Of Faeries & Cold Berries

☼of faeries & cold berries: chapter one

word count: 1,245
rating: PG
warning(s): none
summary: in which wonsik is unable to mitigate his desires to fly and hongbin makes a memorable appearance
note: this is my first fic as a starlight and im so excited to share my disgusting trash with other starlights! i havent posted a real fic in ages so im nervous.. orz please send me feedback / concrit and ill bake you drugfree brownies (maybe). its a slow start ik but this is a faerie!verse and i needed a contrast of characters sooooo
tl;dr there will be faeries. enjoy! ~ xoxo ur chingu ruby


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by his apartment window is where wonsik stands, tall and stable with sharp eyes steadily focused on the birds outside. they fly without hesitation, pecking the ground in their brief moments of rest, only to return to the sky once again as they wish.

wonsik feels something akin to desire begin to plant itself deep within his bones, and in an instant of recognition, he washes the foreignness of it away with the tepid coffee that his nightstand holds for him.

what if there was a way that, as a simple human, he could breach the edge of this confinement that daily life has in prison shackles around him, just to soar miles away when he pleases to do so? what if, he begins to think. what if, what if.

with force, wonsik makes himself stop thinking these children's games. he looks away and does not look back. there is work to be done. there is real life to manage. there are hours of paper work at the office that must be completed in unreasonable haste and there are ignorant people with too much money that need to be dealt with. wonsik knows this very well.

with an active mind that he wills to calm, he walks down 247 steps from his second story apartment room to the ground floor in moderate silence. the only noise that could be heard in a short distance from him were his timid breaths and his polished dress shoes hitting heavily against the flat surface of the pavement, birds around him flying away in fear.

i.

the sun is intrusive and far too radiant for a day in which wonsik's company loses a considerable amount of money. outside is bright and palpably boisterous, and every employee in his company has been overthrown with gloom written on them. the weather seems to be mocking them during this time of frustration.

his co-workers are miserable. wonsik is certain that he too is miserable, but for reasons dissimilar to the thirty-something year olds that invade his personal space monday through friday on a yearly basis.

as a cab drives him farther and farther away from a monotonous day at work, he looks out the window to see the overwhelming brightness of the sun and its light filter into his vision. his pupils dilate back and forth to adjust, but within the moment that they regain balance, the sun hides behind a cloud.

wonsik faces the other direction in vexation. he is not interested in playing peek-a-boo with a yellow dwarf star.

the view outside the window opposite him is tantalizing; the crows can be seen following satisfactorily overhead in the blue firmament, traveling just enough out of view that wonsik must adjust himself closer if he wishes to see more. but he will not let his eyes chase after inconsequential fowl on their journey to nowhere and he clenches his fists in blatant indignation with little reason why.

wonsik's relentless desire to fly, to run away, to disappear and never come back, subtly returns and it's creeping in through the little cracks in his barriers. the only thing he can do to console himself is clench his fists harder.

the recognition of this feeling of wanting to soar and swirl in the sky is negligible enough that when it prods and pokes, wonsik can shuffle in the backseat of the taxi and the thoughts will dissolve. but it comes back later when he isn't expecting it; he's on his laptop pretending to be an adult and get work done, and the thought of getting up and justleaving pounds the walls of his skull and it's too persistently potent for 10:33 at night.

he retrieves a bottle of vodka and murders the feeling before it can consume him.

ii.

wonsik awakes, only to fall asleep again. there is no work today, and he turns around in his bed until he feels warm and closes his eyes.

when wonsik wakes for the second time, he hears the sound of birds outside his window. it is noticeable enough that wonsik cannot go back to sleep, because his mind drifts and wanders and sinks into deep thought as he absently prepares coffee.

somewhere in the room, his phone makes a notification noise. he doesn't check it because wonsik is not dependent on technology to communicate and doesn't need others thinking he is.

he opens the curtains to reveal the sky. it seems as though the sun is playing another foolish game of hide and seek today, impishly slinking in and out of the opaque clouds.

later, after he sips on black coffee to revive his thinking capabilities from slumber, his fingers reach across the counter to his phone. it seems his mother wishes him well and there are bills to pay, yes, yes. but there is a new email in his inbox with the subheading: urgent!

hey wonsik, do you think you'd be able to take care of my cousin for a few weeks? he isn't much hassle (he's eighteen) but he doesn't have anywhere to stay during my trip. let me know.
-l jaehwan

wonsik only replies because jaehwan has pictures of wonsik that serve as intense blackmail and could potentially corrupt his job within minutes.

we'll see.
-k wonsik

iii.

it's only one week later on a too-sunny saturday that wonsik opens his apartment door to see an eager boy with oceanic eyes on his steps, clutching a bag and grinning.

all of wonsik's plans to be productive that day crumble to bits.

iv.

wonsik's guts ties itself into triple knotted knots and his brain is swimming in sloppy circles because there is a boy (that he did not explicitly agree to overseer) in his living room. this boy that is in his living is putting things where they do not belong and opening cabinets and drawers and toying with things that aren't to be toyed with and wonsik can almost feel his soul leaving his body.

jaehwan never answered wonsik's email, but it seemed that a verbal answer wasnt needed because the real answer manifested itself in the shape of an eighteen year old boy from jayang-dong on his doorstep. this is how kim wonsik ends up with lee hongin straightening up his apartment on a sunday morning.

"it's rather messy in here, wonsik." hongbin chides. his voice is cool, crisp; reminiscent of the world outside his window. he hasn't spoke all too much within the eight minutes he's been here, but his actions certainly compensate.

but wonsik hates the way hongbin speaks so informally to him, so he doesn't satisfy the younger with a reply. instead, he fixes his pupils to his laptop screean and commands his fingers to type type type and work work work and it doesn't turn out well. he's making mistakes in the company's reports because hongbin almost dropped a vase and wonsik cannot focus in this kind of environment.

"i'm going to take a walk." wonsik says abruptly, because one more moment of hearing the clink clank clonk of a teenaged stranger rearrange things where they do not belong might be wonsik's cause of death. that, and the desire to fly is sneaking in.

"oh, i love to walk." hongbin says, his little fingers setting down a book that he was in the midst of moving. "i want to go, too!"

wonsik sees hongbin with blatant excitement in his starry eyes and he cannot say no.