Chapter Text
First letter
The first time Jesper delivered a letter to a mansion at the Geldstraat, he hadn't expected the recipient to be hiding in a hedge.
“Uh, you know I can see you, right?”
No response.
“I've got a letter for Wylan van Eck?”
“I don't want it,” said a muffled voice.
“You're not very good at hiding, are you?” Jesper chuckled, eyeing the boy whose back was barely covered by the foliage.
“That's rude,” grumbled the voice from the hedge.
“And true. You're hiding but you're talking with me, kind of goes against the point of hiding if I know where you are, no?”
“I'm not hiding from you,” the voice scoffed. “I'm hiding from– it's none of your business who I'm hiding from.”
“I wasn't asking who you're hiding from, I'm just a humble delivery boy delivering mail.”
“I said I don't want the letter.”
“I won't get paid if I come back with it to the office, you can just throw it away if you don't want to read it.” Jesper shifted from foot to foot. “Though, it could be a waste, what if it's from a secret admirer?”
“I don't have any secret admirers,” the boy backed out from his (not very good) hiding spot, losing his balance and landing on his butt with a soft oof. Jesper watched with an amused grin when the boy mumbled something grumpily to himself while he was standing up, brushing off his black trousers.
“You don't know that, that's what makes them secret.”
“I don't meet enough people to have a secret admirer. Besides, I wouldn't even read it.”
“That's not very nice, they're sending you a letter and you won't take a few minutes to read it?” Jesper frowned.
“I'd say it'd be the contrary, someone who knew me and was nice wouldn't send me letters.”
“That doesn't make a lot of sense, does it?”
“I don't owe you an explanation.”
“You certainly don't. Do you work here? Or do people work here for you?”
“Not for me, for my father.”
“A merchling, are you? I'll leave the letter by the door if you won't take it.”
“Don't!” the merchling exclaimed before hastily looking around, as if to make sure no one had heard him raise his voice. “Okay, fine. Give it to me,” he demanded, this time in a hushed voice.
“What’s the magic word?”
“Give me the letter.”
“Those were four words, merchling, none of them magical. Try again.”
“Don’t call me that, my name is Wylan,” he argued, reaching forward to try and snatch the letter from Jesper’s hand. The delivery boy brought the hand holding onto the letter up in the air, far above where Wylan couldn’t reach it.
“And that wasn’t even close to being the magic word, Wylan the merchling.” Jesper smiled when Wylan bumped into him, trying to grab ahold of the letter.
“You are very annoying,” Wylan huffed and crossed his arms. A sweet daylily pink blush spread across his freckled cheeks. A few stray leaves had gotten stuck in his red and explosive curls, Jesper had to focus all of his energy to not run his fingers through those soft-looking locks.
“And you are very snarky for someone brought up in polite society.”
“You know nothing about how I was brought up.”
“Am I wrong though? Weren’t you taught what spoons to start with and to always say please and thank you?” Jesper raised one eyebrow with a knowing smirk. Wylan quieted, looking down at his feet.
“Well, for being a delivery boy, you’re not doing a very good job at, you know, delivering my mail,” Wylan finally retorted, blue eyes meeting Jesper’s grey with a smug look on his flushed face.
“Oh? I thought you didn’t want the letter?”
“I changed my mind, now give it to me.”
“Still haven’t said the magic word, merchling.”
“You– ugh! Whatever!” Wylan quipped, stomping away across the garden and back towards the huge house.
“Just one word and the letter is yours!” Jesper chirped after Wylan, quickly catching up with him. Wylan turned on his heel to face Jesper, eyes wide and fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sweater vest. “Why are you still here?” Wylan sneered, scanning the surrounding area.
“Didn’t you want the letter now?” Jesper’s smile fell at how Wylan swallowed thickly while his bottom lip hooked underneath his teeth and gnawed.
“I don’t care, you just– you can’t stay here.” Jesper tightened his jaw at Wylan’s statement.
“Okay, well… here you go, I guess,” he reached out his hand with the letter in it. When Wylan grabbed the letter, their fingers brushed and lingered there for a beat too long. The merchling snatched the letter before murmuring a “thank you,” and running into the house. “You’re welcome? I think?” Jesper said, not minding that Wylan couldn’t hear him.
Second letter
One week after Jesper’s first delivery to the van Eck mansion, he was sent out once again with a letter for the young master of the house. He was walking down the pristine streets of the Geldstraat, basking in the smell of freshly cut grass and jasmine instead of the suffocating stink of The Barrel.
This time, Wylan wasn’t hiding in a hedge. He was nowhere to be seen in the large garden and Jesper shook away the feeling of disappointment. Jesper felt the gravel beneath his boots as he moved towards the large door. He was about to press the doorbell when a small pebble hit his arm. He looked to where the pebble came from and lo and behold, it was the merchling.
“Hey–”
“Shh! Don’t you know mail is delivered to the servants entrance?” Wylan stepped out from his hiding spot behind a large pillar and grabbed Jesper by his wrist, leading him away from the looming door and into the shades of trees in the garden.
“Sorry, I just wanted to hand-deliver your next love letter.” Wylan scoffed at this, letting go of Jesper when they stepped inside the canopy of a weeping willow.
“It’s not a love letter,” Wylan said, sitting down on a quaint little bench, it was gilded but patina had built up over the years, the shy golden swirls of branches that shaped the backrest and armrest were decorated with leaves. The bench sat with the backrest against the bark.
“Did you read the last one?” Jesper sat down next to Wylan.
“No…”
“Then how are you so sure?”
“I told you, I don’t meet enough people to have a secret admirer.”
“Oh yeah? I didn't peg you for the rebellious type that gets perpetually grounded.”
“I'm not! Grounded, that is.”
“So you're not denying you're rebellious?”
“Not in a way that my father can find out about.”
“You're a sneaky merchling, aren't you?”
“No comment, plausible deniability and all that.” Wylan smirked.
“I would be surprised if you don't have secret admirers, merchling. Relieved I don't have competition, though.”
Wylan choked and a pretty pink bloomed on his face, Jesper wondered what he could do to make that pink reach the merchling’s ears.
“So what mail do you have for me this time?” Jesper chuckled at Wylan's attempt at changing the subject.
“If it's not a love letter, I have no clue,” Jesper smiled and dug in his messenger bag. “Us delivery boys don't get to read the letters, though I get very curious sometimes.”
“What do you get curious about?”
“Imagine the info of rumours in those letters! My friend Nina would kill to get that gossip.”
“Things that are truly gossip-worthy wouldn't be sent by letters, in case they got in the wrong hands.”
“Huh. Never thought about it that way.”
“Usually it's just a suggestion on a time and place to meet, better to discuss secrets that way.”
“Boooo, that's so boring.”
“Merchers usually are.”
“Self call out much?”
“I'm not a mercher… um,” Wylan hesitated.
“What?”
“What's your name?”
“Jesper– Jesper Fahey, pleasure to make your acquaintance, young master merchling,” Jesper grinned and held out his hand.
“Can't say I agree, Jesper,” Wylan playfully rolled his eyes and smiled, taking Jesper's hand and shaking it.
“If I give you this letter, will you read it?” Jesper smirked and dug up Wylan's letter from the bag, waving it in front of the other boy's face. Wylan's smile dropped.
“No.”
Jesper pouted. “Why not?”
“That's none of your business,” the honey laced tenor became icy and distant. “You should go, don’t you have more mail to deliver?” Wylan didn't meet Jesper's eyes that were searching for ghosts of crinkles of happiness on the merchling’s face. Now he was all cold marble, untouchable and way out of Jesper’s league.
“Okay. Message received,” Jesper sighed, pushing the letter to Wylan's chest and letting go. This time, Wylan stayed back in the garden while Jesper navigated back to the street.
Jesper couldn't understand what he had done wrong, but at the same time, curiosity was eating him alive. Wylan was a mystery begging to be solved with those sparkly blue eyes. It was almost like Jesper could hear the echo of Wylan's voice pleading ‘please Jesper! Won't you solve me?’ in his head.
And who was he to deny the wishes of Wylan? Even if he was imaginary.