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The Elbe's peaceful flow accompanies Felix. The surface is illuminated by starlight and the waning moon. A late summer's breeze caresses the river, carrying humid air with it. The breeze brushes over his skin before rising into the tree's crown, rustling its colourful leaves.
The click of his shoes gets swallowed by the lingering cheer and bustle of the festival around him. Beer glasses click and laughter washes over the stalls and houses, to the roads and riverside. Horses neigh as they shuffle past, tall enough to hide him from view entirely.
As he walks, his emerald green suit marks him as part of the wealthier elite of their little town. His mother had insisted he wear it, to better his chances of finding a noblewomen who would catch his interest.
Felix silently resents his mother's insistence on appearances, stifled by expectations he dare not voice.
To his luck, clothes mean nothing on a night like this: when he walks with hurried strides in the shadow of horses, as the common folk mingle, musicians play, and the harvest festival is in full swing. People dance and Felix inhales the smell of grilled meats and acrid wine. Exhales it, relaxes to the warmth and anticipation growing in him.
The road he walks, one of loosely paved stone, is marred by years of carriages riding over them. It shifts beneath his fine shoes with each click-clack.
He folds himself into the safety of the brown sandstone wall built to fend off the Elbe's infrequent floods - a barrier almost five times his size. The wall makes the grassy shore on the other side appear small – especially now, with flame, dance and cheer atop it.
His fingers trail above the sandstone, rising and falling with the ridges, summerwarm and rough. It leaves behind dust on his fingertips. Built to hold off violent waters, but crumbling so easily under his fingertips.
In the dim light of early evenings, he spots a wooden door inlet in the wall.
His heart skips and his steps accelerate.
His emerald suit absorbs the light as he waits by the door with twinging knuckles from the force of his knocks. There's sweat at the base of his neck, his feet dancing a little rhythm on the ground. It takes but a moment for footsteps to appear.
The door opens.
A smile greets him. Warm, almond eyes shining with joy. The man wears a similarly well-tailored suit. Felix's breath rushes out of him, unaware that he had been holding it in the first place. He steps through the door, into the proffered space. The door falls shut behind him. At once, the noise of the festival seems to vanish, wrapping them in their own, little bubble.
"Felix," Changbin greets. His fingers drift through his fringe. "Good evening."
As always with Changbin, Felix can't help but smile back when Changbin's grin breaks through.
"And to you," he says. "The streets are so busy."
"That they are." Changbin agrees and beckons him up the stairs. The steep climb, familiar to Felix, culminates in a spacious, well-sculpted garden. They're atop the wall, meters above the festival streets. With Changbin trailing behind, he steals himself to the balustrade to oversee the lovely view.
The smells of foods now mingle with the plethora of blooming flowers and petals that would only flourish in the late summer's warmth. Lilac, roses and lavender – a lovely combination – and Felix had helped to nurture all their growth. His fingers graze over the balustrade, his interest in the festival and people quickly dissipating when Changbin steps up to him.
The distant music blends with the floral scents, grounding Felix even as his heart flutters.
It's from the climb, he tells himself, when he takes the glass Changbin offers him with trembling fingers. Changbin hums along to the songs played below. He leans with a casual slouch against the balustrade and Felix finds that his chest grows tight. He taps his finger against the glass, forces his eyes away from the man, only for them to return immediately.
He wonders if Changbin ever notices his tenseness, or if it's just another secret among the festival's many hidden stories.
"How has your day been?" Changbin asks.
Felix hums, gaze lingering on the wind brushing through the black curls of Changbin's hair. He breathes in, tastes the evening air that brings a vague kind of humid exhilaration. The warmth in his chest seems to grow ever warmer in Changbin's presence. He fears he might one day explode from the intensity of it all.
As if on cue, the source of his turmoil leans over, tilting his face just enough that their eyes meet through the dimming lights. Changbin's eyes glimmer with orange affection in the fading light. Felix catches his breath. His fingers tighten around the glass.
The side of Changbin's mouth lifts into a lopsided smile.
A rush of heat blossoms in Felix's face.
"It's been- well. Quite well," Felix forces out, willing himself to calm down.
"I am glad," Changbin says. He offers his hand and cocks his head to their favourite poplar tree. "Want to sit?"
Felix takes his hand, lets himself be led to the bench where they'd spent so many hours. Right beneath the tall poplar tree, whose silvery leaves rustle like a creek in a hidden mountain path. The sound washes over him as they sit. It does little to calm his heart, but his shoulders lose some of their tension.
The Lavender smells stronger here, clinging to Changbin as much as the flowers themselves.
Changbin does not let go of his hand, rather curling his fingers around Felix's more firmly. Felix closes his eyes, his head swimming in the night's exhilaration as much as the resolutions he's made for it.
He wonders if Changbin knows this, too; never before had he held Felix's hand for so long or with such tenderness. Yet as comfort settles in with Changbin's touch, Felix's mind drifts inevitably to the life he leads – a life filled with expectations he cannot meet.
Despite knowing that his family would be displeased, Felix can no longer endure this heartache. Within Changbin's space and proximity, he finds a peace that he could never find in another place. And it is bittersweet, because this house of Changbin's – it is made to house many, but all were lost to the world until only Changbin remained.
Meanwhile his own home bustles with the many people he shares it with. With mentors, teachers and servants that never tried to understand him. He imagines the stern words at home, the echo of his father's voice reciting tomorrow's obligations, the disapproving glances at dinner when he lingered too long in the garden.
A weight that only lifts when he is with Changbin. When they dig through his spacious garden, planting flowers and tending fruit trees. When they chase each other through the maze of hedges, swim in the river's shallow waters or stick their feet in cool creeks and pools after a day's hike in the mountains.
Felix opens his eyes to peer at the man who gives him so much happiness. The thought of such contentment makes his chest tighten with familiar dread. Were his family to know, that he wants to spend the rest of his life here, he is sure he would no longer have a family to call his own.
He lets the murmur of the trees guide him back to the present, to Changbin's company. His mind perceives the cheer of the festival so distantly, as compared to Changbin's steady breathing next to him. The point where their hands touch burns warm. He smiles, gathers his courage and turns.
His mouth opens to speak practiced words, yet when Changbin turns to him, his tongue suddenly feels too heavy to say them.
Still, his attempt catches Changbin's attention. His gaze flicks between Felix's eyes as if to gauge his intention. With a hum, a smile blooms on his lush lips, as if a secret had just been revealed to him. Felix's fingers twitch in Changbin's hold. He tries to breathe normally yet can't. A calloused hand lifts, fingers grazing his chin, guiding him.
The anticipation overwhelms him. He closes his eyes and warm lips seal over his.
It's a chaste, careful kiss.
Suddenly, the world is a hush. The distant festival dissolves into the gentle gravity of touch. Felix senses the pulse of Changbin's heartbeat, steady and sure, anchoring him in a reality sweeter than any dream. He draws back just enough to see the longing flickering in Changbin's eyes.
A breeze stirs the silver leaves above them, trembling like his own hands, like his heart, now that his secret is laid bare. Felix lets his emotions spill over, no longer able or willing to hide the ache in his chest. With only the poplar tree as his witness.
"I wish-" he begins, but falters, voice rough with the weight of his desire. Changbin's still so close that the warmth of his breath mingles with his own. Tender possibilities hang between them. Waiting to be touched, taken, nurtured, like they did the flowers that now bloom all around them.
Changbin's thumb brushes gently across Felix's cheek, his bottom lip, wiping away the worry.
"You don't have to wish," he murmurs.
Felix inhales, breathing in hope and the crisp night. Joy blooms in his chest like butterflies taking flight. He imagines a world where he chooses this: the man beside him, their quiet garden and a future so unburdened by expectations.
And for once, Felix is unafraid of what tomorrow may bring.