Tremolo (Minseok / Yixing)
Title: Tremolo
Rating: PG
Pairing: Minseok / Yixing
Summary: It's safe to say that Yixing only loves Minseok for his garden.
Notes: Thank you, myiuchan and kitschful, for your neverending encouragement.
Minseok is not expecting anything at all out of the ordinary when he opens the morning paper over his toast and eggs. Every day is a slow news day in his small town, and he likes it that way, but the small, one-and-a-half story bungalow being advertised on the second-to-last page of the paper stops him in his tracks. It’s so charming, exactly the kind of cozy little residence Minseok might have dreamed up for himself if he hadn’t inherited his parents’ monstrous estate, and the asking price is so unbelievably low…
For all the romance of the violins he creates, Minseok is a steady, practical kind of person at heart. Like most people with Earth Gifts, however mild, he’s not prone to bouts of whimsy or spontaneous action, so it’s a little hard to reconcile his own actions when he dials the number listed at the bottom of the ad before even finishing breakfast. The call ends with a weekend appointment to visit the property, and Minseok wonders if maybe he can blame everything on his eggs possibly being a little off.
It’s a smart business move, he justifies that afternoon while packing. It’s the perfect way to expand, never mind that he’s spent his entire adult life living off his legacy and has always referred to violinmaking as nothing more than an exacting hobby. Moving to the city is a chance to expand his customer base, he tells himself after collecting all the necessary papers from his solicitor on Friday, an opportunity worth getting excited about.
The trip to the city that weekend turns out to be a veritable whirlwind of activity. One look at the second floor of the bungalow, and Minseok knows he’s found his new studio. It’s the tiny private garden in the back that he finds he just can’t say no to, though, a strange sense of homecoming settling into his bones as he surveys the overgrown bushes. As outlandish as an immediate purchase might be, Minseok is suddenly grateful he has the required letters from his bank on hand. The house is his by the time he heads back Sunday evening.
Once back in town, Minseok finds that there aren’t many people to say a proper farewell to, though he’s always been on amicable enough terms with all the families in residence. Rather than spend his final week on making unnecessary calls, he spends his days carefully packing his tools and writing letters of recommendation for what’s left of his staff. The house in the city is far too small for anything more than a visiting maid, and Minseok doubts he’ll have much need even for that.
He gives a handful of his available violins to the local public school and then, trying very hard not to think about why, he sends off a single hasty letter to the one person he’s spent the past several years trying not to dwell on.
There’s no guarantee that the address he has for Yixing is even current, but if there’s anyone he would like to see again, all these years later, Minseok knows it’s him.
Minseok spends the first few days after his move holed up in his house. He has a lot to do, letters of introduction for the city’s orchestra and conservatory, letters for what will be his new bank, letters for the city branch of his solicitor’s office, all waiting for his attention. Still, Minseok can’t quite force himself to deal with it all immediately.
Instead, he throws himself into preparing his studio. The new tables he’d ordered have already been delivered, but it takes the better part of two days to install his racks and shelves, not to mention setting up the large cabinet meant for his tools. By the time he’s finished, he barely has the energy to crawl into the bed so indulgently situated in the nook created by dormer windows.
It’s the next morning, when Minseok has just decided he’ll tackle process of organizing his kitchen linens next, that he’s interrupted by a visitor. There’s almost no hope that Yixing has already received his letter, Minseok knows, but he’s still a little disappointed when he opens his front door and doesn’t find himself grinning at a disarmingly familiar dimple.
His disappointment gives way immediately to alarm, because what he is staring at is a very large, very heavy-looking plant, and a pair of pale arms that are on the verge of giving out.
A quick yelp of “I’m sorry!” is all the warning Minseok has before he’s nearly crushed by what he assumes is his own housewarming gift. The next few moments are a blur of confusion, panic, and pain, and Minseok’s first impression of Do Kyungsoo will forever be wide, horrified eyes, and the most impressive blanch he’s ever seen in his life.
If there’s a silver lining, aside from the fact that Minseok has for once achieved complete wakefulness without brewing a single cup of coffee, it’s the fact that the handsome handcrafted pot hadn’t shattered after falling on his foot. Kyungsoo does not look reassured in the slightest when Minseok awkwardly relays this information.
As with most things, it’s not until Minseok puts the possibility of seeing Yixing again out of his mind that anything happens. It’s the kind of quiet, companionable morning that Minseok has slowly grown accustomed to now that he’s neighbors with Kyungsoo. The two of them are in his sitting room, looking at plans for a new greenhouse at Kyungsoo’s brother’s nursery over a cup of coffee when the door sounds, startling them both.
Kyungsoo follows him when he makes his way to the front door. The look on his face says he's just as curious as Minseok as to who could possibly be calling so early in the morning. There’s no mistaking Kyungsoo’s stifled exclamation of surprise when the door opens and Minseok is pulled into the warmest of embraces.
“I can’t believe you moved into the city and didn’t tell me in time to let me help!” Yixing says as Minseok’s mind reels, because of course it’s Yixing. “I’ve missed you so much, Minseok! Why did you never come to visit?”
Yixing makes no move to let go of him, and Minseok can’t bring himself to pull away, not when it’s been years since he’s so much as seen Yixing's face. Although, in all honesty, Minseok still can’t see his face, not with the way his own is pressed so tightly to Yixing’s shirt. Idly, as Yixing squeezes him once before loosing Minseok from his embrace, Minseok notes that Yixing still hasn’t learned to button his collar properly, lightly tanned skin peeking out from his linen shirt.
“So, I see you got my letter?” Minseok jokes.
Behind them, Kyungsoo snorts, a bald reminder that Minseok is playing the fool to an audience.
Introductions begin awkwardly after that, with Yixing falling self-conscious until, settled in the sitting room, he notices the plant diagrams beneath Kyungsoo’s greenhouse plans.
“Oh,” he begins, and there’s no mistaking his interest when he looks across the low coffee table to where Kyungsoo sits, “are you - are you like Minseok, then?”
There is no truly polite way to inquire about Gifts. Some, like Minseok’s mild affinity for things that grow, are common enough. People such as Kyungsoo and Yixing, however, with stronger abilities that require actual training, tend to be a sight more rare. Unlike Yixing, they also usually tend toward discretion with their Gifts. Given this, Minseok is a little surprised when Kyungsoo nods, no hint of offense on his face.
Yixing, for his part, leans forward, his enthusiasm only increasing with the mild admission. It’s when he follows this with an eager, “Are you Minseok’s gardener, then?” that Minseok chokes on his coffee.
“Well,” Kyungsoo allows, his tone entirely too bemused, “I’ve certainly helped him to a large enough portion of my brother’s nursery to qualify, I suppose.”
Perhaps in deference to Minseok’s unmistakable look of horror, Kyungsoo quickly drops his teasing, instead drawing Yixing into conversation about the fruit trees he’d so kindly gifted Minseok, and the berries that would soon be ripening in the back.
It’s not hard to get used to, the way all things Yixing start to fill up Minseok’s admittedly empty personal life. Even ignoring Minseok’s longstanding infatuation with him, and the fact that Minseok had always been more of a well-liked senior than an actual friend back in school, there’s a familiarity about Yixing’s presence that Minseok can’t help but be drawn to. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s much more competent in the kitchen than Minseok could ever hope to be.
“You don’t mind, right?” Yixing asks with a cheeky grin, the first time he shows up with two paper bags of groceries in his arms.
Minseok doesn’t bother to ask if Yixing is joking, just steps aside and follows Yixing into his well-appointed, if mostly unused, kitchen. “Do you want any help?” he asks instead as Yixing sets his bags on the counter.
As it turns out, Yixing trusts him with neither knife nor flame, so, after pointing him to the drawer where he keeps his matches, Minseok settles back to watch Yixing light the stovetop and start on their meal. After dinner dishes, Yixing announces, will be Minseok's purview.
It happens again a week later, and then twice the week after that, a slow-growing habit that Minseok enjoys watching become routine. Yixing’s meals are simple things, home-cooked, hearty recipes that Minseok remembers from the few times he’d been invited to Yixing’s childhood home, and Minseok appreciates them all the more for it.
Minseok can’t remember when, exactly, Yixing’s dinners turn into late evenings of cards and books and music. One day, Yixing simply shows up with his violin on his back in addition to the usual bags of produce and meat. He’s still using the old, battered thing his parents had gotten him years ago, Minseok notes. It has a nice enough voice, but Minseok knows he could do better. It wouldn’t even be that hard - Minseok’s violins are already beginning to be known for their sweet, honeyed timbre and clarity of tone.
He doesn’t say anything to Yixing, just claps when Yixing finishes the cheerful gavotte he’d been playing, but the thought lingers in his mind long after the evening ends. He would, Minseok thinks, enjoy creating an instrument specifically for someone.
When he was still in school, Minseok’s instructors would regularly lament his lack of ambition. “He’s a good student, quick with the material and always willing to help the others,” he can remember his favorite Latin tutor once telling his mother, “but he lacks drive. He has no motivation beyond completing the lessons set for him.”
Minseok never outgrew that complacency, and it shows in his garden. The plants are tended to - they’re content, Minseok can feel it every time he steps outside - the entire property is neat and well-kept, but it has none of the daring of Kyungsoo’s landscapes. For once, however, Minseok isn’t positive he’s satisfied. He wants more, wants to do more, and maybe it’s Yixing that makes the difference.
The morning sun is bright on Minseok’s back as he starts. Even now, he’s thinking on a smallish scale, but it’s a start, and a good one. The sunflowers he transplants are perfect, brilliant yellow petals and deep chocolate faces. They’re Yixing’s favorite flowers for a reason, and Minseok finds himself smiling as he carefully checks the soil.
What comes next is more of a challenge. Minseok’s Earth Gifts are minimal at best - he can feel when the land needs attention, knows when it’s satisfied, but he’s never tried to use this connection to actively manipulate. There’s never been any need, not when plants have always grown for him with the slightest hint of care. Now, however, just the thought of Yixing’s delight when he sees the surprise Minseok has in store for him is motivation enough.
It takes most of the afternoon to properly urge his little grove of sunflowers to take the proper shape. Minseok is careful not to push too hard, but by the time he’s ready to wash up for Yixing’s visit, there is a small half-moon of sunflowers in the center of his garden. Their stalks bend in, the very tallest of them twining to form a small, covered space just large enough for two people to shelter under if they sit together.
Yixing’s sunflower hut doesn’t perfectly resemble the whimsical drawing Yixing left the last time he and Kyungsoo had ‘talked flowers,’ of course, but it’s charming in its own right. Minseok can’t wait to drag Yixing outside to see it.
Inviting both Lu Han and Kyungsoo to dinner might actually be the most serious mistake Minseok has ever made, he thinks, biting his tongue against the urge to send everyone to the kitchen to clean up so he can have a few moments of peace and quiet. It’s not that Minseok doesn’t like his neighbor and Yixing’s landlord, he’s just not very used to Yixing focusing on everyone except him. It’s bad enough that Yixing has yet to grow out of his wonder at Kyungsoo’s skill with all manner of flora, but Lu Han is a menace, alternately gluing himself to Yixing and Minseok like Spanish moss.
At the moment, he’s leaning flush against Yixing’s back, laughing as Yixing earnestly explains why he’s positive he’s finally ready to start his own garden of medicinal herbs.
“I’ve learned so much - don’t laugh, Lu Han, I really have! About fertilizing and soil and how they affect plant health. And Minseok always lets me help with his garden in the back - stop laughing, you ass!”
“I’m going to have to plan an intervention if you keep this up, Yixing,” Lu Han chuckles, sharing an unrepentant grin with Kyungsoo over Yixing’s shoulder. “How many more defenseless plants are you going to execute before you give this up? Your rooms may very well be the city graveyard for all potted plants.”
“The only thing I’m going to execute is you,” Yixing mutters under his breath, and Minseok bites back a small snort of laughter. The last thing he needs is for them to decide he should choose sides in this, so of course, this is when Kyungsoo sits back in his chair and smirks at Minseok.
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging him,” Kyungsoo says, diverting everyone’s attention. “Aren’t you always insisting that there’s nothing wrong with understanding the limits of one’s abilities?”
Minseok flounders, well aware that there is no safe response when they’re all just waiting for him to fly to Yixing’s defense. Yixing’s the one to save him, however, suddenly remembering the stinging nettle cake he’d baked for the evening, a family recipe of Kyungsoo’s that he’d spent weeks begging for.
They’re four men, all bachelors, so it is a matter of course that dessert takes precedence over any and every topic of conversation.
Minseok reconsiders his stance on an intervention the day Yixing shows up at his door with a stack of magazines and instructional booklets in hand.
“Kyungsoo’s finally agreed to help me start a garden next year,” Yixing explains, magazines slipping from his arms before he quite makes it to Minseok’s table. He’s beaming as he stoops down to gather everything he dropped, and Minseok catches sight of several loose sheets of handwritten notes. Whatever his faults, no one can accuse Yixing of not giving his all once he latches onto an idea.
It takes a few moments for Yixing to finish organizing things to his satisfaction, but he’s still smiling when Minseok sits down next to him at the table. “Did he assign you homework,” Minseok teases, taking a quick glance at the books now spread before them. He’s not sure how helpful an old almanac more than twenty years out of date might be, but who is he to question Do Kyungsoo the Plant Whisperer?
“Do you really think he’d have the patience to sit down and go through it all if he had?”
Yixing chuckles at his own retort as he flips through one of the older, more beaten magazines, and Minseok wishes he’d a cup of coffee at the ready when Yixing stepped through the door. He needs something to occupy his hands before he does something stupid, like reach over and tuck Yixing’s silly, too-long hair behind his ear.
“I just want it to work this time,” Yixing continues. “I feel like a bit of a sham, you know? What kind of witch am I if I have to go to an herbalist for everything?”
A good witch, is what Minseok wishes he had the courage to say, the best I’ve ever known. Minseok has never been good at seizing the moment, though, so when he does manage to find his voice, it’s only to tease Yixing further. “You’ll be growing your own garden before you know it. Eighth time’s the charm, isn’t that what they always say?”
Yixing scowls at him, nose scrunched and mouth pursing in mock affront the way it always does on the rare occasions that Minseok teases him. Minseok, for his part, is becoming frustratingly familiar with the desire to kiss that ridiculous look right off his face, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to resist. Definitely time to get a pot of coffee started, he decides.
“You’re staying for the weekend, right?” he asks as he stands up.
Yixing’s already back to studying his magazines, but he hums and nods distractedly. It’s enough, Minseok thinks, when Yixing’s head continues to bob a few dozen beats longer than necessary. It’s enough right now that he still has this.
Minseok has never actually seen Yixing at work, he realizes one day. He does, however have a full basket of figs from the trees out back, all meant for Yixing, and a sudden prickling of curiosity. He’s also been meaning to buy a radio for some time now, so why not surprise Yixing with the figs on the way, he decides.
Yixing’s little shop is a scant twenty minutes away according to Kyungsoo, and Minseok finds himself spending the entire bicycle ride anticipating the look on Yixing’s face when he sees the fruit. Yixing’s always so thrilled at everything involving Minseok’s garden. Minseok’s lost enough in his lollygagging that he almost misses Yixing’s little shop entirely, nestled as it is between a fancy chocolatier and an even larger European style café.
It’s cute, and just as Kyungsoo described, from the simple symbol for witches etched into the glass of the front door to the cheerful, powder-blue storefront façade. Very Yixing, Minseok thinks.
Yixing is crouched down in front of a young, hiccupping girl when Minseok makes his way in. Even from the doorway, Minseok can see the obvious tear tracks on her cheeks. From the wan smile on Yixing’s face and unusual paleness of his skin, however, it seems that Minseok has just missed a practical demonstration of Yixing’s healing abilities. They’re a rare thing, even among witches, and Minseok has no doubt that his own face holds a little of the awe clear on the young child’s own.
“Are you magic?” she asks, as Yixing, just a tad unsteady, climbs to his feet.
“Maybe a little bit, when it’s very important.” Yixing’s tone is gentle, and his smile sweet when he helps the little girl off her chair. “You have to be careful when you play by the streets, okay Yuhua? I think we’ll both be happier if I don’t have to be magic for you again.”
“I promise!” The child nods solemnly before darting forward to hug Yixing. It’s quick enough that Yixing doesn’t have half a chance to respond, and then she’s running past Minseok and out the door, her skirt bunched up in one hand and braids bouncing against her back.
“Well,” Minseok says slowly, as Yixing stands gaping at his own front door, “I have figs?”
After that, things don’t take too long to gain momentum. Minseok’s admiration bleeds into every interaction with Yixing, and the only surprising thing is the way Yixing seems to counter it with his own. In point of fact, the only thing Yixing seems to admire more than Minseok, is Minseok’s plants.
“I’m starting to wonder if I should be jealous of my own garden,” Minseok begins when, yet again, he’s finished setting the table only to find that Yixing’s snuck out back without him.
“Well, if you’re not going to give it the attention it deserves…”
Minseok snorts and settles onto the nearest bench, one of the sweet potatoes Yixing had forsaken on the counter in hand. “It’s hardly in dire need of attention, Yixing. Weren’t you just bragging that every single berry in the pie you made had come straight from my garden?”
Yixing doesn’t move from where he’s sitting underneath Minseok’s little sunflower hut, but he does send a disgruntled enough pout in Minseok’s direction. “It’s not really fair,” he complains, “that I can practically kill a plant just by picking up a watering can, and you spend ten minutes outside and somehow have a garden sprouting from your footprints.”
“Sprouting from my footprints,” Minseok repeats, amused.
Yixing thinks for a long moment before puffing up his cheeks ridiculously. “You might not be as bad as Kyungsoo, but you’re definitely a close second.”
“If you’re going to hold my garden against me, then I really think I’m owed an explanation for all those centimeters you’ve got on me when you’re two years younger than I am. That’s never seemed fair to me.”
Yixing’s laughter is as delightful as his pout, even from halfway across the garden. “Truce?” Minseok calls when Yixing makes to stand up, and if he’s lucky, Yixing doesn’t notice the way Minseok’s eyes linger as he swipes his behind to clear it of dirt and grass.
“For now,” Yixing allows. The mischief on his face is entirely too charming, and Minseok thinks that might just be the most unfair thing of all.
It’s an unseasonably rainy morning, and Minseok is awake unreasonably early, groggy and confused as to why he can smell coffee. It comes to him, after a few moments of mental searching, that Yixing had spent the night, though that doesn’t explain why he’s awake when it’s still dark out.
There’s a sudden shift of the bed, and Minseok squints to make out Yixing’s face a bare arm’s length away from his own. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Yixing says, scooting forward until he’s all but sitting on top of Minseok, his eyes searching Minseok’s face carefully. “I’m not sure how much longer I could’ve waited.”
There’s no hesitation when he leans forward, kissing Minseok softly in his own bed, just a small, pleased smile on his face. Minseok will never admit just how often he imagines kissing Yixing, all the possible scenarios and sensations. The reality, as it turns out, is a lot more perfect and comfortable than Minseok has ever let himself anticipate.
Yixing’s mouth against his is a warm and gentle pressure, his breath still a little minty from his mouthwash when he pulls back to smile down at Minseok.
“Good morning,” he says. Minseok would have to be an idiot to miss the smug satisfaction in his voice. “I started breakfast for you.”
“You’re the one cleaning up the mess you make in the kitchen when you wake me up before the sun’s even started rising,” Minseok mutters, but Yixing doesn’t look at all bothered by the idea. Minseok can’t help but chuckle when Yixing leans down to rest his head in the crook of Minseok’s neck.
They stay like that for a few quiet moments, Minseok still tangled in his bedsheets, until Yixing stands up and stretches. “Come get your coffee so you won’t be grumpy all day. You promised you’d teach me how to prune your lemon trees, remember?”
“I knew you only wanted me for my gardening skills,” Minseok whines in response, flopping back against his pillow.
It still makes him laugh when Yixing shoots back a sing-song, “I guess you’re lucky you have such a pretty garden,” on his way down the stairs, because yeah. All things considered, Minseok is pretty damn lucky.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Minseok / Yixing
Summary: It's safe to say that Yixing only loves Minseok for his garden.
Notes: Thank you, myiuchan and kitschful, for your neverending encouragement.
Minseok is not expecting anything at all out of the ordinary when he opens the morning paper over his toast and eggs. Every day is a slow news day in his small town, and he likes it that way, but the small, one-and-a-half story bungalow being advertised on the second-to-last page of the paper stops him in his tracks. It’s so charming, exactly the kind of cozy little residence Minseok might have dreamed up for himself if he hadn’t inherited his parents’ monstrous estate, and the asking price is so unbelievably low…
For all the romance of the violins he creates, Minseok is a steady, practical kind of person at heart. Like most people with Earth Gifts, however mild, he’s not prone to bouts of whimsy or spontaneous action, so it’s a little hard to reconcile his own actions when he dials the number listed at the bottom of the ad before even finishing breakfast. The call ends with a weekend appointment to visit the property, and Minseok wonders if maybe he can blame everything on his eggs possibly being a little off.
It’s a smart business move, he justifies that afternoon while packing. It’s the perfect way to expand, never mind that he’s spent his entire adult life living off his legacy and has always referred to violinmaking as nothing more than an exacting hobby. Moving to the city is a chance to expand his customer base, he tells himself after collecting all the necessary papers from his solicitor on Friday, an opportunity worth getting excited about.
The trip to the city that weekend turns out to be a veritable whirlwind of activity. One look at the second floor of the bungalow, and Minseok knows he’s found his new studio. It’s the tiny private garden in the back that he finds he just can’t say no to, though, a strange sense of homecoming settling into his bones as he surveys the overgrown bushes. As outlandish as an immediate purchase might be, Minseok is suddenly grateful he has the required letters from his bank on hand. The house is his by the time he heads back Sunday evening.
Once back in town, Minseok finds that there aren’t many people to say a proper farewell to, though he’s always been on amicable enough terms with all the families in residence. Rather than spend his final week on making unnecessary calls, he spends his days carefully packing his tools and writing letters of recommendation for what’s left of his staff. The house in the city is far too small for anything more than a visiting maid, and Minseok doubts he’ll have much need even for that.
He gives a handful of his available violins to the local public school and then, trying very hard not to think about why, he sends off a single hasty letter to the one person he’s spent the past several years trying not to dwell on.
There’s no guarantee that the address he has for Yixing is even current, but if there’s anyone he would like to see again, all these years later, Minseok knows it’s him.
Minseok spends the first few days after his move holed up in his house. He has a lot to do, letters of introduction for the city’s orchestra and conservatory, letters for what will be his new bank, letters for the city branch of his solicitor’s office, all waiting for his attention. Still, Minseok can’t quite force himself to deal with it all immediately.
Instead, he throws himself into preparing his studio. The new tables he’d ordered have already been delivered, but it takes the better part of two days to install his racks and shelves, not to mention setting up the large cabinet meant for his tools. By the time he’s finished, he barely has the energy to crawl into the bed so indulgently situated in the nook created by dormer windows.
It’s the next morning, when Minseok has just decided he’ll tackle process of organizing his kitchen linens next, that he’s interrupted by a visitor. There’s almost no hope that Yixing has already received his letter, Minseok knows, but he’s still a little disappointed when he opens his front door and doesn’t find himself grinning at a disarmingly familiar dimple.
His disappointment gives way immediately to alarm, because what he is staring at is a very large, very heavy-looking plant, and a pair of pale arms that are on the verge of giving out.
A quick yelp of “I’m sorry!” is all the warning Minseok has before he’s nearly crushed by what he assumes is his own housewarming gift. The next few moments are a blur of confusion, panic, and pain, and Minseok’s first impression of Do Kyungsoo will forever be wide, horrified eyes, and the most impressive blanch he’s ever seen in his life.
If there’s a silver lining, aside from the fact that Minseok has for once achieved complete wakefulness without brewing a single cup of coffee, it’s the fact that the handsome handcrafted pot hadn’t shattered after falling on his foot. Kyungsoo does not look reassured in the slightest when Minseok awkwardly relays this information.
As with most things, it’s not until Minseok puts the possibility of seeing Yixing again out of his mind that anything happens. It’s the kind of quiet, companionable morning that Minseok has slowly grown accustomed to now that he’s neighbors with Kyungsoo. The two of them are in his sitting room, looking at plans for a new greenhouse at Kyungsoo’s brother’s nursery over a cup of coffee when the door sounds, startling them both.
Kyungsoo follows him when he makes his way to the front door. The look on his face says he's just as curious as Minseok as to who could possibly be calling so early in the morning. There’s no mistaking Kyungsoo’s stifled exclamation of surprise when the door opens and Minseok is pulled into the warmest of embraces.
“I can’t believe you moved into the city and didn’t tell me in time to let me help!” Yixing says as Minseok’s mind reels, because of course it’s Yixing. “I’ve missed you so much, Minseok! Why did you never come to visit?”
Yixing makes no move to let go of him, and Minseok can’t bring himself to pull away, not when it’s been years since he’s so much as seen Yixing's face. Although, in all honesty, Minseok still can’t see his face, not with the way his own is pressed so tightly to Yixing’s shirt. Idly, as Yixing squeezes him once before loosing Minseok from his embrace, Minseok notes that Yixing still hasn’t learned to button his collar properly, lightly tanned skin peeking out from his linen shirt.
“So, I see you got my letter?” Minseok jokes.
Behind them, Kyungsoo snorts, a bald reminder that Minseok is playing the fool to an audience.
Introductions begin awkwardly after that, with Yixing falling self-conscious until, settled in the sitting room, he notices the plant diagrams beneath Kyungsoo’s greenhouse plans.
“Oh,” he begins, and there’s no mistaking his interest when he looks across the low coffee table to where Kyungsoo sits, “are you - are you like Minseok, then?”
There is no truly polite way to inquire about Gifts. Some, like Minseok’s mild affinity for things that grow, are common enough. People such as Kyungsoo and Yixing, however, with stronger abilities that require actual training, tend to be a sight more rare. Unlike Yixing, they also usually tend toward discretion with their Gifts. Given this, Minseok is a little surprised when Kyungsoo nods, no hint of offense on his face.
Yixing, for his part, leans forward, his enthusiasm only increasing with the mild admission. It’s when he follows this with an eager, “Are you Minseok’s gardener, then?” that Minseok chokes on his coffee.
“Well,” Kyungsoo allows, his tone entirely too bemused, “I’ve certainly helped him to a large enough portion of my brother’s nursery to qualify, I suppose.”
Perhaps in deference to Minseok’s unmistakable look of horror, Kyungsoo quickly drops his teasing, instead drawing Yixing into conversation about the fruit trees he’d so kindly gifted Minseok, and the berries that would soon be ripening in the back.
It’s not hard to get used to, the way all things Yixing start to fill up Minseok’s admittedly empty personal life. Even ignoring Minseok’s longstanding infatuation with him, and the fact that Minseok had always been more of a well-liked senior than an actual friend back in school, there’s a familiarity about Yixing’s presence that Minseok can’t help but be drawn to. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s much more competent in the kitchen than Minseok could ever hope to be.
“You don’t mind, right?” Yixing asks with a cheeky grin, the first time he shows up with two paper bags of groceries in his arms.
Minseok doesn’t bother to ask if Yixing is joking, just steps aside and follows Yixing into his well-appointed, if mostly unused, kitchen. “Do you want any help?” he asks instead as Yixing sets his bags on the counter.
As it turns out, Yixing trusts him with neither knife nor flame, so, after pointing him to the drawer where he keeps his matches, Minseok settles back to watch Yixing light the stovetop and start on their meal. After dinner dishes, Yixing announces, will be Minseok's purview.
It happens again a week later, and then twice the week after that, a slow-growing habit that Minseok enjoys watching become routine. Yixing’s meals are simple things, home-cooked, hearty recipes that Minseok remembers from the few times he’d been invited to Yixing’s childhood home, and Minseok appreciates them all the more for it.
Minseok can’t remember when, exactly, Yixing’s dinners turn into late evenings of cards and books and music. One day, Yixing simply shows up with his violin on his back in addition to the usual bags of produce and meat. He’s still using the old, battered thing his parents had gotten him years ago, Minseok notes. It has a nice enough voice, but Minseok knows he could do better. It wouldn’t even be that hard - Minseok’s violins are already beginning to be known for their sweet, honeyed timbre and clarity of tone.
He doesn’t say anything to Yixing, just claps when Yixing finishes the cheerful gavotte he’d been playing, but the thought lingers in his mind long after the evening ends. He would, Minseok thinks, enjoy creating an instrument specifically for someone.
When he was still in school, Minseok’s instructors would regularly lament his lack of ambition. “He’s a good student, quick with the material and always willing to help the others,” he can remember his favorite Latin tutor once telling his mother, “but he lacks drive. He has no motivation beyond completing the lessons set for him.”
Minseok never outgrew that complacency, and it shows in his garden. The plants are tended to - they’re content, Minseok can feel it every time he steps outside - the entire property is neat and well-kept, but it has none of the daring of Kyungsoo’s landscapes. For once, however, Minseok isn’t positive he’s satisfied. He wants more, wants to do more, and maybe it’s Yixing that makes the difference.
The morning sun is bright on Minseok’s back as he starts. Even now, he’s thinking on a smallish scale, but it’s a start, and a good one. The sunflowers he transplants are perfect, brilliant yellow petals and deep chocolate faces. They’re Yixing’s favorite flowers for a reason, and Minseok finds himself smiling as he carefully checks the soil.
What comes next is more of a challenge. Minseok’s Earth Gifts are minimal at best - he can feel when the land needs attention, knows when it’s satisfied, but he’s never tried to use this connection to actively manipulate. There’s never been any need, not when plants have always grown for him with the slightest hint of care. Now, however, just the thought of Yixing’s delight when he sees the surprise Minseok has in store for him is motivation enough.
It takes most of the afternoon to properly urge his little grove of sunflowers to take the proper shape. Minseok is careful not to push too hard, but by the time he’s ready to wash up for Yixing’s visit, there is a small half-moon of sunflowers in the center of his garden. Their stalks bend in, the very tallest of them twining to form a small, covered space just large enough for two people to shelter under if they sit together.
Yixing’s sunflower hut doesn’t perfectly resemble the whimsical drawing Yixing left the last time he and Kyungsoo had ‘talked flowers,’ of course, but it’s charming in its own right. Minseok can’t wait to drag Yixing outside to see it.
Inviting both Lu Han and Kyungsoo to dinner might actually be the most serious mistake Minseok has ever made, he thinks, biting his tongue against the urge to send everyone to the kitchen to clean up so he can have a few moments of peace and quiet. It’s not that Minseok doesn’t like his neighbor and Yixing’s landlord, he’s just not very used to Yixing focusing on everyone except him. It’s bad enough that Yixing has yet to grow out of his wonder at Kyungsoo’s skill with all manner of flora, but Lu Han is a menace, alternately gluing himself to Yixing and Minseok like Spanish moss.
At the moment, he’s leaning flush against Yixing’s back, laughing as Yixing earnestly explains why he’s positive he’s finally ready to start his own garden of medicinal herbs.
“I’ve learned so much - don’t laugh, Lu Han, I really have! About fertilizing and soil and how they affect plant health. And Minseok always lets me help with his garden in the back - stop laughing, you ass!”
“I’m going to have to plan an intervention if you keep this up, Yixing,” Lu Han chuckles, sharing an unrepentant grin with Kyungsoo over Yixing’s shoulder. “How many more defenseless plants are you going to execute before you give this up? Your rooms may very well be the city graveyard for all potted plants.”
“The only thing I’m going to execute is you,” Yixing mutters under his breath, and Minseok bites back a small snort of laughter. The last thing he needs is for them to decide he should choose sides in this, so of course, this is when Kyungsoo sits back in his chair and smirks at Minseok.
“I can’t believe you’re encouraging him,” Kyungsoo says, diverting everyone’s attention. “Aren’t you always insisting that there’s nothing wrong with understanding the limits of one’s abilities?”
Minseok flounders, well aware that there is no safe response when they’re all just waiting for him to fly to Yixing’s defense. Yixing’s the one to save him, however, suddenly remembering the stinging nettle cake he’d baked for the evening, a family recipe of Kyungsoo’s that he’d spent weeks begging for.
They’re four men, all bachelors, so it is a matter of course that dessert takes precedence over any and every topic of conversation.
Minseok reconsiders his stance on an intervention the day Yixing shows up at his door with a stack of magazines and instructional booklets in hand.
“Kyungsoo’s finally agreed to help me start a garden next year,” Yixing explains, magazines slipping from his arms before he quite makes it to Minseok’s table. He’s beaming as he stoops down to gather everything he dropped, and Minseok catches sight of several loose sheets of handwritten notes. Whatever his faults, no one can accuse Yixing of not giving his all once he latches onto an idea.
It takes a few moments for Yixing to finish organizing things to his satisfaction, but he’s still smiling when Minseok sits down next to him at the table. “Did he assign you homework,” Minseok teases, taking a quick glance at the books now spread before them. He’s not sure how helpful an old almanac more than twenty years out of date might be, but who is he to question Do Kyungsoo the Plant Whisperer?
“Do you really think he’d have the patience to sit down and go through it all if he had?”
Yixing chuckles at his own retort as he flips through one of the older, more beaten magazines, and Minseok wishes he’d a cup of coffee at the ready when Yixing stepped through the door. He needs something to occupy his hands before he does something stupid, like reach over and tuck Yixing’s silly, too-long hair behind his ear.
“I just want it to work this time,” Yixing continues. “I feel like a bit of a sham, you know? What kind of witch am I if I have to go to an herbalist for everything?”
A good witch, is what Minseok wishes he had the courage to say, the best I’ve ever known. Minseok has never been good at seizing the moment, though, so when he does manage to find his voice, it’s only to tease Yixing further. “You’ll be growing your own garden before you know it. Eighth time’s the charm, isn’t that what they always say?”
Yixing scowls at him, nose scrunched and mouth pursing in mock affront the way it always does on the rare occasions that Minseok teases him. Minseok, for his part, is becoming frustratingly familiar with the desire to kiss that ridiculous look right off his face, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to resist. Definitely time to get a pot of coffee started, he decides.
“You’re staying for the weekend, right?” he asks as he stands up.
Yixing’s already back to studying his magazines, but he hums and nods distractedly. It’s enough, Minseok thinks, when Yixing’s head continues to bob a few dozen beats longer than necessary. It’s enough right now that he still has this.
Minseok has never actually seen Yixing at work, he realizes one day. He does, however have a full basket of figs from the trees out back, all meant for Yixing, and a sudden prickling of curiosity. He’s also been meaning to buy a radio for some time now, so why not surprise Yixing with the figs on the way, he decides.
Yixing’s little shop is a scant twenty minutes away according to Kyungsoo, and Minseok finds himself spending the entire bicycle ride anticipating the look on Yixing’s face when he sees the fruit. Yixing’s always so thrilled at everything involving Minseok’s garden. Minseok’s lost enough in his lollygagging that he almost misses Yixing’s little shop entirely, nestled as it is between a fancy chocolatier and an even larger European style café.
It’s cute, and just as Kyungsoo described, from the simple symbol for witches etched into the glass of the front door to the cheerful, powder-blue storefront façade. Very Yixing, Minseok thinks.
Yixing is crouched down in front of a young, hiccupping girl when Minseok makes his way in. Even from the doorway, Minseok can see the obvious tear tracks on her cheeks. From the wan smile on Yixing’s face and unusual paleness of his skin, however, it seems that Minseok has just missed a practical demonstration of Yixing’s healing abilities. They’re a rare thing, even among witches, and Minseok has no doubt that his own face holds a little of the awe clear on the young child’s own.
“Are you magic?” she asks, as Yixing, just a tad unsteady, climbs to his feet.
“Maybe a little bit, when it’s very important.” Yixing’s tone is gentle, and his smile sweet when he helps the little girl off her chair. “You have to be careful when you play by the streets, okay Yuhua? I think we’ll both be happier if I don’t have to be magic for you again.”
“I promise!” The child nods solemnly before darting forward to hug Yixing. It’s quick enough that Yixing doesn’t have half a chance to respond, and then she’s running past Minseok and out the door, her skirt bunched up in one hand and braids bouncing against her back.
“Well,” Minseok says slowly, as Yixing stands gaping at his own front door, “I have figs?”
After that, things don’t take too long to gain momentum. Minseok’s admiration bleeds into every interaction with Yixing, and the only surprising thing is the way Yixing seems to counter it with his own. In point of fact, the only thing Yixing seems to admire more than Minseok, is Minseok’s plants.
“I’m starting to wonder if I should be jealous of my own garden,” Minseok begins when, yet again, he’s finished setting the table only to find that Yixing’s snuck out back without him.
“Well, if you’re not going to give it the attention it deserves…”
Minseok snorts and settles onto the nearest bench, one of the sweet potatoes Yixing had forsaken on the counter in hand. “It’s hardly in dire need of attention, Yixing. Weren’t you just bragging that every single berry in the pie you made had come straight from my garden?”
Yixing doesn’t move from where he’s sitting underneath Minseok’s little sunflower hut, but he does send a disgruntled enough pout in Minseok’s direction. “It’s not really fair,” he complains, “that I can practically kill a plant just by picking up a watering can, and you spend ten minutes outside and somehow have a garden sprouting from your footprints.”
“Sprouting from my footprints,” Minseok repeats, amused.
Yixing thinks for a long moment before puffing up his cheeks ridiculously. “You might not be as bad as Kyungsoo, but you’re definitely a close second.”
“If you’re going to hold my garden against me, then I really think I’m owed an explanation for all those centimeters you’ve got on me when you’re two years younger than I am. That’s never seemed fair to me.”
Yixing’s laughter is as delightful as his pout, even from halfway across the garden. “Truce?” Minseok calls when Yixing makes to stand up, and if he’s lucky, Yixing doesn’t notice the way Minseok’s eyes linger as he swipes his behind to clear it of dirt and grass.
“For now,” Yixing allows. The mischief on his face is entirely too charming, and Minseok thinks that might just be the most unfair thing of all.
It’s an unseasonably rainy morning, and Minseok is awake unreasonably early, groggy and confused as to why he can smell coffee. It comes to him, after a few moments of mental searching, that Yixing had spent the night, though that doesn’t explain why he’s awake when it’s still dark out.
There’s a sudden shift of the bed, and Minseok squints to make out Yixing’s face a bare arm’s length away from his own. “Oh, good, you’re awake,” Yixing says, scooting forward until he’s all but sitting on top of Minseok, his eyes searching Minseok’s face carefully. “I’m not sure how much longer I could’ve waited.”
There’s no hesitation when he leans forward, kissing Minseok softly in his own bed, just a small, pleased smile on his face. Minseok will never admit just how often he imagines kissing Yixing, all the possible scenarios and sensations. The reality, as it turns out, is a lot more perfect and comfortable than Minseok has ever let himself anticipate.
Yixing’s mouth against his is a warm and gentle pressure, his breath still a little minty from his mouthwash when he pulls back to smile down at Minseok.
“Good morning,” he says. Minseok would have to be an idiot to miss the smug satisfaction in his voice. “I started breakfast for you.”
“You’re the one cleaning up the mess you make in the kitchen when you wake me up before the sun’s even started rising,” Minseok mutters, but Yixing doesn’t look at all bothered by the idea. Minseok can’t help but chuckle when Yixing leans down to rest his head in the crook of Minseok’s neck.
They stay like that for a few quiet moments, Minseok still tangled in his bedsheets, until Yixing stands up and stretches. “Come get your coffee so you won’t be grumpy all day. You promised you’d teach me how to prune your lemon trees, remember?”
“I knew you only wanted me for my gardening skills,” Minseok whines in response, flopping back against his pillow.
It still makes him laugh when Yixing shoots back a sing-song, “I guess you’re lucky you have such a pretty garden,” on his way down the stairs, because yeah. All things considered, Minseok is pretty damn lucky.