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By the time he noticed how low the sun was in the sky, Yeosang was mostly done taking clippings from his sunflower plant. He selected a final flower and took his cutters to its stem, measuring the length by eye and adding it to the growing pile on the polished bench. Wooyoung would like these, he mused. The witch hadn't been by the herbal shop that day, but Yeosang had figured he'd simply become too engrossed in whatever crazy potion recipe he was currently fixated on altering.
"For efficiency!" Wooyoung often told him, whenever Yeosang was grumbling about having to clean and bandage yet another wound on his forearms after something had blown up in his face. "What self-respecting witch has the time to wait three full-moon cycles for their cedar, silver salt and rosemary concoction to develop when I could just... find a different set of ingredients that have the same effect?"
Yeosang had given him a look. "Like yarrow and lynx fur, which we know is prone to explosions. And do you know how we know this?"
"Because we're such intelligent beings?"
Yeosang had snorted. "I, perhaps, could be called an intelligent being. Have you even seen a book before?" he'd teased, knowing fully well that Wooyoung had fallen asleep in the ancient library not two nights ago.
"Not my fault your half-faerie brain somehow has a memory that rivals a vampire's," Wooyoung had grumbled.
"You know that yarrow and lynx fur are extremely reactive because six full-moon cycles previously," Yeosang had continued, "You collapsed on my front doorstep with a face full of odd-smelling soot and singed hair, cackling like a madman. No wonder half the town thinks you're insane." Yeosang had shaken his head, but his smile had been fond. Wooyoung had looked up at him from his position on the stool and grinned back.
"Yet, you patch me up every single time," he'd said, smirking like the absolute brat he was.
"I still don't know why I do. Perhaps your insanity is contagious."
Wooyoung had then pouted until Yeosang had tapped him lightly beside the freshly bandaged wound and pressed a kiss to his temple.
"Off you go then," Yeosang had said, pointedly ignoring the smile Wooyoung was still giving him that was making his heart ricochet around in his chest. That, above all else, was the main reason Yeosang might be considered a madman himself.
Present-day Yeosang finished tying a silk ribbon around his collection of plants, sunflowers now added to the mix, and made every attempt to squash down his smile at the fond memory of only a few days ago. He placed the bunch onto a sheet of thin parchment to be wrapped. The ninth anniversary of the witch's move to Yeosang's hometown was the very next day, and he wanted to surprise him with a small gift, despite knowing that Wooyoung forgot the date almost every year.
Yeosang double-checked his shop's locked door and then made the short walk to Wooyoung's cottage at the edge of the town centre. Fireflies buzzed brightly above his head as he reached the end of the street and turned down Wooyoung's lane. Perhaps it was the sweet smell of the meadow's grasses in the flower arrangement that attracted them. Wooyoung would probably laugh if he saw the scowl on Yeosang's face.
Knocking quietly on the door, Yeosang unwillingly held his breath and waited for the witch to answer. It was twilight, so he should be finished with his evening meal, Yeosang reasoned, yet not retired for the night. When no response came after a second knock, Yeosang frowned. It was unusual to occur more than a handful of times per full-moon cycle, but there really only was one other place Wooyoung would be at this hour.
Yeosang turned, held the bouquet closer to his body, and set off back up the laneway to the centre of town.
The ancient library had no opening or closing time because it had no staff or owners. Most townsfolk considered it something of a sacred place, the thick, comforting feeling of old magic surrounding anyone who entered its four walls. Yeosang had practically grown up in the library. When Wooyoung had arrived in town those nine years ago, the young witch's bright eyes looking to Yeosang - the first person he'd literally bumped into - as a guide, the ancient library seemed like the last place such an excitable person would enjoy. Yet, after a few weeks, Yeosang hadn't any choice but to take Wooyoung there, as he'd needed to research the exact quantities of a potentially dangerous ingredient required for the salve he was making. Watching Wooyoung's perpetually loud demeanour quiet down as they entered the age-old building was something Yeosang never thought he'd see. Wooyoung had run his fingertips along the bookshelves in awe, lips parted slightly, eyes darting around in an attempt to commit every part of the room's wonder to memory. For the first time since meeting the witch, Yeosang had smiled. A wide, fond, genuine smile, and his heart had subsequently attempted to beat its way out of his chest when Wooyoung spun around gleefully and caught him staring. They'd settled at a round oak table and poured over books until Yeosang found the information they'd come for.
It was at that very same table that the half-faerie had found Wooyoung asleep on countless occasions in the years that followed, and tonight was no exception.
Wooyoung roused when Yeosang caressed the back of his head, gently running his fingertips through the blonde and black strands - initially the result of a spell gone wrong, but Yeosang had laughed so fully at the two-toned mess that Wooyoung had kept dying it for the better part of two years now. The witch blinked slowly and shifted in his seat, turned his head to peer up at Yeosang. His furrowed brows softened when he registered who had woken him.
"Sangie," he mumbled. "What time is it?"
"Still twilight. How long have you been here?"
"Mmm, came after lunch, I think." Wooyoung sat up, shoulders and neck cracking as he stretched. Yeosang winced at the sound. "Sorry, I-- What're those?"
Wooyoung pointed at the flowers in Yeosang's hand. Yeosang looked down at them, stupidly, like he needed to check. "Oh, it's for you." He thrust the bouquet in Wooyoung's direction, arm outstretched awkwardly. "For our anniversary. I mean... y-your anniversary. Of coming here to Pohang."
Wooyoung blinked at the flowers for several moments. "Oh. Is it?" He glanced up at Yeosang again, eyes shining with fondness. "You remembered? I didn't even remember."
"I know. You never do." Yeosang chuckled, waving the flowers around a little until Wooyoung took them. He stuck his nose into the bunch and inhaled, eyes fluttering shut and black strands of hair falling into his face. Yeosang's lips twitched up of their own volition.
"They're beautiful," Wooyoung said, reaching out to grasp Yeosang's empty hand. "Are these all from your garden?"
Despite how frequently they made physical contact - a side effect of being long-term friends with Wooyoung - Yeosang's heart resumed its incessant dancing in his chest when Wooyoung's thumb brushed rhythmically over his hand.
"Yeah," he breathed, thankful that he sounded like a normal half-human and not as utterly and hopelessly taken by the witch as he currently felt. "I picked your favourites."
Wooyoung's smile simply widened. "I love it. Thank you, Sangie."
Yeosang shook his head, returning the smile. And then, because he was clearly incapable of maintaining the warm, intimate moment between the two of them, he said, "Perhaps next time you ought to get me a gift for putting up with you for ten whole years."
But Wooyoung merely laughed, throwing his head back, eyes squinted with delight. Yeosang's traitorous heart jumped at the sight. "Perhaps I should," Wooyoung said. He stood up, still holding Yeosang's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Come on, faerie boy, aren't you going to walk me home?"
Yeosang squeezed Wooyoung's hand in return. "Don't I always?"