]

finished arc 16!

- the passage of time in wildbow stories is truly off the wall sometimes. a week ago they were in turbo jail in an alternate dimension, and then went directly into the teacher fight. this morning vicky and kenzie had a nice french toast breakfast, went to visit byron in the hospital, the gang had a quick fight with damsel and company, went to deathchester HQ, made a pit stop at rachel’s farm to reenact lord of the flies (i love the kenzie focus in these chapters), and then they all round out the day by hacking into the shard dimension. regular tuesday

- 16.8 was such a fucking good chapter and absolutely devastating. everyone reliving their trigger events IN THE MALL and then they all come tumbling out the doors and rain is just standing there laughing maniacally?? incredible. i felt like wildbow personally reached through the screen to punch me in the face like 10 times in rapid succession. the whole sequence from 16.8 through to the end of the arc is definitely one of my favorite parts of the story so far. the whole deal with rain/the cluster/the dream room has been my favorite aspect of ward, partially because i love rain, but also the dream room is just such a cool tool that wildbow uses very well as a way to explore the characters. i was afraid we wouldn’t see the dream room again after arc 12 but i’m glad it continues to be an important element as we move into the final stages of the story.

also every time we get new info about heartbreaker it makes me more glad that he’s dead.

- you have to admire cradle’s perseverance in continuing to be a Grade A Asshole and an absolute menace to the main characters even as he’s stranded in the middle of nowhere on an parallel earth. round of applause

- idk why i nearly burst into tears specifically during the scene where tristan is leaning over victoria trying to check her pulse and she’s thinking about how he looks like a true superhero and wanting to kiss him. like she’s literally on the brink of death and her mind is just so far out of its normal bounds. reading that whole section reminded me of khepri in a way and it made me really sad. also the kids’ heartfelt little goodbye speeches to each other were just so touching.

- [insert in-depth character analysis of tattletale here]

- cradle getting snagged on the shelving in snag’s space, giving the heartbreaksiders the opportunity to kill him?? huge shoutout to our boy in shard heaven. rest in pieces cradle you were a really cool character but man i hated you so much

- IT’S SHARDSPACE, BABY!!!!

- continuing to be extremely emotional about the vera twins until the end of time. from byron’s perspective, the last thing he remembers is probably getting blown up in teacher’s base and the first thing he sees when he wakes up is his brother, completely separated from him and helping him to his feet?? can you imagine. this is the first time in YEARS where they can finally talk to each other like normal or even just fckin LOOK at each other EYE to EYE even though its with the knowledge that byron’s gonna go back to being comatose as soon as the dream room ends. im not crying you’re crying???

^^^wildbow if i dont get an end-of-ward interlude of vista and byron in the puppy bucket i’m gonna

- damsel: “You’re all of the choices, already.  Find the face you want, move toward it, let it move toward you.  Pass each other.” (ah, literary themes!!)

- i just love the descriptions of the shards in these chapters and how they reflect their hosts. ashley’s shard looks like a burning ladder (fitting her theme of ascension), tattletale’s is an eyeless, mouthless woman constantly conjuring images in the crystals, victoria’s is a hollow shell of “glass, gold, and glory” with a glow from within

- SHARD FIGHT!!! surely victoria passing herself in the crystal (rad as hell btw) and summoning waste in the shardspace will have no effect on victoria’s connection to her shard or have any impact on the manifestation of her power in any way whatsoever. right

- oh no! defiant is mad no one invited him to the slumber party :((((

- oh the amy interludes. amelia “i don’t need therapy!” lavere: “I’d rather have Victoria back in her inhuman shape than not have her in my life at all.” (<- actual quote from the text!!) literally fuck off and die i hate her so much it makes me want to yell and scream. 

what *we* did *together*?? doesn’t count???? the degree to which she refuses to take responsibility or control over anything in her life is just infuriating. the failure to enact positive change because she refuses to see herself as anything other than a victim of circumstance. she is literally an antithesis to every theme of healing (funny that she is a healer whose power doesn’t apply to herself) and active personal growth that has been exhibited by the main characters throughout the entire story. “but i had a crappy childhood and no one supported me and then bonesaw came after me :(” like okay. that is true but that doesn’t give you a free pass to shirk complete responsibility for your own actions as if you never even did them in the first place?? rain was brainwashed into a cult and was forced to commit terrorism! he didn’t have control over that! but imagine if rain was just like “mmm yeah that really sucked for me personally but there’s nothing i can do about it now. clearly there is no way to move forward from this in a healthy or constructive manner. guess i will just be evil instead”. maybe amy should go talk to cradle and they can commiserate together about how it’s Not My Fault Why Does Everyone Hate Me.

AND we learn she touched victoria AGAIN in the shin prison. she messed with her brain and then she put it all back together again and was like “see? i am a Good Person :) i am going to get a good grade in being Hinged, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve” and then proceeds to take a piece of vic’s flayed skin and GRAFT IT TO HER CHEST so that she can carry victoria around wherever she goes?? hello????? i could write a ten page essay about my feelings on amy but it would just be the words “bite chomp kill” written over and over. oh and chris. man, i miss being able to have hope for him. like it’s actually sad to see him go down this path. chris and amy are literally the most horrible fucked up pair of characters to be working together. i hate it here. take me back to victoria POV

[blueincandescence]

“Homecoming” — Diana Prince & Steve Trevor

WonderTrev Week Day 4: Fanfic prompt domesticity

Summary: When Steve arrives unexpectedly to 1984, Diana takes him home. If you can call it that.

Word Count: 1330

Note: Made it with seven minutes to spare! I’ll try to catch any grammar stuff when I post on ao3 tomorrow. Night all and happiest of WonderTrev weeks!

Homecoming

Nowhere else to go, Diana brings Steve to the apartment ARGUS lent her. Homebase, the head officer called it. It feels as foreign to Diana as it must to Steve. Stark white. High ceilings. Steve looks up and around, his hands propped on the belt of his fanny pack.

Diana gestures. “It’s very modern. All the latest—” The bareness of the room makes her falter. “Everything.” Her rooms growing up had always been tidy but full of treasures. Woven blankets and blown glass figurines and weapons hidden from her mother, as cared for as any of her dolls or books.

Steve picks up a hardcover from the glass coffee table and thumbs through it. Sword to her throat, Diana couldn’t have come up with the title. ARGUS enjoys their props—of which, Diana has come to understand, she is a favorite.

Diana crosses to open the balcony doors. Sheer curtains lay flat and still in the humidity. “In springtime, there’s a breeze from the river. Autumn, too, they tell me. I haven’t been here long.” She doesn’t know why she is apologizing. What precisely she is apologizing for. 

The smile Steve gives crinkles his eyes, but his curved lips are pressed. He must have so many questions. He keeps them to himself.

While Steve does a circuit of the kitchen, touching dials and spinning knobs, Diana makes a phone call. Secured line, seven layers of code. She gives her account of the incident and the presence of a World War I veteran presumed dead sixty-six years ago. The clipped edge to her voice catches Steve’s ear. Diana stretches the phone cord around the wall separating the kitchen and the hallway and makes her briefing even briefer.

She glares into the living room. “It’s all wrong,” she tells her ARGUS contact. She means the attack, the motive they’re dreaming up, but also this place. If Diana had it to do again, if she’d taken an interest, she would have chosen a brownstone. Something turn of the century, half a century of renovations under its roof with mismatched furniture and a wall of books. Things she could point to as a clear line from Steve’s time to this one.

Diana disconnects the call. The cord vibrates. Steve is sheepish, caught in the act of plucking it. Diana hands him the receiver. “Press all the buttons you like.”

Clearing his throat, Steve instead places the receiver back in the cradle and takes his tour of the 1980s to the hall. He hangs onto the doorframe as he dips his whole body into the bathroom. He looks back at Diana, his lifted eyebrows a sweet complement to his awe-tousled hair. Steve points in the general direction of the toilet. Diana nods.

Diana retreats to the sofa to blow out a breath. There is so much she should be doing. So much she doesn’t understand.

Dear Etta, Diana narrates in her head, a habit she’d held onto for decades. I found Steve Trevor in the mall today. He remains as miraculous as ever.

“Lots of art.”

Steve’s voice startles Diana to her feet. “Excuse me?”

“Sor—” They’d exchanged so few words he needs to clear his throat. “Sorry. Lots of, uh, art.” Steve points backward with his thumb toward the cluster of Georgia O'Keeffes peeking out of her open bedroom door. 

“Those are mine,” Diana says brightly, grateful to have something. Diana ushers Steve to stand in front of the paintings. “Aren’t they wonderful?”

“They certainly are, ah, evocative,” Steve says, eyes crinkled. He inclines toward her, almost close enough to press foreheads. “Clio would have liked them.” 

Diana laughs. “Well, you know how I feel about censorship in art.”

Steve’s hesitation is a palpable thing.

“The National Gallery. Remember? You would like it even better now. No figleaves. So fortunate they rebuilt after the air raids.” 

“Air raids?” 

Too late, Diana recognizes Steve’s expression has slid from confusion to alarm. “Not our war,” Diana reassures him. “The one after.”

Steve looks down at his shoes. His toes flex beneath the white leather. 

Diana slides her hands into her trouser pockets to keep from pressing them through the wall. “Etta took me to the National Gallery,” she states, unnecessarily. Not Steve. He had taken her to Selfridge Department Store, Westminster, Paddington Station. To the pub where she would meet with their friends every Armistice Day for forty years. 

There was a time when Diana could have recalled each minute she spent with Steve Trevor in perfect clarity. The years had not blurred the memories. Diana had. Counting minutes only proved Steve right. They hadn’t had enough time.

The bright colors of dear Georgia’s work blur at the edges. How many more minutes had Steve’s return bought them? 

And at what cost?

Beside Diana, Steve holds himself still, but she can sense his eyes moving to her nightstand. In it, he would have found a watch she can’t bear to return, not until she knows—more. What Steve is looking for is not on her nightstand or her dresser or her walls. He’s looking, Diana realizes, for something missing.

“Bad luck,” Diana tells Steve. He should know that better than most. When he turns a questioning look on her, Diana explains, “Photographs. I rarely pose for them.” She rarely keeps them outside of a lockbox in London. Her memory is difficult enough to contend with. She gestures back toward the hallway. “I prefer my privacy.”

Steve nods and Diana closes the door behind them. Her hands tingle with adrenaline. So much she should be doing. So much she doesn’t understand. Diana follows Steve back toward the kitchen, lingering in the entryway. 

“Coffee?” Diana offers. “There might be something in the refrigerator.” She points. Diana winces when Steve opens the door, exposing little more than the light. “I’ll call for delivery before I go.”

The refrigerator door shuts. The freezer opens, blocking the clenched jaw Steve clearly does not want Diana to see.

Sighing, Diana rests her back on the wall, unable to face anything but the balcony. “I’m sorry, Steve.” Diana means it. She tries on an ironic little shrug. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know.” Steve’s voice is subdued, but he manages to hit that note of humor Diana missed. The freezer door shuts. The cabinet opens. “I know you have important things to do—that I’m—in the way. Like a child. Trailing after you. Pressing buttons.”

“Steve.” Diana angles back toward the kitchen. She hates that she didn’t anticipate this pain, head it off for him.

The silverware drawer rattles. “You were so much better at this than me. You strode down the streets of London with a sword. I have this—” The zipper of his fanny pack squeaks—“ridiculous thing.”

“Steve. Please.” Diana longs to comfort him. She can’t even look at him.

“I know I don’t belong here.”

Diana laughs. Shakes her head against the corner of the entryway. “I don’t either. Steve. You see that I don’t.” As quiet as Charlie in a confessional, Diana says, “And I’ve had a lot more time to adjust.” 

The shame of it stings. But telling the truth is its own kind of balm.

Steve leaves her to her quiet. The only sound from the kitchen is the clack of metal on glass. 

Curiosity and a moment to compose herself is enough for Diana to come into the kitchen. Steve sits at her table, waiting for her with a smile and a bowl of vanilla ice-cream. He pushes the bowl to the middle of the table and offers her a spoon.

“I should have looked in the freezer first,” he says. 

Diana accepts the spoon from Steve, her own smile spreading to match his. 

As they share the ice-cream, appreciative noises and clanking spoons and huffs of laughter as they duel for the last bite fill the apartment’s cavernous space. 

Diana doesn’t belong in this world. Steve doesn’t belong in this time. 

But eyes color of Themysciran waters and fingers caressing that secret spot below on her wrist is home enough while they have it.

[jessie-ewesmont]

i think the best thing about Cradle's chapter is that it confirmed that the entire mall cluster (even arguably Rain) were in some ways good people before the trigger. Like Ryan was a sociopath or at least someone with ASPD but he had clearly made an effort to become a better person over the years, but the three of them just became worse people anyway.

mall cluster said FUCK recovering lives!

[animationnut]

Piece By Piece: Chapter 11

Fandom: Red vs. Blue Rating: T (to be safe) Summary: Platonic Soulmate AU. Grif spent most of his life without soulmarks. He tried to convince himself that he didn’t care. He had his sister. She was more than enough. After all, what were the odds he would find his soulmates in the army? 

                                                     First Chapter

                                                   Previous Chapter

                                                       Next Chapter

The convoy of jeeps traversed steadily down the dirt path, thick tires crunching rocks and twigs into pieces. Grif drove the lead jeep with Carolina stationed at the gun mount. There were five other vehicles trailing behind them, carrying crates of goods looted from an abandoned mall. Supply runs were crucial missions, but also among the most dangerous. There weren’t many places left on Chorus to retrieve life necessities.

They were currently travelling through a forest, which meant they were in the home stretch of their journey. Thick trees loomed on either side of them, their leaves clustered together and making it nearly impossible to see through the foliage.

“We should have taken fewer cars,” muttered Carolina, her eyes continuously scanning their surroundings.

“We need these supplies, Carolina,” said Church, flickering above the ex-Freelancer’s shoulder. “What can you bring back with two jeeps?”

“A decent amount of potato chips,” voiced Grif, shooting a glance backwards.

Church let out a snort. “Because potato chips are so helpful during a war.”

“Hey, it would help me out.”

“Eyes front,” said Carolina sharply.

“It’s Church’s fault. He’s distracting me,” defended Grif, returning his attention to the road.

“Fair point. Epsilon, I think you should focus on monitoring the area.”

“I can monitor the area just fine from out here,” returned Church.

Ten minutes passed in unnerving silence. The branches creaked above them and the wind whistled eerily. Grif felt shivers run down his spine and he asked, “Can we keep talking or something? I’m seriously creeped out right now.”

“Talk about what?” asked Carolina with a slight laugh. “The weather?”

“Sure. I’ll start. It’s damn cold. Why is it cold? It was pretty nice when we were trapped in that canyon.”

“You’re probably still not used to seasons,” said Church with a snicker. “Those years in Blood Gulch messed you up.”

“Of course they did. They didn’t mess you up?”

“You can’t mess up what’s already screwed.”

“True that. Carolina, what messed you up?”

“The time I met you guys,” she deadpanned.

“That’ll do it,” agreed Grif.

Church’s laughter halted as quickly as it had begun. Tensing, he said seriously, “We’ve got company.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” said Grif in dismay. “This isn’t the kind of crap I wanted to talk about.”

“Jokes later,” said Carolina curtly. “How many?”

“I track three foreign vehicles trailing us. They’re approaching fast.”

“Where did they come from?”

“I don’t know, they just popped onto my radar. They haven’t been following us long, I can tell you that.”

“What do we do?” asked Grif, hands tightening on the steering wheel.

“Can we outrun them?” asked Carolina.

“With five jeeps? No. But we do have the numbers to fight them.”

“Then I guess it’s on.” Activating her radio, Carolina broadcasted to the other vehicles, “Heads up, soldiers. The enemy is approaching.” She waited a beat to process the data Church was transmitting to her. “They’ll be upon us in ten minutes. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

She relayed her plan and everybody got into formation. They clustered their jeeps on the narrow dirt road, creating a barrier. Carolina summoned a solider from another jeep to man their gun.

Grif cocked his rifle, heart thudding in his chest. “I just wanted potato chips.”

He, Carolina and the other soldiers stood in front of the jeeps, weapons at the ready. Clutching her grenade in her fist, Carolina said tightly, “How much longer Epsilon?”

“One minute. Counting down. Get ready to fire.”

“On my mark, people!”

Grif adjusted his stance, raised his arm slightly, and waited. The roar of the approaching vehicles rapidly got louder.

“Now!”

The first enemy swung around the corner just as they launched their grenades simultaneously. There was a great explosion that tossed the vehicle into the air, the backlash nearly knocking them to the ground. The car sailed into the trees, uprooting massive trunks with an almighty crunch. The two occupants of the vehicle struggled to remove themselves but were immediately shot down by Grif.

A spray of bullets went into the rising dirt cloud. The jeeps charged through, the bullets ricocheting off of the sides and windows. They showed no signs of slowing down and Carolina barked, “Out of the way!”

The soldiers frantically dove from their perches as the two jeeps slammed through the make-shift barrier. Four pirates immediate jumped out, gunfire and lasers echoing in the air. Grif hunkered down behind an upturned jeep and started firing.

“Carolina, we’ve got more incoming!” called Church.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” cried Grif.

“Hold your positions people!” hollered Carolina. “Church, where are they?”

“Two minutes out.”

“Get me there as fast you can. We’re taking them out before they can block us in.”

“There’s six more jeeps.”

“Then I guess you better have a pretty accurate path to get me through them.” Carolina did a quick scan of the battle. Halter and Gregory were on the ground, one bleeding from his leg and the other his arm. Rolland was assisting them. Grif, Johnstone and the other soldiers were keeping the four pirates at bay, who were proving tricky to eliminate.

“Grif, can you take command for a few minutes?”

“If I have to,” called back Grif, ducking to avoid a laser blast.

Church activated the suit’s speed enhancement and Carolina took off in a cyan blur. In the seconds it took to charge down the dirt path Church made his calculations, statistics and numbers racing through his mind. When he settled on a strategy that had the best possible results, he relayed the data to Carolina.

“Think you can follow this route without messing it up?” asked Church.

“So long as you didn’t make any mistakes.”

“Pfft. Like I ever make mistakes.”

The reinforcements rounded the corner exactly as Church said it would. Carolina dove to the left as the gunman started to twist his gun, which was aimed to the right. She attached a grenade to the first jeep and rolled to avoid an avalanche of gunfire from the second. As she slid to her feet she tossed a grenade into the middle of the path. Church activated the suit’s dome shield to guard her from debris as she raced forwards through the flames.

Two jeeps screeched to a halt to avoid slamming into the destroyed vehicle. Carolina launched herself over the warped metal and dropped two more grenades into the idle cars. The pirates scrambled to get out, but a few bullets from Carolina’s gun forced them to stay in place as the grenades went off.

The final two vehicles had driven on the shoulder of the road in order to get past. Carolina whipped around and lobbed another pair of grenades. Church disactivated her suit enhancements as a final cloud of orange and black rose into the air with a deafening bang.

Carolina paused to gasp for breath, hunched over slightly. “Good job, Epsilon.”

There wasn’t an immediate response, which didn’t cause her much concern, for sometimes he needed a cool-down moment. But he suddenly spasmed to life over her shoulder, his transparent form flickering in and out, his bright orange soulmark visible.

“Grif!” Church cried in panic. “He’s down!”

Carolina was sprinting down the path before Church finished speaking. For the first time her super speed didn’t seem to carry her to her destination fast enough. When she returned to the area where they were ambushed, Carolina’s eyes locked onto Grif, who was lying still on the ground. His helmet rested on the dirt next to his head, sitting in a pool of blood.

“What happened?” barked Carolina.

“A bullet caught him in the neck,” Johnstone said frantically, trying to stem the blood flow. “He’s not responsive.”

“Is he breathing?”

“Yes. I don’t think it hit anything vital—the blood seems to be coming from the side.”

“Rolland, what’s the status on the jeeps?” the ex-Freelancer demanded, trying not to let the fear show in her voice.

Rolland popped his head up from where he was working frantically under the hood of one of the jeeps. “Only one remained unscathed. This one is the least damaged out of the rest. Give me three minutes.”

“You have one.”

Carolina knelt next to Grif, who’s face was pale. Church had jumped from her armour into his the second she had gotten near. “If you put on his helmet, I can lock his armour down prematurely,” he said curtly. “It’ll keep his blood pressure down and vitals stable until we can get him back to base.”

“What about blood loss?”

“The healing unit in sim trooper armour is crap, but I can give it an upgrade.”

“Do it.”

Carolina grabbed Grif’s helmet and slid it carefully over his head. For a few more seconds, the blood continued to trickle through the seal. It ceased once Church got the healing unit running at maximum power.

“I can’t hold this for long. You need to get him home ASAP.”

“Rolland! That jeep better be functioning!”

“Ready to go, ma’am!”

Carolina and Johnstone lifted Grif up and deposited him in the passenger’s seat. Carolina climbed behind the wheel, Johnstone stationing himself at the gun. “Halter, Gregory, get in Rolland’s car.”

Halter and Gregory, gingerly cradling their injuries, settled themselves in the last operating jeep. Carolina looked at the remaining soldiers and said, “Backup will be arriving shortly. There won’t be time for another ambush.”

“We’ll be fine,” promised Lincoln.

Carolina pressed her foot against the gas and the jeep began to roar down the road. “Hang on Grif,” she muttered. “You’re going to be fine.”

…

Hours later, Carolina sat in her room, her hands going through the motions of cleaning her gun but her eyes were distant. She replayed the image of Grif lying motionless on the ground, a loop that wouldn’t stop no matter how hard she tried to distract herself.

She should have been there for him. She should have protected him.

Gritting her teeth against the rush of guilt that clawed within her, she dropped her empty gun on her mattress, hunching over to press her hands against her face. She took a few, deep breathes, trying to calm herself. She knew she couldn’t keep her emotions guarded against the others for long. They would come to investigate and the last thing they needed was more concern.

A knock sounded on her bedroom door and she straightened. “Yes?”

“It’s me,” answered Washington. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

The door slid open and Washington entered, his dirty blonde hair sticking up and the bags under his eyes seeming to be darker. Exhaustion seeped from him, underpinned with worry. “Hey. Everything okay?” When Carolina shot him a look, he flinched. “Right. Stupid question. It’s your turn to visit Grif.”

“Has everyone else had the chance?”

“Tucker and I are after you.”

“You guys go first,” said Carolina firmly. “You’ve known him longer.”

Studying Carolina intently, Washington said, “That may be true, but I doubt that’s the reason you’ve been avoiding the infirmary.”

“I haven’t—”

“The second Grif was in Dr. Grey’s capable hands, you took off like a bat out of hell. Plus the fact that you’re blocking off your emotions is a key indicator that something is wrong.”

Carolina let out a sigh, standing up and walking aimlessly around her room, carting her fingers through her long red hair. “Life was a lot easier when I wasn’t constantly soul-linked with people.”

“Was it better?”

“Hell no.”

Sharing that sentiment in spades, he asked gently, “What’s wrong, Carolina?”

“It’s my fault,” she said bitterly. “I left him.”

“To do your job,” said Wash sternly. “To save him and the others from surely being killed. You didn’t put that bullet into his neck.”

“No. But I brought him along.”

Cracking a slight smile, Wash said, “Food was involved. I don’t think you could have persuaded him not to go.”

Carolina laughed softly at that. “I suppose.” Features falling again, she raised her fingers to brush against the cursive writing on her forearm. York’s gold had long since faded to a charred black. “I can’t lose anyone else, Wash. I haven’t even gotten his soulmark yet.”

“You will. Because he’s alive and he’ll be awake soon.”

Washington reached out and set his hand against the middle of her back, where he knew his soulmark rested beneath the light blue sweater. Her negative emotions faltered slightly as his solid determination and comfort flowed through her.

Carolina sagged against Wash, lifting her hand to rest overtop his left one. Her despair flowed through him, the grief and guilt not just from her failure to protect Grif, but from the mistakes of the past that loomed over her like a dark shadow. Washington was steady against her emotional turmoil.

‘Nothing is your fault.’

‘It’s not yours, either.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. It was a conscious effort I made to shoot Donut.’

The regret that stabbed through Carolina was deep. ‘Donut got over it pretty quickly,’ she returned. ‘Pretty sure he doesn’t cuddle with people he doesn’t like.’

‘I don’t know if Donut is capable of dislike,’ said Washington in amusement.

‘It’s hard, Wash. If I had listened to York…maybe…’

‘Maybe. But maybe not. The Freelancers…we all screwed up. Some of us more than others. But things happen for a reason. Not even you can stand against fate and win. You have to move on, Carolina. Not completely. But far enough where you don’t blame yourself every minute of every day. We did a lot of things we aren’t proud of. Maybe we can’t atone for them. But we can be better.’

‘How do you do it?’

‘It’s not easy,’ Wash admitted, and if Carolina searched further into his soul, she knew she would detect the same darkness that plagued her. ‘But the Reds and Blues…they don’t let you mope. They don’t leave you to self-destruct. So if you insist on blaming yourself, go ahead. But keeping yourself isolated is only going to result in Caboose barging in here to hug you until you’re happy again.’

‘That might take quite a bit of hugging.’

But despite her words the stress and tension in her shoulders eased and she let out a long sigh. Feeling her negativity quiet down Washington stepped back. “Go see Grif.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

She gave Washington an affectionate punch to the shoulder before striding out of her room. She navigated through the twisting halls to the infirmary, where Grif had been laid up the past few hours. She was just outside of the medical unit when she ran into Tucker and Church, the latter hovering over the former’s shoulder.

“Hey!” exclaimed Tucker. “I was wondering what hole you crawled into.”

Carolina’s eyebrows flew up. “Excuse me?”

“Your hole.”

Tucker’s eyes then flashed with mischief, realizing the almost endless possibilities of sexual jokes he could make. Church cut him off before he could utter one word. “Don’t you dare. Or I’ll else I’ll help her tear your tongue out.”

“You can’t do crap,” he snorted. “You’re a hologram.” An electric charge suddenly ran through his body, one that was not nearly as pleasant as the one he felt when soul-bonding with Lopez. He yelped in pain. “Ouch! What the hell, man?”

“Can’t do crap, huh?” said Church smugly.

“Ugh, get out of my armour!”

“You off to see Grif?” asked Church, ignoring Tucker and directing his attention back to Carolina. “The answer better be yes.”

“I am. But I heard Tucker hasn’t, so you can—”

“Shut up,” interjected Tucker. “This is the first time since you dropped him off you’ve gotten anywhere close to him. You’re not chickening out now.”

Bristling, Carolina snapped, “I’m not chickening out. You’ve known him longer. You deserve to see him before I do.”

“Is she always this stubborn?” asked Tucker in annoyance.

“Yes. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“You are such hypocrites!” said Carolina in disbelief.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we were talking to you,” said Tucker snidely.

It was by the grace of Church’s heightened observation that allowed Tucker to duck the punch. He immediately sprinted down the corridor, both of them cackling as they went. They didn’t look back to see the smile split across her face.

She entered the infirmary and went to Grif’s bedside. He had thick bandages wrapped around his neck. His face was still as he slept, chest rising and falling. His heart monitor beeped steadily, Carolina tracking the lines with her eyes.

He looked much better than when she had last seen him. She leaned forwards, studying his face. This was one of the few chances she got to see him without his helmet. Reuniting in the middle of a brutal civil war didn’t leave too much time for reconnection.

“Your breath smells like strawberries. You better have brought me strawberries.”

Carolina reeled back with a startled yip. A small grin worked its way across Grif’s lips as he slowly peeled his eyes open. “Morning, gorgeous,” he quipped.

“You ass!” said Carolina, the joy rushing within her overriding indigence. “How long have you been awake?”

“Literally minutes. I saw you come in.”

“I’m going to get Dr. Grey. She should check you over.”

“I’m fine.”

Grif went unheard and Carolina retrieved the resident doctor. Dr. Grey performed a thorough check of his injury and vitals. Satisfied that his condition was stable and his recovery would be nothing but uphill, Dr. Grey ordered Grif to be bedridden in the hospital for one more day before he could be released.

Grif pulled a face as she went to check on her other patients. “Thanks, Carolina. I could have been out of here.”

“Until she wrangled you back,” returned Carolina. She pulled a plastic chair right up to Grif’s bedside and settled into it. “How are you feeling?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

His voice was hoarse but he didn’t seem to have trouble speaking. Carolina still wasn’t convinced. “Are you in any pain?”

“Carolina. I’ve been run over by a tank. I’ve been shot by a tank,” emphasized Grif. “I have been through worse. I’m also pumped full of painkillers. I don’t think it’s possible to feel pain right now. Where are the others?”

Carolina sprang to her feet. “I’ll go get them for you.”

“Whoa,” said Grif, surprised by her quick reaction. “There’s not a hurry or anything. I was just wondering.”

“They’ll probably want to see you.”

“They know I’m awake. They can feel it.”

They could. Delight and relief were coursing through Carolina, mingling with her own emotions. It was difficult to tell them apart—she was still getting used to the permanent soul-links. She slowly sat back down, Grif watching her intently.

“Any particular reason you were about to take off?”

“They should be here,” muttered Carolina, running her fingers through her hair as her stress began to mount. “Tucker hasn’t even gotten the chance to see you yet.”

Grif stared at her for a moment before letting out an exasperated sigh. “You’re having an emotional crisis, aren’t you?”

“No!” said Carolina immediately. “Of course not.”

“Bull,” said Grif bluntly. “Wash has had enough of them. I know what they look like. It’s not your fault I got shot, Carolina.”

“I should have been there for you,” she said tightly.

“You were. You got me here.”

“I didn’t do enough to protect you. I need to be better. I could have lost you. I—”

Her frantic words were cut off when Grif abruptly reached out and grabbed her elbow. Carolina’s breath caught in her throat as her soul surged, tangling with Grif’s. A rush of fond exasperation curled through her. It was the trust that caused her to tremble, the full faith he had in her and her abilities to keep him and the others safe.

Her hand wrapped overtop the bandages around his neck. Grif met her despair with affection, smoothing over the rough edges of the emotion that rose within him. He could smell pine needles and rain-soaked earth. Slowly the despair receded, replaced with delight and happiness. There were layers of her soul entrapped in darkness, of past grudges and ruined relationships that haunted Carolina. But as Grif returned to the surface, he saw a lot more of the light, light that was slowly burying the darkness. She loved them and she never thought she would feel love again.

‘You know you’re one of us, right? No matter what you’ve done.’

‘I treated you horribly when we first met. How can you forgive so easily?’

‘I don’t know if you noticed, but we treat each other like crap. Have I mentioned that Sarge shot me with a tank? On purpose?’

‘I don’t deserve a second chance.’

‘You know what? That’s not for you to decide.’

Their souls clicked and Carolina lifted her hand, a wide grin on her features and her eyes misty. Grif let out a sharp breath, his soul tingling and vibrating and feeling like it was going to travel right out of his body. For a moment it was hard to get in any air. The sensation passed and Grif collapsed against his blanket, bones sagging as the positive emotions of his soulmates continued to churn through him.

“It’s because you have all your soulmarks.”

“What?” asked Grif in puzzlement.

“You felt overwhelmed for a second, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tucker, Donut, Sarge and the rest—they had the same expression you did when they received my soulmark. Simmons could only figure it was because all of the soulmarks have filled in and your soul is responding to the completion.”

“Uh…that’s not a normal soulmate thing, right?” Grif furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember that happening in any textbook.”

“It isn’t’,” confirmed Carolina. “You guys have a habit of doing the impossible.”

“We,” corrected Grif.

“We,” repeated Carolina, smiling.

She was finally home.

[floofsta-x]

Les Feuilles Mortes ✿ [M]

genre;; realistic fantasy (yes, I know that’s a contradiction). Plant spirit!Kihyun, plant dad!Hyunwoo

pairing;; Son Hyunwoo / Shownu x Yoo Kihyun [Showki], Mentions of side Hyungkyun

plot ;;

The sight of the three tiny, wilted sprouts in the window of the antique store pricked at Son Hyunwoo's heart. Little did he know that this dying plant was much more than it seemed...

⚠️ warnings;; be prepared for a feels trip y’all--this has one-sided pining, some cute fluffy/slightly smutty moments, heartbreak, and ultimately major character death

words;; 15,385 (15k)

author’s notes;; soooooooo yes. This fic was a feels trip for me to write. It was the second of @shinigamibutterfly’s three prompts for the @mxficx Spring Fling Fantasy fic exchange. (I think I’ve tagged the right person...if I haven’t let me know. ://) I absolutely fell in love with this idea! I hope you enjoy!

“Wait. Say that again. You want...what?”

“One of the plants in the front window.”

Though he chuckled good-naturedly, the man behind the old, scratched countertop was clearly confused and in disbelief. His eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. “Sir...I’m sorry, but they’re display pieces, there for atmosphere, you know? I’m not sure if I can give them to you.”

It was a chilly autumn afternoon. Though the wind outside was frigid, the sun kept everything inside the small, shoddy antique mall warm. There weren’t many shoppers wandering around today. Those who passed wrapped themselves tighter and spared no second glance. So, understandably, it had been slow and boring. Well, up until now.

“Please? I’ll pay,” the customer pleaded and proceeded to name off a price that was a tad high for a potted plant. Truly struck dumb this time, the employee, a veteran manager of the store named Seungho, shook his head a bit. Also, he took the opportunity to glance the man across the counter over again. He was young and strong, with a handsome face and lithe body. From the way he carried himself and the circumference of his biceps, it was clear he took pride in himself and his fitness. So, why had a few leaves and some dirt piqued his interest? Others of his age and type would be out doing more masculine things, and not appraising decorative flora in store windows. That was something reserved for old ladies and other crazy people. Tree-huggers, maybe. However, he was here asking, and it was clear that he meant it; the only way to describe the look in his eyes was plaintive.

Of course, Seungho’s first instinct was to say no, but something stopped him. Hesitating, he sighed. In all reality, it didn’t matter. Money was money, and who was he to deny such a fervent plea? If the boss really wanted to, he could just buy another plant with the funds from selling this one. “Alright, alright.” Grabbing the keys to the display case from their peg, he led the customer back up to the front and unlocked the enclosure that looked out onto the street. After stepping around some of the displays, knick-knacks clustered around, he made for a large, healthy Peperomia near the middle.

Just as he was reaching for the gold foil pot that contained its roots, however--a tapping from behind him made him stop. When he turned, Seungho met the eyes of his customer, who frowned a bit and shook his head. “No?” After a few more attempts at picking up different plants resulted in the same thing, the manager resorted to pointing. A cast iron plant? Dieffenbachia? Philodendron? Anthurium? Each time, the customer frowned a bit and scrunched his eyebrows together.

Finally, it seemed that he had enough, and he poked his head into the space. “No, no, I mean the small one...on the end.”

Somehow, Seungho instantly knew the very thing he was talking about. That plant? Surely, this was all a joke. He made his feet move, walking over to where the row ended. There, behind a big lamb’s ear, was a tiny pot and plant, no bigger than the palm of his hand. The poor thing was dying, if not already completely dead, its thin shoots tan, and brittle leaves drooping sadly. He picked it up and gestured in the customer’s direction. “You’re offering almost forty thousand won...for this?”

A laugh flew from the customer’s mouth, and his face lit up. “Yep, that one. No tricks, I promise.” Without a moment of hesitation, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans and drew out a leather wallet.

The employee’s eyes grew wide. “W--wait. No, it’s okay. I--I’ll let you have it for free.” He sighed, and made his way out, handing over the little pot. “The boss was telling me I should get rid of it. Honestly, I don’t see what you’d do with a dead plant.”

“Oh, no, it’s still alive,” the younger replied confidently. It fit into his large, gentle hands almost perfectly. He gave a handsome grin and brushed one of the stems with a finger. “Just needs some care, that’s all.”

By this point, the shopkeeper believed that this guy was simply crazy. He shook his head and gave a small sigh. “Even if you’re right, you’d have to be a miracle worker to get it to grow. Probably be better off planting something else in there, like a cactus.”

“I have a way with houseplants. Maybe I am what this little guy needs.” The man chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want the money? I’d gladly pay--”

“No, don’t bother. It was bound for the trash, anyway.”

“Thank you so much, sir.”

“My pleasure. Enjoy the rest of your day, and feel free to come back if something else interests you.” As the customer turned, the employee gazed at his wide back and thick arms. They were a direct contrast to how he was handling the plant. He was gazing down at it almost reverently, and he shifted it to one palm, moving to cup the top with the other.

What a strange young man.

Son Hyunwoo leaned into the glass of the door, pushing it open with his shoulder. The bell overhead gave a merry ding, but the fierce fall wind overpowered it in a second. Boy, the gale was quite strong today; it could carry a smaller person away. Days like this made the young man grateful for his broad frame. Sheer force pushed him along. Heaven forbid, it might also cause him to lose his precious cargo. Tenderly, he cradled the small terracotta pot in his hands, holding it close to his chest. Every once in a while, he took a glance down at it. Three slender, brown stems poked up from the dry dirt. The tiny shoots looked like they could break at the slightest touch.

If he was to be completely honest, he couldn’t even explain to himself why he’d picked up this plant. Maybe it was how small and sad it looked, or how it was so different from the other, healthier potted greenery in the shop window. If he’d tried harder, he might have resisted the urge to save it, but that apparently wasn’t what the fates had in mind. After staring for a bit too long, he'd stepped inside and approached the man at the desk. Perhaps it was force of habit.

Yeah, yeah, Hyunwoo knew he didn’t look the type. He was twenty-four, a freshly-graduated university student, and finishing up an internship at a marketing company. In his free time, he liked to jog, though he didn’t have quite as much stamina as he used to, when he played on a city championship-winning club football team. Every day at six am, he hit the gym, pumping iron for an hour before going to work. Though he was proud of his strength, most of the routine was solely to keep up old habits and cherished friendships (He quite enjoyed the company of Lee Hoseok, his friend from high school and fellow gymaholic). When Hyunwoo was home alone and didn’t have responsibilities to attend to, he read, danced, and sang. Most considered these things to be feminine or weak. He reveled in them, though, and could care less what other people thought of his hobbies.

As it turned out, another thing he loved was taking care of plants. This wasn't the first time he had brought a particularly neglected specimen home with him. Hyunwoo had a collection of greenery rescued from doorsteps, living rooms, shop windows, and even a bar or two. Ever since he was a kid and helped his grandma keep an indoor garden, he had a soft spot for anything that grew out of the dirt. She passed away during his second year of university, and soon after, he'd obtained his first brown-spotted cast iron plant at a friend's party. Everyone thought he was drunk when he asked if he could take it home, but that wasn’t it; he hadn't even had a beer yet. The owner of the place gave him permission, and after that, he’d wanted to get out of there straight away. Hyunwoo carried it back to his house, watered it faithfully, and pruned the most wilted leaves. Within a month, it was flourishing proudly in his entryway. There was something about tending to plant “friends” that put him at ease. Also, this was his own way of remembering his sweet Nana.

The longer he stayed on the street, the more the itch to get off of it intensified. Glancing both directions, Hyunwoo broke into a half-jog and hurried across the asphalt to his car, parked nearby. As he reached into his jacket pocket for his keys and popped the door of the sedan open, he had to fight the draft. It caught and tugged on everything--the car door, his jacket, even his nose and eyes. Hyunwoo was sure that his hair would be messed up majorly after this, but that didn’t really matter, as long as the plant was ok.

It felt like an eternity passed, but at long last, he was able to duck in and pull the door closed. Leaning his head back and closing his eyes, Hyunwoo sighed in relief. Though the wind still battered the sides of the car, he and his new acquisition were safe from it. A small smile graced his lips when he peeked between his fingers once more and saw that none of the stems had broken. In fact, maybe it was his imagination, but they seemed to have perked up a little. Like he had back in the shop, Hyunwoo brushed the top of one with a finger. “Hey, buddy...I’ve got you. It’ll be alright.” Anyone who caught him talking to his new plant would probably think he was downright insane, but he didn’t care. Besides, Nana had sworn that if you spoke lovingly to still-life things, they’d be healthier and last longer. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? I’ll get you some water and nutrients, and set you in a nice, safe spot. You’ll even be able to make some new friends, how does that sound, huh?” Giving the little flora one last smile, Hyunwoo gingerly set it next to him, in a shallow dip between the front two seats.

It only took a moment to find his key, and then, with a flick of the wrist, the car purred to life. Pulling carefully out of his parking spot, Hyunwoo immediately made for home. He was on his way out, anyway, having been to an eleven o’clock dentist’s appointment. Once he was comfortable with his route and how he was driving, he reached down once more and cradled the pot in his hand again. Maybe he was crazy, after all, but he felt fondness toward the tiny seedlings inside. Every thought was gone from his mind, except for one--he had to take care of them. What might they do if given a second chance?

 Well, as it turned out, a lot, apparently.

Hyunwoo kept his promises to the little wilting plant faithfully. As soon as he got home, he made room on his windowsill, alongside his greenery collection. There was slight shade there, and that would be better on the fragile seedlings than the straight sunshine they had been getting before. Then he mixed up a small batch of lukewarm water and liquid ez-grow, and carefully poured some into the bowl he’d set the pot in to act as a saucer. For extra measure, he got the dirt inside wet, as well. The three little plants looked even better than they had in the car, if it was even possible. If nothing else, they definitely seemed straighter than they were in the shop window. Proud of his new addition to the collection, Hyunwoo snapped a pic of it with his phone. He did this at regular intervals with all his houseplants--he took joy in seeing how they all fared over time.

Six hours later, he returned to find that the water had seemingly vanished into the pot. What was even more surprising, though, was that the three seedlings were green and reaching proudly for the sun. Hyunwoo couldn’t help but think that this was strange, but he poured in some more water-and-nutrients concoction anyway, took another snapshot, and left it to its magic.

The next time he came back, right before he was about to go to bed, about the same interval of time had passed. Again, the dirt was almost dry, and each stem was about an inch taller than before and a darker, richer shade of emerald. This flabbergasted Hyunwoo. How in the heck could something recover so fast? Of course, he knew bamboo grew up to thirty-five inches a day, but this was not bamboo. The leaf shape was all wrong. Abruptly, he remembered the pictures and pulled them up. It was nice to have confirmation that he wasn’t dreaming, and earlier that day the thriving flora was brown and dying. There wasn’t much he could do other than water it yet again, though (actually, he made sure to overdo it a little), and document its progress.

His foresight turned out to be wise. When he checked in the morning, right before his nine-to-five shift, the sprouts had once again taken all the water from their potting soil. Each stood as long and thick as his pointer finger. That meant they had, what--tripled in size overnight? Hyunwoo shook his head in disbelief and confirmed his suspicions with the photos he had taken. Again, he watered them, but he couldn’t also help but wonder and worry. Would he need to run a slow tap into the pot? If the plant was growing at this rate, naturally it would need more water. What was it, anyway? He had never heard of anything that grew this fast from a seedling and had leaves in the shape of a ㄱ. The question ate at him all through his shift. At break time, he did a Google search, scouring a couple dozen pages of results. It seemed that nobody, plant aficionado or botanist, discussed anything that fit the specifications of his new plant, and soon, he had to go back to work, so he gave up.

His mind settled a little on the drive home, only to stoke again when he encountered another surprise. Though the plant hadn't gotten any thicker around, it put on another four inches in height. Only about twenty-four hours had passed since he had purchased it, but anyone who didn’t know that might believe more time had elapsed between the first and last photo saved on his phone. Maybe, up to three or four weeks. It was crazy. To make matters even more intriguing, there were still no answers as to what the sprouts were. Hyunwoo tried every variation of Google search he could think of. He even went pages deep into the results, but still, nothing jumped out at him. Once, he thought he found something promising. The descriptions matched up, at least, and it was describing a fast-growing plant. However, then he’d read further in and discovered that he’d stumbled upon a cryptids website. It was discussing fairy plants--flora that housed nature spirits and other types of fae. He immediately clicked back. Whoever wrote that had to be crazy, right? Things like that didn’t exist.

So, Hyunwoo doubled down on tending to the little plant. He decided that evening that if the seedlings grew any more, he would move them. Indeed, they did, putting on some more height. Luckily, he had a spare pot lying around. It was about fifteen inches in diameter and had once belonged to a jade plant that had died of old age. In this new “home”, his mysterious new acquisition would definitely thrive for a while to come.

He performed the actual transfer the next afternoon, which really wasn't complicated. The only thing he had to do in prep was make a trip to the store beforehand to buy a fresh bag of potting soil. When he'd returned, he got to his knees on the hardwood floor by the window. His hands (and, by accident, the floor) had just gotten dirty and he was all poised to shift pots when the front door opened. It took but a second for Hyunwoo to realize who had let themselves in. Their footsteps were distinctive. “Hey,” he called out, leaning back so he could see better.

Sure enough, Chae Hyungwon, his best friend from University, came around the corner from the entryway. The tall, slender stockbroker had clearly just gotten off work. He was looking sharp in a suit and had his hands stuck in his pants pockets. Upon seeing his friend on the floor, he stopped in his tracks. “Of course. I come over after a long day, expecting to goad you into going to the bar with me tonight, and you’re sitting here playing with your plants.”

Per normal, Hyungwon’s tone was sarcastic and joking. He could be extremely sassy if he wanted to be, and that fact never failed to make Hyunwoo smile. “Well, you're probably used to it by now,” he shot back, “and I’m not playing with them. I’m saving this one’s life.”

A beat of silence passed before the punchline came. Whether it was intentional or not, the younger man had perfect comedic timing. “Shit, you’re right. That’s scary as hell.”

Hyunwoo began to chuckle before breaking out into a loud laugh. “Okay, alright, you win.”

“Better believe it.” Hyungwon fell silent after that, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. He seemed attentive and patient, so the older man took this as his cue to continue.

Digging his fingers into the soil surrounding his little stems, Hyunwoo lifted everything up and out. He couldn’t help but note that the roots had started growing down the sides of the pot. Relief flooded his conscience, making him sigh. If he would have waited any longer, it might have been too late. Hyunwoo grasped the bottom of the dirt clod, broke it apart gently, and held it over the new pot for a minute. A gentle rain of loose soil fell from between his hands. Only after it had slowed did he let it down and nestle the seedlings in their new home, packing the dirt around them to make a reservoir he could use for watering. “There,” he said at long last, standing up and brushing his hands off on his jeans. “Perfect.”

“So, that one finally needed a new home, huh?”

“Finally? If only you knew.” Well, that came out more biting than he intended. Hyunwoo let it go, though, for the moment. Once he had set the plant back on the windowsill, he turned and made his way to the kitchen, beckoning for his friend to follow. “I got that plant two days ago. When I first laid eyes on it, I could barely tell that it wasn’t dead, and now it’s put on a half foot.” Washing his hands in the sink, he prepped another batch of water and nutrient tonic.

From behind him, there came a scoff. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t have a green thumb like you do, but that’s completely ludicrous.”

“Nah, man, I’m not. Here, I even have proof.” Hyunwoo pulled his phone out of his back pocket, and going to this photos, flicked through the ones he had taken recently. It didn't take long to find what he needed; he'd saved them in an album by the name of ‘기’ (Ki), after the little plant’s foliage shape. Then he held it out for Hyungwon to see.

The handsome stockbroker took it and scrolled sideways through snapshots. Once he figured out what he was looking at, he seemed confused; his brows furrowed, then peaked. Each photo got special attention. After a minute, he went back to the beginning and through them again. Hyungwon tapped the screen a few times, checking each time stamp for inconsistencies and/or mistakes. Honestly, Hyunwoo didn't blame him. Finally, he relinquished the phone, holding his hands up in surrender. “That’s freaky, man.”

“Right?” They went back out into the living room, where Hyunwoo slowly poured a big dose of water into the seedlings’ new pot. “It's already made this much progress, and I have no clue how much more it has to go.”

“I thought you always looked up how to care for your plants on Google?”

“I can't find anything on this one. It's like I have a designer plant or something. The leaves are a weird shape, and nothing except maybe bamboo grows this fast after being brown and brittle.”

“Huh.” Hyungwon came over to Hyunwoo’s side and rubbed a leaf between his fingers. It might have been a trick of the sunlight, but the seedlings had seemingly straightened up even more. “Well, I imagine the only thing you can do now is continue to take care of it.”

“Yeah,” Hyunwoo sighed. “I’ll do my best. We'll see where it goes.” All at once, he perked up. “--Or, rather, where it grows.”

“I swear to God, Son Hyunwoo, that is the worst pun you've ever said to my face, and you are already the king of bad wordplay.”

“Sorry,” the older replied, shrugging and smiling sheepishly.

In little more than four weeks, Hyunwoo had to move the little plant from the windowsill to the floor. He couldn't call it small anymore, either. Now the stems were almost four feet tall, and each about as thick around as his wrist. However, it was hard to determine an exact height, because at some point they had started to lean. Their growth pattern continued in that way until they had formed a circle, layering on top of each other to create a round, trunk-like structure. After settling, they turned a curious shade of dark brownish-gray, and in some cases sprouted smaller branches with leaves. When touched, they also felt wooden. Hyunwoo watched this transformation with interest. It was almost like a vine-based plant was becoming a tree.

He was still watering it up to ten times a day. The bigger it got, the thirstier it seemed to become. To fill the need, Hyunwoo figured out a way to have a direct water line from the kitchen sink to the pot. All it took was a small section of garden hose. If he left the faucet on and let it slowly drip while he was at work, he didn't have to worry about the soil drying out. Once or twice, he thought about the fact that the plant was consuming water like a human would, and greedily. That was impossible, too, though, and he pushed it out of his mind.

Maybe it didn't make a difference, but he also continued to encourage it with kindness. The plant had made so much progress, and though it gave him stress sometimes, he was also proud. It gave him hope that he was doing the right thing. Like his Nana would have wanted, he shared that emotion with what caused it. Thus, he had a chance to release those feelings in a healthy way. Besides, it only seemed appropriate. Every time Hyunwoo passed the pot and greenery, he took a moment to smile and rub a ㄱ shaped leaf or two. Sometimes, he also had words of love. He considered himself to be a caretaker and guardian to all his precious flora, after all. Some people even jokingly referred to him as ‘plant dad’.

Given such a steady supply of nourishment, it wasn't long before the flora surpassed the height of his tallest cast iron specimen. Even as it continued to put on inches, it also thickened, and soon threatened to spill over the sides of the pot. This put Hyunwoo in a unique predicament. If the plant wasn't already root bound, it was going to be soon. That meant he either had to perform another transplant or let it take outside in his already-tiny yard. The latter, he didn't want to do. Its behavior so far had convinced Hyunwoo that it was strictly a household plant, no matter how big it got. So, he began to call every place in the phonebook that labeled themselves ‘Greenhouse’ or ‘Garden Center’. He needed to find the biggest size of flower pot he could. Few words were needed to get his point across. It was as simple as introducing himself and then asking the question. Some places only sold smaller planters, not much bigger than the one currently home to the strange greenery, but others seemed promising. Some carried thirty inch-diameter pots; others said thirty-six inches was their biggest. Most of those upper-end planters were about that deep as well.

He struck true gold on one of his last phone calls, though. A lady with a peppy voice answered the phone, and as usual, Hyunwoo said his spiel. “Well sir,” she replied, “You're in luck. One of our regular customers ordered a jumbo size flower pot that's forty-eight inches in diameter, and perhaps a little deeper than its width. We got a set of four, but he only wanted three, so we've been trying to get rid of the extra for a while now. I'll cut the price for you if you're interested.”

“Oh, really?” Hyunwoo leaned back and brushed the hair back from his brow. “Yeah, sure, that would be nice, actually. When could I come pick it up?”

“Whenever you want. I'll be here until five.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was at the store. As she’d promised, the employee let him have the pot for seventy-five percent off. He had a feeling that his attractiveness level had something to do with that number. Price, though, he quickly came to find out, was nothing compared to how awkward carrying the thing was. It even made him question his own sanity a couple times. In the end, it barely fit in the backseat of the car. There almost wasn’t enough room for his other purchases: a couple big bags of soil and some more nutrients, as he was running low.

Hyunwoo tried to be as gentle as he could. He drove carefully, not taking turns too fast. On his way inside the house, he also made sure to hold on to the pot with two hands. Something close to exhaustion set in once the task was complete. Still, he wasn't done yet. The thought of trying to clear a space for the ginormous terracotta pot was honestly torture. He chose the first alternative he saw: a sunny place just beyond the entryway, next to the kitchen and visible from the living room. He set everything down there, dumped soil in, and did the transplant. The size of his plant’s new home relative to the old one was about the same as the first time. Hyunwoo prayed with all his might that he wouldn’t have to repeat that again.

Another month passed. Two. Three. Before he knew it, Hyunwoo had a plant standing in his entryway that touched the eight-foot ceiling. It was also once again close to the edges of the pot, and that made him worry. Weren't the roots restricted? Surely, they didn’t have room to spread and continue to support the tree. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to take the plant out to the yard. The hunt to find a bigger container would probably be fruitless, too. So, Hyunwoo waited for the inevitable death of the plant--but it defied expectations. Given that he fed it a steady stream of water, and also nutrients on occasion, it seemed to flourish.

Fearing that it might try to grow too tall, Hyunwoo invested in some clippers. However, it turned out that he didn’t need those, either. Oddly, the plant seemed to know its limits. When it hit the top, it thinned and started spreading out. New, slender green vines clung to the ceiling and pushed forward, making their way through the house. They mostly concentrated in the living room, but a few also inhabited the kitchen, laundry room, and spare bedroom. He clipped any that tried to breach the doorway to his bedroom, and the bathroom, though. For some odd reason, allowing that felt like an invasion of his personal space. Besides, then the doors wouldn't be able to close.

One day, Hyunwoo noticed a small green teardrop forming near the main trunk of the tree. It wasn't a new leaf; he knew what those looked like, and this was completely different. More of these new buds appeared in the next twenty-four hours. It didn't take long to realize what was going on, and luckily, Hyunwoo was there to see what happened next.

It seemed like for a while, the plant held its breath. Then, in the span of only a few minutes, everything bloomed.

Pretty, reddish-orange flowers with six petals and a chocolate brown center covered the ceiling wherever vines grew. They were tiny (not even as big as a one-won coin), delicate, and filled the house with a subtle, pleasant scent. To Hyunwoo, it was something like a mix between baby powder and peaches. If he was being honest, he was in awe. How was it that this little plant from an antique store had ended up being such a treasure? It filled his home with beauty, and in such a short time, had become as big a part of his life as the house itself. Now he couldn't pass it in the entryway without taking a moment to touch and whisper to it.

Hyungwon, too, gawked the first time he saw this lovely display. He had been over a few more times since the first, so he was aware of the plant’s progress, but still, the flowers were something he hadn't expected at all. The moment he walked in, he was staring up. His jaw only dropped open wider at the fact that the branches had spread through the entire house. For the first time, perhaps ever, Hyunwoo saw him at a loss for words.

Not long after that, the plant decreased its water intake dramatically. One morning, the dirt in the pot was over-saturated, and the entryway flooded. Hyunwoo cleaned up the best he could and backed off the water from the sink. Even then, it threatened to spill over again. It forced him to re-establish a watering routine, and so he dousing the soil with water every few hours. It seemed that now, the unusual flora was only taking in enough nourishment to support its flowers. All growth halted, and the remaining green vines turned woody and gray, like the trunk. Hyunwoo didn’t mind, really; leaving the sink on all the time had earned him a huge water bill the month before.

For some reason or other, this turn of events filled Hyunwoo with a sense of contentment. He still wanted to see the plant through the rest of its life. Admittedly, he’d grown more attached to it than his other greenery.

Little did he know that things were about to get even more interesting.

Hyunwoo walked in his front door one evening, and got the shock of his life.

Work had been stressful, but fulfilling. He’d fidgeted all day after the morning brought an impromptu visit from his immediate supervisor, Mr. Lee Seyoung. He asked if Hyunwoo would be willing to stay for a few minutes after his shift. This was quite odd, since overtime was rarely granted, and it was rare that anyone broke the rules, anyway. The whole thing put a weird feeling in Hyunwoo’s stomach, for some reason, but he agreed. Nothing was on his agenda for that evening, so a little bit of time was something he could spare.

Well, it turned out that his boss had set up a meeting with Mr. Kang, the CEO. Apparently, Seyoung really liked Hyunwoo and believed him to be an asset the company should not let go of. To support that opinion, he produced documents showing that their department’s productivity had gone up by eleven percent since Hyunwoo had started his internship. “He’s become a member of my team, and contributes valuable ideas and input weekly, if not daily. I have never seen or heard of a more capable and dedicated intern in my years with this company.” The boss finished up with the fact that Hyunwoo’s first partnership, with the owner of a small frozen yogurt shop, had been a stellar success. One location had grown by leaps and bounds, and now there were several spread across Seoul. The advertising campaign the intern had helped organize was a big part of the reason.

When Mr. Lee finished with all he had to say, Mr. Kang excused him, then turned his attention to Hyunwoo. After a couple questions about whether he’d enjoyed his experience under Seyoung and at the company in general (yes, very much), and if there were already other plans for employment lined up (no), the question came out:

“If I was to offer you a position today, which I am fully prepared to do, would you take it?”

Hyunwoo nearly fainted with excitement and happiness and accepted on the spot. Did Mr. Kang know exactly how much of a weight off his back this was? It meant that now, he didn't have to worry about hunting for a job. That was a major stressor, eliminated. Truly, he had loved working for the company; at every turn, he’d met people he admired and respected. A future with them was one of the best outcomes he could ask for. Suddenly, the days ahead were full of possibility.

Happy songs were playing on the radio all the way home, and Hyunwoo couldn’t help but smile and sing along with the ones he knew. He even threw in a couple upper body dance moves while he was stuck in traffic. His heart was so light, and he felt like smiling until his cheeks hurt. Today can’t get any better, he thought absentmindedly. I’ll call Hyungwon and tell him the good news, and we can go bar hopping or something to celebrate.

Dusk had already fallen when he pulled into his driveway. Hyunwoo whistled to himself as he parked, turned off the car, and made his way up the sidewalk and front steps. He grasped the knob on his front door with one hand, while the other slid his key in the deadbolt lock. After that, it only took a simultaneous turn of his wrist and shoulder to the wood to get into the house. Hyunwoo waltzed in, setting his keys and bag down on a nearby table, and made for the kitchen. As he passed his plant, he reached out and was about to give it a pat--

A sudden, strange sound made him stop abruptly. It would have been easy to brush it off as something shifting, or a sound from next door, but this was different for some reason. Hyunwoo went dead quiet, and in moments, came to realize that yes, he wasn’t hearing things. There was a faint breathing coming from the living room. He couldn’t see anything out of place, though, and a shiver ran down his spine. Cautiously, he crept forward and peeked over the top of the sofa, glancing down to an unexpected sight. As the truth settled in, his eyes widened, and recoiling, he gave a short cry of terror.

There was someone sleeping there, lying stretched out across the couch cushions, on their side. The rise and fall of their chest was barely visible in the growing darkness. It was a man, by the looks of it, and buck naked. Hyunwoo’s mind raced. What was he doing here? How had he gotten inside in the first place? Was it under the influence of drugs or with bad intentions? In any case, seeing the complete stranger zonked out on the sofa sent Hyunwoo into panic mode. He bolted for the kitchen, pulling a sushi knife from a drawer and fishing for his cell phone in his back pocket. As soon as he had it out, his trembling hand flicked to the emergency call screen, and he dialed 119.

In what seemed like only a flash, he was back in his living room again, standing over the sleeper. His finger hovered over the call button; he knew that he should go ahead and press it. Then, he’d make a run for the front door again, so he wouldn’t wake this guy before the police arrived. Yet, once again, something stopped him.

Perhaps it was that he got a better look. Hyunwoo’s tight throat and chest wouldn’t allow him to breathe, so he sat there for a minute, heaving for air. That forced him to take another glance, and suddenly, Hyunwoo couldn't stop staring.

The mysterious man was fairly small, only about 160 centimeters in comparison to Hyunwoo’s 181. Medium-long, orange hair (the shade of which was almost irritatingly familiar) fell across his forehead, swept behind his ear, and framed his face. He had a strong jaw and a handsome, pointed nose, though his long eyelashes and plump lips gave him a delicate look. Next to Hyunwoo’s dark golden skin tone, he was a little lighter, but really not by much. Last, but not least, his complexion was pristine and clean, almost like a baby’s. There was no blemish or spot anywhere on his body. Though he was no Adonis (it was very hard to beat Hoseok’s toned, chiseled figure in that regard) he was still well-formed, and a dazzling sight--pure, innocent almost.

How could someone this--adorable have just turned up here? Nothing seemed to be off or wrong, and there was no evidence to suggest a break-in. The longer the taller man stayed, the more the alarm system in his head faded into the background. Yes, this was an intruder, but he was just lying there, sleeping.

In the end, Hyunwoo never dialed the emergency number and switched off the screen. He still shook a little but managed to calm down enough to go put the knife away. Maybe that was a stupid move, yeah; any other rational person would definitely have treated this as a home invasion. Something deep down inside told him that it was alright, though. This would all work out. When he came back around toward the couch, protective instinct kicked in. It consumed every other feeling he had and took him completely over. Maybe this guy was confused and unfortunate, and needed a ride home or to the hospital. Or, perhaps they’d met at the bar one night, and Hyunwoo just didn’t remember.

Shifting slightly in his sleep, the orange-haired beauty curled up further and shivered. Without a second thought, Hyunwoo pulled a quilt from the back of a nearby chair, the warmest he had. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he stepped over and gently draped the blanket on top of his guest.

All was well at first; the man hummed and smiled, snuggling deeper into the couch. However, the change in weight must have disturbed his slumber, because in the next moment, he was blinking back to consciousness. He lifted a hand to his eyes and rubbed them drowsily as they fluttered open. “Mm--Hyunwoo-hyung?” were the first, quiet words out of his mouth.

Another chill wracked Hyunwoo's body, and he froze. Swallowing his growing apprehension, he glanced down to the sight of the stranger's gaze trained reverently on him. Questions multiplied in his head. Wait--what? This stranger knew his name and was addressing him like an old, beloved friend. That was impossible, right?

“Hyung! Finally, you're home!” Suddenly, with a burst of energy, said individual jumped up from the couch, then launched himself into the taller’s arms. Taken completely by surprise, Hyunwoo scrambled to adjust, and managed to regain his balance, saving both of them from ending up on the floor. When the confusion settled, the man had latched on like a baby sloth. He'd wrapped his legs around Hyunwoo's waist, and was clearly trying to cuddle as close as possible, too.

Hyunwoo couldn't move, petrified with shock and trapped in a moment of awkwardness. Even his vocal cords felt frozen. He’d somehow managed to hook a supportive arm around the man’s small waist, and now couldn’t let go. To save the last shred of sanity he had, he also purposely tried not to think about the genitalia pressed against his belly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never come back! Today, of all days.” A few warm, gentle teardrops dripped down onto Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “I've been waiting so long.”

Swallowing hard, Hyunwoo made his voice obey him this time. It came out a little broken, but he managed to control things somewhat. “Sir, I’m really sorry, but I have no clue what you’re talking about. I don’t recall ever having met you in my life. So, um, would you please stop calling me hyung? It makes me uncomfortable.”

Slowly, the smaller man glanced up, and his smile dropped. The cutest look of confusion came across his features; his mouth hung open, and his eyebrows scrunched together. “W--wait, what? You don’t--”

“Who are you anyway? What are you doing in my house?”

“Oh...you really don’t recognize me.” All the strength seemed to leave the visitor’s body, and now he looked sad. Tears filled his eyes, and his lips began to tremble. “But how? You’re the one who brought me here, and you’ve been taking care of me. I--I’ve lived with you for months now.”

"Are you sure you have the right place--?” Terror washed over Hyunwoo in a new wave. If this man had been living with him, where had he been hiding all this time? He considered going back into the kitchen and grabbing the sushi knife again. However, the sobs that broke from the smaller's throat stopped that train of thought in its tracks.

“Yes!” The stranger buried his face back into Hyunwoo’s shoulder. “I haven’t been outside…not since the day you rescued me from death. You’re my savior, and I want to repay you for that! Why don’t you recognize me…?”

Something clicked in the taller man’s head. Carefully, he turned around and came to a revelation. The words reminded him of the little plant he adopted, and sure enough, something had split its trunk wide open. There was a hollow in the center big enough for a man this size to fit tightly. “H--hold on. Are you saying that you came from the tree in the entryway?”

A little bit of hope returned to the orange-haired man's face. Light danced in his eyes, and he nodded. “Yeah, close. See, I am the plant--or rather, its guardian.” When Hyunwoo’s confused and distraught remained, though, he shrank back again. “Are you gonna throw me out?” He asked, weakly.

"What? No, no, I could never." That would be nothing but cruel. Sure, this--nature spirit? had little understanding of the concepts of privacy and security, and also thought, erroneously, that they had met before. He probably figured that since Hyunwoo talked to him on a consistent basis, they were already acquainted. All this at once made the taller man's head spin. Still, his protective instinct was strong. Now that he knew that this man meant no harm, he was put a lot more at ease. Hyunwoo felt a deep, pervasive desire to nurture him like he had with the mother plant. Instinctively, he rocked a bit and hummed softly in an attempt to calm the tears splashing onto his shirt. "Hey, um, let's get you some clothes, and we can talk after that. Ok?"

His human (or, Hyunwoo supposed, fairy) koala nodded slightly, making an obvious effort to calm his heaving sobs. He climbed down, and together, they made their way to the bedroom.

"I-it's Kihyun. If that matters to you."

"What's Kihyun? Your name?"

"Yeah." The shorter man looked so small, kind of like a kid, as he hung his head and nervously fidgeted with his fingers.

"It's nice to meet you, Kihyun." In hopes of easing his worry, Hyunwoo gave him a big smile. "Your leaves are shaped like that, aren't they?"

If he hadn't turned to push the door open at that very moment, he might have seen the red that rose to his guest’s cheeks.

Once inside his own room, Hyunwoo headed straight for the closet. On the top shelf, there was a box of things his mother had insisted he take with him when he moved out of the house to go to college. It was mostly junk from his middle school days, so he didn't quite see her point, but acquiesced anyway. There were a few nifty toys that might be of interest to any grandsons that might come along, and some other things that carried memories, such as an empty, crudely-painted flower pot and some old, ripped play money. Also in the box happened to be Hyunwoo's lucky checkered boxers. They were too small for him now, but he was sure they'd fit his guest perfectly. It only took a moment of digging around before he found them. In handing them to Kihyun, he stretched the waistband to show what side was up. "Put these on your legs, like my pants are on mine."

The smaller man nodded and stepped in, pulling them up. Meanwhile, Hyunwoo dug around in the back of his closet until he came across a tee shirt that had shrunk in the wash. Also, he found the smallest pair of sweats he owned. Kihyun got dressed in those, too, and Hyunwoo laughed at how oversized on him they were. The fairy was practically drowning in cloth. It made him look even smaller than he was. Hyunwoo had to fight back a sudden urge to cuddle him.

 So, that was how Son Hyunwoo came to have a nymph living with him literally full-time. Kihyun never left the house after the first time they went somewhere together. Things spiraled out of control, and could have ended badly if it wasn’t for some quick thinking.

In short, Hyunwoo took Kihyun shopping one day, about a week after their meeting. The latter had never been on a big excursion like this, and they both soon came to find out that any prolonged separation from his mother plant could be fatal. Only about thirty minutes after they’d gotten to the department store, Kihyun was looking very pale. He started to shake like a leaf in the wind, but insisted he was fine; that is, until he gave out completely. Hyunwoo dropped everything to run over and catch him. After asking Kihyun what was wrong, to uncertain responses, he carried the smaller man to a nearby bench.

A few minutes passed, and the little fae was looking worse and worse. It was to the point he couldn’t even vocalize anymore. Hyunwoo was considering rushing home, when he had a sudden thought. Faintly, he remembered seeing some water bottles for sale in a cooler on the way in. Maybe that would provide Kihyun the sustenance he needed until they could do what they needed to. This on the forefront of his mind, Hyunwoo promised that he’d only be gone a few minutes, and ran off.

When he returned, Kihyun looked too close to dead for comfort. Hyunwoo’s hands shook as he scrambled to get the cap off the bottle. Carefully, he tipped the nymph’s head back and poured liquid down his throat. It took a couple more times before this actually started to work, but it did nonetheless. Soon, Kihyun had regained enough strength to hold the bottle in his hand and drink mouthfuls from it himself. He didn’t quite get back to his peppy, smiley self until they were home again, but it at least saved his life. They were also able to finish getting basic necessities and clothes that fit.

This wasn’t all they had to learn; really, there was a lot on both ends. For instance, it was a while before Hyunwoo discovered Kihyun’s surname: Yoo. The reason that the nymph’s hair color was so familiar was because it was the same as the petals from the flowers off his tree. His eyes, too, were the chocolate brown of their centers. Most interestingly of all, he didn’t need any food, just water. That made sense, though, considering that if he ate anything, it would be cannibalism. (Yes, even meat. All of it was plant-fed.)

Something else that Kihyun revealed was that long ago, he had been a free-spirited, mischievous woodland guardian. A witch caught him in her garden one day and bound his existence to the plant. Her curse was that he'd wait in obscurity for a thousand lifetimes, and only when a special individual nurtured him to full growth would he appear in physical form again. Hyunwoo didn’t doubt a word of the account. He was already past the point where things sounded crazy to him. As he listened and nursed a cup of coffee, pride grew in his breast. He must have done a good job of raising the mother plant, because all things considered, its fae was strong and healthy. In light of this, he loved praising the smaller man all the more.

“Hey, have I ever told you how proud of you I am?”

“I’m so glad I found you in the window that day.”

“You make me happy.”

Before the plant had made its switch from foliage to person, Hyunwoo had also gotten in the habit of saying I love you. Now, that felt wrong, though. His relationship to Kihyun wasn't, and would never be, romantic. Someday, he might admit that he had love in his heart for the nymph, like a father loves his son, but not yet. He was just caring for him like he would for any one of his other greeneries, and that was that.

Little did Hyunwoo know, however, that his conception of the dynamic was completely different from Kihyun’s.

The faerie’s consciousness had existed in his plant, even from the beginning. Hearing Hyunwoo’s voice for the first time, in the antique shop, had jerked him out of restless slumber. For the first time since the cursing, someone was showing Kihyun true attention and love. Thus, he quickly came to realize that this was the special one the witch had talked about all those years ago. The tiny nymph-in-a-pot dared to hope that things would work out in the end, despite the fate that awaited him--a cruel and painful death. (Of course, he’d never tell Hyunwoo that part of the story.)

It was just--why did his human caretaker have to be so beautiful? Kihyun knew he was a goner from the moment he was first nestled in those big, rough hands. Even having frolicked among dozens of gorgeous deities, and also lived among humans for such a long time, he could still swear that Hyunwoo was the most handsome man he had ever seen. As the days passed, his attraction only got stronger. It was the small things that did him in. Kihyun fell for Hyunwoo’s kind and easygoing ways, how he danced and sang when he thought no one was watching, and last but not least, his delightful laugh and smile. There was no denying that Kihyun was totally and hopelessly in love.

Now that the fae was in a physical form, it was like a dream come true. Kihyun tried to be close to the human as much as he could. He wanted to spend every moment with Hyunwoo, so it hurt to see him leave in the morning. Kihyun could understood sleep, of course; he, too, needed to rest. Burning nine to ten hours of daylight without his favorite person, though, was torture. The amount of time that this thing called ‘work’ demanded was ridiculous. Why did Hyunwoo continue to go day after day, with only the occasional day off? Was it really necessary? Kihyun asked about what it entailed, even, and things didn't get any clearer. Hyunwoo said that in short, his job involved performing a lot of different tasks to make others happy. That sounded incredibly boring, but Kihyun didn't question it or prod further.

A couple times, Kihyun tried to keep Hyunwoo back from it by begging, pleading, and restraining him. Finally, Hyunwoo sat him down and treated him to one of his gentle explanations. Apparently, the human world ran on things called won, or money (they were the same). If Hyunwoo didn’t go to work, he would have no won, and thus also no place to live or water to drink. The idea was strange and foreign, but Kihyun did his best to understand. He was sure that his caretaker would never lie to him.

Though he wasn’t sure if he’d ever understand, Kihyun got used to it eventually. At least, he learned that he could always count on Hyunwoo to return around the same time every evening. There was an occasional exception, though, like the day that Kihyun had chosen to emerge. If that happened, he tried desperately to keep himself calm, and usually within a half hour, Hyunwoo was home.

However, in the meantime, Kihyun had free rein of the house. Usually, he read a book, tended to his tree, or slept. However, then, one weekend, Hyunwoo showed him the internet: more specifically, a few sites with games on them. Kihyun was in awe of how a flat piece of metal could do so much and quickly got addicted. It made the hours until his caretaker came home fly by.

There was a dark side to technology, though. Kihyun found that out the day he stumbled upon something strange in Hyunwoo’s browser history: porn. Of course, because of his never-ending curiosity, he clicked it. What he saw shocked him. It was like...procreation. Kihyun’s parents had taught him that it was necessary, but a taboo topic. Two faes only had sex when they loved each other very much. From the videos he watched, though, it seemed that some humans didn't care. Some even recorded themselves doing it or had others record them doing it. They engaged in other intimate acts, too, like kissing, touching, and biting.

Sometimes, Kihyun would imagine that the couple in the video was himself and Hyunwoo. Within seconds, he’d be trembling as a strange feeling took him over. He would grow hard in his underwear, and every fiber of him begged for touch. When he wrapped a hand around his dick, clear, slick fluid leaked out. Moving up and down the shaft sent indescribable feelings through Kihyun’s body. Before he could process it, he had instinctively buried two fingers in his asshole. The thought of Hyunwoo’s husky voice asking him to come was what undid the little nymph.

After that discovery, Kihyun cautiously started getting more handsy. Hugging and snuggling with Hyunwoo was already the best feeling in the world, but now he wanted more. He expressed his love for the human all the time, and for the most part, received it back. Of course, It disappointed Kihyun that Hyunwoo didn’t say the l-word anymore, but that didn’t matter. He was always the type that let his actions speak louder than words. Why couldn’t they go further than “safe” touch, though?

Unfortunately, nothing Kihyun tried worked, short of an outright makeout session (and he wasn’t near bold enough to attempt that yet). He touched and nuzzled every sensitive spot he knew, but Hyunwoo only smiled softly and cuddled back in return. It was frustrating, but the nymph waited patiently for his chance. He was sure that one would come eventually, and it did.

Though it definitely didn't have the outcome he'd hoped.

It had been about four months since Kihyun came into Hyunwoo’s life, and they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. Mornings started early, around five am or so. Hyunwoo would rise first, shower, and make a small breakfast for himself, or toss together some cereal and milk. Inevitably, Kihyun would not be too far behind. He didn’t eat, but always chose to nurse a glass of water and hang out at the table. Before letting Hyunwoo go, the nymph gave his caretaker a hug and perhaps a little kiss on the jaw.

The gym and work never changed, though the tasks and routines changed day-to-day. Hyunwoo still hung out with Hoseok at the weight rack and bench press, and his new job was satisfying. Occasionally, a tough day would come around, and that was particularly true one balmy Thursday in April. Calls kept flooding in right after another. Hyunwoo did his best to handle everything he could at once, but it was not always enough. Those kinds of shifts were draining, so understandably, he came home that evening exhausted.

Kihyun greeted him at the door as always, with a bright smile that lit up even the human’s worst of times. Hyunwoo accepted a welcome home hug and mussed the nymph’s hair fondly. Today, more than usual, he was aware of Kihyun’s hand in the small of his back, rubbing slowly. Determined to put that out of his mind, he chalked it up to stress.

Not that Hyunwoo hadn’t noticed the fae’s growing insistence on intimate touch. Honestly, it was hard to miss. At first, the contact was fleeting and occasional, but now, when they cuddled on the couch (often while watching a movie), Kihyun let his hands roam more. He’d drag his fingertips down Hyunwoo’s forearm, or draw patterns onto his inner thigh. Did that mean he was becoming more comfortable?

It never crossed the human's mind that Kihyun might be head over heels in love. Admittedly, he had always been a little slow to see things. Maybe if he’d noticed one more of Kihyun’s stares or blushes, he might have realized the truth earlier. Unfortunately, he didn’t and remained oblivious to the nymph’s feelings.

The rest of the night passed quickly. Hyunwoo had brought some work home with him, and that was a time eater. When that option presented itself, he always took it, however. It was nice to sprawl out on the couch in his pajamas and take his time finishing an email or brainstorming things for clients. His own home was a whole lot quieter than the constant bustle of the company offices. Potential distractions were fewer in number, too. Not to mention, there was also the fact that this was a perfect opportunity to let Kihyun snuggle him.

Around nine pm, the nymph started to yawn. His eyes would droop shut before abruptly, he’d jerk awake again. Hyunwoo gave a low chuckle at how adorable he was. “Looks like it’s bedtime for you, huh, little guy?”

Reluctant to leave his warm, comfy “pillow”, Kihyun grumbled and complained some, but didn’t argue. Setting down Hyunwoo’s cell phone (he often asked to use it when things were slow), he peeled himself away. From where Hyunwoo was sitting, he could see the entrance to what was formerly the guest bedroom, now Kihyun’s. The little plant spirit disappeared inside. There was the characteristic sound of fabric rustling as he changed into pajamas. Every once in a while, the human checked over his shoulder to see whether the light had turned off yet.

Soon, accompanied by a soft padding of footsteps, it did. That was the cue for him to lay aside his computer and the documents he had in his hand, take off his glasses, and make his way there. Kihyun was just settling down, burying his face in the pillow as always. He'd bunched the blankets up near his shoulders, which was also a normal occurrence. Carefully, Hyunwoo crept over and sat down on the side of the bed. “Goodnight, Kihyun-ah.”

“Goodnight, hyung.” The bright, sweet smile Hyunwoo got in return was everything. Kihyun looked so tiny as he snuggled in deeper. The human at his side seemed to be the object of his admiration. Reached out for his caretaker’s hand, he held it gently as his eyes fluttered shut. After only a few minutes, his breathing leveled out. No doubt, he was fast asleep and dreaming of whatever nymphs dreamed about. Once he also started to snore a little, Hyunwoo left as quietly as he could, shutting the door behind him.

Walking out of that room was the equivalent of being thrust into the fire after living in a haven, especially tonight. Giving a groan, he plopped down on the couch and settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose. He had to push rogue thoughts out of his head before diving right back in with fervor. If he didn’t, he might give in to the unwanted desire to go cuddle with Kihyun.

Time plodded on, or, rather, kept flying. A couple more correspondences and good thousand words of a report later, Hyunwoo glanced at the time and realized it was almost twelve-thirty in the morning. Eyes widening in surprise, he sat up straighter and flexed his aching shoulders. Better stop now, or else he might get reprimanded for working overtime. He was already pushing it this week, even having taken tomorrow off.

So, Hyunwoo logged out of the program keeping track of his hours and shut his work computer. As darkness engulfed him, he pondered going to bed, but in the end, decided against it. He wanted to watch a couple more episodes of a drama he’d been working through lately. Might as well, considering that he had nothing to do in the morning other than eventually meet Hoseok at the gym. They’d set a time for eight-thirty on their days off. The remote slid almost effortlessly into his hand. Flipping the television on, Hyunwoo clicked through a couple screens to get to his drama subscription service. So what if he was a sucker for sappy romance plots? If others weren’t, they wouldn’t exist. The volume was a little loud at first, so he turned it down and laid back. What would the couple on screen be up to this time around?

One episode had already come and gone, and another was only about ten minutes in when something not quite usual happened. A small sniffle came from behind, and Hyunwoo turned to see Kihyun standing there in the hallway. The little nymph was carrying a big, fuzzy blanket and wiping his eyes. Fresh tear tracks streaked down his face. A sleepy droop to his eyelids revealed that he was only half-awake.

“Kihyunnie? What’s wrong?” “Hadda bad nightmare,” the nymph sighed in reply, running one small hand through his hair. “Can I stay out here with you?”

Hyunwoo’s heart softened. “Alright,” he relented and patted the spot beside him, where Kihyun had been earlier. It seemed that the little plant spirit had other ideas, though. He broke into a tired smile and headed for the couch. However, instead of settling down in the expected place, he climbed up onto his caretaker’s open lap instead. Caught off-guard, Hyunwoo gave a tentative oh, but didn’t protest. Memories and sensations from their initial encounter instantly began flooding in. Kihyun’s knees squeezed the human's hips firmly but gently, and he nuzzled into a spot between Hyunwoo's neck and shoulder. This pressed their bodies flush; the two of them fit together so perfectly, it was almost criminal.

Sighing in contentment, Hyunwoo wrapped an arm around Kihyun’s waist. A gentle, melodic hum flowed forth from his lips, and before he knew it, he was combing his fingers through orange locks. The attentions seemed to work like a magical 'soothe Kihyun' charm. He began to calm down, hiccups growing less frequent and further apart.

The drama kept playing. Hyunwoo tried to pay attention but found it impossible with a small, cute boy drifting off in his arms. He managed to get most of the important plot points, however, even while his brain was overtaken by other things--mostly, how Kihyunnie was just as adorable as the day they had met. The nymph’s face wasn’t visible, but it was obvious that a peaceful smile was on his lips. Hyunwoo could feel their upward curve as they pressed into his neck. Gentle breaths tickled the sensitive skin there.

Then, all too soon, the credits were rolling. Subtle noises from Hyunwoo's shoulder revealed that Kihyun was fast asleep. Not wanting to wake him, the human tried to be as careful as he could, and reached out to press the power button on the TV remote. Darkness engulfed the room, and the only light left was from the streetlamps outside. Moving up to the front edge of the couch, Hyunwoo held the nymph tightly to himself and thought things through best he could in his exhausted state. Despite the fact that Kihyun was out cold, his grip hadn’t relaxed any at all; if anything, it had grown more secure. Hyunwoo doubted that he’d be able to loosen it without waking him up.

That was what, in the end, led to the decision to just take them both to the master bedroom. The extra presence wouldn’t keep Hyunwoo from falling asleep, after all. More importantly, though, it might mean that Kihyunnie wouldn't have more nightmares. If he did, knowing his caretaker was nearby might comfort him, too.

So, Hyunwoo got up slowly, trying to be as quiet and steady as he could. The weight of his passenger felt like nothing, and it wasn't long before he settled himself down on the edge of his bed. Not for the first time, the human found himself glad that he was already in pajamas. Changing would be next to impossible at this point, and Hyunwoo hated sleeping in his clothes. Pulling back the covers, he turned and laid down as carefully as possible. It took a few moments and readjustments, but soon he found a comfortable position, and only then did he finally allow himself to relax.

Then, all at once, Kihyun pervaded Hyunwoo's mind. The nymph’s orange hair fanned out perfectly across the pillow. He seemed as serene and happy as he had been in the living room. The gentle moonlight that filtered in through the sheer white curtains seemed to touch him fondly. His sharp jaw, long, delicate eyelashes, and pronounced cupid’s bow should be familiar, but Hyunwoo could swear that he was seeing them for the first time in this moment. He looks so beautiful, flashed through the human’s head before he could stop it. Maybe it was only how a result of how tired he was or a trick of the night’s strange magic, but he found himself unable to stop himself from reaching up to softly brush the smooth skin of Kihyun’s cheek. In response, the nymph stirred, gave a tiny, adorable yawn, and, if it was even possible, snuggled closer.

The added body heat was making it hard for Hyunwoo to keep his eyes open, which was frustrating because he wanted to watch Kihyun more. Yet, he knew that if he did, it might lead his already-dangerous wandering mind into territory he didn’t want to go.

So, taking one last moment to rub Kihyun’s shoulder blade in small circles, he allowed sleep to claim him at last.

The next morning, Hyunwoo awoke to an unfamiliar sensation--something ghosting across his face. It took him a moment to realize what it was, but the instant it hit, the gears of his mind ground to a halt.

What the hell? Someone was kissing him. Not deeply or sloppily; just fleetingly, brief presses of soft lips to his. Some were slower and longer than others. It crossed his mind that this was a wet dream; however, that was quickly proven incorrect. When his eyelids fluttered open, Kihyun was lying there next to him, inches away. Memories slowly but surely returned of the late night before. Fleetingly, Hyunwoo also remembered the pangs of...whatever that emotion had been, the one that had struck him as he'd watched the little nymph sleep. Now, it seemed that it was Kihyun's turn to admire him. The other's gaze was so tender and fond. He wore a radiant smile, and red blush tinged his cheeks. He combed his small fingers through the human’s hair, too.

“Good morning, my handsome Hyunwoo,” Kihyun murmured softly before his smile faltered. Awe replaced some of the joy in his eyes. “I--I can’t believe--oh, this is so much better than I ever dreamed it would be.”

Hyunwoo gave half-awake groan in response and rolled over onto his back. Judging from the light in the room, it was--what, seven? In any case, also far too early in the morning to be conscious. “Huh--ugh, what’re you talking about, Kihyun?”

“Waking up next to you.” The grip on Hyunwoo’s waist tightened a bit, and the nymph moved closer again, nuzzling into his caretaker’s side. “I’ve dreamed about this for so long, you have no idea.”

Then and there, in that moment, it all made sense. The realization of what every one of Kihyun's gestures, words, and touches truly meant became clear. Hyunwoo felt like a freight train had rammed into him at full speed. He froze and glanced down at the orange-haired nymph, but suddenly couldn’t get words out.

Grinning and giggling a bit at Hyunwoo’s struck expression, Kihyun pushed himself up, then over, and straddled his hyung’s hips. “I guess what I really wanna say is that I love you so much, it hurts sometimes. I’ve been waiting so long for this opportunity to tell you.”

Hyunwoo couldn't breathe; the air was gone from his lungs. “Wait, what?”

“Was that not plain enough?” Now it was Kihyun who sounded surprised. “I...I didn’t think I could be any clearer. Hyunwoo-hyung, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re sweet and kind and funny, and when you smile, my heart beats out of my chest.”

“Kihyun--I...I don’t know what to say--”

“You don’t have to because I know. That’s what I love about you--that you care so much, and always have. You nurtured me and made sure my needs were met. Now, let me return the favor.” Leaning down, Kihyun left a trail of kisses across Hyunwoo’s jaw, then down his neck, and nipped gently at an exposed collarbone. Meanwhile, his soft, small hands started unbuttoning the human’s pajama top, too.

The attention sent a full-bodied shiver straight through Hyunwoo. “N--no, no. Stop. Please.” With more strength than he’d intended, he shoved the nymph off and sat up. His head spun with the sudden movement, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off of Kihyun. “I’m really sorry, but I--I can’t. Look, I can’t deny that I care for you, but not...like that, ok? I have no intentions of cultivating anything romantic.”

Kihyun landed unhurt on the other side of the bed, but his eyes betrayed that he had a new wound on his heart. An utterly broken expression crossed his face as his eyes filled with tears. It could crush the toughest of men. ”What, no! You’re messing with me. Please tell me you are! I was so sure--so sure that you liked me. Are you saying that you--you don’t...?”

Hyunwoo’s eyes widened, and he reached out to set a comforting hand on the nymph’s shoulder. “I do! I really do. I really enjoy your company and I’m so proud of how much you’ve grown. I tell you that every chance I get, don’t I? It’s just--you want a relationship, but if we had one, I couldn't return your feelings. That’s really unfair, ya know?”

“But--but I love you. This is all I’ve ever wanted, to make you happy, to start every morning with you and give you the kisses and affection you deserve. To welcome you home with more when you get back from work.” Tears started to slide down Kihyun’s face, and he wiped them away with the hem of the oversized tee he was wearing. As he went on, his voice got quieter, and his gaze lingered on Hyunwoo’s partially-exposed chest and body. “I adore every single inch of you, and I want to let you know that. You deserve to feel good, like in those videos you watch. I watch them, too, and I always imagine it’s me and you. I wanna give you all of me. My entire heart, body, and soul.” Then, dropping his gaze to his fidgeting hands, almost so quietly it was inaudible, he added, “I...I want the privilege of carrying your children.”

“What the?” Now Hyunwoo was just confused and in shock. “Literally…?” Kihyun gave a tiny nod. “...How?”

“You needed a companion, so I presented as a male, but truthfully, I don’t have a specific gender. I can get pregnant.”

“Whoa.”

“So...you...really don’t react to me?” Crawling up into Hyunwoo’s lap again, Kihyun leaned forward to gently peck his caretaker’s forehead. “Not that?”

“No, Kihyun, I don’t.”

Then plump, red lips were on his again, and the nymph left a long, sweet kiss. He even was brave enough to let his tongue shyly test the waters, brushing against the bottom of Hyunwoo’s pout. The hope in his expression when he pulled away was almost saddening. “Yes? No?”

“I’m sorry, Kihyun, but no.”

Next, he tried suckling at a sensitive spot on Hyunwoo’s neck, and pushing up the human’s pajama shirt a little, gently took hold of his love handles. “Not even that?”

“No.”

Kihyun bit his lip, frustrated, and collapsed inward on himself just a tiny bit. The light in his eyes revealed that he had resigned himself to something. Then, the nymph sighed and slid down his caretaker’s body. It was immediately clear where he was intending to go, and it made Hyunwoo shiver. “Well, then...how about this?” Gently, Kihyun placed a kiss on his crotch.

The tired, rogue mind that had plagued Hyunwoo the night before returned. For a moment, it sent him images of them pressed together without clothes in the way. Kihyun was on top, riding his cock, so close to falling apart; eyes full of lust and adoration, whimpers falling from his lips. The thought of the little nymph so beautiful and blissed-out sent an unexpected jolt of electricity right to Hyunwoo’s dick, and it twitched in response.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Kihyun’s face was glowing again. Carefully, he stroked the hardening member through the cotton fabric. “Please, let me help you. Can I?”

Shaking with confusion and conviction, Hyunwoo reached forward to grab Kihyun’s wrists. “For the last time, no. Any touch down there is gonna make me react that way. Yeah, we could have sex, but again, if my heart’s not in it, that’s unfair to you. You’re like…a son to me, alright? And it’s wrong and unhealthy for a father and his child to be together like that.”

Yet, a whisper tickled at the back of his brain. Stop making excuses, you fucking idiot! That’s all this is. You know better than to lie to him about how you really feel--

He ignored it. “I--I’ve gotta go get ready to go to the gym.” he took a quick glance over, and regretted that decision instantly. Kihyun had curled into himself, and though he was trying to hide, it was obvious that he was bawling. Tiny hiccups and sobs gave it away. Sighing, Hyunwoo reached out again to put a hand on the nymph's knee. “Look, let me think things through, and we can talk about this later, ok? We’ll figure something out. I...don’t love you the way you love me, but...I probably could. It just will take more time.”

Kihyun didn’t say anything in response, not even raising a finger in acknowledgment, but Hyunwoo assumed he had heard. The human climbed out of bed, stretching side to side a bit before heading off to the bathroom to take a long, cold shower.

He needed it very badly.

Later, when Hyunwoo got back from the gym, Kihyun was gone. However, the plant’s trunk had closed up, and that was a major clue. The nymph had once mentioned that if he was to be badly hurt, he’d return to that solitude, so that’s where he had to be. Guilt pricked at the human’s heart that the morning’s events had caused this. All he could do, though, was resume his routine of touching the gray bark. When before, he just wanted to express his gratitude and appreciation to the flora he had raised, now he was begging the small, cute being inside for forgiveness.

Hyunwoo was struggling with the toughest internal dilemma of his life, and it was on his mind constantly that day. The more he tried to get it out, the more he confronted the small voice he had silenced. For the most part, it always led him to one question and one question only:

“How do you know when you love someone?”

Glancing up from his cocktail, Chae Hyungwon raised an eyebrow and quipped, “I wondered if there was something on your mind.”

“And what might have given you that idea?”“You’ve been quiet. Even more than normal for you, the most stoic man I know.”

Sighing, Hyunwoo put his beer up to his lips and took a swig. Yeah, now that he thought about it, the conversation had been slow tonight. Honestly, though, he’d been so distracted, it was a miracle he’d even been able to hold one in the first place. Now the real reason he had called Hyungwon earlier to ask about a night out was in the open, and he couldn’t take it back. “Really, though, how do you know for sure when you love someone? I--I ask because I know that you and Changkyun are pretty established. When I think of couples in love, you guys are it.”

The younger man’s gaze had gone to his drink and how he lazily swirled it around with his stirrer. Finally, after a beat of silence, a grin spread across his face. Seconds later, he was chuckling, then laughing hard, crackling snickers that he covered up with the palm of his hand. His cheeks pushed cutely up into his eyes.

“...What?”

“Is this related to how you won’t let me in your house anymore?”

“Um--No?”

“Does Son Hyunwoo have a secret mistress?” The tall, slender stockbroker wiggled his eyebrows and gave him a coy smile. When Hyunwoo just stared back in annoyance, he stuck up a hand. “Hey, or boy toy, I’m the last person who should be judging--”

“I’m--I’m not seeing anyone, Hyungwon, I just--ugh, someone was curious.” Internally, Hyunwoo cringed at the bad (and probably obvious) lie. He should have just said it outright: I might be considering it, though. “Asking for a friend.”

“Huh, yeah, right.” Hyungwon rolled his eyes but it was clear that he’d relented. He turned more toward Hyunwoo, his long legs allowing him to easily swivel on the barstool. “How do you know if you’re in love? Well, it’s...kinda hard to explain, I guess? You have to experience it yourself to really know since it’s different for everyone. But I can kind of tell how it is for me, and maybe, your person can pick out--common elements? Anyways.” Hyungwon waved a hand and took a short sip of his drink. “Changkyun is everything to me. It’s the best feeling in the world to know that he’s mine. After a long day of work, even if I have nobody, I have him. No matter how tired he is, he’s waiting for me with a smile and a kiss and a ‘what do we want for dinner tonight?’. He makes our house a home. It just feels so right, and I never want to let him go.

“There’s no one else for me on the entire planet, you know? The thought of him seeing another person is painful. Call me selfish, but I don’t regret it in the least. If I’m planning on going out somewhere, like with you tonight, he fusses over me, making sure I’m fed before I go to the bar, that I have a ride home, that I’m dressed well. I care for him so much, I know that I’d do the same thing if he ever went out with his friends, but he’s an introvert loser.” Hyungwon laughed again, and a sly smile slipped onto his face. “At the same time, perhaps it’s good that he doesn’t. The last time he tried--that’s just it. He tried, and never made it to the door because he looked so damn beautiful, and I couldn’t help myself. We ended up fucking on the couch, and again in the shower, and--”

“--Hyungwon--”

“--right, that was too much information. But I know we have a love thing and not a lust thing because more often than not, I just want to cuddle twenty-four seven. We snuggle a lot, and it fills me to the brim with warmth when I’m spooning him and he slowly traces the veins in my arm.

“Leaving our bed in the mornings is so hard. He goes to work half an hour after I do, but you know me. He’s usually already up and around by the time I drag myself out. The best days, though, are the ones when neither of us has anywhere to be, and he wakes me up with kisses and a hand in my hair. I live for those little moments. It’s not like he doesn’t always show me that he loves me, but it’s when I least expect the affection that it makes the most difference. I could go on, but does that answer your question, Hyunwoo-hyung?”

“Y--yeah. It does. Thanks.” Hyunwoo’s cheeks burned as it became clear that he’d been fooling himself. Everything Hyungwon had said resounded in his head and heart. Especially, the line about how Changkyun made a house into a home. That was exactly what Kihyunnie had come to mean to him. No wonder Hyunwoo always was so eager to get home after work, knowing the nymph was there waiting, felt willing to tell him anything and everything, and cared for any needs his guest might have. All the random urges to initiate snuggling, cuddling, and spooning, as well as that morning’s sexual fantasy, weren't just perverted thoughts. No, they were so much more. Before, he didn’t want to believe it. Hell, how had he been so blind?

Thankfully, Hyungwon didn’t seem to notice the sudden shift in mood and tipped his head back to finish the bit of cocktail left in his glass. Hyunwoo glanced down into his bottle, almost by instinct; but he had hit the bottom long ago. The younger must have noticed because he nodded toward where it was sitting on the counter. “How about another round, huh?”

Hyunwoo was about to say yes; he would have, gladly. However, a strange feeling crept into his gut, one he had never experienced before. Gloom and dread descended on his conscience, and everything in him screamed that something was very wrong. He suddenly needed to be out of here, on his way back to Kihyun as fast as possible--

“No, thanks. Actually, I better go, I still have some at-home work to do and an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Hyungwon grinned, turning to the bartender and paying both of their tabs. Though Hyunwoo had protested this little routine at first, the younger man always brushed it off as nothing. I’m a stockbroker, for heaven’s sake. Let me splurge sometimes, huh? “Take care, hyung. Also, I hope that whoever needed that advice finds what they’re looking for.”

It took a Herculean effort for Hyunwoo to swallow the bullfrog stuck in his throat.

He practically ran home, and the terrible feeling grew with every step. It felt like an eternity, but probably was closer to five minutes, before he was crashing through the door of his house and desperately calling, “Kihyunnie, Kihyunnie, where are you--”

No sooner had he said the nymph’s name that his gaze came to rest on a terrible sight. There on the floor of the entryway, in a pile of dirt, red terracotta, and fading green leaves was his Kihyunnie, motionless and unresponsive. In only a few more seconds, Hyunwoo realized what had happened.

See, in the nymph’s hand was a sharp sushi knife--the very same one Hyunwoo had almost used in self-defense the night they’d met. Also nearby, on its side, was Kihyun’s plant. There were huge gashes in the wood, and for every one of those, a bleeding cut existed on its guardian’s body. “Hurt the tree, hurt me,” Kihyun had once said. Now, he’d used that knowledge against himself, practically to commit suicide.

Hyunwoo heard himself screaming, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or not; everything was too much for him to handle. He ran to Kihyun’s side and fell to his knees, his pant legs and shoes getting soaked with sticky red blood in the process. Carefully, but with trembling hands, he lifted the nymph’s limp body into his arms and brushed his orange locks out of his eyes.

“H--Hyunwoo…”

“Ssh, ssh, I’m here.” Tears flowed unfettered down Hyunwoo’s face. “Oh my God, Kihyun, oh my fucking--God--why? Why'd you--?”

“I--I’m sorry. I was--ugh, so, so angry…” The nymph broke into a sad smile, but it only lasted a moment; he coughed and cried out in pain. “I wasn’t in my right mind, shoulda realized sooner that anything with you, reciprocated or not, is better than this.”

“No, I’m gonna help you. I’m gonna fix this, I’ve gotta fix this--”

A familiar hand caressed the human's cheek, and Kihyun pulled Hyunwoo’s gaze back to him. It was clear that the little nymph was fading fast. His skin was turning rapidly grayer, and his eyes drooped shut. He kept steady for as long as it could, but his strength didn’t last much longer. “Stop, don’t bother, hyung. There’s no hope for me. I’m s--sorry, this is my--my fault.”

“P--please, stay with me...Kihyun-ah...I--”

Hyunwoo never got to finish; it was too late. There, in his arms, the little plant spirit passed away. Though he didn’t want to believe it at first, some part of him realized that truth, and his heart shattered irreparably.

“--I love you…”

Despite his deep and utter grief, Hyunwoo made himself do what was necessary. He chopped the sprawling limbs off of Kihyun’s plant and wrapped his body in the hollow trunk. The corpse’s skin had turned to bark, so it probably would decompose in the same way as its vessel. Then, he buried everything in a shallow grave in the backyard. Hyunwoo wished he could do better; however, he didn’t have a clue how. Laying the little plant spirit to rest and letting nature take its course was all he had. Somehow, it seemed fitting. Kihyun had come from the Earth, and he seemed destined to return.

Hoping to return to some semblance of normal, Hyunwoo went to work the next day. Even there, he felt sullen and unmotivated, though. Necessary tasks got done, but when he’d try to do anything else, it felt slow and meaningless. Still, he didn’t realize exactly how bad it was until Seyoung summoned him to his office and urged the younger man to go home. He even granted him permission to take the rest of the week off. Hyunwoo was too sad and defeated to argue, so he gave in and did.

The hours he spent alone and away from the marketing company dragged, and yet passed too quickly. He didn’t feel any better afterward, but still threw himself back into the responsibilities his employment brought.

It would turn out that the phrase ‘time heals all wounds’ was somewhat true, but moving on was harder than waiting for the pain to pass. Hyunwoo missed his Kihyunnie. Everything in his house reminded him of the nymph, so coming home after a nine to five was torture. He could barely sit on the couch and watch television without feeling a ghost of a small body snuggled into his side. His bed was lonely and cold, and there were some nights he couldn’t even sleep because his heart physically hurt. Last, but definitely not least, the whole house felt empty without the plant’s vines spread throughout and the subtle, pleasant scent of its little flowers. So extensive and devastating was his sadness that he even stopped taking care of his other rescued plants. Slowly, they began to turn brown and brittle.

Seasons passed, and Hyunwoo still felt like a dead man walking. Sometimes, he wondered if he’d ever be able to get back to normal. There were whispers that he’d lost his passion, and Hyungwon was even worried sick, as Hyunwoo never wanted to go out anymore or see anyone. The older man isolated himself from the world. Everywhere he turned, the world looked bleak. His life meant nothing without Kihyun by his side.

Finally, when the last snows melted away and the first baby birds of Spring hatched out of their eggs, Hyunwoo decided that it was about time to stop moping and get his life together again. That would require him to do hard things, but he was ready. Starting with the mess that had accumulated around the house over the past few months, he cleaned everything and anything that was dirty. Every spot of dust he wiped away made him feel better. Every once in a while, it'd become hard for a while when he’d find a withered flower petal or leaf.

The singular thing he dreaded the most was the windowsill and what was once his collection of flora. Every single one of them was dead, as his neglect starved them for water. It was tough, but that didn’t stop him from facing the task, though. Hyunwoo had no choice but to get rid of them as well.

Disturbing the spot where Kihyun lay was unthinkable. So, Hyunwoo cleared a patch of earth on the other side of the sidewalk, dug a few holes, and dumped the plants there, potting soil and all, one by one. Hyunwoo was physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted from the work, and also the pain of his swirling thoughts, by the time it was over. As unwelcoming as the couch still was, a nap on it sounded fantastic.

However, then, for some unknown reason, Hyunwoo glanced toward the side of the yard he had been trying to avoid. Perhaps it was coincidence, perhaps fate, because one tiny, almost unnoticeable detail drew his eye.

Amongst the green grass that was sprouting in the area was a familiar sight: three tiny, slender shoots, arranged in a triangle and each topped with a ㄱ leaf.

The realization stopped him his tracks, and his vision became blurry as his eyes filled with tears. Was it true, or was he just seeing things? His shovel clattered to the sidewalk, and he ran over, dropping to his knees next to the small plant. Pushing away the grass around it, he touched one stem with his finger and sucked in a stunned breath. No, this wasn’t a dream. Kihyun’s plant was once again growing out of the soil.

Hyunwoo’s mind whirled as he went inside to grab a tiny terracotta pot and its makeshift saucer. What did this mean? Could Kihyun live again? Even if not, Hyunwoo would try with all his might to make it so. The thought lifted a burden from his heart, even if he took the possibility that Kihyun might be dead and gone into consideration.

For the first time since losing the one he loved, Hyunwoo had hope again.

He prayed that this was his second chance.

[brocktonbay]

[brocktonbay]

love lost.jpg

[rainfrazier]

What was your favourite arc/section of the story? How did you feel it compared to Worm? If you had to pick between Rain and Tristan, who would you pick?

it's so hard to choose a single favorite section but i'd probably say arc 12. i just thought cradle was such an interesting antagonist to rain. other favorites include the rain interludes (i've reread these probably the most of all), the capricorn interludes, the last half of arc 16, the gilpatrick interludes, and the epilogues. really loved everything having to do with the mall cluster/dream room/shardspace stuff.

honestly i liked ward better than worm!! i LOVE worm i love taylor i love her endlessly but i connected more with the main characters and the overall themes of ward than i did with worm.

rain, hands down! tristan is probably close second for favorite character though. love both of the vera bros. it's so hard to pick favorites with breakthrough because each character is just so wonderfully written. they're all real and they're my friends