Work Text:
Yoongi sighs as he pulls out the last remnants of magic from within. He feels tired and depleted, everything within him screaming at the exhaustion that digs deep marks into his soul. Frost crackles at his fingertips as he works over the material, any warmth his body once had, now barely more than soft embers. He’s shaky despite his expertise, but finally, the pipe he’s been working on softly clatters back onto the table, perfectly smooth from his dedication.
The long pipe, still warm to the touch despite the low temperatures on his skin, is attached to an even bigger contraption—Yoongi’s newest creation. It’s an instrument that has multiple components to it, a metal case that houses a string structure on the inside of it, almost like a harp. But, Yoongi isn’t interested in replicating a harp that’s already been made by someone else before.
No, he dreams of something grander, an instrument that is from his own creation, his own hard work and magic. For as old as this magic is, he’s only recently learned how to channel it: through music.
His dry, aching fingers trace the wooden reed that sits on the mouthpiece. It's attached to a wide cavern, intended for lower notes, and while it might not be the prettiest thing to look at, Yoongi thinks it’ll serve its purpose nonetheless.
This creation of his might be the cause of the excitement and joy rushing throughout his chest, but some of the placement doesn’t look right and certain parts even wobble to the touch. He’s tried his best to work out any wavering details, but it seems like this beautiful thing has a long way to go before he can call it finalized.
But, considering this is his first time, this instrument is still something to be proud of.
As tired as Yoongi may be, he’s waited all month for this moment. A full moon hangs high in the sky, large and overseeing everything underneath its watchful gaze. Yoongi’s magic is at its weakest during the full moon, not because of the moon itself, but because it’s at the halfway point of the current lunar cycle, his magic having been used up over the course of it. He may be exhausted beyond belief, rushing to finish the instrument just in time, but this is the perfect opportunity to test it out. He’ll be without magic for the rest of the cycle anyway.
It’s a slow walk up to the lake, Yoongi’s boots clunking against the dirt path with exertion. His instrument is heavier than he’d anticipated, but with his magic already on its last sparks, there isn’t any assistance for him. He needs two hands to lug the wagon that he’d brought along to make it easier for transport, but his hands are still cold and angry by the time he reaches the lakeside.
With wobbly legs, he climbs up a few of the rocks, slowly reaching down to pick up his instrument with care. This part he hadn’t thought through all the way. Clearly. It’s difficult to climb with something so large, Yoongi having to lift it up onto the next layer of rock before climbing up himself. He isn’t going very high, but the whole thing still feels like it has taken him years to complete.
Finally at the ledge of the rocky formation he’d picked out beforehand, the moonlight softly rippling across the lake’s still waters, bathing everything he can see in a pale white glow, he takes a deep breath.
The sweat on his brow is annoying and tickles his skin, but all he can do is dab at it while he tries to still his beating heart. It’s the moment of truth now, and all of his hard work this month has been leading up to this. If this works—
Yoongi pulls the instrument into his lap. It creaks under the pressure, the base of it digging almost uncomfortably into his thigh, but he holds it steadily nonetheless, wetting his lips as he brings them to the mouthpiece.
A low hum vibrates out from the pipe, and Yoongi can even feel the small vibrations as he blows a weak breath into the instrument. The strings start to rattle a little too, something Yoongi will undoubtedly have to fix at some point, but this low note is just the beginning.
Yoongi’s chest starts to thump now. It isn’t much—a simple note isn’t going to fix everything for him right away, but it’s an indication that he’s on the right path. That he’s a step closer to having his magic regenerate whenever he needs. In theory, he’ll have no further need for the lunar cycles to dictate his strength, to have the sky tell him when he is whole and when he’s almost missing a part of himself. In theory, Yoongi will be able to control all of that with music.
He tries another shaky breath of air. It rattles against the sides of the pipe and comes out squeaky despite his best efforts.
Yoongi must really be depleted if he can’t even get this note right. All he needs to do is give himself a moment, to catch his breath, and—
“What is that dreaded sound?”
Yoongi’s eyes widen at the terribly faint voice that can barely be heard from this distance, yet still cuts through the nighttime quiet regardless. He scans the rocks around him, genuinely surprised to find that he’s alone up here. Looking down at the shore, he still finds no one. Not a single soul.
But he had definitely heard that question, as dreadful as it was.
Then, the sound of splashing catches his attention. It’s barely there, definitely something he wouldn’t hear over the sound of his instrument if he were playing it, but when he looks down at the water’s surface, he still has trouble finding someone there.
Perhaps he’s so exhausted that he’s begun to hallucinate things—
More splashing. Yoongi looks down once more and something finally catches his eye. There’s a wave of ripples that seem bigger and taller than everything else around it. Something had just been there, Yoongi’s sure of it, even though whatever (or whoever) it was has disappeared.
Yoongi tries his instrument a few more times that night, his low energy taking him to take longer than expected. But he reaches a point where he can confirm that the pipe is too wide, causing the notes he plays to fall too low, too deep, a sharp contrast to the higher tones of the strings his fingertips pluck in slow succession, a cacophony of jumbled song haphazardly thrown together.
The new moon will help provide him with the strength he needs soon enough. This first instrument might not have been the perfect creation he’d been hoping for, but it has provided him with more ideas and even better knowledge on how to improve upon it for next time.
Emotionally, Yoongi feels a little better now that he knows the direction he’d like to go in. Physically, his knees practically buckle as he climbs back down the rocky ledges, carefully bringing his large instrument down with him.
A prototype of sorts. The first version.
Yoongi eyes the water’s surface once again, curiosity overtaking any survival instincts that should have kicked in instead.
But the ripples have died down, and all that’s left to greet him is the moonlight shifting on the lake’s surface instead.
-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-
This time, Yoongi thinks this might be it.
Well, not it, but a momentous step in the right direction.
The pipe is smaller this time around, now carved out of oak wood while its strings are woven with plant fibers. The strings are pulled more taut, now more angry and ready to snap with the right amount of pressure, but Yoongi has a better understanding of how it’ll sound put together. Instead of fine tuning everything at the very end like he had done last time, Yoongi had ensured he worked on it throughout this entire lunar cycle instead of waiting again. Ultimately, it has paid off, because he feels like the instrument sounds more cohesive, more in harmony than the first version had.
In fact, the first version now rests in the back of his workroom, leaning against a bookshelf housing all kinds of magic-related information, Yoongi having already committed those pages to memory. When one has been involved with magic as long as he has, a lot of these texts just end up as decoration or just future reference for something if ever needed.
Just like that very heavy, bulky first instrument of his.
This time, as he sits on top of the rocky formation, the top of it flat and wide enough for him to comfortably rest on without danger of falling off, Yoongi takes in the sight. Last time, he’d been too depleted of magic, too exhausted from the trek up to the lake to really enjoy all of it. Now, he has the chance to.
His magic is still running on reserves, but Yoongi doesn’t feel as if he’s about to pass out this time. He’s tired, of course, but he’s worked on the bulk of this instrument when his magic was stronger, so this wouldn’t be as strenuous as it was on him previously.
That white glow reaches across tree canopies and hills, brushes up against the rocky shores of the lake, greets Yoongi’s aching palms as he reaches towards the open sky. The stars are bountiful, decorating the darkness with flecks of glitter that almost feel painted by hand. It’s calm and quiet tonight, and it lets Yoongi take a deep breath and calm his nerves.
He positions the instrument in his lap once more. It’s a little lighter this time, although not by much. It doesn’t dig into his thighs as much, but it still had been a lot to carry up and over these rocks. The base of it is still metal, its surface cold to the touch even through the fabric of Yoongi’s pants. It’s also a bit chilly tonight, and even though Yoongi feels cold from his evaporating magic, he brushes it off the best he can and reaches for the strings.
They ring out, loud and direct. It’s a bit more powerful now that Yoongi gets to hear it out in the open air. It sounds different than it did when he had it in his workroom, the enclosed walls likely bouncing off the tones in a different kind of way than he realized. It sounds far too strong for Yoongi’s liking, and he can tell by the way his heart doesn’t thrum when the notes are struck. Last time, he could feel the beginnings of it even when it wasn’t complete, but this time, he’s struggling to find that same sensation.
The pipe for the mouthpiece has changed too, and when Yoongi blows on it, the note that comes out does strike a chord within him. His magic reacts softly, curling and bubbling softly, as if it senses the music immediately. Yoongi isn’t quite sure how it all works yet, but he’s long since learned his magic reacts well to music—it resonates with his soul far more than anything else ever has before or, he assumes, ever could. But this is his first time trying to harness that ability for himself.
It takes some more tries and more restarts, but Yoongi finds some kind of balance between the two components. The woodwind part adds earthy tones and deep, sweeping notes, while the strings add a strong undertone to the whole thing. It sounds intentional, more put together. It doesn’t make his magic churn and react that strongly, but it does cause a tugging feeling, and that for now, is enough.
It’s another step closer.
The music he plays is best described as patchwork. He’s still figuring out what strings work best, how much air should be pushed from his lungs into the mouthpiece. Slowly but surely, it starts to come a little more together.
“Oh, this sounds pretty—”
The note screeches into a higher pitch as Yoongi practically yelps with surprise. One of the strings snaps when he accidentally grabs onto it with enough force to break it, but he somehow manages the forethought of clutching his instrument closer to him than to send it tumbling down rock and into the lake.
The voice had been smooth and almost amused. When Yoongi looks straight into the water, remembering his confusion last time, he’s surprised all over again to actually see someone in the water this time around. The distance between them makes it hard to see, especially considering how late into the night it is, but there’s no mistaking it.
He’s looking at a water nymph.
“Didn’t mean to scare you!” The creature calls out, blue hair sweeping into his eyes. “I was wondering what all the commotion was and saw it was you again.”
Yoongi softly blinks as he tries to process the scene in front of him. Water nymphs are incredibly rare—Yoongi has only ever crossed paths with one other before, and it had been by accident during his travels. Water nymphs are a private kind of creature, rarely revealing themselves to strangers unless they absolutely deem it necessary.
Yet this one is looking up at Yoongi with moonlight in his eyes and curiosity in his smile.
His voice echoes slightly as he calls out, the water still rippling against his shoulders as he keeps himself afloat. Yoongi still feels so caught off guard that he doesn’t know what to say at first. Not only are nymphs such a rarity, Yoongi immediately connects together that the voice he heard last time was likely this very same visitor, his question about the weird noise coming from outside his home still ringing in Yoongi’s ears.
“Uh, hello!” Yoongi calls out in return, scooting closer to the edge so his feet can now dangle off the side. “Sorry if I am disturbing your peace. I did not know anyone lived inside this lake.”
The nymph tilts his head curiously, that boxy smile never leaving his face. He seems surprised Yoongi had apologized, but the more Yoongi looks at this stranger, the more it’s evident that he was never upset to begin with.
“Your music sounds better this time,” the nymph says, just loud enough to be heard. “What instrument is that? I have never seen anything like it.”
Yoongi looks down at the contraption in his lap, eyes grazing over all the metal work he’d put into the case as well as the hand carved air pipe he’d worked on for the mouthpiece. For all the work he’s been putting into these instruments, he has never once thought to give it a name.
His fingers softly tap against the metal, frowning as he thinks.
“I don’t know,” he finally decides after a few moments of silence. “I never gave it much thought. I don't think I plan on naming it.”
The nymph laughs, a deep and echoey kind of noise that makes Yoongi smile a little when he hears it. It’s melodic too in its own way.
“It rattles a little.” The creature looks at Yoongi with wonder as he says it, a hand reaching above the water’s surface as long nails point at his left ear. Droplets fall back into the lake, and even from this vantage point, Yoongi can make out a few scales decorating the back of the nymph’s forearm. “The sound.”
In another universe, Yoongi likely would have taken offense to it, even if just a little bit. This is a stranger after all, someone he has just met, and the words superficially sound mean spirited in a way. But Yoongi hears the gentleness in them, the kind way they’re spoken, and he knows the nymph is offering feedback from what he’s heard tonight.
Not much is known about these water spirits. Yoongi knows the fae are considered tricky and elusive, their tongues familiar with riddles and contracts. Dragons are brutish in strength and drunk on power, but drown in more knowledge and wisdom than any other creature. Even the elves from the neighboring forest have a fun-loving and comedic reputation, but are considered to be fiercely loyal to a fault.
Yoongi has lived in the forest for so long as a mage, but he knows very little about nymphs, especially the water ones.
Yoongi reluctantly trusts to treat the words as genuine.
“Thank you,” he calls back. “I'm still working on it. This is my second version so it is still early.”
The nymph seems delighted by this fact. “Ah, so that is what that noise was last time. I heard it and wondered what it could possibly be.”
Yoongi rubs the back of his neck solemnly. “That awful, huh?”
Once again, the stranger laughs, but this time he shakes his head. “Now that I know what it is, that it is from something so wonderful as you making your own instrument, I wouldn’t dare say it was awful.”
And just like that, without another word, the spirit drops back underwater, the surface barely disturbed this time as he disappears. Yoongi didn’t even get a glimpse of the spirit’s tail (or if this one has legs, he missed that too). He waits for a while to see if the nymph will return, but for the rest of the night, he finds himself alone in silence.
-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-
The third time Yoongi climbs up on this rock, he already wonders if he will see the water spirit again. He never comes to the lake during the rest of the lunar cycle, often too busy with his own work, his own travels. He may live here in the forest, but he often visits the villages and towns for work, his magic frequently needed elsewhere. It’s when he’s weak and running on fumes that he returns home to repeat the cycle and wait for his magic stores to fill back up.
Again, if he had this instrument working properly, then he wouldn’t need to worry about his schedule so much. He’d be able to come and go as he pleases—no longer needing to schedule work during certain times of the cycle when his magic is at its best, or no longer needing to return home to desperately catch the new moon.
Completing this instrument means freedom.
Yoongi takes his seat upon the rocky ledge once more, but this time, sits at the edge for his feet to dangle off the side from the very beginning. His instrument is still large, but now features more lightweight material. The casing uses a lighter metal, something more portable, and this time around, the pipe for the woodwind section is longer, allowing the sound to reverberate even more. He’d spent a week carving this piece out alone, and it had sounded incredible in his workspace, but a part of him worries how it will sound outside of those four walls.
Moonlight once again casts against everything beneath him. Trees practically glow with its presence, the lake shining in a way that Yoongi is slowly starting to grow fond of. His life feels hectic a lot of the time, but up here, a lot of that melts away, even if just for a brief moment in time.
The instrument sits in his lap once more, cold with the chilly nighttime air, but Yoongi’s hands are warmer this time around, excited and filled with anticipation. As usual, he’s tired, but the thrill of getting to test out his hard work overrides a lot of the exhaustion.
The first note comes from the strings, Yoongi’s fingers deftly plucking at each one with timed precision. He’d spent so much time focusing on building the thing that writing music had been at the back of his mind during his other attempts. But with some practice on a real harp (much to Yoongi’s annoyance), he composed something to play on his own instrument, even if it doesn’t sound quite the same.
Harps have far more strings to work with while Yoongi’s is much smaller and without pedals. His notes ring a little higher, even at the lowest one; but it’s part of the learning process. He hopes to find that balance one day of high and low.
He pulls at the strings for some time, learning how they feel against his fingertips, how each one digs into his skin as he plucks, how each note sounds in the crisp, chilly air. Once he’s found his own rhythm, something somewhat familiar from practice, yet somehow also foreign as it plays on an instrument not quite perfected yet, he licks his lips and presses his lips to the mouthpiece.
The note that rings from it is more solid, pushing against the string notes with some resistance, but with some lighter breaths, sounds better overall. Yoongi feels the thrumming in his chest, rumbling and bubbling, his magic and soul reacting to the music around him. It’s still not perfect, that much is easy to tell, but it’s far better than before. The strides he’s made in this attempt feel far greater than ever before, and it leaves him almost too excited for the future.
He’s close. He can feel it. The perfect instrument to tune in with his magic. He’s almost there.
He plays the song over and over, fingertips burning with how the strings dig deep into his skin, lungs burning with the energy needed to comfortably blow the notes when he’s already as tired as he physically is, practically running on fumes. But it becomes more routine, more familiar, his body learning how to repeat it with practice.
And again, his magic churns. It moves within him—he can feel it immediately with each proper pull on the strings, with each steady breath he pushes through the mouthpiece. It feels like a building wave within him, slowly growing and gaining momentum.
By the time he’s tired himself out, he’s surprised to feel his magic is no longer on the verge of teetering out. It’s still low and he’s still tired, but he notices the difference already. It’s miles ahead of what he thought possible this early on.
“That was so lovely.”
Yoongi peers down the edge, almost thrilled to see the water nymph peeking through the water. Blue hair sticks to the sides of his face as he breaches the surface, but he’s closer this time, and Yoongi can see even more of him than before.
The spirit wears decorated jewelry: thin pearls chained together that rest against bare collarbones, a beautiful cuff of azure detail that adorns both of his ears, and as he reaches a hand out to politely wave, Yoongi notes that every single finger sports a few rings on each one.
The moonlight catches all of this, making the nymph practically glow.
“You’ve come back,” Yoongi offers with a smile.
“I should say the same about you. I live here after all. You are the one on my doorstep.”
Yoongi laughs softly, shrugging slightly despite the weight in his lap. The spirit swims closer and closer, and to Yoongi’s surprise, the nymph puts two hands on the rock below and hoists himself up and out of the lake.
Two strong legs push up against the rocky floor as well, and before Yoongi can process it, the water nymph is completely standing at the bottom, looking up at him with that same boxy grin as usual. Yoongi rushes to climb down, but manages to keep his instrument safe as he tows it down with him. He probably comes across as clumsy, but he makes it with steady footing.
“Oh!” The nymph chirps. “Are you bringing it to me so I can see it up close?”
In all honesty, Yoongi doesn’t know why he had climbed down at all. It felt like something he should do since the other had made such an effort to come out of the lake, the nymph’s thin, white clothing clinging to his skin. It consists of a top decorated in pearls, thin straps holding the material up on broad shoulders, with a thicker white pair of pants with frills on the side that almost seem to float in the air when he moves, despite the water bogging the material down.
But now that he’s made his way over and they stand face to face, Yoongi doesn’t have a proper answer in response. The nymph is taller than him by a good head or so, and for a moment, Yoongi has to tilt his head back just to see the jewels that decorate the spirit’s forehead. Upon closer observation, the jewels aren’t on top of tan skin, the blue diamond shape Yoongi sees seems to be a part of the nymph. It sits at the center of his forehead with even more blue hair sweeping over it, but there’s nothing holding it up at all.
“May I see it?”
Yoongi, a little awestruck with the etherealness of the situation, doesn’t even think twice about it as he hands over his instrument, sore fingers clutching onto the metal base as the weight leaves his clutch.
“This is beautiful work,” the spirit notes with wonder, peering down at Yoongi’s creation. “Ah. Your name?”
Suddenly nervous, Yoongi can’t help it as he blurts out a rushed “Min Yoongi.”
The nymph tilts his head as he listens. “A mage, correct?”
Surprise must color Yoongi’s features, because he feels caught off guard at the question. “How did you know?”
“I have lived here a long time. The creatures that inhabit this forest know all those who live here. I’ve heard whispers of a talented mage who only visits this forest during certain times of the year.”
There’s a simple answer to the unasked question that sits on the nymph’s tongue. It’s obvious he wants to know more about it, but there truly is so much to say, far too much information to give all at once. Condensing his explanation feels like it lessens the severity of the situation, but he also wonders if he should give the water spirit more credit and trust that he would understand.
“My magic is tied to the lunar cycle,” Yoongi offers. “By the middle of it, the full moon, I am almost out of magic completely. So I return home to my small cabin here until the new moon, when it builds back up.”
The nymph seems curious about the instrument in his hands, but his gaze is quickly pulled away by the new information provided to him. Sapphire eyes scan Yoongi’s face as he digests the words, and the spirit seems to have even more questions than before.
“I’ve never seen you at this lake before.”
Yoongi nods. “I tend to stick to myself.”
“You live alone?”
“I do.”
“Why build an instrument? For fun?”
It’s Yoongi’s turn to look at his creation now sitting in the hands of another. The spirit’s nails are long and pretty, the same color of blue as his eyes, and they securely hold onto the instrument, ensuring its safety. It’s a small gesture, but Yoongi does find himself appreciative of it nonetheless.
“My magic is tied to the lunar cycle, but over the years, I’ve noticed it… reacts to music. I’m trying to make an instrument that will help my magic fill back up despite what the moon dictates.”
This seems to interest the nymph entirely, his eyes wide and smile showing full teeth. “Interesting. Mages usually do not pique my interest, but you definitely have.”
It feels like a compliment, so Yoongi chooses to take it as one. “Do you want to try it… uh— I apologize. What’s your name?”
If the nymph’s eyes were bright before, they practically sparkle underneath the moonlight now. He’s still dripping wet, but lake water aside, the spirit extends a slight bow, minuscule but there.
“You can call me Taehyung.”
-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-
Yoongi’s frustration is evident in the way he tries to push down the impulse to hurl his newest instrument into the very lake he stands beside. Everything had gone wrong about tonight—he’d returned late due to an incident with the traveling cart he’d hitched a ride on, its wooden wheel cracking underneath some added last-minute freight that the merchant had no business transporting other than he saw the gold coins dancing in front of him. Then he’d had very little time to work on the instrument this cycle, his travels having taken him further and further from home than he had originally planned for. He’s exhausted and burnt out, and all of this had built up and budded before he had even trekked out to the lakeside.
Taehyung hadn’t made an appearance until Yoongi had started playing. It seems like the water spirit waits for Yoongi’s music before surfacing each time, and while he would normally find some charm in that, the new company during the mess of this disaster seems like the final straw.
The instrument had let out the most horrendous screech as Yoongi tried the pipe once more, the sound grating and irritating from the very beginning. Even the strings feel too close together, their vibrations practically knocking into one another with how close Yoongi had tried to fit them together on the casing. He had made so much progress last cycle, but this one feels like it’s three steps backwards, if not four.
Taehyung had stayed by the shore, arms folded as he rested his chin on top while he leaned against some of the rocky formations. He hadn’t said a word, just quietly watched as Yoongi grew more and more upset with each crackly note that rang out in the nighttime air.
None of this feels calm, and it doesn’t make the magic within him rattle like before. Nothing stirs, and that feels like the biggest betrayal of all. Last time, he had felt it. But now, all that greets him is emptiness.
After another poor attempt of trying to get things to sound right, Yoongi’s song coming out in a terrible onslaught of noises and thunks, Taehyung steps out of the lake and onto shore, blue hair framing his handsome face as he greets Yoongi for the night.
“I know it sounds terrible,” Yoongi interjects, trying to jump ahead of what he already knows Taehyung’s feedback will likely be. “I must have made the body too small to support all the strings, and I believe the wooden reed is cracked—”
Taehyung just smiles, reaching forward and cupping the back of Yoongi’s head. It’s their first time ever officially touching like this, the skin-to-skin contact almost more jarring than the terrible music that had come from Yoongi’s own hands. But with bated breath, Yoongi watches as the gem on Taehyung’s forehead flickers a few shades before finally changing to something yellow and murky. It stands out from the rest of his blue self, and ultimately, Yoongi has no idea what it means.
“I know you’re upset,” the nymph says softly, as if he fears he’ll spook Yoongi away entirely. “Take a few deep breaths.”
Yoongi listens. He closes his eyes, holding onto his instrument with a looser grip as the tension slowly starts to leave his shoulders. Underneath the frustration sits even more exhaustion, his magic reservoirs completely emptied this time around. It feels like nothing is working, but he takes a deep breath over and over again as he focuses on breathing in tune with Taehyung with the spirit’s guidance.
After a few more moments of this, Taehyung pulls away and Yoongi stands alone, the hand at the back his head now gone.
Instead of the anger and desperation, something else churns in his chest.
He recognizes it immediately. Magic.
“You…”
Taehyung grins. “I gave you just a bit of mine. Just to help you not feel so tired. I know you are probably feeling this way because of the full moon, or at the very least, are feeling this upset this much.”
Yoongi takes a moment to softly place his newest creation on the rocky ground. It’ll likely scratch, but as it’s still a work in progress, he doesn’t mind the superficial damage as he shakes his hands by his sides, trying to get rid of the last of his nerves.
The bit of magic Taehyung had given him must be thanks to that stone on his forehead, because exchanging magic is a hard thing to do in general, especially with mages who so desperately rely on their reserves. Taehyung had done it so effortlessly, so smoothly, that it almost feels like it had been child’s play for him.
Yoongi has so many questions as a mage, but nothing comes out when he thinks of asking.
“Better?”
Yoongi slowly opens his eyes, finally daring a glance at Taehyung. “Yes.” He takes another steadying breath. “Better.”
“Want to try your song again?”
Taehyung reaches down and picks up the instrument for Yoongi, long, pretty fingers softly placing it back in Yoongi’s grasp.
“I don’t know,” Yoongi offers, his knees feeling very weak all of a sudden. Like he needs to sit down. “I can already tell this version isn’t going to work. It doesn’t… make my magic react in any way.”
Humming, Taehyung nods, pearl earrings dangling from where they’re chained long enough to brush against his shoulders. He truly seems to be thinking of a solution, of a way to help, and that fact alone helps calm Yoongi’s nerves more than anything.
Taehyung doesn’t owe him a single thing—there’s nothing in it for the nymph to come out and give feedback or help Yoongi with his goals. But he does, and for whatever reason, seems to want to be involved. Yoongi isn’t going to turn his nose up at that.
Admittedly, the company is really nice when Yoongi has his off-time from all the work he usually has to do. He loves being alone, but he finds himself happy when Taehyung does make an appearance. They’ve even seen each other a couple of times when Yoongi has selfishly visited the lake in between jobs, offering to just say hello and chat.
Yoongi still doesn’t know much about the water spirit, but in a way, he doesn’t need to in order to feel comfortable with him. Taehyung is surprisingly warm despite the cold temperatures of the lake this time of year, and that consistent warmth does more for Yoongi than the feedback ever could.
It makes living alone in this forest a bit less lonely.
“We should just sit and talk then,” Taehyung finally concludes. But before he can finish this thought, his face changes completely, as if a new idea has just popped into his head. “Actually, come! Take your shirt off.”
Yoongi practically babbles as he tries to find the words to express his confusion. Taehyung has a strong grip on his wrist as the nymph pulls Yoongi closer to the water’s edge, his instrument long forgotten on the ground with all the movement.
“Swimming?” Yoongi helplessly echoes. “I have not gone swimming in years—”
“Ah! This is the perfect time to.”
Yoongi would argue that no, this is not the perfect time to. It’s freezing and he has no magic to provide additional warmth, but he nervously slides his shirt off at the last second before Taehyung jumps in and pulls him under without another thought.
Everything goes black for a moment.
Yoongi feels frozen, ice cold, and he wonders if he’d been foolish enough to fall prey to some kind of trick. He can’t make out left from right or up from down, and everything is just so wet. There’s no light down here, the lake a sea of blackness, and suddenly, it feels hard to breathe. The water swallows him more and more and—
He suddenly recognizes that Taehyung’s hand has never let go. He had missed it because of the freezing temperatures at first, but as he settles into the water and stops thrashing, he feels that steady grip on him. It isn’t pulling him down, but with some more clarity, Yoongi realizes he’s being pulled up.
He breaches the surface and immediately, his ears are ringing with Taehyung’s bubbling laughter. It’s sweet and gentle, yet so clearly overjoyed.
“You just jumped in and didn't even try to kick to the top!”
Yoongi, far too occupied with trying to catch his breath, barely processes the words. “One more time?”
“You came in but just sunk! I was waiting for you to stop thrashing about, but you didn’t even try to come back up! Good thing I was here, you know.”
Yoongi reaches up through the freezing water and wipes at his face with red fingertips. He immediately feels a sudden guilt for wondering if he’d been trapped at all. Taehyung had held onto him the whole time.
“I refuse to see what could possibly be fun about swimming in this frigid water,” Yoongi bites, teeth practically chattering as he tries to redirect the conversation. “This is far too cold—”
Taehyung chirps out a sharp “oh!” and with delicate hands, reaches for the water with his palms. There’s a faint glow as he does it, but before Yoongi can even ask what’s happening, the water around him begins to warm up. It isn’t quite the temperature of what it would be if it were summertime, but it’s warm enough that Yoongi no longer has to clench his jaw to keep his breath steady.
“Thank you,” Yoongi murmurs softly, feeling a little silly for his earlier anger and sudden embarrassment in the water just now. Now that he’s calmed down some, the mortification starts to trickle in. “I appreciate it.”
Taehyung just grins, wading through the water to get closer to Yoongi. With all the room in the lake, the spirit chooses to invade Yoongi’s personal space, practically pushing their foreheads together just like earlier.
“Better?” Taehyung asks again.
“Better,” Yoongi answers once more.
“Why don’t we take tonight to just talk and enjoy each other’s company?” Taehyung asks this gently, just like he always does. “You said it yourself, you know this one won’t work for you. So take a breath, let’s have some fun, and you can come back next cycle with your newest instrument.”
Yoongi tries to argue this, justifying his refusal to take a break by bringing up the fact that he hardly had time to work on his instrument this cycle. Who knows how busy he’ll be for the next one? But Taehyung seems to have an answer for this as well.
It seems like Taehyung has an answer for a lot of things.
“If you don’t have time for the next attempt, then you’ll have to come visit me again for the next cycle. I wouldn’t mind seeing you come to my lake again.”
Yoongi tries to ignore the warmth that blooms in his chest from such a cheeky comment. “And if I am stuck coming over and over again because I just can not seem to get it right, then you will be to blame.”
Taehyung grins, ethereal and blue, glimmering under the pale moonlight. “The blame is on me, then.”
-ˋˏ *.·:·.⟐.·:·.* ˎˊ-
These days, Yoongi feels more at home by the lakeside than ever before. It has been a few years since he first started visiting the rocky coast, but he falls in love with it a little more each time he comes.
“How is my favorite mage?” The water nymph calls from just above the water’s surface. “You seem well.”
“I am the only mage you seem to tolerate,” Yoongi retorts, carefully placing the case with his instrument on top of one of the neighboring rocks. It balances precariously before settling, Yoongi’s heart attack evaded for now. Pulling his instrument out is familiar, its weight easy in his palms now that he’s learned everything about its workings.
“And is that not something special?”
Yoongi rolls his eyes, but it’s all play of course. They do this each and every time.
He moves by the water’s edge, sitting atop one of the flat rocks that line the shore before dipping his feet into the water immediately, just like he usually does, the edges of his robes growing wet just like they always do.
Taehyung swims closer, pretty hands reaching out of the water and onto the rocky space beside Yoongi, hoisting just his upper half up out of the lake and onto the edge. He looks up at Yoongi with bright eyes and pearled jewelry tapping against his tanned skin. The expression he wears makes Yoongi feel adored.
The water spirit reaches over and caresses the back of Yoongi’s hand with a featherlight touch before pulling it close and gently pressing a kiss against the warm skin there. It’s his usual greeting these days, and Yoongi dreams about this moment at night sometimes, finding so much comfort and joy in these beautiful moments.
“You’ve written something new for me to hear?”
It’s a question, but the answer is always the same.
“Of course,” Yoongi returns. “All of my songs are about you these days.”
Taehyung glows with happiness. “I know, but I will never tire of hearing you say it out loud.”
“Hush now,” Yoongi chides, his fingertips already reaching for the strings, settling on the ones he needs to start off with.
Magic thrums deep within him, bountiful and free, no longer constrained to the confines of the moon’s cycle. He traces his free thumb alongside the wave-like pattern carved into the wooden pipe of his instrument, the metal casing of his creation now replaced with wood, all carved by his own hands. This is the perfected version of his work, the strings intertwined with crushed pearl dust from the bottom of the lake.
It had been the last component to Yoongi’s own instrument, allowing his magic to swell within him, no matter how the moon hangs in the sky.
It’s just as freeing as it is being here by Taehyung’s side.
“'Hush?'” Taehyung mocks, voice light and airy as he teases Yoongi. “Is that any way to talk to the one who helped you finish that contraption?”
“Yes,” Yoongi muses. “Because you’ll ruin the surprise.”