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Sometimes, it hurt to look at Phichit.
Okay, maybe more than sometimes.
Fine, a lot of the time.
But who could blame Seung-gil? Phichit was so bright. He was so bright and so magnetic it hurt. Seung-gil couldn’t stay away. He was sure the court questioned him, but he couldn’t really know for sure—he spent too much of his attention on Phichit in favor of ignoring his court. Much to their chagrin. But he couldn’t help it. Phichit was just. Too much. And not enough. Seung-gil groaned and dropped his head on the table in front of him. It sat on a fancy patio with an ornate silver fence. The patio overlooked a circular garden. Seung-gil looked up again when someone entered the courtyard. Inside the garden, Phichit flitted about amongst the flowers, talking to the sunflowers while he waved a cattail reed about like he was a conductor. The sunflowers seemed to respond to him, as if they were just as alive as Phichit. Seung-gil couldn’t tear his eyes away. It felt like an eternity. Phichit seemed to notice.
“Seung-gil,” Phichit said, laughing. “You’re staring again. You know, last time you were staring you walked right into that one wall that had just been painted.”
Seung-gil’s cheeks flamed bright red, stretching from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck. He had hoped no one had seen that. The wall had been painted a distractingly bright shade of yellow, but it didn’t hold a candle to Phichit’s magnetism. After that, Seung-gil had to walk the hall of the royal compound with his entire front and half his face yellow. A testament to the fact that he hadn’t been watching where he was walking.
“Stop,” Seung-gil groused.
“Hm?” Phichit tilted his head, looking up at Seung-gil while he kept using his cattail to conduct the dance-like bobbing of the sunflowers.
“Being so distracting,” Seung-gil deadpanned.
Phichit grinned, ear to ear. He dropped his cattail and climbed up onto the patio overlook. The fence didn’t deter him—it was mostly decorative, anyway. Behind Phichit, the circle of sunflowers continued to dance, even after Phichit had left them to their own devices. The cattail had fallen to the ground, lost among the sunflower stalks. But Seung-gil knew that Phichit would always find another one whenever he wanted to make the garden flowers dance—last week it had been the moonflowers, which had been a gift from one of the elfin princes (whose fondness for him, Seung-gil didn’t understand).
“I distract you?” Phichit asked, leaning on the fence and his grin turned shit-eating. “That’s so sweet.”
Seung-gil made a strangled noise in the back of his throat. He slammed his head back down on the table with a long groan, mourning for his dignity. Phichit just laughed—almost cackled.
“You’re so cute,” Phichit said.
Seung-gil grumbled, his voice muffled as his head remained down on the table. He curled in on himself. If he looked at Phichit now, it would be a death sentence. He’d be gone. Spirited away. The words would probably never leave his lips, but he had fallen in love with the strange, sun-beloved elf that took up residence in his family’s gardens. Phichit could ask him anything in the world, and Seung-gil would be weak to deny him. Incapable, even. So he kept his head down and refused to look over at Phichit. He said nothing.
And yet.
Beautiful, distracting, dark Phichit’s presence remained, never backing off. But somehow not pressuring. As if Phichit knew better than to push Seung-gil the way he prodded at others. Instead,
“Yuuri’s coming to visit you again,” Phichit commented. “You loved the moonflowers, right? Do you want me to ask him for more?”
Seung-gil moved, lifting his head enough to fold his arms as a pillow for his chin. He braved a glance in Phichit’s direction.
“I wouldn’t know where to put any more flowers…” Seung-gil sighed. “The gardens are full to bursting.”
“Okay.” Phichit nodded. He hummed and sat at the table across from Seung-gil.
“Why does Lord Katsuki want to visit me?” Seung-gil huffed. “I don’t have a title.”
“Yet.” Phichit sang, grinning like he had something to hide.
“Whatever you’re planning, my answer is no.” Seung-gil narrowed his eyes, just barely avoiding pouting.
“Oh.”
Phichit’s temporarily crestfallen expression startled Seung-gil. He sat up a little, blinking. He opened his mouth to start speaking again, but Phichit cut him off, smiling again.
“That’s okay. You worry a lot,” Phichit said. “Probably more than Yuuri does. I swear, I’m not plotting some outrageous scheme no matter what Yuuri says about my proclivities.”
“Okay…” Seung-gil hesitated. He wasn’t sure he liked the smile Phichit currently wore. It was a cover for whatever button Seung-gil’s thoughtless words pushed. The urge to apologize tugged at his gut. “So why is Yuuri visiting, again?”
“I dunno.” Phichit shrugged. But something on his face told Seung-gil he wasn’t being completely truthful. “It’s not to see me. He puts up with me enough. It’s pretty great. You know just last week I almost got him to drink his weight in honey-wine? Would have done it, too, if his partner hadn’t meddled…”
“Phichit…” Seung-gil sighed.
“Okay, okay,” Phichit conceded, holding his hands up. “I invited him. He’s going to bring someone with him. I wanted to show them something here in your gardens, if you’ll let me.”
Seung-gil furrowed his brows, but he nodded.
“What’s that look for?” Phichit asked, pouting.
“They’re your gardens,” Seung-gil said, voice edging between confusion and disbelief. Since when had Phichit ever asked for permission? “You can do with them as you like. You made them what they are.”
Phichit’s eyes lit up. Any remnant of his smiling mask was gone, delight breaking through. He practically shone. The sun truly did love this man. Seung-gil had no time to react when Phichit vaulted across the table and tackled him onto the patio. The patio, for its part, remained painfully solid. Seung-gil groaned, arching just enough to ease the pressure on his spine.
“What the fuck.” Seung-gil wheezed. Phichit weighed more than he looked. Not that he’d ever say that out loud.
“That means more to me than you know,” Phichit whispered. His voice was almost lost to the breeze. He sat up, straddling Seung-gil with a watery smile. “Thank you.”
“Did you have to try to break my spine, though?” Seung-gil groaned. “I know elfin medicine is—but—”
“Are we early?” A voice interrupted them. Seung-gil’s face burned. Phichit looked unrepentant.
“Hm.” Another voice made itself known. “I think we’ve interrupted something, luchik.”
“Viktor.” The first voice chided gently, but with more amusement than warranted.
Seung-gil was still trapped under Phichit’s weight, but he looked over at the two newcomers anyway.
“Hi, Yuuri!” Phichit sang. He made no move to get up.
“Lord Katsuki.” Seung-gil tried to nod his greeting, but his back ached in protest. Then he really noticed the person beside Yuuri—Viktor, Yuuri had called him. “Who—”
“Viktor Nikiforov.” Viktor grinned, untangling his hand from Yuuri’s to give a dramatically dapper bow. Yuuri rolled his eyes when Viktor decided to continue. “Though not for much longer.”
Seung-gil blinked at him. Then at Yuuri. Then his brows furrowed into serious concentration. Something was off. Yuuri looked happier than ever, so it couldn’t have been that… Oh.
“Lord Katsuki—”
“How many times do I have to ask you to call me Yuuri?”
Phichit snickered.
“Yuuri.” Seung-gil frowned, the casual address feeling strange to him. “Why do you have a human with you?”
“I love him.” Yuuri shrugged, as if it were natural. “And I can’t go anywhere without him tagging along… Troublesome Vitya.”
“What he’s not saying is that I’ve been trying to court him for years,” Viktor lamented, holding a hand to his heart. “And he calls me troublesome, like some trivial annoyance!”
“Vitya.” Yuuri silenced him with a finger to his lips, only to be rewarded with a cheeky smile. Another sigh. Yuuri was too old for this.
Phichit laughed. He got to his feet and offered Seung-gil a hand. Seung-gil stared at it. The hesitation lasted a fraction too long. Phichit’s cheery expression faltered again. Seung-gil sighed more at himself than Phichit. He took the offered hand and let Phichit pull him up. Apologies swirled in his gut. He never wanted to make Phichit lose his effervescence, not even for a half second. But he never knew what to say—or what to even apologize for.
“It’s a long story, and we’re not here for that,” Yuuri said. A sigh fell from his lips as he reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. A migraine was coming on. Seung-gil did not envy him.
“Oh, what are we here for then?” Viktor piped up, latching onto Yuuri’s arm again now that his introduction had been made. He looked between Seung-gil and Phichit, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. “Yuuri said he didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell him,” Phichit said, shuffling his feet. He smiled sheepishly. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I hope it goes well.”
“Why do I have a feeling I’m going to die today?” Seung-gil asked, raising his eyes to the sky as if begging for sweet release.
“You’ll be just fine!” Phichit sang. He stepped off the patio and into the gardens.
Another cattail reed appeared in Phichit’s hand. Where he kept finding them, Seung-gil would never know. But he didn’t mind. He sat back at the table Phichit had tackled him from, and made space for Yuuri and Viktor to join him. They sat, and while Yuuri and Seung-gil watched whatever magic Phichit worked with the flowers, Viktor looked around him.
“Vitya, pay attention, please,” Yuuri said, gently redirecting Viktor’s attention back to Phichit. “He has something he wants to say to all of us.”
“But it’s so different here,” Viktor whined.
“Shush, sweetheart."
Down in the gardens, Phichit had begun his delightful conducting. The sunflowers burst to life in a bobbing-and-weaving dance. Moonflowers folded their their petals in and out in an easy rhythm. Snapdragons swayed in a gentle, nonexistent breeze. Bluebells and foxglove jingled like true bells, chiming with Phichit’s magic. It remained evident, however, that the sunflowers were the star of this impromptu concert. Sunflower petals detached themselves and flew into the air, swirling brightly as they formed the letters of a love confession.
Seung-gil made a strangled noise in his throat, eyes wide as dinner plates at Phichit’s boldness. He turned his head toward Yuuri for some kind of explanation, but Yuuri just smiled at him, eyebrows raised. Viktor was still clinging to Yuuri like an octopus, but even he was watching Phichit’s work as if mesmerized.
“You should be watching him, Seung-gil,” Yuuri said. “Not me.”
“What is he…”
“Ask him when he’s done.” Yuuri gingerly pried Viktor’s fingers from his shoulder only to lace their fingers together. “For now, he’s expecting you to watch.”
“I always watch him,” Seung-gil tried to say, but the words caught in his throat.
The sunflower petal words flew away. The stalk that they came from stood stark and empty, almost sad. Lonely, even. Seung-gil furrowed his brows. Phichit was—
The petals were out of reach now, just tiny flecks of yellow in the bright sky. The bell flowers continued to chime, louder and louder until they drowned in a gong-like sound. All the garden flowers ceased their movements except for the sunflowers. Then, they too stilled, as if waiting for some rebuke. The single sunflower with no petals appeared to wilt, expecting reprimand. Seung-gil felt his throat tighten. Phichit expected him to turn him down. He felt a chill in his veins.
Phichit turned to Seung-gil with a watery smile. The cattail reed clenched in his hands. White knuckled fingers trembled as Phichit quivered in anticipation. Before Seung-gil realized it, he was on his feet. Striding to the fence, he leaned over it. Phichit had given him his heart and for whatever reason he didn’t expect a return. Seung-gil would give it to him.
“Yes,” he breathed.
Ignoring the soft gasp behind him, Seung-gil climbed over the fence and dropped into the garden below. It was a blessing that it was more like a patio deck and less like a balcony, otherwise his legs would be severely protesting. But, it was an easy drop and Seung-gil didn’t hesitate to close the distance between him and the sun-worshiped man in front of him. He took took Phichit’s hands in his, loosing the tight grip on the crushed reed. It fell to the ground, forgotten as Phichit stared.
“Really?”
“How could you think otherwise…?”
“Luchik?” Viktor whispered into Yuuri’s ear, long after the day had ended and they were returning to their own home. “What did those words say?”
“Phichit asked him if he’d take his heart,” Yuuri said.
Viktor’s hand immediately went to the elaborately wrought golden locket hanging from his neck.
“Exactly that.” Yuuri tilted his head with a fond smile. “It certainly took them long enough.”