writetomyheart | [team three] seeds

the boyz; hyunjae/juyeon; 1,206w; G — the theme is love and soulmates and how to draw them in. unfinished, once again.

Love is a precarious thing, spells out the wooden board above his head (up there in the ceiling, holding all the other boards in place — making sure none of them falls, no matter the weather, no matter the rain, the wind -

The few rocks thrown the shop's way)

Loving is dangerous, and to summon such a thing from the void is deadly.

(This bit, is not carved in the wooden board. It is inked into paper, soaked into the potion — it has become blotchy here and there, and yet still stares back at Juyeon when the hand holding the round flask it sits in gets impossibly close to his face, to the point he swears he can see how every drop messed up the writing.)

(Love is the tiniest thing, the smallest flutter of wings — be warned: it brings forth

storms.)

'Wait!' he interjects - rising from his makeshift (nonexistent) bed on the creaky, dusty (equally wooden) floor — turning to meet Hyunjae's eye, and flushing when judgement is what stares back, blue and still and cold, an imperturbable (only ever annoyed, not once shaken) frozen lake.

'What?' the sorcerer says — bracelets dingling as his wrist is half-lowered. 'Having second thoughts?'

It's a little too late for that, Hyunjae grumbles — but he lays the potion bottle by his feet anyway, crosses his arms with another jingle.

Judgemental.

'It's just,' Juyeon starts — looks away from the iridescent blue, the lightning in Hyunjae's eyes — gaze fliting to the board then the walls, the plants feeding on the perfectly-lined shelves, the skulls and the empty bottles resting upon them. Here is a world that is well-balanced.

'I just…'

Juyeon racks his brain, closes his mouth — opens, then closes it again. Frowns.

Opposite of him, Hyunjae mimics him.

'Just?' he unhelpfully repeats — tilting his head lightly, furrowing his brows. 'Just?'

'Just…' Juyeon just-as-unhelpfully picks up, and he makes sure not to cross paths with Hyunjae's eyes. His entire demeanour is screaming at him to go, go ahead fast — and lord knows how patient Lee Jaehyun is, which is not at all, not ever once. Especially with insecure clients.

That, Juyeon has mastered learning in the past few weeks.

But, nevertheless — he tries his hand at begging a little for his patience - if only because he was never clearly taught how to put his thoughts into order.

'How can I… be sure everything will be okay? I mean,' he adds, when Hyunjae's head tilts a little further (a dangerous, dangerous thing, Juyeon knows) (Go. Ahead. Juyeon has learned to decipher) 'Will this really bring forth my bond with my soulmate? Will it reveal them to me, and only me?'

Will it really turn out the way you've told me, with no grand consequence to who I am, to whoever the other might be, he thinks to himself but knows better than to say.

(Which does not matter, because Hyunjae reads it between the lines anyway.) (Years and years spent taking care of his customers, he knows a little more about speeches than the usual aid in the castle, the professors Juyeon used to have, blindly pretending to be teaching him 'life' — all the politicians he used to frequent, pleading for the people's manners and lives, and - sometimes - the people themselves - if they were rich enough, smart enough to be let into the castle.) (Which did not happen often.)

(Not once a scholar, or a counsellor — Hyunjae nevertheless knows how to read, how to understand, how to convince — he knows just how every person coming into his shop works, and he knows what will not, and most importantly will, come to their mind. And, of course,)

'Juyeon.'

(Not once a conversationalist or even an arguer, he knows just how to reply, just how to debate, or)

'My dear prince.'

(Shut one down before it starts.)

'I have told you already. Did your memory float away while you stuck to my side like a bug with broken wings, or were you always this thick?'

Hyunjae marks a pause, does the little wave with his eyebrows he always makes when he cannot seem to fathom the sheer stupidity he has in front of him. A call for an answer, Juyeon has seen a few picture there — but once again,

He knows far better: he lets Hyunjae mentally degrade him, then continue:

'I have told you, my prince.' (Softly, more politely — because at the end of it all he understands, and he wouldn't be Lee Jaehyun if he were only fuelled by anger.) 'Drinking this sets off attraction. In whomever stands at the end of the inpicturable string; in you. It brings you together - like gravity. There is nothing else to fear, nothing that can happen outside of it.'

All that can unfold is yours and theirs, Hyunjae concludes, and he brings his hands together, links the both of them around his ankles. He waits, patiently, like he does so often, for another question, an answer to his words — and when it does not come, he locks eyes with Juyeon, forces it out himself. Blue twinkles and is at peace — blue knows what follows and wants to hear it — Juyeon

gives in.

'No consequence outside of me, and them.'

'What I told you when you first asked, then asked again, and again, and again. What I tell you now,' Hyunjae has the patience to reiterate calmly — blue slightly turning to grey as milliseconds pass outside and inside; eternity assuring Juyeon it has all, all, all the time.

'A tiny thing in the world, then,' Juyeon quotes in a murmur, assuring his heart more than Hyunjae — but Lee Jaehyun is the wind, catching whispers as they vanish— selling, and collecting, according to their wishes.

'It brings forth storms,' he finishes.

'Do I… do I have to worry about that? A storm is a storm, even if it only concerns two people.'

When do I know, Juyeon continues, that disaster is here and ready to strike me?

(To which - Hyunjae laughs.)

'You don't, my prince. That's the worldwide consequence of love.'

The veil is lifted much too late, just like in war, he says — and he untangles his hands, to welcome Juyeon back down, where they have agreed he will temporarily fit.

But simply lying down would be admitting defeat, allowing Hyunjae to have the last word — an idea any royal would hate, and Juyeon is no different.

'This could cause me great harm,' he threatens (really can only mumble, because the wind's job was never to care - only to carry. And today is not the day Hyunjae will have a change of heart, and decide he cares more for people than his services.)

'You have paid a very high price to obtain it, and I am not one to argue with great wealth.' Hyunjae brushes a stray hair out of Juyeon's forehead, and tucks it behind his ear (his hand is fresh, soft - does not linger — here is a world that knows what it wants) — he opens his arms wide, and beckons Juyeon in. 'Come.'

As if they were not discussing potential casualties. Juyeon hates that about him. He has a schedule, he cares but not too much. Here is a world that is perfectly-balanced.

(He lies down.)

shinysylver you're up!