Archive of Our Own

There's things that become innate to you, like the twist of a paint's cap, the droop of your shoulder that's missing the weight of a guitar, the move of your hand to adjust your glasses even when they're not there. The smell of paint hit Renjun a second later. It was mid afternoon at his grandparent's small town, the streets were quiet and everyone knew your name when you walked them. He'd only been here for a month and yet he felt familiar.

It wasn't a good idea to paint on the floor. The canvas lay, glaring up at him in stark white. His back would ache, and him and his grandma would spend the rest of the night nursing their lower backs between poor jokes about growing old. "You're young, scoundrel. You wouldn't fool a fae with your lies." She laughed into her mug of jade tea.

Fae can't lie, but they could sense one from a mile away. He didn't quite understand what she meant.

Nonetheless, he didn't have much choice. The broken easel in the corner of the room sat the same way it did yesterday, and the day before, and before: one leg snapped off. He dipped his brush into the water and twirled.

"I'll have you back in no time," His mother smiled, bitter laugh lines curving her face. He remembered the stroke of her palm against his hair.

The streets knew of his mother.

Miss Park down the street talked about her fondly, as if she was still a little girl running around catching dragonflies in the yard. A small plaza in the middle of town had a tree with his mother's initials carved on it. Weather had made them nearly intelligible but it remained like a stubborn stain. Even in the way his grandpa never spoke of her, she was there.

He never really knew what to say when they asked where that little girl had gone. His mother had grown, bigger than what this small town knew of her, sometimes even bigger than what she ought to be. It weighed on her, and on him.

Here, he was free.

He painted a small grove he discovered a couple days ago. He'd been roped into helping out his grandma's friends in collecting berries from the forest for their infamous cherry wine. It was mildly interesting, maybe one too many wasps, but the best part about it was the grove.

Grandma had waved him off after he'd filled his small basket with enough of the pearly pink berries. He wandered off, missing the worried glances the older ladies had given him as he did so. They were far too superstitious.

The grove was within sight of their picking grounds. A jutting slab of rock sat in the middle of it, a vine of flowers curled into the cracks. It was up to his waist, pointing upwards. Renjun hoisted himself up on the rock and listened.

The breeze was as warm as the sunlight, it mimicked how he felt about this town. A town he'd never seen before but felt as if he was meant to.

He painted the bright green grass dotted with small lilac flowers. His tongue poked out from between his lips in concentration, careful strokes of the wet brush, deliberate in its every move. Light moved across the room the longer his strokes took, and soon enough sunset was upon his little halfway done grove.

The background looked like mush and he hated it.

"Painting again?"

Grandpa always knocked. Grandma found it ridiculous to knock in her own home. He straightened from his spot on the floor, and immediately winced at the shooting pain up his spine. Terrible ideas give birth to annoying consequences. He refused to give the knowing look in the elder's eyes the satisfaction. "What's for dinner?"

"Look at you," Grandma tutted, turning away from the door. He followed her out of the room, his little storage turned studio. "Are you a prince, Renjun? What's for dinner? Your hard work!"

He rolled his eyes, he knew well enough where he'd gotten his snark. Grandma Huang was his mother's migraine.

In the kitchen, a pot was already boiling. He peered into the pot, steam rising into the air, and figured beef stew would be a wonderful way to end the night. He sighed dreamily at the thought of the rich broth and meat. The stupor was broken when he was herded to chop up the vegetables laying on the counter.

Ah, my hard work, he thought bemused. He entertained his grandma's stories of her day at the library. He remembered his curiosity upon finding out his grandma worked at the town's public library. Sure, the city had a huge public library with art installations and an online database but there was something intriguing in the age old library near the temple.

There were apparently some troublesome scholars hounding her for some age-old texts this morning. "They came from God knows where demanding something about traditional weddings here," She waved her spoon, a scowl on her face.

Renjun hummed, scraping his hard work into the now bubbling broth. His grandma hummed in approval and stirred the stew twice before placing the lid back on.

"You should pay me a visit sometimes. Those shelves are taller than the both of us but a ladder always helps," Grandma mused, more to herself than him, and he let her. She'd suggested most of his outdoor activities since he'd arrived, there was no stopping her he soon learned– except perhaps his mother.

He set the table for three. Three stained glass cups in different colors bounced with the light. There had always been something sharper since he'd first stepped into this little town, something clear and fluorescent about every detail, it fed his artist muse vapidly. In a month alone he'd finished three paintings already.

The front door opened with a clatter, the metal door with its fly trap clanging. A familiar whistling tune followed the clamor.

"Hurry up! The broth is perfect!" Grandma trilled from the kitchen.

Renjun couldn't help but laugh, and his grandpa's smiling eyes met his. "My vegetables made them perfect, Grandma." He called over his shoulder.

She bustled in with the pot, setting it on a tatami mat, with a bright smug smile. It's either she didn't hear his comment or she chose not to because she has no returning quip for him. Their small family gathered at the table among small clicks against fine china and loud expressive stories. For such a small town, his grandparents made it sound larger than life.

He was washing dishes in the kitchen when Grandma came bustling in with an empty cup. Jade tea long gone and a sleepy yawn replacing the boisterous woman, he urged her to get some rest.

"Oi, scoundrel." She pointed a lazy finger at him. "Don't go swearing yourself to whoever, you hear me?"

"What are you talking about?" His brow furrowed, the amusement is apparent on his face but Grandma was past caring for his disbelief. She tapped his shoulder and bid him goodnight.

She went muttering about pesky city students and bad traditions, whatever mish mash of folklore that Renjun has heard in passing for the last month. Maybe he ought to take her up on that library visit. His back gave another ache and he groaned loudly.

The quiet was comforting, and Renjun found no exhaustion as he cleaned up the rest of the living space. He closed the lights last and headed for his mother's old bedroom.

Hummingbird patterned wallpaper, yellowing in its age, adorned the walls of his mother's childhood room. A dusty old chest filled with toys and picture books sat at the foot of the bed. He nearly coughed a lung trying to go through it. Grandma had threatened to throw it out upon seeing its contents spilled about, but Renjun had a gut feeling there was no truth to her words.

His suitcase looked odd in the simple quaint room. It laid open, contents haphazardly spilling out of it: chargers, a drawing tablet, an unopened box of tube paints, headphones, and sweaters upon sweaters. His mother insisted it would get far too cold as December came. Grandma had tutted at his fuzzy sweaters and said they were unnecessary.

It was September. The breeze had begun to carry a chill, but not yet.

The room was bathed in pale moonlight from his window, a perfect view of the night sky, his first painting. He tucked himself into the sheets and grabbed his phone from the nightstand. It was the usual suspects: his mom, his best friend Donghyuck, his partner Chenle, and some emails from the college waiting for him to come back. He felt tired all of a sudden.

He replied to Donghyuck, he would never hear the end of it if he didn't, and let the screen go dim. Sometimes he wished he could have taken Donghyuck with him, but if his long rambling texts were any indication, he was having a great time at college.

Donghyuck didn't need the quiet of the rolling fields, the chatter of old ladies going berry picking, the time that bent and stretched as he wished, the feeling of being needed in every beckon of his grandma's hand. Not like Renjun did. A bandage on his palm marked a scrape he acquired while helping loading the truck with vegetables to be sold to the market in the capital. It felt insubstantial, and it stung, but it felt better than any of his mother's coddling. Of shiny wood floors and worried grasps on his arm.

His eyes soon felt heavy and he rolled onto his side, burrowing into the pillow. Tomorrow, he promised. Enough laying awake at night dreaming of the things he could be. In this small town, he could just be.

i.

Grandpa laughed like he did. Most often with abandon, especially around Grandma, and it came from his chest like it was something that burst out of him. Renjun didn’t laugh like that often back at home, unless he was with Donghyuck. That morning, however, they both laughed heartily at his Grandma recounting a story of one of the first times she went to the capital of the island. The bustling loud city nearest to the docks.

“Where’d you hang that painting of yours this time?” Grandpa asked him with a fond smile. He was his number one fan on the island.

Renjun startled. “My painting? It’s not done yet.”

He remembered leaving the canvas to dry yesterday when Grandma called him for dinner. It was nearly done, just a few missing touches here and there, but it was coming out better than Renjun had thought.

“It’s out in the backyard. I let it get some sun, poor thing looked dreary drying inside,” Grandma said, with her back turned to them as she began cleaning the pots used for breakfast.

“It’s outside?!”

“Didn’t you just he—”

The wooden chair groaned as he hurriedly got up and raced for the back door. He faintly heard Grandpa’s soothing voice chiding Grandma for moving his stuff. Renjun burst out into the bright morning, and searched the empty backyard. Nine in the morning, the sun was barely bright enough to even be considered hot, but Renjun was more concerned over the stray cats that often came for the poorly kept flowerbeds.

As promised, his canvas lay against a small cart filled with stuff to be recycled at the end of the week. He was worried the oil paint may have gotten too hard to paint over, and gingerly touched the rough surface.

“That’s a nice grove.”

Stray cats did not talk.

He straightened in surprise at the voice and found its owner. “Who the hell are you?” The words had already left him before he could think about it. His face morphed into a frown at the sight of the dark haired boy standing outside the fence.

His arms rested on top of the fence and he leaned lazily into them, peering into the yard without trouble. His skin was a light tan, not unlike most of the people on the island, and his eyes seemingly twinkled in delight at his brash greeting. There weren’t a lot of people his age on the island, more often than not they were in the capital or elsewhere to fulfill their dreams, but they always came back Grandma swore. Perhaps this boy was one of them.

“I’m Jaemin. And I said, nice painting.” He reiterated. A slow smile came upon his face and it felt akin to Renjun’s hand touching the warm canvas. The feeling caught him off guard and he turned away from the boy to pick up the said painting.

“Thanks,” He muttered.

“Are you the Huangs' grandkid?” Jaemin asked. He caught Renjun's eye and smiled even brighter. He placed his cheek on his palm and– in what Renjun could explain– oogled.

"I'm not a kid."

Jaemin only smiled. "I'm Miss Park's nephew."

"From where?" Renjun raised a brow. He hadn't seen a young man living in the house across the street from them with cheery little Miss Park.

"I just arrived last night if that's what you're asking," He said, bemused. "What about you?"

"I came from Seoul."

He didn't know why he was still standing there, out in the bright morning talking to some boy. His mom would have initiated an interrogation by now had she seen him talking to Jaemin. His scowl deepened at the thought and he turned away, ready to leave this conversation.

"Hey!" Jaemin called.

When Renjun turned to him, then he saw it. He saw the way the light hit his face, his skin seemingly glowing and sunkissed. He saw the way his arms were draped over the fence, and the way he leaned forward as Renjun walked away, as if pulled. He saw the way his eyes lit up when he paused.

"I didn't get your name."

A thrill ran through him, starting from the soles of his feet to his chest, and he felt frozen. He hesitated only a moment too long.

The door swung open on his back.

"What is taking you so long? If you're trying to skip on dishes, I'm throwing your paints out." Grandma had seemingly no remorse in hitting Renjun with the door on her way out. She raised a brow at him when he sputtered in surprise. "What are you doing?" She prompted when Renjun continued to flounder awkwardly.

"Good morning, Mrs. Huang!" Jaemin's voice was loud and cheery. Renjun was starting to see the family resemblance.

"Look who's home." Grandma actually smiled at Jaemin. Not the sarcastic or smug smiles they would share, no this was almost akin to the endeared ones she gave Grandpa when she thought he wasn't looking.

"I can never stay away too long," Jaemin shrugged. The smile never fell from his face, it was disconcerting.

Grandma's features softened into a thoughtful stare. "Of course not," She murmured.

Renjun moved past his grandma, canvas in hand, without another glance back. He was worried he'd want more, to know more about the beautiful boy who loved this town so much he could never leave it for too long. That maybe he understood Renjun.

ii.

He was stacking books between old rickety shelves when Jaemin found him again. It took him all but a few days to be familiar with the layout of the town's public library. The nearest school to their town was a middle school that was a ten minute walk away, the high school was further down to the capital. Even so, a few couple visitors frequented the building everyday.

The pesky scholars had come back on Renjun's first day. He'd been examining the old card catalog when they'd come in, whispering amongst themselves with laptops and iPads cradled in their arms. His grandma gave them a withering look and pretended to be busy with paperwork the entire time they were conspiring.

He'd learned to organize the shelves a few days later. It must have been so dearly amusing to Jaemin seeing him, with a cart filled with books in the traditions/folktales section. He grinned down at him, leaning against the shelf, and also happened to be blocking the exact space he needed to fill.

Renjun sucked in a breath. "Do you mind?" He gestured to the shelf.

Jaemin complied but did not leave. He looked such a way that it stirred a nervous flutter in Renjun, in a forest green fuzzy cardigan, hair swept to the side, and a disarming smile. "Do you not like me?" He inquired.

The question startled Renjun that he couldn't help but glance back at Jaemin, who had moved to the opposite shelf, arms crossed over his chest and his head cocked to the side.

"We've had two conversations including this one. I don't know you enough to not like you," Renjun huffed in disbelief. He reached up and slid two books on mermaids high above his head.

"Then why won't you look at me?" He could hear the smile in Jaemin's voice.

"I look at you," He said, indignant, but also without looking at him. "Like I said, I don't know you, Jaemin."

Renjun had another cart waiting for him at the front desk. He pushed the cart along, having done with this section, and chided himself at the skip in his heart when Jaemin followed suit.

The library was well loved, that was one way Renjun could describe it. It fell flat on his lips to say that it was simply worn from age. The arched windows mimicked that of churches with slightly foggy glass, the light filtered in well, with hanging light fissures aiding it when it got dark. Jaemin fit right with the old papers and oak shelves– then again, where did someone like him not fit in?

He seemed the type to mold right into a crowd without trouble. More than that, to be the center of its axis, almost glowing with loud laughter. A bitter smile came onto his lips as he started on the next stack.

"Let me," Jaemin started, for once speaking without confidence. It made Renjun pause. He spoke as if he was offering him his hand. "Get to know me, and then you can decide if you like me or not."

"Why?"

Renjun was exasperated. He couldn't read Jaemin, he didn't know what he wanted from him. Jaemin didn't know that Renjun had nothing to offer him. He wasn't the exciting summer adventure Jaemin thought he was.

"There should be a reason?" Jaemin smiled, a corner of his mouth quirking up in amusement, but as if he couldn't help himself the wide smile came anyway. When Renjun failed to respond aside from a blank stare, Jaemin shrugged. "Because I want to."

Renjun broke their stare and dropped his gaze to the book in his hand. He'd lost track of which shelf it was going to, Jaemin's words turning up stones in his head, and flipped it on its side to check the label. It was a self help book. He scowled down at its cheesy title, rolling his eyes heavenward.

Here, he could just be.

"Besides, we're gonna be stuck with each other for a couple weeks," Jaemin said, off handedly.

Renjun turned to him, raising a brow.

"Your grandma said you'd be helping out in preparations for the autumn festival?" Jaemin said.

Funny enough, his grandma had failed to tell him that, aka the exact person she was offering for the job. He's heard about the autumn festival at least. It was the only story from home his mother brought with her to the city. He was actually excited to experience it in person.

He sighed and pushed the cart along. "If you're gonna stand there might as well help me with the rest of this," He called over his shoulder.

Jaemin talked a lot, especially when it got him a smile from Renjun. He visited often, the town was like a safe haven for him, unlike how hectic it typically was where he was from. Too many people, he said. But there were times he got quiet as well, his brow furrowing as Renjun directed him which shelf to place the books. If he noticed he was usually giving him the shelves too high for Renjun to reach, he didn't comment.

The afternoon passed quicker than usual, marked only by the fading light and visitors. He didn't want to quite yet admit enjoying Jaemin's company. He turned their last empty cart around and wheeled it to the front desk.

Grandma Huang had been behind the front desk for the majority of their time stacking and was still there when Renjun returned. Her glasses were perched on top of her head as she peered down at the logbook for the handful of computers tucked in the corner, right next to the front desk. "I hope he didn't give you trouble." She said knowingly.

Renjun opened his mouth to reply, but halted upon the realisation that his grandmother wasn't talking to him. Of course, he rolled his eyes, although the thought is without heat.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Jaemin replied.

Grandma seemed unconvinced and pinned Renjun with an accusing stare.

"I was nice!"

"I'm about to close up. Everyone seems to be done for the day." The library operated on his Grandma's hours, apparently, and none of the villagers seemed to mind. He knew that she was closing much earlier as the autumn festival neared though. Grandma swept away, muttering about not knowing where her glasses are, to do a quick onceover of the entire place.

"I have to get home for dinner," Jaemin said as a form of goodbye.

Renjun nodded, waving him off, before a thought occurred to him. He stared at Jaemin's back before calling his name.

"Yes?"

"Since we're friends now, shouldn't you know my name?" He didn't know if Jaemin had already asked Grandma his name, but Jaemin hadn't said it in the entirety of their time together. Nor did he ask.

"We're friends?" A surprised laugh bubbled from Jaemin's lips.

He scowled.

Jaemin's laugh sounded as vibrant as paint on his hands. "Don't worry about it. I'll just call you beautiful."

Renjun threw a book at him.

iii.

The autumn festival was an annual celebration to welcome the coming of fall. Grandma had told him autumn was the most favorable time in their town, she'd told him over dinner and he had zoned out partially considering he was dead on his feet hauling fruit and firewood with Jaemin all day. He swore he could hear the small band ensemble's drum beats all the way home.

His mother's stories were right. The autumn festival brought about a different color in the town's domestic palette, everywhere he and Jaemin went to offer help there was joy reverberating. People were anticipating this celebration. A tradition that brought good memories and some even say a little magic. Jaemin had scoffed playfully at the auntie that whispered it to them with an impish smile. She knew Jaemin, if the various offers of food and respite were indication enough.

Everyone knew Jaemin. But more importantly, he was well liked.

Renjun grumbled to himself as they faced another day with Jaemin being fawned over by some high schoolers from the capital. Volunteers had come in from the schools, with tons of supplies and food coming from the capital, it was a near frenzy everyday. The plaza was a landmine at this point.

"Stop frowning, try to look like your age for once." There came Grandma's voice and a slap to the back of his thighs using the clipboard she was holding.

"I'm allowed to frown," He resisted, glaring holes at the back of Jaemin's hoodie.

"Give those flags away with a smile or so help me," She said before walking away from him and the many boxes of tiny flags he and Jaemin were tasked to give to every resident in the village.

The small square fabrics were well made, a soft silky red fabric with metallic gold print of three maple leafs in a trifecta. The leaves weren't very detailed probably from the manner of production but perhaps that wasn't the point.

Jaemin had finally returned, his white hoodie was speckled with glitter and there was a dead leaf caught in the hood, but otherwise he was as cheery as ever. He loved the festivity that was sure. He grabbed a box and nodded his head towards the street closest to them.

"Do you miss your friends?" Jaemin suddenly asked.

"There's not a lot so yeah, I do," Renjun chuckled. He was sure Jaemin was used to his manner by now. "I miss my best friend the most. He got a radio dj gig recently, you should listen to it though fair warning that he's way too loud sometimes."

"Why don't you have a lot of friends?"

Jaemin seemed genuinely puzzled by his lack of social life that it was flattering almost. He stuffed a flag into a mailbox as they passed. "I'm a horrible friend," He tried to joke, but a tinge of bitterness crept into his tone.

That only confused the brunette even more. "You're not."

"You don't know me, Jaemin." He teased.

"I know enough," He huffed, jutting his chin out. A small puff of air from his pink lips that Renjun's eyes followed. "I know you helped those volunteers carry in the food when the truck broke down at the highway, I know you laugh at Unce Jeon's jokes even when he's told them thrice already, I know you come early to get my coffee black because they already put in milk when they give it away."

The teasing smile faded from his face as Jaemin listed these observations off the top of his head. Renjun was stunned for a moment, not realizing Jaemin had been paying any attention at all. The detail at the end made him want to laugh but the sincerity of Jaemin's words as he insisted Renjun was a good person stopped it from surfacing.

"And that means you know me?" He said, ever skeptic and teasing. It was far easier to reply to that with banter.

Jaemin peered at him from the corner of his eye. "Maybe not enough," He conceded, shoulders deflating and lips forming into a pout. "But I was trying to say you're not horrible."

Renjun was saved from replying when a young woman emerged from her house to greet them. The scent of freshly baked cookies followed her as she chatted with them, she took two flags, one from each of them and sent them off with a bag of almond cookies. Jaemin was more than happy to hear they were gluten free cookies which probably meant that his digestive system wouldn't rebel against it.

They went from house to house, sometimes getting caught up talking to residents and sometimes flying by easily as they would be empty. Every time they rounded back to the plaza to retrieve more flags, the busier it became.

Their previous conversation was only brought up again on their last stretch of street, the last box in Jaemin's arms.

"Why don't you have a lot of friends?"

Renjun wished there was an easy answer. He reached up and plucked the leaf out of Jaemin's hood, fingers brushing over his soft brown hair when he pulled back.

Jaemin felt warm, and the wind was beginning to pick up.

"It's not that I don't want to. It's just not worth it," Renjun murmured, looking straight ahead. Gravel crunched underfoot and the quaint stone houses had begun to light up the street with a warm yellow color as the sun began to sink. "My mom is a bit… protective. When I was younger, it wasn't so bad, I just figured moving into a big city after growing up here must be difficult."

Renjun was homeschooled up until he wore his mom down and let him take his last two years of high school at a private school. Flashes of memories from his childhood came to mind: private tutors, violin lessons, English lessons, brunches at fancy greenhouses, extravagant but exclusive birthday parties. He couldn't remember many of the names of the kids of her mother's peers.

They stopped walking, Jaemin staring softly at him and Renjun found he couldn't hold his gaze. He didn't want his sympathy.

"But then she started getting neurotic, about everything. She constantly interrogated my friends about what I did, about their intentions with me, and sometimes hassled them to babysit me," Renjun winced, remembering Xiaojun's and Yangyang's excuses when they refused to hang out with him. It throbbed like a fresh bruise, and he realized what a burden he was to his friends. "I was in high school being treated like a three year old."

"I know what that's like," Jaemin smiled wryly.

"Strict parents?"

"Competent parents. Your only enemy was their expectations."

Renjun matched his gaze, an understanding flitting between them. Down the street, the plaza bustled with life, it was centered by a warm ember glow that matched autumn perfectly. The drums of the band echoed into the quickly approaching night time.

His mom didn't like having visitors by dinner time. Xiaojun, Yangyang, and countless others would get the hint, they scurried out the door without a backward glance, and Renjun never blamed them. His fists clenched. Not resentment, but a hollow feeling of sadness that always came whenever he thought of the boy stuck in glass rooms back at home.

Jaemin walked ahead and hurriedly left flags at the last three houses. He folded up the empty box and jogged back to Renjun, a purposeful smile on his face. He couldn't quite recall when he started to read Jaemin's neverending cheer. The world was Jaemin's pearl, it was a wonderment to watch him experience every mundane thing and seemingly hold it dear.

Later that night, Jaemin sang old folk songs with his Grandpa around their dining table. Dessert left a tangy sweet taste in Renjun's mouth. But he was sure the content feeling in his belly had nothing to do with fruit tarts as Jaemin winked at him in the middle of a terrible belt of a note that his fellow band kids would cringe at.

"I stayed for dinner," Jaemin told him, clearly triumphant and pleased with himself.

Renjun rolled his eyes but a laugh ruined the effect. This made Jaemin laugh as well and the sound tickled his heart. "Thanks for staying." And he meant it.

He's never quite said that before.

Jaemin's fingers brushed against his cheek, featherlight and soft, and Renjun swore softly. He tucked Renjun's hair behind his ear. The touch lingered even when Jaemin retracted his hand and Renjun fought the urge to grab it and bring it back to his face.

Staying was foreign, and Renjun quite liked it. Jaemin bid him goodnight and Renjun watched him take the ten steps across the street to Miss Park's home.

A decorative mirror hung in the living room, a little old and dusty, but Renjun's steps slowed as he caught sight of the small flowered herb Jaemin had tucked behind his ear.

iv.

Now, Renjun wasn't exactly the most patient person in the world but he took pride in not snapping at the fifth girl that had approached him today asking for Jaemin. If it were up to him he would be glad to know where exactly the charming idiot was, but he didn't and he grumpily turned away from the crowd. Jaemin promised yesterday to meet him at the plaza at eight, just before noon to avoid the influx of the festival goers, get a head start on the prize booths before the good ones go and all that.

He definitely did not text Donghyuck about Jaemin last night and spent the night grinning at his phone as his best friend swooned over how this was his version of a romantic carnival date. It wasn't a date. He didn't like Jaemin, simple as that. It surely wasn't if Jaemin couldn't bother to show his face on time.

Even his Grandma wasn't around to pester him as she was part of the folk dancers for later's program. He sighed and eyed the barrel of cherry wine that was carried in earlier.

"There you are!"

Renjun turned, mouth opened ready to give Jaemin an earful for making him wait nearly two hours, and stilled.

Jaemin was always himself, always so sure and unerring, but as Renjun's eyes drank him in he felt even more so. He was dressed in autumn colors. A maroon colored tunic tucked into black pants, with a parchment colored coat. He stood in buckled black boots dated from last century and was adorned with rustic gold jewelry. If Renjun were truly infatuated he might've said Jaemin's hair turned auburn in the light and his eyes looked like pools of honey.

"Hey, beautiful." Jaemin tried again, a fond smile on his lips. The pet name did not bother Renjun even a bit and he found himself leaning into Jaemin.

He smelled like pinewood and hazels.

Jaemin was autumn come to life.

"You're late, asshole," Renjun snapped out of his daze, remembering the annoyance of the past two hours.

Jaemin, at least, looked chided. A sheepish grin on his face he rubbed the back of his neck. "I got caught up with something."

The vague answer is unlike him but Renjun is once again surveying his outfit. He was surely in theme alright, making Renjun feel underdressed in his black turtleneck and maroon sweater. "Clearly," Was all he managed to say.

"We still have time before the program starts. Come on, I'll win you one of those ghastly looking sprite plushies," Jaemin grabbed his hand and swept him into the festival of his mother's dreams.

Game booths lined one side of the plaza, opposite the food table, and brandished all sorts of autumn themed prizes and games. Renjun had never been to an actual fair in the city before, but had watched enough movies to know there must be some that were rigged to be difficult. He considered warning a far too excited Jaemin but held himself as he stood in front of the first booth.

It was a game of modified beer pong. Hand carved wooden cups were set up in a pyramid, each one with some depiction of an elf kin except one. A single cup with a fairy carved onto it would sit among them. Jaemin had three ping pong balls in his palm for each set. There were three pyramids in total, with the fairy in different positions each one.

The high schooler manning the booth motioned for Jaemin to take his first shot.

Renjun once again debated telling him that the cups were spaced a bit too far from one another and the short distance was to his disadvantage, and yet he only laughed into his palm as Jaemin psyched himself up.

Jaemin made ridiculous expressive noises when he played and Renjun guffawed each time he missed. His laughter only spurred the other on, and he even winked at him for his last shot.

It missed.

Not like it mattered much because as Jaemin turned to him pouting, unable to brag over the one set he was able to score, Renjun's cheeks hurt from smiling. It wasn't an ugly sprite doll but it was a prize nonetheless. He let Jaemin take his hand again as they traversed the next few booths.

The hand that held his was warm and calloused, with a single gold ring on his left ring finger. Renjun examined the band of gold in the light of the afternoon as they waited in line for coffee– of all things that's what Jaemin wanted after all their failed attempts at the game booths. The ring was a rich golden color, as if it was molded yesterday, with a crest in the middle. An engraving of three maple leaves with a cursive 'J' tucked between them.

He was busy watching the way Jaemin's fingers slot against his when Jaemin spoke. "Beautiful, do you want anything?" The low timbre of his voice sent a shiver down his spine, and he snapped his head up.

"Huh?"

He heard the lady serving them chuckle. Her face was familiar, probably from the cherry picking. Renjun flushed against her fond smile.

"Coffee? Or do you want tea?" Jaemin said, gently.

"Coffee, but with cream and two sugars," He told Aunt Chaewon. He remembered her name solely for the jeweled brooch she wore on the lapel of her coat.

Jaemin paid for their drinks.

Renjun had been too distracted by the program's beginnings to realize he had until Jaemin had pressed the warm cup into his palm. He muttered a sheepish thanks, hiding a smile into his cup. The first sip warmed him all the way to his toes.

"Come on, let's get a better view," Jaemin urged him forward with a hand on the small of his back.

The crowd had circled around the center of the revelry, an unlit bonfire in the middle of the plaza. The long branches were stacked tall, almost to Renjun's full height, and in front of it the town's shaman held a mic to her red painted lips. She swept an around out onto the crowd, the bells hung on her long billowy sleeve chiming. "Good day! It's a pleasure to have everyone hear to celebrate one of the most prosperous times of our village."

Indeed, the village seemed to become larger than its mold once autumn truly set it. Today was the beginning of a wonderful time. Renjun was glad to be part of it, to be part of something and be embraced by it in return.

Jaemin's hand had not left his back. It had strayed slightly to his waist, resting lightly against him. His heart drummed in rhythm with the trembling beats of the band.

"I present to you, the dance of the Autumn Court," The shaman boomed. Her voice travelled with pride and power, and the music started up with a trill of flutes and a violin.

He assumed it must have been the wind but Jaemin took a sharp inhale as the dance began. He must be cold in his tunic, Renjun thought, and pressed closer to his side.

Grandma was part of the dance of the Autumn since she was a teenager, it's a long standing tradition that a family passes onto their first daughter. His mother had only danced it once in her life, the year before she left for Seoul. Since then, Grandma had once again danced for their family.

The drums kicked in. The women paused in their formation and spun into life. The red skirt they wore was tipped with red orange, and a thin underskirt in a golden yellow. As they swayed and twirled to the swell of the music, they looked like wildfire. Gold painted leaves were woven into their hair and they glittered even in the bright afternoon.

Renjun watched mesmerized as they circled the unlit bonfire, arms waving in graceful curves as if beckoning. It was an invite to revelry.

His grandmother danced like the very song was ingrained into her body. She was an extension of this tradition, this music herself– something part of her whole life just as much as her own limb. She didn't have the lithe of the younger girls but she danced with fervor, and her eyes were alight.

If his mother were here–

He dismissed the thought immediately as it came. There was no point in dwelling on what if, his mother loved the autumn festival but it was never enough. Nothing in this village with its golden hues and faint whisper of the ocean in the distance could fill the want in her. She left this behind, and Renjun had found it.

The weight of Jaemin's head resting against his didn't startle him, instead, he welcomed it.

Renjun found his grandfather in the crowd towards the end of the song. He clapped along to the beat and watched Grandma with a fond smile, a twinkle in his eye as if he was still in awe of her– of the fact that she had chosen him to spend the rest of his life with. It felt personal and intimate. One day, Renjun thought wistfully to himself.

The song ended with the soft sound of chimes, small tinkling notes that left the dancers to spin slowly in their spots. They all end in their own poses. Grandma had her hands clasped over her chest, a serene expression on her face.

Jaemin sniffled.

Renjun leaned back to look him in the face. His nose was tinged pink, he would have passed it for the cold if it weren't for the sniffling and rapid blinking of his eyes. "Are you crying?" He asked incredulously.

"I love that song," Jaemin said, indignant. He sniffed once more and wouldn't meet Renjun's gaze.

His side profile was stunning. It occurred to Renjun that Jaemin would be a perfect model for one of his paintings. "Is it that magical every year?"

"You should stay and find out."

Renjun's eyes widened and he was robbed of a response. Jaemin looked at him so earnestly, he fiddled with the brim of his cup to avoid his eyes.

Stay?

They had lunch soon after. The shaman had introduced a storyteller that was going to sing the epic of the Autumn Court's prince with a group of high schoolers acting it out. He could hear the laughs and gasps of the audience in the distance as he and Jaemin ate at the makeshift food tent set up under a large oak tree close to the highway.

"Why autumn?" Renjun mused out loud.

Jaemin speared a fry with his fork, from Renjun's plate mind you. He wrinkled his nose and swatted at his hand.

"They say this village houses the Autumn Court of the faeries," Jaemin said slowly, brows furrowing in thought. He peered at Renjun from underneath his lashes, a teasing smile playing on his lips. "All that time you spend shelving in the library and you didn't bother to read one book?"

"I'm a visual learner."

Renjun decided he didn't like the way Jaemin's entire face lit up at that. "Is that so?" Jaemin leaned forward, face getting dangerously close. He clearly meant to be teasing but Renjun felt the floor tilt when Jaemin's gaze dropped down to his lips. He was close enough that he could smell the cologne clinging to him.

Somewhere past them the storyteller was singing. He was singing about a prince. A lonely prince.

Renjun jerked back. The movement jostled the wooden table and the Jaemin's soda spilled over the edge of the table and into the grass beneath. "Shit. Jaemin, I'm sorry."

But Jaemin's attention had drifted to the ongoing performance, as if he had just then heard the words too, and his lips pursed. Renjun watched him and remembered how his face looked up close. He felt suddenly that he had just missed something important. A secret that had completely slipped him by, perhaps something about Na Jaemin that not even the streets of this town knew.

"Wanna go back?" Jaemin's raised brows suggested mischief, and the weird tension dispelled.

They took post by the long table manned by Uncle Jeon, it was filled with platters of finger food, desserts, and around three barrels of self service cherry wine. A bowl of cherries was also somewhere in the sea of delicacies.

The bonfire had turned into a dance off. Little kids laughed shimmying to the cheerful folk song the band played for them. A few braver ones danced to their own rhythm, clapping and hooting to their hearts desire. And when a shy couple joined the mix everyone cheered them on as they quite literally danced around each other, hands never breaking.

A bright red cherry appeared under his nose.

Renjun had been eyeing the barrels of cherry wine all day that he hadn't thought much about it when he leaned forward to take it into his mouth. At the last breath of distance, Jaemin pulled his hand away and Renjun's gaze swiveled to him in disbelief, glaring as Jaemin popped the cherry into his mouth. He swore his brow twitched from annoyance.

Jaemin merely huffed a laugh at his expression, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You've got a lot to learn."

v.

Rain pelted the window in heavy droplets. The sky was overcast in dark stormy grey. The storm felt like Renjun's doing, his own foul mood summoning the misfortune. He'd holed out in his mother's bedroom since breakfast and took refuge by the window sill, his phone clutched tightly in his hands.

The weeks after the autumn festival had been the best of Renjun's summer thus far.

With the cold coming faster upon them, Renjun was swaddled in a thick sweater when he painted a mural for the town hall. The swirling colors of autumn were the palette of his life, and this town, at this point. He remembered Jaemin’s thoughtful gaze at the sparse bit of unpainted wall that Renjun was having trouble with. He’d beamed and the effect rippled onto Renjun who didn’t quite know what he was smiling about but it was enough to just to see Jaemin’s bright eyes.

“Let’s make a Freedom Wall.”

And so, they did. Not without asking permission first, though the grumpy looking secretary didn’t seem to need much charming, merely waving them off to continue reading her red bound novel.

“You could write anything. A story, a confession, a suggestion,” Jaemin breathed as they both finished their works.

Renjun found the abundance of pastel pink hearts adorning the large block letters to be a bit much but endearingly so. Before he could comment, Jaemin was already scrawling on the painted yellow wall with a black Sharpie.

I belong in the comfort of my own dreams.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s a compass. It reminds me that I am who I wish to be.”

And with the brush of Jaemin’s fingers against his, Renjun followed that sign. He let the reassurance lead him like a beacon of light to his own dreams. It’s funny how often he saw Jaemin in them.

His heart felt light. Caught in the clouds that it only gazed at before.

He underestimated how easily swayed that feeling was. One phone call from his mom, fifteen fucking minutes of listening to her wring answers from him. He tried hard to listen to her stern voice, the commandeering voice that first taught him piano, then got harsher when he broke her rules, and worst of it all was when she would be drowning in her own worries and doubts that she barely said anything at all.

She laid out her plans for when he came back. How she’d phoned the university to secure his slot and had been browsing for dorms, she’d ignored him when he’d brought up considering going to the university Donghyuck went to. It was a tired predicament he’d been trying to pick. Today, it seemed no different than all the others.

He tried to think about Jaemin’s confidence. That stupid confidence that often led to bashful red cheeks when he realized how in over his head he was. But it took a mountain bigger than the one off the far coast to deter Jaemin’s jest. He tried to summon that same confidence, much to no avail, feeling the words lodge in his throat.

“Renjun, are you listening?” His mom’s voice crackled through the phone. He hummed casually, hoping it didn’t sound anything else but. She sighed, a long weary sound that tugged at Renjun’s heart. “How are you doing over there?”

Renjun recognized all his mother’s maneuvers. The way she steered conversation enough to soften his guard and gain his eventual acquiesce to her suggestions— as she so likes to phrase it. “I’m alright, mama. Grandma and Grandpa take care of me well.”

By the time the line went dead, the first crack of thunder had tore through the sky and Renjun’s shoulders felt heavy.

Why was it so difficult?

It should be easy to scrape courage from his frustrations and tell his mom to back off, to let Renjun live his life without her puppeteering. Long gone were the days he fantasized letting out a dramatic heroic monologue filled with every bit of himself he gleaned between music sheets and loose sketches. A cold breeze kissed his skin, probably from somewhere in the house where a window was left open.

Grandma stood by his bedroom door. She looked much softer without the usual furrow in her brow from going back and forth with either Renjun or Grandpa, it made her look older. He forced a smile for her.

“I worry for her a lot, you know. Guess I passed that trait down.” Grandma tried for a joke, but the mood was far too heavy for a responding quip. Renjun turned his face back to the window, and he heard her sigh. The bed creaked when she sat down. “Things didn’t turn out the way she hoped, and I will forever regret not being by her side for it, I know that much. Your mom was ambitious, couldn’t tell her a thing she couldn’t do. There were a lot of words said I wish I could take back.”

A sad tale it was for a young girl whose eyes glowed with all the dreams she wrote in the crevices of this town, hoping it kept her secrets until she was ready to collect them. His mom had pushed back with all her might against Grandma and Grandpa’s wishes that she study in the city instead of moving all the way to Seoul to chase after her big city dreams. To become an Editor-In-Chief for a renowned art magazine, that’s what it was, among many others. Reality was a dull knife and it hacked away at each piece of his mother’s heart.

Like Cinderella striking midnight, the penthouse view turned into a busy street view from a third floor two bedroom apartment; the job promotion turned into three, five, then eight years of stagnancy in her head editor position; the love of a lifetime turned into broken champagne glasses and a lost engagement ring. All of it Renjun watched like sand slipping from one’s fingers, from the safe distance of his piano bench, and he didn’t quite understand the frozen look in his mother’s eye when she had turned her gaze to him. “You’re my only hope, Renjun.” She’d said. Her hair was matted to her face, with her mascara smudged from where she’d rubbed at it.

How could he hate her when she put it like that?

Jaemin had passed him the Sharpie that day. He’d stared long and hard at the wall and it’s single message so far, and pretended his heart didn’t splinter when he eventually pocketed the Sharpie without writing a single word. Mercifully, Jaemin didn’t ask.

Fog lightly frosted the window but not enough to miss the quick dart of a figure seemingly coming out of nowhere, from a shadow between the trees perhaps. Renjun must have missed it. He eyed the bright red umbrella now hurriedly making its way around their back fence. The rain was strong enough that it was hard to glimpse who it was.

The umbrella disappeared from sight. A passing shock of color in the muted day and he would have dismissed it, but a sudden thump followed, coming suspiciously from the side of the house. Renjun’s brow furrowed.

“You might wanna get the door, squirt,” Grandma chuckled.

Ten minutes later, Jaemin was sitting in their living room with a towel around his wet shoulders. He hadn’t gotten his umbrella out in time and had gotten soaked.

“Did you miss the fucking hole in the sky and decided today was a good day to run errands?” Renjun hissed. Using a different towel, he stood over Jaemin and dried his damp hair. He tried to ignore the way Jaemin was gazing up at him.

“Are you okay?”

Renjun glared. “Me? You’re gonna catch a cold, dumbass!”

“You just look. . .” Renjun fidgeted under his scrutiny. “Angry. You didn’t even greet me when you saw me.” As if that was a large discomfort for him, and from the way Jaemin was frowning it looked like it truly was. Albeit, huffing at Jaemin and immediately turning away to grab a towel was probably not the greeting he’d been expecting when he came knocking at their door. Renjun still felt too spiteful to give him an explanation.

“My mom called.”

He slumped onto the sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose. Jaemin leaned back, face angled to him, expression somber.

“I don’t think I want to go home,” Renjun whispered, to Jaemin or himself.

“There’s isn’t way to avoid her forever, beautiful.”

Renjun’s chest wrenched at the reality of that. He would eventually have to leave, and be once again stuck in the same rooms he’s known all his life. What was freedom then? The perimeter of his uni campus? The world must be mocking him.

And Jaemin. . .

“I don’t know what I’m even sad about,” His finger crept to the loose string on the edge of Jaemin’s sleeve. His laugh was watery as he looked up at Jaemin with his vision slightly blurred. “I don’t even know myself well enough to know that. Fucking sucks, right?”

His hiccups turned into a quiet sob, and it’s a terribly stormy affair. Jaemin’s pinky finger curled against his. He probably looked ridiculous to the other boy, but once again words failed him and he’s pouring himself into his comfort anyway.

Jaemin sighed and brushed a thumb on his cheek. “You made the skies cry.”

“What?” Renjun pursed his lips, still sniffling.

“There’s a folktale that when the prettiest person on the island cries the sky cries with them.”

“Bullshit.”

Despite the obvious lie Renjun laughed with him. In the quiet of the dark living room, Renjun felt the edges of himself blur, desperately clinging to the past few months. The rain came down in a steady rhythm.

“I have a story.”

“Do you ever run out of stories, Na Jaemin?”

Jaemin’s grin was wicked. “Never.” His fingers twined with his, and Renjun wished he wouldn’t let go too soon, before he could even consider the thought. “My older brother is the worst gambler I’ve ever had to bet against. He always wins, I used to think the gods just favored him. There was one time he bet me in a race to the highest point on the island. I ran like hell was coming for me but he still won by a second.”

Renjun listened in rapt attention. Jaemin had only ever mentioned his family in passing, often throwing in a story of a reckless sister or a cheerful cousin, but the way he spoke of this older brother had enough affection that Renjun understood he must mean a great deal.

“But that was only because I got distracted.”

“Of course,” Renjun countered drily.

“Because while we were running up, I saw an abandoned shrine. It was all ruins at that point but the sun was hitting it just right, perfect for a picture. I was so drawn to it I always came there whenever I felt lost,” Jaemin paused, letting the image of the mysterious shrine sink in. He met Renjun’s gaze with a determined smile. “Do you wanna come with me there?”

Softened by his thoughtfulness and sentiment, Renjun nodded. He squeezed Jaemin’s hand in thanks, for the story or the comfort, whatever it was that made him feel grounded again.

But Jaemin was suddenly moving. He hauled Renjun to his feet, and with their hands still linked, he burst out of the Huangs’ front door. He grabbed the umbrella, shaking it slightly, all the while pulling Renjun out of the porch, the gate, and into the street. Jaemin wiped the last streak of his dried tears from his face with the back of his hand. “Just follow the path up here until you see the stairs leading up the mountain.”

Renjun’s eyes widened in realization. Now? He meant to visit the shrine now?

Before he could protest, Jaemin ran. With his grip still on Renjun, there wasn’t much choice in the matter as they raced down the empty streets, the downpour being poorly kept at bay by their umbrella. Jaemin was a fast runner but he did not have the same yearning as Renjun in that moment. The need to break free was threatening to burst from him, and he used it to fuel himself forward, letting go of Jaemin’s hand.

He heard Jaemin call for him as he spotted the base of the stone staircase. Rain came down fast and so very cold, and soon he could hear the squelch of his sneakers as they became sodden. But he was running, unable to wait a moment longer to reach this space of comfort for the lost. He only glanced back once to see Jaemin ditching their umbrella and chasing after him.

Better, he thought.

The rain was cold and it ran into his eyes and mouth in rapid racing drops, but once Jaemin had gotten him running it seemed his feet had taken off and grown wings. They raced up the steps, splashing puddles in their wake and their laughter woke the quiet lingering in the trees. His chest heaved in effort of the climb but it was a reminder to him that he was present.

The shrine waited at the top of the small hill, Jaemin had promised. He'd been at war with himself for the longest time and he wanted to apologize.

To the boy stuck in glass rooms.

Renjun reached the top first and a large gulp of air swooped into his lungs. Then, he was grinning. Rain water dripped down his chin, his clothes stuck to him like a second skin, and he was severely reminded how out of shape he was. He turned to Jaemin, unable to wipe the smile off.

Jaemin was hunched over, hands on his knees. His eyes peered up once he had his fill of air, and he paused. Renjun didn't know what he saw; a soaked sodden boy who had found a glimpse of himself in a past that wasn't his own, but Jaemin smiled, slowly like dawn peeking from the horizons and the day began all over again.

How would he put it into words that made it enough justice– Jaemin was enrapturing in the rain. He straightened and threw his arms out, leaning his head back to welcome the rain. His hair deepened into a dark brown it was almost black. With eyes closed shut, he spun once and when they opened his eyes held Renjun in place.

Renjun had called upon the rain and gotten Na Jaemin.

"Beautiful, you look entirely like yourself," He teased as he came closer. He took Renjun's hands in his and began to sway to an imaginary beat.

It was a few steps in that Renjun realized that Jaemin was leading him into the same dance of the couple during the festival. He pulled Jaemin close, so close, they were nose to nose. "I'll paint this moment," He swore.

"I'll tell you every detail."

Jaemin pulled him into the shelter of the shrine when the rain began to cascade down faster and harsher. What was left of the old shrine was it's entire stone front, a curved dome arcing over the entrance but breaking away into nothing as it reached the center. The center of the shrine had no roof and merely a few pillars and a marble offering table in the middle. Moss and weeds had overgrown over much of what was left.

He liked the view of the sky, though. It felt perfect for this moment in time. Maybe in another few years when weather has eroded it even more it'll mean something for someone else.

"You want to do something?" Jaemin asked. He looked around, rather unimpressed even though he was the one that suggested this place. "We can't really burn anything in offering right now. We could dance again? Or I could sing?"

Renjun laughed at that. "Please don't." He cupped Jaemin's face in his hands and he stilled. "I don't have to do anything. At least, it feels that way. I'm okay."

Forgiveness, he thought, came easier when you've acknowledged what's wrong. When the want to move forward was stronger than that pain the action had caused.

"I still think you should do at least a shimmy or something." Jaemin leaned into his touch, pouting slightly. Renjun's eyes drop to his lips.

"How about a kiss?"

Jaemin's eyes widened and his lips stuttered on his words. "Like in Peter Pan? Like a thimble?" He looked alarmed by Renjun's forwardness and the flush in his cheeks was cute.

"No," Renjun leaned closer. In the rain, it felt like tripping a livewire. The air charged with anticipation until Renjun felt the brush of Jaemin's mouth against his. "Like a French one." He closed the gap.

Once Jaemin had realized Renjun made his choice, his arms held onto Renjun's waist, and pulled him closer. It was both warm and cold at once. Jaemin kissed him like a promise. Gentle and tender, and so, so inviting. Before Renjun could demand for more, fingers slipping up Jaemin's nape to pull him in deeper, it was over.

"You taste like rain," Jaemin said, breathless.

Renjun knew what he wanted to say. The parts of him that met with Jaemin felt electric. "I like you."

He said it like this. Slowly, in quiet puffs of breath with each word, merely whispering them into the sliver of space between them. He said it like it'd be stolen from him, but he would guard it with his heart if he had to. He said it without the cynical sarcasm that came with the loss of a sense of himself, because he felt entirely himself.

Renjun liked Jaemin. He didn't know how to tell him but he tasted like tomorrow.

"But I..." Jaemin's eyes widened. His eyes were black in the shadowed shrine. Renjun's heart thundered with the beat of the rain, and he kinda wished he did ask Jaemin to sing.

"Don't." He swallowed. "Just… I like you. That's it."

There was a small mercy in how Jaemin merely pulled him closer. How Renjun's nose lightly bumped against his neck, and his breath grazed his collar. Maybe he wasn't the only one that was lost. It took several moments of their hearts wildly beating to different tunes, and Renjun playing with the back of Jaemin's sodding wet jacket before something happened.

He said it like this: slow, burdened, and resigned. "I have to tell you something."

vi.

There were two things you expect when you tell a boy you like them, whatever Jaemin wanted to tell him, however, did not seem to fall into either. This was perhaps the only reason why Renjun wasn’t furiously and heartbrokenly texting Donghyuck whilst he was in his morning classes. And also, why his heart was dangling by a string.

That day in the rain felt like a dream. But if he wanted to, he could recount every detail in a beautiful painting. One he had already sketched out, almost feverishly, when they had gotten home.

Jaemin’s ominous words had been interrupted by a loud clap of thunder, as cliche as that was, and whatever cloud that had befallen his mood had lifted in a snap. Renjun was onto him, of course. How could he miss that Jaemin was yet to say if he liked him back?

As Donghyuck had not so kindly said, over the hiccups and lags of a Facetime call, “You’ve been dancing around each other for months! If you guys keep this up whatever perfect fairytale bullshit you’ve been waiting for would have already passed.”

They’d slipped into a different topic then, Renjun begging for a distraction. Anything that could cover up the warm blush that rose up to the tip of his ears at the memory of Jaemin’s lips. He liked him. He truly liked him, and it felt like a rush throughout his body to feel this way. To like a boy, to not worry about not knowing what comes next, and to want to see him everyday for the rest of these months, and maybe even after.

He could hear Donghyuck scoff when he realized Renjun had gone dazed.

Jaemin had worried for them both as the reality that going out in the rain with no sort of protective clothing was a bad idea. He’d promise Renjun a response the next day, asking to meet him by oak tree.

To say he hadn’t gone through every possible heartbreaking news Jaemin could possibly tell him was an understatement. Would his childhood fantasies of falling in love with an alien royalty from an advanced planet actually come true? He nearly knocked himself over the head with his mother’s old princess mirror.

Instead, he took his small semblance of calm to check his appearance in the said mirror, and worry at the collar of his corduroy jacket. The dusty surface of the mirror and light sheen of yellow made it feel like he was standing in another world, some place where cellphones didn’t exist and he truly wasn’t purposefully ignoring Donghyuck blowing up his phone. He grumbled to himself and harriedly texted him a short but snappy message to, very kindly, shut the fuck up or I won’t tell you anything after my heart gets stomped on.

Mrs. Park wasn’t home. Renjun idled outside their gate, gazing at the house across the street. It was Friday, which meant it was bookclub day for Mrs. Park, and his Grandma he realized. He’d picked up their book of the month in passing, the cover a bright blazing red with its title in engraved gold. It was a poem book. Renjun had immediately snapped it shut.

The old oak tree seemed less hulking without the tent shrouding it’s figure like it did during the autumn festival. Jaemin’s figure anxiously paced the base of the tree, somehow able to smoothly dodge the gargangutan roots that had worked its way past the earth. He was in the same flannel shirt as the day he met him. He tried not to think about the heartbroken stanzas he’ll be writing about flannel shirts and pine cedar scents after this. God forbid, Donghyuck get him a scented candle with that exact scent and he burst into embarrassing tears.

Quit being dramatic, he chided himself. It’s just Jaemin.

He swallowed hard and walked up to the oak tree.

Jaemin blinked at him for a moment, and Renjun awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. He forced a laugh to fill the silence. “I was a little worried you wouldn’t show up.” Jaemin’s smile is a small brittle thing.

Renjun hated it. “I wanted an answer.”

Jaemin’s head tipped back as if the words were a physical blow. His lips part and Renjun let his gaze drift to them for a second. You taste like rain.

“Do you believe in God?” Jaemin blurted out. The question seemingly startled both of them as Jaemin was staring wide eyed at him as if he was the one that had spoken. Renjun cocked his head in confusion.

“Maybe? My mom’s not particularly religious,” He shrugged.

Jaemin was still pacing, and Renjun didn’t quite know what to make of his anxiety. He almost wished he would just get it over with. Almost.

With eyes wide, Jaemin suddenly stilled. Renjun held his breath. It seemed Jaemin was filled with unexpected surprises, four months since meeting him and still he was floored by the way he took Renjun’s hands in his and asked. “Let me tell you a story.”

“I said I wanted an answer, Jaemin. If you don’t like me back, don’t jump hoops just to let me down,” He scowled.

“Renjun,” Jaemin breathed out. The sudden use of his name shouldn't have made his heart skitter like so, but it did. “All this time you’ve let me know you, and if you saw yourself the way I did I think you’d believe me the moment I tell you I like you.” His fingers slipped in between Renjun’s own, and all he could see was that boy. That boy who leaned on his backyard’s fence with a smile on his face, the boy who raced him to the plaza once for a promise of dessert, the boy who took his first kiss like it was nothing. And he liked him back.

His heart thundered in his chest. God, he wanted to kiss him.

But Jaemin was insistent, as ever. His gaze softened and he looked at him like he was memorizing every bit of surprise on Renjun’s face. “Let me tell you a story, Renjun.”

So he did. They settled by the base of the tree with Jaemin leaning against the trunk and Renjun next to him. His left hand was still tangled with Jaemin’s. He only protested a little when Jaemin asked him to close his eyes.

“Once upon a time, the Faerie courts emerged onto the realm of humans. . .”

Jaemin’s voice sounded older, deep and raspy, as he told the tale of a fae prince of the Autumn Court. He told the story in vivid detail, not even the beautiful woven chanting of the village’s storyteller could recall the lore that Jaemin painted behind Renjun’s closed eyelids. Strokes of beautiful golden, scarlet, and sunset courtyards bustling with fae and other kin. “The prince brought glory to his Court, admired like a statue on a pedestal, they even sang in praise whenever he came home from the Hunt. He was infallible, they said. And he was also incredibly dissatisfied.” The bitter chuckle that followed made Renjun’s brows furrow.

“He felt shameful, of course. How couldn’t he? He had everything, didn’t he? The glory and the gore. But somehow, somewhere along the way he didn’t know when his title felt less like a crown and more like a collar.”

Renjun could see the palace in his mind, the dark heavy oak much like the one they were leaning on, the gold leaves hanging from arches overhead, the intricate pattern on the tiles of the dance floor. The prince was in the middle of it, dashing and bright, like an ember calling out to you in its warmth. There was something familiar about him, however.

“Time and time again he would cross into the human realm, searching, waiting, or simply existing. In which he felt that his own reality was so severe, he seeked the dream in normalcy.” The line was lifted off the storyteller’s chant. Of the prince who walked the human realm in search of something he desired most.

The Autumn Court looked right out of a fairytale. Renjun found himself yearning for the prince to turn around, that feeling of familiarity nagging at him. He listened attentively as Jaemin told him about the prince's trips to the human world. How he found comfort in the various families he’s stayed with, in particular loving the colorful mess that was Mrs. Park’s kitchen with mismatched cutlery and oddly placed ferns. The picture slowly weaved itself in Renjun’s mind. The blurriness smoothed into a still image, the story reaching its conclusion in a careful hum of Jaemin’s melancholic storytelling.

The prince would return to his kingdom when he felt as if he’d missed what he was searching for once again. A different Hunt he couldn’t seem to win. His face would be turned down, watching the way his feet burrowed into the forest soil. When the prince looked up, Renjun gasped.

“Jaemin.”

Jaemin was staring at him with wide fearful eyes. He was stock still in the breeze, holding his breath for Renjun’s next words.

“It’s you,” Renjun breathed out with certainty. Jaemin was not simply telling a story from a folklore book, he was not telling it to entertain Renjun. No, this was an experience. This was Jaemin’s story.

If he was anyone else it would be absurd. No one would believe it, at least not right away, and he shouldn’t either. But Renjun had always been far too mystified with what could be to turn away from the world Jaemin has given him, his heart fluttering with the incredible amount of trust this must have taken him.

“I know it’s crazy.” Jaemin could only offer him a tight smile. “And if you don’t believe me, I’ll walk away. Because there aren't any half measures to this, Renjun, it's either you have me– whole, real, Fae– or you don't."

Jaemin couldn't meet his gaze any longer, and chose to gaze towards the plaza. His fingers drummed fast paced beats onto his knee, and it occurred to Renjun that Jaemin was nervous.

The sun was high and bright above them. Renjun took Jaemin’s hand in his and watched the hopeful expression fill in his eyes. “Tell me another story, Jaemin. Until I have all of you.” He murmured. Renjun wanted him to know he was not afraid, among many things currently in his mind, fear was not one of them. Never of Jaemin, who he was now realizing was exactly what he’d thought when they’d first met.

Days were shorter during this time but each minute counted for another story. Another and another, with Jaemin rubbing circles onto his hand. He’d eventually moved to laying his head on Renjun’s lap upon the younger’s (Was it older now? Considering, fae time works differently.) insistence, whining all the way about how demanding Renjun was being, but all his pouting just put a smile on Renjun’s lips. Their hands were clasped over Jaemin’s chest.

Renjun remembered many of the tales in the books his mother bought him. Specifically now, he remembered how the Three Fates would spool the thread of a person’s life and cut it when the time came. As he listened to Jaemin talk of hunts, magic, and insufferable little creatures, he unspooled the life whose tangles he understood with every weary sigh.

A laugh startled out of Renjun when Jaemin’s voice cracked amidst a retelling of his brother’s gate crashing at a ball he was banned from attending. The longer they sat there the more loose Jaemin’s shoulders became, and suddenly he was telling Renjun everything in a much more casual manner. Like any other family, he supposed. He tried not to think too hard about the impossibility of it all.

Jaemin could sense his restlessness.

Their shadows were long on the street, linked by their intertwined hands. The small family restaurant they spent the rest of their time in was a little farther down the highway, evident in the number of tourists or city folk filling up the space. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Renjun entertained Jaemin’s ponderings on big city life, a place he did not frequently visit for its bustle and buzz overwhelmed him. He sarcastically reminded Jaemin that he had a very limited scope of those experiences. “A very limited scope, like a two bedroom apartment and band practice room small.”

“Then let’s do it together.” Jaemin said plainly. Just like that and Renjun found that he was nodding along with a soft smile.

“We could go to the amusement park.” Renjun’s eyes sparked with excitement. “I only remember going when one of my mom’s friend’s sons had a birthday party at one. I’m definitely getting on a rollercoaster this time.”

The bitterness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. Jaemin glanced up from his food, amused. “Why didn’t you go then?”

“Too short.”

Jaemin didn’t even bother hiding his laugh. He coughed a little, at the disgruntled look on Renjun’s face much to Renjun’s further annoyance.

“Do you get motion sickness?” Renjun asked, suddenly.

“I have ridden a horse through the rockiest marshes, I’ll have you know. Though I do hate any sort of transport that involves gigantic winged beasts.” Just like that, they fall back into the stories of Jaemin’s life. It was an odd feeling, to sense the realness of a person. . . or faerie. To look at Jaemin from across from him and believe every word, because Jaemin was real, and he was right in front of him eating jjajangmyeon at a busy resto off the highway. But he was also the prince who lost his family sigil once and nearly turned the castle upside down looking for it before his mother came home.

The only cost of having Jaemin was to trust him.

When Jaemin walked him home and left a shy kiss on the corner of his mouth like a promise, Renjun was full and satisfied. He looked down the empty street. This morning he thought he’d come home with a trampled heart, and yet here he was on his doorstep slightly awestruck.

Thankfully, Grandma was in a forgiving mood. He breezed past them with no more than a brief greeting, and went straight to his room. His fingers were frantic as he dialled.

“Hyuck, what do you know about faeries?”

“What kind of post break up bullshit is this, Huang? Can’t you just get a haircut like the rest of us?”

vii.

Jaemin's voice was like a caress. Despite its low raspy tone, it filled Renjun with ease that could almost lull him into a dream-filled slumber. It felt like being in his arms even when he was a couple feet away, splayed out over the comforter from Renjun's bed, on the floor with his hands tucked behind his head. Accompanied by the chirp of the bright sunny day outside, Jaemin was homely.

Renjun squinted at the canvas in front of him, and glanced down at Jaemin. The brush in his hand dripped paint into the hardwood floor, joining the many colored splatters.

"And your eyes were so bright, like fireflies lit them up. You were– are beautiful," Jaemin sighed and turned to him with a soft smile.

He was sure his cheeks were flushed red but Renjun rolled his eyes. "I told you abstract words don't really help," He turned back to the painting they were working on, the one of their day in the rain. Renjun had decided to paint it today, and Jaemin was dutifully describing every detail of it as he had promised.

It was mid afternoon. Grandpa was in the living room with his old guitar, lone melodic strumming echoing into the studio from time to time.

The canvas was actually on the easel this time. Renjun sat on a high stool front of it with light from the window shining from behind him and onto the painting. Even if Jaemin could fix the easel's broken leg, it seemed the overhead light fissure was a complication to him. That didn't have to do with anything of him being fae, he was just too lazy to figure it out.

According to him a stoneward in a jar would do better. The said stoneward was a pale lilac stone thrice the size of Renjun's fist, and it glowed bright as a flashlight when darkness came. Jaemin had put it in a tinted jar to dull slightly its harsh light.

"I've been thinking…"

"Never a good sign," Jaemin' wolfish grin said enough. Renjun rolled his eyes and turned back to the easel, if only to hide his fidgeting.

“The weather’s pretty good today. We should go out.”

“Aren’t you gonna finish that first?” Jaemin nodded towards the canvas.

But Renjun had already gotten up to clean his brushes and dump the murky paint water. He returned to Jaemin setting the canvas away from the window. He handled it gently, Renjun leaned on the doorway, watching the cross of emotions on Jaemin’s face as he gazed down at the painting. The fae male let out a short laugh, a huff of air almost in disbelief, looking down.

As if he’d known Renjun was watching all along, Jaemin turned to him, no doubt a teasing remark on his lips. It never came though. He took the jar and brushes from Renjun’s hands. He kissed his forehead before putting away the remaining supplies, in his hands and laying about. Butterflies raised havoc in Renjun’s stomach.

Jaemin followed him out no question, and they entered the empty kitchen.

Grandma was at the library, as per usual. The guitar had stopped, and if Renjun craned his head he would have spotted his Grandpa talking to a young married couple who were taking a stroll outside. His grandparents had long been woven into the town that he couldn’t imagine them ever living anywhere else, and it seemed the town agreed. That sort of belonging sense of home, he could imagine, was immensely comforting. Something in him urged him to glance at Jaemin then.

His boyfriend was already watching him, patient as ever though any moment now he’d pounce. Renjun stifled a laugh and gestured toward the picnic basket on the counter. “Does a picnic sound good to you?”

“Spontaneous dates?” Jaemin raised a brow. “Not your style.”

Renjun snorted. “You’re not my style.” But it was not an insult. “And this is obviously planned. By me. You just have to bring your pretty face and we’ll go.”

“Whatever you want, love.”

Jaemin carried the picnic basket with far more complaining than Renjun expected. He glared at Jaemin as they slowly made it through the man made path in the forest, usually for hunters or anyone brave enough to camp in a forest so heavily weighted with tales of the Autumn Court. Just now, walking deeper into the forest, it felt like everything came to a hush. The entire forest bowed to it’s prince.

Pointed fae ears poked through Jaemin’s soft brown hair. Jaemin shifting into his fae form around Renjun had been a recent development in their relationship. It was enchanting the first time and was still mesmerizing every other time after that.

“What did you put in this?” Jaemin grouched once more.

“Give it to me!” Renjun snapped, and seized the basket on his arm. Admittedly, it was a bit heavy but that was more because of the basket itself than its contents.

Jaemin twisted away from him, a gleeful laugh at Renjun’s poor attempt to wrestle the basket from him. His eyes suddenly drifted past Renjun’s shoulder. “Look, someone left you a gift.”

Renjun thought he was playing him like always, but then he did turn and spotted what Jaemin was looking at.

A small basket made of twigs and vine sat atop a small boulder. Inside the shallow basket was a gathering of pink berries. Renjun’s eyes widened in recognition. “Who?”

“Forest folk probably. They’re a bit meddlesome but they mean well,” Jaemin walked over and carefully placed the gift of cherry berries into their picnic basket. “Most of the time, at least.”

The grove was just as Renjun had painted it, and that small observation brought a small bit of pride. He laid out the blanket and took the basket from Jaemin. They sprawled out on the maroon cotton blanket, the sunshine making everything glitter in its light and a soft breeze weaving through the trees. Renjun carefully took out the food Grandma had prepared for them, and those gluten free cookies Jaemin loves so much. He laughed as Jaemin’s eyes glowed at the sight of the tupperware of cookies. He pulled it out of Jaemin’s reach, insisting they eat Grandma’s food first.

Jaemin let his head fall back in defeat after getting his hand swatted away. “Maeve help me.”

“Praying to the queen of darkness about your human boyfriend, warrior prince?” Renjun mocked.

“Oh look who’s done his research,” Jaemin goaded with a teasing laugh. Then, after a quiet pause. “Yours.” He corrected.

Renjun cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“Your warrior prince.”

Oh.

It must be satisfying to him, Renjun thought, as he watched Jaemin smirk at his flushed face. He closed his eyes, and pillowed his head under his hands. He was reclined with little care of the world— except perhaps of Renjun’s presence next to him. Just as Renjun was aware of him.

A single gold flecked eye, lazily peeked at him, his lashes curled and elegant. “What are you staring at?” Jaemin sounded genuinely curious. He tugged Renjun to him when he deigned to answer, and Renjun laid next to him with his head tucked into Jaemin’s neck.

“How’d the meeting with your family go?”

“About as awful as you’d think for a family of cold blooded fae,” Jaemin said, nonchalant. He brought an arm around Renjun as if needing him closer than they already were. Renjun wrinkled his nose at his response and peered up at his boyfriend.

What he saw was a boy who loved this town as much as he let himself to. Time and time again he wandered back to familiar routes and hiding spots, finding himself in the midst of something that he’d him close to its hearts the way he did for it. Even then, it was wandering. Waiting.

Renjun raised himself over Jaemin’s figure, lining his face with his. When Jaemin opened his eyes, his silhouette reflected in his eyes. Then his fae prince smiled, and Renjun leaned down to brush his lips against his.

And that was it.

“Hey!”

Renjun hid a smile as he sat up fully and began picking through their food. He silenced Jaemin’s whining by handing him a sandwich. “Eat first.”

Jaemin stared down at the sandwich in his hand. He was quiet all of the sudden.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Jaem. Grandma made it! Now, relax and eat already,” He laughed. Jaemin’s shoulders seem to sag, in relief or something else, Renjun chose not to read too into it. He clucked his tongue. “I already showed you did my research. I know offering food means a great deal to faeries.”

“Don’t tease me, love,” Jaemin grouched.

“You’re the one assuming things!”

They ate in a comfortable silence. If it weren’t for Renjun’s phone, buzzing with notifications and at the same time displaying the hour, it was almost as if time moved slowly in the forest. Jaemin opened a bottle of water and handed it to him first before taking the second one for himself. When the food dwindled, they cleaned up save for the basket of cherry berries. With a cheeky wink, Jaemin picked up one of the pink berries and brandished it to Renjun. A memory flitted past his mind, back to a time Renjun thought Jaemin was untouchable by the ordinary, turned out he was right but for the wrong reasons.

He settled next to Jaemin, leaning back on his hands. He looked straight ahead as he spoke, “I talked to her.”

Jaemin’s hand froze in mid air where it was reaching for another berry. Instead, it fell on Renjun’s knee. His brows furrowed in concern when he turned to look at him.

“Like, actually talked to her Jaemin,” He implored, though it didn’t seem that Jaemin was the one needing convincing. If he said it out loud over and over perhaps it would seem more real. He met Jaemin’s gaze. “She cried.”

“Love. . .” He sucked in a breath.

For him, Renjun realized. He was hurt for him.

Renjun paused and waited to see if any tears would come forth. Would his voice tremble? The answer was no. He relayed the conversation to Jaemin in a calm manner, not once wavering. “She didn’t even know what to say to me, she was just crying. I felt so guilty.”

“Renjun, it’s not—”

“I know.”

Jaemin fell silent.

“I felt guilty because I was relieved, Jaem. It felt like the weight of the world came off my shoulders because I knew we both needed to hear it. I thought—” He shook his head. “I just didn’t expect I’d be the stronger one between the two of us.” Renjun knew a part of him was still torn on his guilt, but a larger part of him held onto this truth. The closer it came to the time he had to leave, the more he wanted to run from it, because he wasn’t ready to let go to this freedom. He wasn’t about to let go of himself.

Still, it hurt. He loved his mom, and in her own way she loved him too. Though, Renjun had come to question if he truly knew what it meant. To love.

There were still a few words left to be said. He gazed at Jaemin.

“Jaemin, what if I told you I’m staying.”

Like when they had first stepped into the forest, it seemed to sink into quiet around them. This time as if it was holding his breath. It made Renjun wonder what power Jaemin held over the forest. Did it reflect the truth of his heart in the same way fae can’t lie?

“I told my mom I wanted to take a gap year— just to sort myself and what I want out. I tried to see if she’d agree to let me attend a different uni, but she wouldn’t budge on that one, so we compromised.” Renjun explained.

Jaemin’s mouth worked but it seemed Renjun had actually rendered him speechless. There were many things to work out, if you asked Renjun, far too many. Of this, he was certain. He leaned forward, perhaps too eagerly and too quickly, to kiss him.

His weight tipped forward onto Jaemin, landing half on top of him, and laughed into the almost kiss.

Jaemin’s hands grip his waist and he leaned back for a second to look him in the eye. When Jaemin kissed him then, it was as good as a song he wouldn’t forget. He tasted like cherry wine.

He drew closer, fingers tangling into Jaemin’s hair, until he was straddling his lap. Sweet, he thought amused, as his tongue curled over his lower lip. Jaemin groaned and tilted his head. The sound hummed through Renjun’s skin, and he found that he wanted more. His hands trail down Jaemin’s chest to his waist, ghosting over the bit of skin showing where his shirt had ridden up, and he was not disappointed as Jaemin gasped.

Renjun pulled away panting lightly. His thoughts were dizzying around his head. A rush went through his entire body. He might have said Jaemin’s name, but the other was too distracted trailing his lips down Renjun’s neck, with his hands grasping tighter around him. Renjun giggled, finding the new sensation ticklish.

Jaemin pulled away at the sound of it. His eyes roved over his face, a smile stretching his lips. Breathless, he asked, “Will you give me your name?” If not for the knowing glint in his boyfriend’s eyes, Renjun would have been exasperated.

But he knew his answer well. He said it in the same teasing tone that brightened his entire face.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

epilogue

The small multipurpose hall was already nearly filled; grad students, frosh who were unwillingly coerced by their professors into attending, friends of presenters, and some wanderers who had nothing to do for their three hour break. Donghyuck picked a high enough row of seats, a little ways away from the central buzz. Hopefully far enough from judging eyes should he doze off. The open space up front was quiet, with a large projector screen displaying today’s event programme.

He was a little behind on sleep and was considering a nap before the program started, but he could already see his source of torment climbing up to his row with a bright twinkling smile. Mark Lee was a puzzle Donghyuck was yet to figure out. His olive green pullover looked comfortable and worn, a smile tugged at the corner of Donghyuck's lips, remembering the weekend Mark lent him that sweater.

"Dude, the comic shop downtown is closing this Friday." Mark excitedly chattered, his form of greeting always seeming as if he was picking up a constant stream of conversation. He was practically bouncing on his heels in excitement. "Everything is half off. We should go."

Donghyuck who had always been more a casual fan, merely rolled his eyes. "Sure, Mark. No, don't ask me if I had any plans." He moaned pitifully. His knees brushed against Mark's leg as Mark shuffled into the aisle.

"Because I know you don't," Mark settled into the seat, his black Jansport bag sitting in his lap, just as worn as his sweater.

Everything about Mark was well set. Like grooves of childish etchings onto a picnic table, despite his sporadic energy, it brought a reassuring allure that Donghyuck constantly seeked. Mark's hands were waving about, trying to illustrate a story about this senior Johnny, and the sick house party his frat hosted when Donghyuck was dying courtesy of his deadlines.

He flicked Mark's ear.

Mark immediately flinched, even before his finger could make contact. He rubbed his ear and glared at Donghyuck.

"Don't go insulting my social life like that, what if Renjun was coming to visit this weekend?" He quipped.

"Then you would've talked my ear off about it already." Mark pointed out. Which, to be fair, touché.

Donghyuck bit the inside of his cheek and turned away from him with a scoff.

The loud screech of a mic's feedback brought the hall into an abrupt cringing silence. The emcee held the mic gingerly, and began her introductions. Donghyuck settled deeper into his seat, propping his chin onto his palm.

If anyone was wondering why he was at a research conference instead of sleeping at the library, he had Mark to blame. But that seemed to go for many circumstances in his college life that he never thought he'd find himself in; like dyeing Mark's hair in a 7/11 employee bathroom fifteen minutes before his finals. As the titles flashed on the large projector screen, Mark pointed out his cousin's name.

Donghyuck nodded, noncommittal. It seemed Mark's cousin had been working on a paper in regards to urban legends and mythology in Northern provinces.

"Jeno nearly died over this project," Mark chuckled. Donghyuck snorted at the over exaggeration, but didn't counter him.

The audience lights dimmed, and a spotlight focused on the stage. Donghyuck's eyelids drooped. Jeno's group was thankfully going first, which meant there was hope he could convince Mark to take a nap with him back at his dorm after.

Jeno's aura was radiating and strong. With a voice that sounded like waves on a shore, Donghyuck listened as he began to talk of a small town in a province up North of which was rich in faerie folklore. In particular, something called the Autumn Court.

Funny, that reminded him of someone.

"Fae marriages were also a common folktale because of the town's close relationship with the Autumn Court. There was said to be seven stages of courting before marriage, and it was often sealed when one accepts something offered by the other with great significance, usually food that has been prepared or in some cases one's name."