[oneshot] Cups of Coffee and Fairytales. (part 2)

[yakiseop]

As they talk over two cups of black coffee, Minseok learns a lot about the faypeople. He learns that Lu Han lives not very far from there, closer to the town than Seoul, in a vast green area by a riverbank; that they sleeps at the roots of a weeping willow, and, when it snows, they hide in an abandoned truck that has been there for many decades; that they used to live far, far away, but don’t like staying for long anywhere, because, according to them, they don’t get along well with the other faeries.

“What about your hometown? The place where you were born,” Minseok adds to clarify.

“It’s very far away,” Lu Han affirms, but then they seem to realize that isn’t what Minseok had meant with the question, so they amend, “I liked it, but I wanted to see more. I didn’t want to live all my life there and never see the world.”

“I see.” It reminds Minseok of her.

Another thing he learns, much to his amusement, is that Lu Han blooms in spring.

“Seriously?” he asks incredulously, guffawing in disbelief as Lu Han nods firmly. “What do you mean?!”

“Here, take a look,” Lu Han leans forward, offering their hair for Minseok to see. “I should be blooming soon, in ten days or so.”

And it’s true; hidden by Lu Han’s hair, there are innumerous flower buds sprouting from their scalp, still green and very tiny. Trying to imagine what Lu Han looks like in full bloom, Minseok asks, “what color are they?”

“Lavender-colored,” Lu Han seems a bit bummed by that fact. “And they’re very small. They’ll open soon, and then you’ll see.”

“I should hope I do,” Minseok retorts, grinning from ear to ear.

Another interesting thing that happens is that Lu Han tries coffee for the first time - which they know about, as they seem to do with many human things, but have never tasted - and they absolutely love it. They down it amazingly quick, and drink two more cups. The caffeine doesn’t take long to hit, and, as the conversation goes on, they become louder and louder, as well as more and more enthusiastic.

Minseok, on the other hand, feels terrible. He hasn’t taken his medicine, nor has he eaten or rested, and it’s starting to take a toll on him. Even though he wants to hear more stories from Lu Han - they’re now telling about the things they admire the most about the human world, and about the faeries’ usual disdain towards all human things - he’s not sure if he’ll physically stand it anymore. As the hours tick by, he becomes weaker.

Eventually, when it’s almost noon, Lu Han seems to notice. “You don’t seem well,” they say, frowning. “Do I talk too much?”

“No! Not at all,” Minseok shakes the possibility away, and almost cringes at how feeble his own voice sounds to his ear. “Not at all. I’m… a bit out of sorts today, that’s all.”

“You’re ill.” It’s not a question; it’s a realization. The faerie look like they’ve gotten and answer for an important question, and the concern shows in the delicate lines of their face.

“A tad,” Minseok begrudgingly confesses. “It’s not serious, but…”

“I’m sorry for not seeing it,” Lu Han looks down, apparently a bit ashamed. “I’m not as good with humans as I am with flowers.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not your fault,” Minseok assures them, and prepares to get up. “I should get myself some medicine. Just a second, I’ll-”

But, as he gets to his feet, his vision swims and blackens - oh no, he’s losing consciousness! Minseok makes an effort to stay awake, but sways on his feet, and drops his cane to the floor, tumbling wobbly until something holds him into place.

“Are you hurt?”

Well… all efforts of not alarming Lu Han were futile. The faerie is now holding Minseok by the waist, for the second time that same week, and looking down at him with very worried eyes. Minseok’s first impulse is to say that he’s fine, but, in all honesty, he’s really not.

“Perhaps I should lie down for a bit,” he admits. “You can keep me company in my room, if you want to. Or, if you’d rather not…”

Lu Han shakes their head firmly. “I’ll help you,” they say, and look around, somewhat lost. “Now… where should I take you…?”

Would they recognize a bedroom if they saw one? “I’ll show you the way,” Minseok decides to say, finding it safer. “Would you help me get my cane? I think I dropped it somewhere.”

“I got it.” This time, Minseok watches as the cane leaps from where it’s fallen, near the sink, right to Lu Han’s hand, held barely above Minseok’s head. He’s fascinated. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Lu Han frowns in confusion.

“Just… never mind.” Minseok accepts back his cane, and gets to his feet, guiding Lu Han to his bedroom.

It’s not a long walk, as Minseok’s house isn’t very wide, but each step seems to weigh his entire body down. By the time he reaches the bed, he’s relieved to do so, and almost lies down without pulling a chair for Lu Han first. The faerie sits by the bedside, eyeing Minseok with sadness and concern.

“Don’t be so blue, Lu Han,” Minseok cheers him. “It’s nothing. I should be fine by tomorrow morning.”

“But right now, you’re in pain,” Lu Han reasons, and their voice is slightly whiny, like a child’s. It’s unlike Sehun’s whines, though; when Sehun whines, he’s usually angry, while Lu Han sounds disappointed. “I wish I could fix that.”

A tiny smile blossoms on Minseok’s lips. “You can,” he says. “Talk to me, and I’ll feel better.”

“I feel like I’ve run out of stories, too,” Lu Han admits melancholically. Then, his eyes twinkle. “Can I ask you for some stories?”

Even though Minseok is not fond of telling stories about himself - he find his own life and memories too dull to be told to anyone - he figures it’s only fair, since Lu Han has told him so much already. “Yes, of course,” he agrees, and makes himself comfortable. “What do you want to hear?”

Lu Han, then, makes a series of oddly trivial questions - “what do you like to eat?”, “Did you go to school?”, “Have you ever ridden a bicycle?” - which Minseok answers truthfully, always doubting how any of that can be of the faeries interest. And yet more oddly, all of Minseok’s spectacularly mundane answers seem to amaze Lu Han more and more, and each detail makes a new question sprout from the faerie’s lips.

Eventually, though, Lu Han seems to notice they might be tiring Minseok down even more, and stops making questions. As much as Minseok knows he truly should rest, he’s bummed. He doesn’t like silence. He has too much of it already, almost every day.

“I should try to use a spell on you,” is the next thing Lu Han says, after a mildly long moment of silence. Minseok blinks, thinking back to the garden, of how the misty substance had cured his cosmos’ broken stems.

“I suppose you could,” he says thoughtfully, but then he remembers something. “Wouldn’t it be a waste, though? I remember that you mentioned, at the park, that you only had three spells with you.”

“Two is more than enough for me.” Lu Han is already rummaging the rags they wear - Minseok wonders if there’s some kind of pocket in them - and seems to find something, which he holds up in the air: a small jar, filled with the spell. “If I run out, I’ll have to go back home, but, for now, I don’t think I need to worry.”

Minseok frowns, not yet sure if it’s a good idea. What if Lu Han is in dire need of a spell later? But then again, Minseok doesn’t really know what a spell does, or in what situations it becomes necessary, so he decides to take the faeries’ words on it. “What should I do, then? Should I swallow it?”

Lu Han ponders for a moment, frowning and pursing their thin lips. “I don’t know,” they admit, emptying the jar on their palm, and Minseok watches as the spell coils around itself. “I’ll let it decide what to do.”

Wait, so do spells have some kind of conscience? Minseok is increasingly confused about the nature of spells, but, when he’s about to ask, the coiled mist on Lu Han’s hand floats down towards Minseok - then, in a blink of an eye, it enters Minseok’s mouth, and goes down his throat. Minseok almost chokes.

“Oh,” Lu Han says faintly as Minseok silently agonizes. “I don’t think I’ve ever swallowed a spell. How does it feel?”

“It burns!” Minseok chokes out, heaving a little. “But it’s also cold!?” The icy burn in his chest reminds me of the feeling after running a long distance with all his strength, and then breathing in huge, cold gulps of air. It’s been a long time he has experienced that, of course, but it’s a sensation he’s unlikely to ever forget. “Well, that caught me-” a cough, “-unprepared. Can’t say I saw that coming. By the way, what are spells, exactly?”

“Uh… well,” Lu Han makes a face, apparently searching through the inside of their skulls for an answer. “A spell is… it’s a thing. It’s like water. It’s hard to explain with words.”

Minseok supposes it is. He, himself, wouldn’t be able to explain what water is if anyone asked. “I see,” he sighs, resigned. There’s an awful feeling of tiredness weighing his eyelids down. Then, he decides to resume their previous conversation. “Is there anything else you’d like me to tell?”

Lu Han’s eyes meet his, and once again Minseok is surprised by how vibrant they are. It’s not that Lu Han’s irises are of a rare color - they’re not, they’re dark brown much like Minseok’s - but there’s something to them that denounces Lu Han’s non-human nature.

“There’s one thing,” the faerie admits quietly. “But I don’t know if I should ask. It must make you uncomfortable.”

Minseok thinks he knows what the next question is. He has been expecting it for a while, and it’s a wonder that Lu Han has yet to ask him directly about that. “It won’t,” he assures them with a kind smile. “Don’t worry about it. Ask away.”

Lu Han chews their lips a little anxiously, still hesitating. Then, they finally ask.

“What is it like to have a family?”

Minseok is taken aback. This isn’t what he had been expecting, and he can’t hide his surprise when he mutters, “oh.”

“Faeries don’t have families,” Lu Han explains, still a little anxious. “Not like humans do. A faerie’s family is their whole kin, and it doesn’t mean they’re close friends, or live together… so I’ve always wondered. Other animals have families, too, but even with them, it’s not the same. Also, I’ve never talked to them,” Lu Han adds with a shudder.

“You’ve never talked to any other animals?” Minseok doesn’t know why he’s surprised.

“Only a bird, when I was travelling. And he didn’t have a family, either.”

Minseok ponders about what he should say to answer Lu Han’s question. He needs to be as clear as possible; and yet, there’s so much to explain… “A family…” he starts off, but stops and rethinks. It’s a very tough question.

“A family isn’t always a good thing,” he says, finally, and watches Lu Han’s expression crumble. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, either,” he quickly adds, but it only seems to confuse Lu Han further. “It’s troublesome. A lot of terrible things can happen within a family, and people get hurt easily when it does, because people are usually closer to family members than to anyone else in the world. I guess that’s the definition of ‘family’,” he adds, frowning, in deep thoughts. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. But, despite the trouble, having a family is good. It’s like having one last safe place you can go to when you’re lonely, or lost.” At that, Minseok makes a face. That had been an awfully sappy thing to say.

When he glances at Lu Han, he’s surprised to see the faerie looking quite glum. He wonders if he said something wrong. Did he bring out some bad memories for them? They seem to notice his glance on them, and raise their eyes.

“I’m not sure if I understand,” they confess, indeed very glumly. “I’ve tried to for a long time, but-but just this, I can’t seem to understand.”

Minseok doesn’t know what to say, and heavy silence falls upon them.

At last, when Minseok can no longer stand the silence, he breaks it with a silly question. “Do faeries sing?”

Lu Han lights up immediately. “We do!” They answer enthusiastically. “I’m quite good at it. Should I sing for you?”

“I’d like to hear it,” Minseok beams, glad he asked the right question. Then, after some thought, he adds, “that’s odd. You’re similar to plants, but you can sing.”

“Some say we learnt it from the birds,” Lu Han offers as an explanation, and straightens their back on the chair, making the butterbur sprout sway a little over their hair. It’s adorable. “This is a song we usually sang it at the bog where I was born. I don’t know if you’ll understand, because I can’t sing it in human language, but it’s about a faerie who fell in love with a human prince.” After a thoughtful pause, they add, “do your kin have a prince?”

“Uh,” Minseok supposes his ‘kin’ would be the country. “No. But we had some, in the far past.”

“I see,” Lu Han nods. “Well, the faerie fell in love with a human prince, but was afraid to approach him. So, every night, they’d make a ring of flowers and fungi bloom around his sleeping body.” Minseok waits for some kind of conclusion or punch line, but it never comes; without another word, Lu Han starts to sing.

It’s unlike any sound Minseok has ever heard. Just like their eyes, and their hair, and their smile, and their way of walking, Lu Han’s singing is definitely not human in a way - it’s something between a human’s and a bird’s singing, a sweet, pure tone in which Lu Han entones syllables that Minseok can’t, and doesn’t try to, identify as a language. The melody is cheery and mellow, which is strange to Minseok, who expected something more melancholic or bittersweet; he had imagined the faerie silently longing for a prince they can’t obtain, when the song sounds more, to his ears, as an elegy to a love so candid that continues for many and many nights even without acknowledgement. It makes him think about what kinds of feelings the faypeople value the most, and what kind of society dynamics they lead.

With thoughts about cultural differences between faeries and humans in his mind, and Lu Han’s beautiful singing voice in his ears, Minseok falls asleep.

Unfortunately, he ends up being the victim of a quite rude awakening: without any kind of warning, Minseok is violently shaken back to consciousness, and jumps awake in a terrible startle.

“Dad!!” It’s Sehun’s voice - he fact Sehun is screaming alarms him even more.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Minseok holds the boy by his shoulders, as if to reassure him that he’s awake. “What’s happening? Are you alright?”

“Are you? I just came home from school, and she was right here!” Sehun is in hysterics. It’s a quite rare sight, and Minseok feels disoriented by it. “Did she hurt you? Did you talk to her again?”

As Sehun bombards him with questions, Minseok sits on his bed, letting the awareness of existence fill his insides. It’s still raining outside, but he supposes it’s late afternoon, deducing from the fact that Sehun is home; he’s still wearing the same pyjamas he wore last night, and his bedside table is cluttered with boxes and boxes of medicine; and ah, yes, he had been talking to Lu Han just some hours ago…

He finally realizes what happened. “Oh no,” he laments, glancing around. “I fell asleep while Lu Han was here.”

“Dad,” Sehun calls, eyes wide.

“I didn’t even see them to the door,” Minseok observes, rubbing his forehead in frustration. “How rude of me.”

“Dad,” Sehun repeats, more urgently. “What is going on? Why was the fairy here?”

“I invited them in,” Minseok says simply, and Sehun is incredulous. “They tended the flowers for me, so I invited them in for a cup of coffee.”

“You drank coffee with a fairy? Are you serious?!” Sehun’s voice is now tiptoeing the borderline between outraged and amazed. “So she didn’t hurt you?”

“They’re not a she, Sehun. Apparently, Lu Han is related to flowers, and vegetables have no gender,” Minseok explains just for the sake of it. Then, figuring that Sehun deserved a clearer answer, he adds, “and no, they didn’t hurt me. They told me about their life as a faerie, and asked me about my life as a human. That’s all.” His stomach rumbles violently. “God, I’m starving.”

“So she-they,” he corrects quickly, glancing at Minseok. “So they’re nice? Didn’t they steal anything? Or put a curse on you, or something like that?”

Minseok snorts. “Of course they didn’t, Sehun.” Then, he remembers about the spell, and reconsiders. “They did give me something strange to drink. Or eat. I can’t tell. But I feel jolly fine right now,” he clarifies as soon as he sees the look of horror on Sehun’s face. “Actually, I feel spectacularly well. And hungry. Very hungry.”

At that, Sehun seems to finally calm down. The gladness of seeing his father well is, apparently, bigger than his suspicions towards Lu Han. “I should take your temperature,” he says before reaching for the thermometer, but both of them know Minseok’s fever is long gone.

And in fact, when he gets up to grab something to eat, Minseok notices that he feels abnormally healthy at the time. Even in his best days, Minseok’s body tires easily, never letting him forget that his physical integrity is flawed; today, however, he feels unusually light. He prepares he and Sehun a mighty afternoon tea, and eats heartily as Sehun tells him about his day in school, and little stories about his classmates, his teachers, et cetera.

“You’re really better now,” Sehun observes in a stupefied manner as Minseok finishes cleaning up balances the dirty dishes on his free hand. “You didn’t even ask me to help you.”

Oh. Minseok pauses, glancing thoughtfully at the ceiling. Usually, he can’t do this kind of chore without Sehun’s help, or he becomes excessively tired. He grins. “Well-”

“This is not a suggestion,” Sehun quickly adds, and Minseok laughs.

“I’ll spare you today,” he says somewhat smugly, and lands the plates in the sink with relative ease. “But I do feel much better now. My best in a while, I’d say. The spell might’ve done me good.”

“The spell?” Sehun frowns, both confused and amused.

“The thing Lu Han gave me - don’t laugh at me, you brat!” Minseok yells when Sehun starts laughing, but he, too, can’t help but giggle. It does sound too absurd. “What, you don’t believe me? You think your father is making this up?”

“Of course not,” Sehun shakes his head solemnly. “You aren’t that creative,” he adds, and ducks down laughing when Minseok throws the dish rag at him.

He makes Sehun do the dishes just for the sake of it.

Minseok’s everyday life is rather lonely. When he doesn’t have to go to town to shop, or to discuss business with Hongbin, he doesn’t have anything to do, so he resigns to waiting for Sehun at home, where he reads, or cooks, or tends the garden, or watches a movie on the television. Sometimes, he feels like doing none of that, and laments the emptiness of the house; on those days, he risks taking a stroll by himself.

From that day on, however, Lu Han shows up at Minseok’s house every day. They arrive not long after Sehun goes to school, always with a bright smile on their lips, and, after the first two occasions, Minseok has learnt to wait for them with two cups of coffee in hands. Then, they go out to tend the garden together, or go inside to chat. One day, Minseok decides to show Lu Han around, and he had never seen anyone be so excited around a toilet, ever.

It’s only funny until Lu Han starts asking details about the human digestive tract. Then, it gets a tad embarrassing.

Every small thing Minseok does fascinates Lu Han, who might know a lot of things about the human realm, but doesn’t have solid experience with much of it. The first time they eat cooked food, they rave about it for almost an hour - then, by sunset, they fall into some kind of stupor that has Minseok worrying the food might’ve made them sick. Minseok offers them the guest room, worried that they might fall asleep in the middle of the streets, but Lu Han forsakes the bed and falls asleep in the bathtub instead. Sehun never finds out.

Lu Han survives cooked food, and goes on trying the telly next. Much to Minseok’s surprise, they’re not all that impressed by it. “It reminds me of our storytelling,” Lu Han explains while Minseok channel-surfs absent-mindedly. “During festivities, some of us reenact legends of my people - there’s something similar here, right?”

“Theater,” Minseok replies, and Lu Han nods.

“And some groups cast images on a water pond, so we’ll see only the images that they want us to see,” they carry on. “So it’s very similar.”

Deep inside, Minseok wishes he could watch one of those. What kind of legends does the faypeople have? When he asks Lu Han, the faerie feebly answers:

“Many. Thousands.”

And Minseok doesn’t have it him to ask Lu Han to tell him one.

Across the days, and weeks, Minseok and Lu Han grow doubtlessly closer to each other. It comes to the point where Lu Han feels comfortable enough to hold Minseok by his shoulders when they’re together at the garden, entwine their arms when they go out for a walk, and even hug him goodbye once the part; and Minseok feels comfortable enough to let Lu Han do all that. Not even Sehun is that touchy with him, limiting himself to occasional hugs and goodbye kisses on the cheek, but Minseok doesn’t mind it at all; instead, he finds it comforting. Lu Han is quite of a healing presence. Minseok feels more alive around them.

Not only that, but Lu Han also grows more and more curious about Minseok’s own life - not the general norm for humans as told by Minseok, but Minseok’s own experiences and opinions on things. They seem gradually more interested in Minseok’s entire history as a living being, and Minseok, flattered by the interest, talks and talks and talks until he spills a fact he hasn’t told anyone about in years.

“I used to be an equilibrist,” is what he’s telling Lu Han when it happens. “I could do a lot of quite risky tricks, I tell you. Could cross a tightrope on a monocycle with my eyes closed.”

“That sounds very dangerous,” Lu Han makes a face. “Isn’t it? For humans?”

“Well… not as much as one would thought,” he starts off, but a phantom ache prevents him from lying. “Or perhaps it is. I had to retire after I suffered an accident while performing.”

Lu Han goes pale. It’s fascinating - for all these days, Minseok had never seen Lu Han’s face change color at all, not even the faintest of the blushes when they ate the spicy kimchi fried rice. Right now, however, they’re very pale, even a little green to the face, and Minseok regrets telling them that. “You fell?” The faerie asks, horrified.

There’s no use in lying. “I did,” Minseok admits, the memory still fresh in his mind, as if only twenty weeks and not twenty years had passed since then. “You know, I had never fallen before, during the rehearsal. Even on my first day, I often lost balance, but I never fell. I guess that got to my head.” The smell of sweat and popcorn butter. The mumble of hundreds of voices under his feet. “I didn’t concentrate enough during I jump, so I landed badly,” The slip of the rope, and the weight of his own body, pulling him down, down, down. “And fell on my right knee.” The screams, the distant ceiling, the agonizing pain - and then, nothing. “My bones got smashed. I broke my arm, too, and two ribs, but my leg got the short end of the stick.”

The faerie’s face is definitely very green now, and they look like they’re about to either throw up or scream. Or both. At the same time. “So,” they suddenly say, voice feeble and thin. “So this is why your leg is always hurt.”

Minseok nods, a melancholic smile on his lips. “The bone didn’t heal well, no matter what the doctors did. I didn’t have money for a corrective surgery, either, so…” he raises his cane a little in the air. “It got a lot better with time. For years, my right leg didn’t bend, but now, look,” Minseok demonstrates them how well his leg bends now, which still isn’t as well as a healthy leg, but it’s something. It doesn’t seem to comfort Lu Han in anyway.

“But because of this, you can’t walk,” is what Lu Han says, apparently devastated, and Minseok doesn’t know how to respond to that.

An uncomfortable moment of silence falls upon them.

Eventually, Minseok finds something to change the subject with. “Today, I’m thinking of going to town to check on my shop,” he claps his hands enthusiastically, and gets to his feet. “Wouldn’t you like to come along? I could introduce you to my staff.”

Lu Han jumps to their feet immediately. “More humans!?” Their eyes twinkle with delight. “I’d love to go! Please take me with you!”

“Well, if you insist,” Minseok jeers a little, but then seems to realize something. “Hm. We might have to play dress-up with you before we go, Lu Han,” he observes, giving Lu Han an once-over. “You’d attract too much attention dressed like this.”

“They’re the best I could do,” Lu Han looks down to his own raggedy clothes a little sadly. “I searched for good clothes, but didn’t find them. Faeries don’t wear anything, you know.”

“So you don’t.” Minseok quickly swerves his mind away from wondering what faeries might look like naked. That’d be too weird. “I guess you could wear some of my clothes. We’re about the same height.”

And that’s how Minseok ends up as a one-day-stand personal stylist for Lu Han, who’s delighted to try every and anything Minseok tells them to, but wears a button-up with the front and back reversed, and seems to see no difference between the inside and the outside of most pieces. Because Minseok wants them to be surprised at their own human-like form when they finish changing, he blocks all mirrors from Lu Han’s access, which causes a fair amount of whining.

“Only when we’re finished,” Minseok repeats for the fifth time as Lu Han insists they want to see how they look. “Now, come with me. We should get you a hat for the leaf.”

“Oh yes,” Lu Han agrees, looking up as if trying to see the top of his own head. Minseok chuckles, finding it rather adorable, specially how the butterbur leaf bobs when Lu Han moves his head. “Tell me… is my leaf weird?”

Minseok frowns, guiding Lu Han up the stairs. “Well, most humans don’t have a leaf on their-”

“No, not that. I mean…” Lu Han hesitates for a second, and, this time around, Minseok detects it; a slight streak of pink that colours the faeries’ cheeks. “Do you think it looks weird?”

How strange is it, that a faerie can be so self-conscious about something so small about themself? That must be their human part, Minseok concludes. Human feelings, human insecurities. Faeries and humans are not all that different, it seems to him.

“I think it looks cute,” Minseok answers truthfully, and watches as Lu Han’s face lights up, the pink from their cheeks spreading and intensifying. “And I think you’ll look even better when your flowers open up.”

“It should be soon!” Lu Han exclaims excitedly, brushing their fingertips on the flower buds that start to show up among the mop of brown hair. “I’ll bloom more prettily than ever this spring.”

It’s almost a shame that they have to cover it to go out, Minseok thinks, stealing a beanie from Sehun’s closet and lending it to Lu Han.

The result is spectacular.

“You may look now,” Minseok communicates, placing Lu Han, who had their eyes closed, in front of Sehun’s big mirror. When the faerie opens their eyes-

Their smile brings the sun into Minseok’s house.

“That’s me!” They exclaim, laughing in delight as they widen their eyes at their own reflection. Minseok can’t help the small grin he gives; dressed in proper clothes, Lu Han looks like a rather charming young one, one older than Sehun, but younger than Minseok himself. They could easily pass for a cousin or younger sibling of Minseok’s, dressed in a stripped button-up, cargo pants, and sneaker shoes Minseok hadn’t worn in years. “I-I look like a human!”

“You do,” Minseok nods, his chest warming up when he sees how brilliant Lu Han’s smile is. “Are you ready to go?”

“Wait, just a little more,” they ask, and keep admiring themself on the mirror until Minseok gets tired of waiting and drags them out with him.

The rain seems to be finally letting up, at last, and has reduced itself to dark grey clouds and occasional threats of drizzle; Minseok is glad for that, since it means he doesn’t have to worry as much about wet sidewalks and maneuvering an umbrella and a cane at the same time. Since walking with Lu Han means entwining his arms with the faerie, and letting them cling to his arm when he makes them laugh particularly hard, Minseok is glad that he doesn’t have an umbrella for him to worry about.

When they reach the coffee shop, Minseok doesn’t really think about what his employee’s reactions would be if he were to go in arm-to-arm with someone. He’s distracted, in all honesty; Lu Han is telling him about what kinds of celebrations faeries have, like the arrival of the seasons, as well as some kind of faerie Christmas that involves a spin-till-you-fall competition, which Lu Han, reportedly, excels at. Minseok is too busy laughing at that when they arrive at the door to notice everyone in coffee staring at them through the big front window.

“I’m a bit nervous,” Lu Han admits when Minseok asks them if they’re ready to go in. “There’s a lot of people inside.”

“Sure there aren’t,” Minseok takes a glance inside to make sure of it - and is met with every single one of his employees, as well as a couple of his regulars, staring at him as if he had suddenly grown a pair of wings. Minseok blinks. “I guess they weren’t expecting to see me. So… should we go in?”

“Wait,” pleads Lu Han, and Minseok does wait, hand on the door handle. The faerie inhales deeply, then exhales very slowly, staring at their own feet. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

So they go in. The bell chimes above their heads as Minseok goes in, but no one goes greet them. Minseok feels Lu Han tense up a little by his side, probably at the odd silence.

Then, seeming to snap out of a trance, Jimin rushes to them. “Welcome to Taràssaco Café!” She bows in front of them, and Jungyoon follows suit, much to Minseok’s surprise. It’s been a while since they’ve greeted him politely. For a second, he’s at a loss.

“Hey, no need to be so formal,” he smiles at them somewhat awkwardly, and they raise their eyes to stare at Lu Han, both curious and suspicious. Ah. So that’s it. “This is Lu Han, a friend of mine. Lu Han, these are Jimin and Jungyoon, they both work here. Now, where’s Hyerin…?” he’s saying when he spots her coming out from the staff room with Hongbin on her heels. “Ah, there she is. That’s Oh Hyerin. And Kim Hongbin, he’s the manager.”

“N-nice to meet you all,” Lu Han titters shyly, bowing somewhat hesitantly. It must be the first time they greet someone like that, Minseok figures, since faeries seem to forgo that kind of formality. Hongbin approaches them with wide eyes.

“Hello, boss! We’re sorry for being this flustered, we weren’t expecting you.” He seems very worried about why Minseok is there. But then again, Hongbin always seems to be worrying over something, even when he isn’t…

“I’m not here to talk business, though,” Minseok makes a gesture to dismiss the possibility. “Just showing Lu Han around,” he repeats, thumping the faerie on the back with a friendly smile. Lu Han offers a rather awkward smile at Hongbin, who bows at them.

“Nice to meet you, Lu Han sshi. I’m Kim Hongbin, Taràssaco’s manager,” he introduces himself formally, and quietly, the girls disperse, rushing to the counter to prepare to serve. This time around, they let Hongbin lead Minseok, and Lu Han, to his usual seat, but Jungyoon is still the one to approach them with the menu, smiling her prettiest smile.

“Can I get you anything, Kim Minseok sshi?” She offers, opening the menu in front of him, even though she knows what he’ll order.

“An Americano, please,” he smiles charmingly at her, almost expecting her to snap at him for it. After a second, he adds, “and I guess I’ll take those molasses biscuits today.”

“Oh, you’ll finally try them,” Jungyoon’s voice drips with sarcasm, and Minseok can’t help but laugh. No more unordered biscuits for him, he guesses. Jungyoon then turns to Lu Han. “How about you, sweetheart?”

“Uh, I,” Lu Han stutters, flushing a little, and Minseok remembers, belatedly, that Lu Han can’t read the menu in front of them. “The same, please. Thank you.”

“Right away!” Jungyoon coons, uncharacteristically sweet. Minseok is amused to see that. Is Jungyoon flirting with Lu Han? She walks away to take their order, and they’re left with Hongbin at the table, who immediately starts talking.

“So… do you two know each other for a long time?” is the first thing he asks, hands twisting a bit nervously on his lap.

“Not really, no,” Minseok confesses, looking at Lu Han for confirmation. The faerie’s face is blank and nervous. Well… perhaps he really should lead that conversation. “Lu Han came to town just a while ago. We met by coincidence.”

Hongbin hums in agreement, and turns to Lu Han. “Where are you from, Lu Han sshi? After hearing your name, I was wondering if you’re from China.”

Lu Han is visibly cornered. Oh no, Minseok thinks, frowning in concern. “Uh-”

At that moment, Jungyoon arrives at their table with the biscuits, and says something incomprehensible to Lu Han. Before Minseok can decode what she’s saying, Lu Han replies equally incomprehensibly, and Jungyoon squeals in delight.

“So you are from China!” Hongbin exclaims, and it finally sinks that they had been speaking Chinese. He’s stupefied. Who knew Lu Han could speak another human language… “Where are you from? Beijing?”

“Uh, around there,” Lu Han replies, and Minseok can’t tell if they’re lying or not. He had always assumed Lu Han didn’t know the exact location of his hometown - homebog or whatever - because they seemed not to have any notions of countries and provinces and whatsoever. It suddenly hits Minseok that he has only known Lu Han for a couple of weeks, no more than a month; even if he does know a lot about them, there must be a lot more he has yet to learn about.

They manage to make small talk with Hongbin for reasonable time, through the two coffees and halfway through the big basket of biscuits Jungyoon had brought them. Hongbin is tactful enough to cover up for his own questions when Minseok and Lu Han hesitate to answer them - mostly questions about Lu Han’s job, or family - which gives Minseok time to make an answer up. He creates an entire background story for Lu Han The Human Being, who works as a meteorologist back in Beijing and decided to go hitchhiking for their vacation and got lost in their way to Seoul, thus ending up at the town. Surprisingly enough, Lu Han now knows enough about humans to lie about a hobby or two…

“Football. I love football,” is their answer when Hongbin asks them if there are any sports they’re interested in. “I used to play it at school. In my school’s team.”

Minseok almost laughs, because that fact is ripped off from his own past.

“That’s really interesting,” they say with genuine interest when, somewhere along the conversation, Hongbin bashfully admits he dreamed of being an astronaut when he was a child. “I wanted to be a detective. Like Sherlock Holmes.”

And that’s ripped off from Sehun. Minseok is delighted to see Lu han remembers Mr. Holmes’ name correctly.

Eventually, after a good hour of small talk, Hongbin leaves to the staff room to finish his management tasks. He shakes Lu Han’s hand enthusiastically before leaving, a cordial friendship kindled between the two of them, and Minseok feels a little jealous at how easily Lu Han seems to make friends. He also feels a small feeling of unreasonable longing; the same he feels when he realizes Sehun is growing, and that, eventually, he’ll leave Minseok behind to leave his own house. It’s a mix of pide and melancholy.

“You did well,” Minseok compliments when Hongbin finally leaves, and Lu Han drinks a huge breath of relief. “No one could tell you’re not human. Nice attention to detail.”

“Thank you,” Lu Han smiles a bit shakily at him. “I was so nervous. Hongbin sshi seems to know you really well.”

Minseok hums thoughtfully. Does he? “I guess he does,” Minseok admits, taking a sip of the new cup of coffee he had ordered just before Hongbin left. “Better than anyone that’s not Sehun, I’d say. We’ve worked together for several years now.”

Lu Han nods, making a vague, distracted ‘huh’ sound. “And them…?” They ask, shooting a glance towards the girls, who visibly disperse under their eyes. Minseok, too, looks. It looked like they had been having a secret talk of some sorts.

“They too,” Minseok nods, observing how red some of them are. Could they be seriously crushing on Lu Han? Minseok grins at the thought. “I guess the people here are my only friends in town. We get along well.”

“Friends…” Lu Han repeats after him, still talking in a distant voice. Minseok gets a bit worried at how Lu Han is staring into space, seeming, at the same time, thoughtful and slightly forlorn.

“Is everything alright?” Minseok asks, tilting his head to inspect Lu Han’s face from a closer angle. “You don’t seem well. Did the food make you ill again?”

“Oh, no! No, it was delicious,” Lu Han shakes their head vigorously. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, Minseok ah. Don’t worry.”

And, perhaps because Lu Han uses the rarely used nickname that Minseok himself had taught them, he lets it be.

However, the longer they stay at the coffee shop, the worse Lu Han’s mood seems to get, much to Minseok’s surprise. Minseok tries to brighten them with funny stories about his days in Seoul, and Jimin even drops by to add her own funny stories to it - Jimin is very good at telling jokes - but nothing seems to shake Lu Han off their odd state of melancholy. No matter what Minseok talks to them about, or who comes to talk to them, or how good the coffee tastes, Lu Han stays the same; distracted, distant, forlorn, and dismissive when asked about it.

Eventually, Minseok decides it’s enough. Seeing Lu Han like that is starting to ruin his own mood as well, and the only remedy for it, as they’ve tried everything else, is to leave the coffee shop. He brusquely tells Lu Han that they’re leaving - perhaps a little too brusquely, he figures when he sees the startled look in the faerie’s face - and gets to his feet to pay the tab, telling Lu Han that they can finish their coffee leisurely, to amend for it.

Hyerin is working at the cashier when he approaches it. When she sees him coming, she makes a face. “Not again, boss. Haven’t I told you it doesn’t make sense for you to insist on paying?!”

“May I tip you guys, at least?” Minseok insists, as he always does when he stops by, and Hyerin rolls her eyes, but silently accepts the tip. “Thank you for treating us well. Lu Han and I had a good time.”

“You’re welcome to bring your friend whenever you want. Jimin has a crush, it seems,” Hyerin observes, and Minseok turns around to find Jimin cleaning their table, shyly talking to Lu Han while doing so. Ah, there it is, that feeling again. “I was surprised, honestly. I guess we all are. We’ve never heard you talking about anyone who’s not your son to us. How’s Sehunnie, by the way?”

“He’s fine. Busy with the school festival,” Minseok tells her quickly, going back to the original subject. “I only met Lu Han recently. That’s why I never-”

“Boss, you don’t understand,” she interrupts him, as if whining. “You come here always at the same time, orders the same coffee, talks about the same things, wears the same kind of clothes. It’s always so regular that sometimes it looks like you plan your routine to the minimum detail - ‘today I’ll wear this checkered sweater, and leave home at nine o’clock’, that kind of thing - and we all thought we’d notice if you finally found someone.”

“… found someone?” Minseok frowns suspiciously at Hyerins words. “You make it sound like…” but Hyerin gives him a look, one that says yes, that’s exactly what I meant, and Minseok barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Hyerin!!”

“What?” She puts her hands on her hips. “You’re telling me it’s not like that or something like that?”

“But it isn’t!” Minseok can feel the embarrassment seeping deep through his bones. “Lu Han is a friend, Hyerin!” But Hyerin looks mortified.

“I have never, absolutely never, seen you blush, boss,” she says, and it has a final tone to it. Minseok merely rolls his eyes at her, and bids her goodbye.

His cheeks are still warm when he and Lu Han leave through the front door, and he hesitates a little before offering his arm for the faerie to take. As they slowly make their way somewhere - anywhere away from the coffee shop - Minseok thinks about Hyerin’s misunderstanding. He shoots down a glance at the arm he has entwined to Lu Han’s, at how Lu Han’s pale, thin fingers hold onto the fabric of his sweater in a loose grasp, but there, holding, clinging. It probably looks rather intimate to an outsider, but… but it’s just how they work. It’s how they’ve come to work, slowly inching closer day by day, over cups of coffee and fairytales. There isn’t anything wrong about that, is there?

But there isn’t anything wrong about love either, is there?

In the distance, thunder roars. Minseok can smell the rain; it’s bound to come back stronger than ever, and, for the first time in a long while, he worries about his flowers. As long as Lu Han had been there to tend the garden with him, he had ceased to worry about them as much. When had Lu Han become an everyday presence in his otherwise lonely, unexciting, rather dull life…?

Before Minseok realizes it, they’re at the park - the park by the riverside, where they had talked to each other for the first time - and Lu Han is letting go of his arm. Their steps halt to a stop.

Minseok casts a concerned look at Lu Han, who has their back turned at him. “Lu Han?”

“Are you mad at me?” The faerie asks.

Minseok’s brows crease in confusion. Then, he recalls how dry he had been when telling Lu Han they’d leave. “I’m not,” he says, sincerely. “I’m sorry for being sudden about leaving. You didn’t seem like you were feeling well, so I figured we should leave.”

With Lu Han’s face hidden from his view, Minseok is scared he won’t read their expressions correctly, and won’t know if they lie to him. He puts extra attention on the line of Lu Han’s shoulders, then, observing how tense it looks at the time. Feeling cornered, perhaps?

“I was fine,” Lu Han says feebly, and Minseok doesn’t need the extra attention to tell they’re lying. “I am fine, actually.”

“It didn’t seem like it,” Minseok retorts. “You don’t need to lie to me, Lu Han. I-”

“I’m not lying!” Lu Han snaps, and thunder rumbles once again, now closer.

Lu Han had never lost their temper like that.

Or rather, Minseok had never seen them lose their temper like that.

You don’t really know them, Minseok. You don’t know them, and they don’t know you, no matter how you might feel.

“I’m sorry,” Minseok apologizes weakly. “I’m sorry. I… just assumed. I apologize.”

His apologies are met with silence. Has he angered the faerie for good? What kind of wrathful revenge can a faerie cast upon a human? Minseok thinks of all his flowers dying, or Sehun falling ill. The silence seems longer and heavier the more he thinks about it.

Then, Lu Han turns around, and on their face there’s an expression Minseok hasn’t seen in years. They’re tense, angry, but their brows are creased sadly - frustration, an emotion Minseok is intimate with - and their eyes, always so vivid, are as cloudy as the sky above their heads, and just as stormy.

“I don’t want to be lying,” they say, and it sounds like they’re pleading. “But it’s so strange. It’s so strange.”

Minseok is afraid they might be feeling seriously ill. Could it be the biscuits? Or coffee intoxication? “Lu Han?”

“I never thought I could feel like this,” they say, clutching their own chest through their shirt - Minseok’s shirt. Minseok seems to realize, at last, that Lu Han is wearing his things, and, even if he had known this before, it stirs something in him. “It’s an ugly, terrible feeling. And it doesn’t stop growing, like a pest.”

“What is it?” Minseok is increasingly worried. Even when Lu Han had suffered from their cooked-food-induced drunkenness, they hadn’t looked this much in pain. Minseok wants to help them to feel better. “Can I help? Do you want to go back to my place?”

Lu Han’s hand on their chest tightens, and they shake their head emphatically. Minseok’s body is starting to respond to the stress, aching all over with tiredness. “What do you feel, Lu Han? Tell me. I want to help.”

“I feel-” Lu Han chokes on their own words. They look too distressed for Minseok not to worry. His heart is beating faster from the fear it might be something terrible, something that will make Lu Han go away. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to put it into words. I don’t know what to do-I think it might be jealousy.”

It’s shocking. Jealousy isn’t a concept foreign to faeries, if Lu Han’s stories are to be trusted. Minseok almost laughs in relief; so it was just that! “What are you jealous of?” Minseok asks in a soft voice.

“Of that gentleness!” Lu Han shouts, pointing a finger at Minseok’s face, and Minseok freezes in place. “I don’t know what to do. I love your kindness when we talk, and when we’re together, but when you talk to someone else-it irritates me! It makes me wish you weren’t so gentle!”

They make a pause, breathing deeply, as if waiting for Minseok’s reaction. Only, Minseok doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say, or what to think. He’s not even sure if he understands what Lu Han just said.

“Why do I feel like this?” as if realizing Minseok won’t say anything, Lu Han goes on, voice much less angry, but sadder. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m being so detestable. When I saw you talking to them, to your friends… I realized I had been wishing you’d be kind only to me. That I’d be the only one for you. Because you’re the only one for me.” Lu Han’s eyes seem to fill up with tears at that, and Minseok barely notices how strange a faerie’s tears are, because he’s too stunned by the redness of Lu Han’s face to notice it at the time. “I don’t have anyone else, and I’ve never had.”

What does Lu Han mean by that? Is it them wishing they’d be Minseok’s only friend? Or is it them wishing they could be more, to Minseok, than a friend like the ones he has at the coffee shop?

Which one is it? Minseok needs to know.

“Lu Han-” he starts, but Lu Han shakes their head. “No, listen-”

“I’m sorry,” Lu Han interrupts him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. This is too much.”

“No, listen to me,” Minseok insists, stepping forward, but Lu Han gives one step back, and then two, and three. “No, Lu Han, don’t run-Lu Han!”

Before Minseok can reach them, or think of something to say, Lu Han turns their back to him and bolts away.

“Lu Han, stop! Don’t run!” Minseok screams, desperate. “You know I can’t chase after you!”

Lu Han doesn’t stop, and, in a fit of rage and stubbornness, Minseok throws his cane to the floor and attempts to run after them.

It’s no longer to two steps before he’s fallen to the ground, clutching his right leg in excruciating pain, vision blackening as quickly as a light going off. Just before he loses consciousness, he hears steps, someone running, someone screaming, and thinks, don’t go, don’t go, don’t go yet…

part 1 → part 2 → part 3