The gardens were your favourite part of the house, so different to the small, cramped one surrounding your cottage, this one was practically endless. The high hedges were perfect for hiding behind and escaping meals, preferring to grab a few slices of bread and cold meat from the kitchen than to dine with Jeongguk and any visitors who he deigned to invite and show you off like a prize.
It had been a few days after you had arrived that you awoke to Jeongguk standing in your room, holding a piece of fabric that looked like someone had cut it from the night sky, although it was only dark blue fabric with small diamonds on it that created this illusion. You had teased him that you would only wear the real night-sky as a dress and he had rolled his eyes and told you to get dressed.
This had ground your gears and you had sat on your floor refusing to move until Jeongguk gave you something in exchange, which he argued was the dress itself but you shook your head, asking for more freedom than just being able to walk around the house that was beginning to feel cramped.
That was how, having met his favourite musician, Kim Namjoon and listening to the pretty melodies he played on the piano, were you allowed, two weeks later to go in the garden. The two weeks had been full of language lessons and when you could finally read, Jeongguk allowed you to explore the gardens.
Ever since he had allowed you outside, you returned home to collapse on your floor, exhausted from a day exploring the garden and trying to find the boundary. Each morning you would awake to the soft mattress of the four poster bed and look around to find no trace of Jeongguk, just a red rose petal on his pillow.
The petal, you assumed, came from the rose bush you had just wondered upon, sitting in front of them to admire the brilliant scarlet red against the vibrant green of their leaves. The green reminded you of those wild eyes you had first seen when you met Jeongguk and a shiver ran down your spine at the memory, he had been so filled with rage.
Reaching out, you cupped a flower in your hand, yelping in surprise when a thorn caught your finger, blood welling to the cut. You decided it would be safer to keep a distance, pulling a book from your bag and reading aloud to them until a low voice interrupted you, "do you like my roses?"
"Who wouldn't?" you replied to Jeongguk, leaning forward to smell the closest one whilst trying to hide your book within the folds of your trousers. But to no avail, as he sat down next to you, giving you that wide, innocent smile and retrieved the book.
"So you'll read to my roses but not to me?" Jeongguk wasn't wearing his usual formal wear and the loose fitting pants suited him, you wondered what he had been up to before managing to find you in the depths of the garden. "It's okay," he reached a handover and ruffled your head before standing and going to leave, "I talk to them too."
"Wait!" you had leapt to your feet and now your hand was wrapped around Jeongguk's wrist before you could really think through all the implications of what you had just done, he grabbed your hand and pulled you down to the grass to sit back down.
Jeongguk looked down at where you were still allowing him to hold your hand, eyes wide before he looked up at you with a smile so bright his eyes seemed to shine, "this is the first time you've let me touch you!"
You frowned at his suggestive sentence, blushing and trying to tug back your hand but not before he raised it to his hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, "there's so much that you don't know, you're more important to me than you could ever know."
"You sound super creepy right now," you shuffled away from him with a laugh as Jeongguk blushed, shaking his head slightly in a rare show of embarrassment.
The fae boy fell back on the grass, staring up at the blue sky and let his forearm fall across his eyes, "I wish we didn't have to meet the way we did."
When you thought back to that afternoon with Jeongguk, lounging on the grass as you kept reading to the roses, your mind would wonder why he had looked so sad, as if he were on the verge of tears. Why was it that his vulnerability only made you safer near him? Was it merely a fae trick to manipulate you?
You would shake your head because no man, or fae could act that raw sadness in those deep brown eyes. Melancholy is not an emotion that is easy to pretend.
