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“Hey Jisung, what do you think about this?”
“Hm?” The man in question answers, turning to look at Minho.
They were halfway through the morning’s mission–find the cause of the mysterious illness sweeping through the town, and carefully collect intact samples for Doctor Kim to examine. If they were lucky, Doctor Kim would be able to manufacture a cure with them.
With a teensy bit of scientific plant knowledge and a whole lot of luck, Minho had done his bit and found the deceptively innocuous fungi, matching the exact description neatly penned out in the ratty, worn guide on poisonous plants he’d acquired through certain unsavoury means. In the quest to find it, they had travelled so far into the forest bordering town that Minho was half-convinced they’d stepped out of their world and into a parallel universe.
The sounds of the forest–the musical chirping of birds, the rustle of air through the leaves, the silence that was so potent that in itself, it had a shape and a sound–filled him with such delight that he resolved to visit more frequently, though it was hard to believe that it was approaching dawn. A thick fog hung around them which obscured the leafy foliage of the far-stretching trees overhead and everything beyond the yellow glow of the twin lanterns they carried. To Minho, it seemed more like time was standing still, perhaps caught in the precarious hour between 3am and 4am.
It stands to reason, then, that some curious and perhaps uncanny occurrences would undoubtedly transpire in the course of their trip.
“What's that?”
“I'm not sure either. I've never felt something like it before, though.”
The thing in question wasn't much of anything, really. It didn't appear to have a tangible physicality, and it made no sound, cast no shadow, or smelt like anything.
“Let me try again,” Minho said, eyebrows furrowed. They stand side-by-side next to a looming tree, staring at the space in front of it. Cautiously, Minho raises a foot and moves it towards that space. But, as his foot enters the airspace above a foot from the tree, a great invisible force acts against him. His struggling foot hangs suspended in mid-air, as though he’s standing on something. LIke wading through tar, an incredible pressure bears down on his foot. But his foot is still moving, millimetre by millimetre, incrementally closing the distance between the sole of his shoe and the moss-covered ground.
“What the hell?” When he tries to pull his foot out, the airspace in front of the tree proves its reliability by making the next five minutes incredibly tedious. “Ah, sorry–Jisung, can I?”
Reaching out for Jisung, Minho mutters his thanks when the younger moves closer, allowing Minho to sling an arm around his shoulder. He lets some of his weight rest there while slowly disentangling his foot from the dead airspace.
Some minutes on, his foot is finally released. He’d almost expected an audible pop! at the moment of freedom, but the silence of the forest keeps up, as if nothing had happened at all. Unfortunately, that doesn’t apply to all the strength he'd poured into pulling out his foot (and Minho has a lot of latent strength packed into his 5”7 frame), and continued application of that force sends him stumbling back. Jisung, tucked into Minho's side, falls with him.
They fall to the ground in a heap, limbs all askew. Jisung’s head makes an audible thump when it comes into contact with the ground, and the man lets out a pained groan.
Wincing, Minho is up a second later, peering down at the fallen man. Jisung stares up at him, brown eyes blown wide. He blinks. Minho blinks back. At least he's still conscious.
“Jisung, I–are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't–”
The man in question lets out a cackle. In the quiet dimness of the forest, the sound is like a breath of fresh air, or an unexpected punch to the gut. Jisung holds a hand outwards. Minho promptly jumps to his feet and grabs ahold, pulling Jisung up. He overshoots it with his strength again though, and Jisung is unsteadily pulled into his chest. Luckily, he acts quickly this time, orienting himself with a hand on Minho's shoulder.
All of a sudden, they're standing so closely to one another that Minho can make out the specs of amber in Jisung's eyes, and the wrinkles on his forehead, and the pink flush at the tip of his nose.
“Oh,” Minho says. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Jisung echoes, looking just as surprised as Minho feels.
A silent moment passes, then they both let go of each other at once. Minho brushes some dirt off the side of his thigh. Jisung adjusts the beanie on his head. There's a blade of grass resting on the tip of it, which Minho points out, then removes a moment later of his own volition.
Mumbling something that sounds like a thanks, Jisung turns back to what they came here for: the mushrooms. Minho offers up a similar half-formed sentiment and follows suit, tossing the blade of grass over his shoulder. In the wake of their awkwardness, the strange spot of dead air beside the old sycamore tree is promptly brushed aside and forgotten.
“Could you shine a light over here, please?”
“Sure, I got you.”
The frigid morning air slips underneath the cuffs of his fur-lined coat and lightly pricks at the tips of his ears. Thankfully the cold has little to no effect on him, so he’d gotten away with a simple layering of a sweater, coat, heavy work pants and boots. Jisung wasn’t faring as well–bundled in a thick hoodie and jacket, a beanie and gloves, and still shivering occasionally. Minho privately cheers on his resolve.
It’s now Jisung's turn to do his part; as the apprentice to the town apothecary, harvesting plants and plant extracts are Jisung’s speciality, or so Minho had been told. They haven’t crossed paths much, though it’d been at least 6 months since Jisung moved to the little mountainside town.
As the town’s self-proclaimed handyman, Minho makes it his business to know everyone else's business, and help out where he has the skills or reasonable confidence to. So despite the gravity of the circumstances they’d found themselves in that morning, he’d been excited to finally, properly meet the strange, handsome young man who’d swept into town and stolen the hearts of all the grannies and mums who serve as part of the Apothecary's clientele.
And…there was also the small matter of what Jisung had seen two days prior, in the gloom of twilight behind the town’s most popular bar, The Wailing Dog.
It’s about time that he addressed it.
He waits a moment, two, three. Idly watches Jisung poke and prod around the area, lifting up clumps of moss and tugging on weeds. At one point, he crouches low to the ground and tilts his head sideways, listening. Minho stares. He’s personally never harvested any plant, fungi or otherwise, by hearing them out.
The planes of Jisung’s side profile are awash with warm light, highlighting his sharp, strong nose and defined jawline. His brows are drawn together. Jisung is holding himself still, so very still that Minho manages to catch the moment Jisung stops breathing.
“Hyung!” Jisung shouts, throwing himself backwards into Minho’s legs. The force isn’t enough to knock him over, but the unexpected assault has him stumbling and he drops his lantern. It hits the ground and the light goes out, plunging them in almost-darkness. Luckily, Jisung’s lantern is still sitting on the ground, about a metre and a half away.
He catches himself just in time to witness the ground explode.
Dirt, grass, moss fly in every direction. A stone bounces off his forehead. Minho takes a step back, letting out a frankly embarrassing high-pitched shout.
Nearby, Jisung, still on the ground, crawls backwards on his palms.
As the dust begins to settle, A wheezy, high laugh rings out over the restored silence. Minho goes stiff, gaze flickering wildly over the small break in the trees they'd found themselves in. The clearing is a circular area about 2 metres at the widest point, surrounded on all sides except for the path they used to enter by densely packed pines.
Minho had thought it strange when they'd found it–the near-perfect roundness of the clearing, the trees that almost seemed to be carving out the circular space in the wild forest, set at almost perfect intervals. Relief at sighting the mushrooms immediately had immediately out over his wariness. He'd been distracted, he realises, and now this has happened.
The laugh continues, then a silvery voice punctures the weighted silence that has settled over them.
“Hah, hah! Sorry to scare you both, I couldn't help it! Your faces were just too funny!”
At the same moment, a being pops into existence in front of them.
To his right, Minho catches Jisung’s gasp. Suspended in mid-air by the workings of two perfectly symmetrical, gold gossamer wings, is a pixie. The tension drops from Minho’s shoulders.
“Hi!” The little pixie says, small mouth pulled into a bright, warm grin. “I'm Lix.” He emanates a faint gold glow.
Minho blinks. “Lix…like, Lixie the pixie? That's original.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he wishes they hadn’t. The last thing they want is to further offend the pixie–presumably the owner of this plot of land.
“Hah, I get told that a lot! But it's easy to remember, isn't it?” Minho has to concede to that. He nods thoughtfully, and the pixie–no, Lix’s grin widens. He can't be taller than a foot, but he's dressed so elaborately that he appears larger.
He’s wearing a fitted white blouse with a frocked neckline, vaguely reminiscent of an old-timey pirate shirt, underneath a golden silk vest decorated with intricate swirling needlework patterns. Over that is a garment of various layers, a coat and a drape of fabric at the same time. It's almost like a cape, except it's sheer and iridescent. It falls around Lix’s figure like a waterfall, and each layer falls short at a different height. Even in the dim snatch light in the section of forest they’ve found themselves in, Minho catches the occasional glimmer of pinks, purples and blues across the unusual fabric. Lengthy, dark pants complete the bottom half of the look.
And of course, the main event: beautiful wings, rivalling mother nature's most favoured butterflies. With pale skin, fair hair, and gleaming amber eyes to boot, this beautiful creature is built to disarm. They'd better tread carefully.
Beside him, Jisung has finally got to his feet. Minho casts a glance towards him. He's staring open-mouthed at the pixie. Huh–this must be his first time seeing one. Minho better take the lead.
“I'm Lee Minho, and this is Han Jisung. We're sorry if we disturbed your home, it truly was not our intention.” He bows deeply to Lixie the Pixie, and puts a hand on Jisungs back. It only takes a minute amount of pressure before Jisung follows suit.
This time, when Lix laughs, it sounds Like a chorus of twinkling bells. All of the grit is gone, leaving only a sound musical in quality and sing-songy in nature. “This isn't my home, to be honest. I popped up about the same time you did. You were up to something very interesting, and I was so very curious. Forgive this lowly pixie for the scare.” Lix the Pixie surprises them both by replicating the deep bow, returning the favour of respect. When he tilts his upper body downwards, his long hair shifts with the motion. Gold dust tumbles from his head, shimmering.
“Something interesting?”
“Oh, yes! You both are so very interesting. You,” Lix gestures at Jisung, “You can talk to the plants, can't you?” Can he? Minho hadn't known that, and also doesn't understand what that entails. Jisung nods slowly, eyes still wide. Lix then turns to Minho. “And you–you are sharp.” He says it with so much excitement that you'd think he'd just announced that Minho had won a very expensive prize.
If Minho’s cold, dead heart could beat, it wouldve ticked at an above average rate at the statement posed. Instead, his face slackens, eyes wide. Quickly he recovers, coughing to cover the momentary fear. “Sharp, huh? That's not the only thing people say about me. Try handsome, capable, and knowledgeable.”
Of course he knows that Jisung is aware of his affliction. But they haven't had the chance to talk about it–they’d been interrupted just as he’d planned to bring it up. Minho hasn't been able to gauge his reaction yet, and truthfully he's scared to see what that will be. Calling attention to it now, on strange grounds in the midst of chaos could be the worst thing for them. Minho hopes, hopes, that the shitty diversion will let them move on for now.
It seems to do the trick. Lix laughs, clapping, and for the first time since appearing from thin air, moves closer.
Jisung gasps as Lix's wings begin to flutter in tandem, bringing him closer and closer till he's right up in their faces.
“Nice, I like you both! Here, because I like you both so much, I'll give you a tip.” in The span of a blink, Lix flutters downwards, stopping to hover above the smattering of blue mushrooms.
“These,” he says, pointing downwards, “let off an incredibly potent gas when harvested incorrectly. Trust me, I know this from experience.” His delicate features contort into a grimace. “This is what you need to do.” And he demonstrates to them the supposedly correct way to harvest the fungi. It doesn't look like much To Minho, but Jisung is captivated. He crouches down, peering closely at the gestures demonstrated by Lix.
“And there you have it!” Lix calls triumphantly, grinning widely. In between his hands is a blue stalk almost half his size. He holds it out to Jisung, who accepts it gingerly with a smile and a word of thanks. Across the clearing, the cool storage bag they’d brought along for this purpose is settled by Jisung’s lantern; carefully he stands and retrieves the bag, placing the stalk within.
“This is great, thank you, Lix. I don’t know what we would’ve done without your help here.”
The little pixie floats upwards till he’s eye level with both of them. “Much obliged, Lee Minho. Han Jisung. I–” He pauses mid-sentence as a light breeze picks up, ruffling the swathes of fabric around him. Lix peers northwards into the thick line of trees, sharp ears perked up. It’s almost as if…he’s looking through the trees. A second later his focus is back on them.
“It’s about time I head out, actually. But it was a pleasure to meet you both. Come visit me in town, okay? Don’t be a stranger!” Before their eyes, his form glimmers, gradually becoming less solid and more transparent, till finally a single streak of shimmer alights in the empty space where Lix just was, and disappears.
It’s quiet again. Minho looks to Jisung, and finds him already looking back.
“Did he say to find him in town?”
“I think so…”
“I don’t think I’ve seen a pixie in town?”
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
Silence passes for a beat, then suddenly he and Jisung burst out laughing at the same time. Honestly, what was that?
“What was that?”
Minho shrugs. “Han Jisung, I could not tell you. But I’m glad that it happened. Could you imagine what would have happened if we’d just harvested the mushrooms like normal? Maybe we’d both be dead in this random hovel.”
Jisung shudders and shakes his head vehemently. “Alright, we better finish this off and get back to town. I really don’t like this place.” Minho can agree with that.
They get back into order, returning to the reason they’re out in the woods at dawn in the first place: harvesting the mushrooms. Silence falls over them now, but it’s not uncomfortable.
Occasionally, Jisung requests that Minho move the lantern to cast more light on the ground, and Minho follows suit. They continue like this till Jisung is done, otherwise working in silence. Apparently, the quiet helps Jisung concentrate.
The remainder of the trip goes smoothly. Mushrooms harvested and packed carefully away in the collapsible cooler they’d brought along, they began the long trek back through the forest. By now, the fog has lifted marginally. The timeless quality of the forest persits the whole way back–in fact, it seems quieter, almost, then it had when they were standing by the hillside. Focusing his hearing, Minho realises that it is quieter. Maybe the critters of the forest knew they were coming, and all resolved to stay out of their way.
They break the silence occasionally, making small talk about anything and everything–from the weather to the best cafes in town to their favourite shows right now. Minho finds himself laughing whenever Jisung makes a silly pun, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Jisung’s bright grin at his own dry brand of humour.
As they get closer and closer to the edge of the forest, Minho knows it’s about time he addresses it. He hopes they won’t be interrupted this time.
“Hey, Jisung. Can I say something?”
“Anything.”
“Promise?” This may be too casual for two people who’ve only spoken a handful of times, but he needs to toy with some boundaries to get what he wants here.
Jisung huffs out a laugh, and turns his attention to Minho. He shoots Minho what he suspects is supposed to be an encouraging smile. It’s crooked, but it brings an earnestness to his soft features that has Minho averting his gaze.
“Promise, Minho.” It’s not enough, but it would have to do.
He nods, and smooths a palm over the top of his thigh. “Alright. Look, I know that you saw me last week.”
Jisung makes a sound of affirmation in response, a cross between a breath of realisation and a hum of agreement. His face otherwise remains the same, except for a small nod. Emboldened by the lack of anger, or disgust, or outright denial, Minho continues. “I want to explain. Hyunjin and I, we have this sort of deal–it’s mutually beneficial, and it’s not, like–I don’t pressure him into doing, ah, that with me. Believe me, Jisung, I–”
“Minho,” Jisung interrupts his stuttered, pieced apart explanation.
He braces himself for the next bit, the ‘that’s cool, man–just keep your fucking gross parasitic teeth away from my neck and we’re good’, or the ‘don’t even think about biting me, you freak of nature’, or, worse case, ‘I’ve already told the town mayor and local priest. Expect a visit soon, unholy bastard’.
It never comes.
Instead, Jisung and his pretty, earnest smile persist. When he speaks, his voice is like a splash of honey, ginger and lemon down an aching throat, soothing hidden wounds and warming Minho from the inside-out.
“Minho, it’s alright. You don’t need to explain anything, I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, of course. I mean, it’s the same for me, right?”
What. Wait, Jisung is a–? How could he not have noticed?
“Wait, it is?”
Jisung laughs again, and the sound carries far in the otherwise silent forest. “I know I don’t look like the stereotypes, but yeah, it’s the same for me.” He rubs the back of his neck with a hand, and a pink blush like a blooming flower rises in the apples of his cheeks. “I was surprised, but not in a bad way. I’m pretty new to this town, you know? I was worried there wouldn’t be any queer people around for the next 100 miles, so I’m honestly pretty stoked that there’s anyone here at all.”
Minho blinks. What?
“Hey, actually, do you think you’d be able to introduce me? If there is a community, I want in!”
He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. There…must have been a misunderstanding somewhere. Did he think that he’d interrupted Hyunjin and him unable to keep their hands off each other? That’s…awful. Hyunjin occasionally proffers his neck to Minho, when Minho can’t find the time to travel to the closest city and find a willing party. He fights off a shudder at the thought they would be doing anything more than that. It’s Hyunjin, who’s basically his brother. He has to get this straight.
“To the…local queer community?”
“Yeah!” Jisung beams, looking so sweet and unsuspecting that Minho can’t help the wild burst of laughter that escapes him. With it, the tension held captive in his body drains all at once. Luck, it seems, is on his side today.
“Yeah. Okay, Jisung, I can introduce you. It’s not a crazy big community, just a few of us to be honest, but we often go to this gay bar two towns over. It’s good to go if you’re looking to meet new people, and it’s discreet. You can come along next time, if you’re down.” Funny, that homosexuality wasn’t even a point of interest in the town, not really. When it came to taboo, Minho’s condition ranked much higher across all categories: fear, hate, disgust, distrust. He’ll hold his tongue on that, though.
Jisung nods rapidly, doe-eyes wide. Minho already knows that Changbin and the others are going to love him.
He laughs again, and promises to inform Jisung the next time plans are made.
10-or-so minutes later, as they’re finally emerging from the line of trees onto the clearing that eventually leads to town, Jisung casts a look his way. “Hey, Minho?”
He hums in response, peering back at the trees. They seem darker than they had while walking through them. He hopes they haven’t left anything behind.
Taking his hum for an assent, Jisung continues, “so, the thing between Hyunjin and you, you said it’s a ‘deal’ of sorts, right?” He makes an air quote at the word deal. Where could he be going with this? Minho is now certain that he can never predict Han Jisung, new guy in town, apothecary apprentice, because his next words are this: “Does that mean you’re single, then?” His voice is light, so light that it must be deliberate.
In spite of the casual way the question was posed, Minho comes to a sudden stop. If he had any blood in his body to spare, he knew his face would steadily be warming up. This was, and Minho cannot stress this enough, not the outcome of the conversation he’d anticipated. He picks up the pace a second later, determined not to make a fool of himself.
“I’m single, yeah.”
Jisung makes a sound of acknowledgement. “Cool, awesome,” he says, then rushes to correct himself, “I mean, not that it’s awesome you’re single. And not that it’s not cool to be single–like, whatever you–”
Minho laughs. “Jisung. I get it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Minho agrees, warm inside. He thinks he’ll go for lemon and ginger tea after this. With a splash or two of honey.
Too soon, they’re at the entrance of the local house of healing.
“I’ve got to get this to Doctor Kim,” Jisung says, slightly shaking the cooler of recently harvested mushrooms.
Minho had better get a move on, too. “I’ll see you later, then?”
“You can count on it!”
Minho takes one, two, three steps away. Before he can take the fourth, he turns back to Jisung. “Hey,” he calls. Jisung perks up. “Thank you, Jisung. I mean it.” He’s not talking about the forest mission. Jisung must know that, even if he doesn’t know exactly why Minho is so grateful.
The boy in question shoots him another one of those beautiful smiles. Feeling lighter than ever, Minho waves goodbye, takes the next left and is off on his own path for the rest of the morning.
Hells, what an eventful morning. And it’s not even 8am. Truly, Minho can’t wait for the next time he and the Apothecary’s apprentice cross paths.