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i.
Jung Hoseok was born from the bough of a willow tree, his skin sun-kissed like the brown bark of the tree he was created from, and his hair falling in soft mahogany waves. He was not confused as to how he had arrived here, in the forest, and did not dwell on the subject for much longer than a perfunctory glance around his surroundings.
He landed with a soft thud on the soggy dirt. He stepped around in it, feeling the earth move underneath him, amused. He liked the feeling of the land underneath him, and felt that he was exactly where he belonged. As he played in his little corner of the forest, protectively surrounded by his mother's long, whistling branches, he remained unaware of the audience that watched him in delighted curiosity.
Hoseok didn't move past the curtains of the willow tree, feeling pleased enough on his own in his secluded grotto. But from outside his shadowy home, voices called to him. Soft and gentle, like the sound of wind moving through leaves.
"Come out, and play," one called, the sound of a harpsichord following immediately after.
It was tempting, of course. Hoseok enjoyed the sound immensely, humming the tune the others were playing outside. But he hesitated, looking back at the old willow tree, expecting an answer or a signal. There was none. The willow tree was quiet, apart from the sound of its leaves brushing against each other.
So he joined the others in festivities and music, quickly finding his place among the older sprites.
He loved his new home. He loved the other boys who played all day and night, long after Helios had driven his sun chariot through the sky, and thought of playing in the forest for the rest of his life even in his sleep.
ii.
He liked it when the wind blew strongly, Yoongi noticed, so he sent a cool breeze through Hoseok's part of the forest whenever he dared to wander closer to the willow tree. When the wind would come, Hoseok always stopped whatever he was doing and climbed to the highest branch of his tree, sitting cross-legged and letting the air comb through his sun-bleached hair.
Yoongi felt it was wrong to watch him without his knowledge, but felt it even worse to approach and introduce himself after weeks of spying. What could he say? "Hello, I saw your creation, and I like watching you play by the stream"? Over his dead body.
"You could just say hi," Namjoon said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. He played nimbly on his harpsichord, which, Yoongi couldn't help thinking, Hoseok liked to listen to. "You don't have to mention the whole stalker thing."
Yoongi shook his head, creating a whirlwind in the palm of his hands, focusing all of his attention on it to stop himself from thinking about Hoseok.
Namjoon, son of the minor deity Nephele, never worried about his appearance or what others thought of him. He was beautiful, tall, and lean, his only flaw being his lack of grace or caution. He was the son of a beautiful nymph, famous for her deeds, and garnered respect and love everywhere he went. He couldn't possibly understand how it felt to be anything other than accepted and wanted. Yoongi, well, he was neither wanted nor disdained. He simply was, a being who lived with no particular sway or passion. He had neither Namjoon's power nor his likability, and for someone who was so smart, Namjoon just couldn't wrap his mind around Yoongi's shyness.
Yoongi glanced at him with momentary jealousy, before blowing gently on the wind brewing in his palm, in the direction of Hoseok's tree.
"After a while," Namjoon said, when he noticed how serious Yoongi's infatuation was, "he'll catch on."
"Not if I stay in this meadow forever," Yoongi harrumphed.
"You can't hide here forever, Yoongi,"
"Why not? Are you threatening to kick me out?" Yoongi crossed his arms, the wind picking up around him, until Namjoon had to hold onto the branch of a tree to stay rooted in his position. In a rare show of anger, the winds began circling faster and faster, until flowers were being uprooted and the trees bowed to him. Namjoon looked unfazed, instead of fear, there was a smug smile on his face.
"Because," Namjoon said over all the noise, his eyes moving past Yoongi and down the hill, where Hoseok and his friends were dancing. They had stopped, now peering up at their meadow, where havoc was being wrought. "Your emotions always get the best of you, Yoongi. And if I know anything, I know that Hoseok is curious why the wind is always blowing in his direction."
The whirlwind abruptly disappeared, and Yoongi slumped against a nearby shrub.
Namjoon was right, like he always was.
iii.
When Hoseok bored of playing in the stream, he laid down by the banks, thanking Helios for the warmth. The sun was still high in the sky, meaning it was midday, and there were still long hours of dancing and singing ahead of them.
"Seokjin," he called out, sitting up.
"Hmm?" Seokjin stopped strumming his harp.
"What's up the hill?"
"The hill?" Seokjin, who had always stayed in the confines of their bit of the forest, thought for a while. He never liked to venture far from his home, the stream that ran downhill, but he remembered remarkably that there was a cloud nymph he had met there, once. He had been tall and tanned, but often tripped over his own tunic. "Well, there's a small meadow there, I suppose. Smaller than where we are. Why, do you want to go?"
"No," Hoseok said. "I think I'll just wait."
"For that wind deity to come down?" Seokjin scrunched his nose. "I don't think he'll ever approach us."
Of course Hoseok had noticed Yoongi. He wasn't nearly as sly as he thought he was, and besides, Yoongi was very hard to miss, with his fine silver hair, alabaster skin, and with all that wind that followed him around. Hoseok only pretended not to see him, so he wouldn't feel so embarrassed. But after weeks of stalking about, he never came up and say hi. Not even when Hoseok had asked Taehyung to make a trail of daffodils bloom from his tree to the edge of the hill.
"He's just shy," Hoseok defended.
"And a little bit creepy," Jungkook added.
"That's not true," okay, so maybe it was a little bit true. But Hoseok didn't mind it. He was beautiful, and he knew that he was beautiful. He liked it when humans or deities fawned over him, patted his hair and fussed over him. Hoseok was vain, as most forest spirits were, and loved knowing that he had an audience that adored him. Whenever he felt the wind blow, he put on his biggest smile and danced better and sang louder than anyone else.
"Since when have nymphs ever been shy?" Jimin asked, hanging upside down from an oak tree.
"He's not shy, he has his friends in the meadow," Seokjin shrugged.
"Maybe he just doesn't like us," Jungkook suggested.
Hoseok smiled and mussed up Jungkook's long brown hair. "I can see why," Hoseok said, "you and Jimin make terrible company."
Jimin made a sound of vague protest from his perch on his tree, but there had been no venom in Hoseok's voice. Hoseok watched him lithely jump off from the farthest branch and dive neatly into the stream, somehow missing the jagged rocks and pebbles at the shallow bottom.
"If you like looking at someone," Hoseok said softly, "isn't it only natural you come and be their friends? I've seen humans do it before, deep in the woods."
Seokjin blanched, "They're doing a lot more than 'being friends,' Hoseok."
"Well," Hoseok didn't dwell on the thought any further. "It looks pleasant enough. What they do with their mouth, I mean."
"Kiss?" Taehyung suggested.
"Yes," Hoseok pulled his garb down over his knees. He couldn't tell if the wind is picking up because Yoongi was near, or if it was just Boreas making his biweekly trip north.
"Well, we've all done it before," Taehyung said, knitting his brows together. "It's not so special. Even humans can do it, and they're all dumb little things."
"I think it's nice," Jungkook said, swimming around them, the water glistening off his eyelashes. "It makes me feel human."
"Why would you want to be human?" Seokjin asked, the disgust on his face barely hidden. "They're such selfish, self-destructive pests. Never learning, never improving—always living the same monotonous life. Let them write their poetry about the beautiful deities, but that's all they're good for. As worshipers, and nothing else."
Jungkook considers what Seokjin said, "But there's something nice about mortality. And you can't call them monotonous when all we do is play in our little corner of the world, while Bellerophon and Odysseus are out fighting chimeras and cyclopes."
"Mortality?" Jimin cuts in. "What's so great about mortality?"
"Well, it gives you a time limit to everything you do," Jungkook shrugged, shaking off the water droplets on his hair. "We have all of eternity to lounge around and play, that we may never actually get to doing the things we dream of doing—exploring, fighting monsters, falling in love—because we think we've got all the time in the world to do it. But humans, they may be stupid and reckless, but they use their time efficiently. If they want to start wars, they do. If they want to make love, they do. Compared to them, don't you think we're the inferiors?"
They were all silent at once, except for Jungkook who happily splashed in the stream, unfazed by what he had said.
"That's ridiculous," Seokjin said, finally, and both Taehyung and Jimin agreed frantically, unable to imagine themselves being inferior to humans, of all things. "Anyways, let's go see if we can find any maenads around, they always have the best wine, and they're never afraid of sharing."
With the conversation sufficiently changed and their moods back to normal, the others quickly got dressed, except for Hoseok, who had never shed his tunic. He brought his knees to his chin and closed his eyes, imagining himself and Yoongi as humans. If they were mortal and felt the effects of the passage of time, would they be friends?
Hoseok opened his eyes, gazed lovingly at his own reflection in the stream, and shook away that traitorous thought. If he were mortal, he wouldn't be half as pretty as he was now, and if he held any importance in anything, it was his divine appearance.
iv.
He woke to the sounds of rustling leaves and a soundless night.
He wasn't surprised when he saw a trail of leaves blowing in front of him, in loops and figure eights. "Hello," he said to them, reaching out to touch one. They said nothing back, they were just dead leaves, but Hoseok half expected a response. "Am I supposed to follow you?" he took their movement as a yes.
He sat up on his branch, stretching and yawning quietly. The earth was still damp beneath him, the morning dew being newly formed, but he gracefully landed in one quick leap, and began to follow the trail of leaves that were being blown through the forest.
Dawn was still a couple minutes away, a bit late, if Hoseok was being honest, but the light of the moon was enough for him to find his footing.
"Where are we going?" he asked the leaves. They, of course, remained silent, but picked up their speed, so that Hoseok was lightly jogging through the forest. He passed by Taehyung's bed of moss and flower, where he slept curled like a cat. He ran farther than he had ever in his life, looking back to see his home grow small behind him.
They finally slowed down, miles away from where they had started, but Hoseok wasn't out of breath. Divine beings were never short of perfection.
The leaves dropped to the ground, and Hoseok stepped over them, feeling them crunch beneath his weight. He said goodbye to his companions, and looked around, wondering where they had lead him.
The wind picked up, and it smelled faintly of wet earth and rain.
A figure approached him, slowly, like he was afraid of scaring Hoseok off. But Hoseok had never felt fear in his life, and if anything, was amused by the careful consideration.
"Hello," Hoseok said, "step out into the moonlight, so I can see you."
Yoongi stepped out, the light casting a silvery glow to his skin and hair. He looked almost apologetic.
"I didn't realize it was so early," he said.
"That's okay," Hoseok put a cautious foot forward. "Who are you?"
"I'm Yoongi,"
"I'm Hoseok,"
"I know," Yoongi admitted. "I—I've seen you before. Namjoon knows a friend of yours."
"You're the one who looks at me from up there, aren't you?" Hoseok pointed at the sky, but he means the meadows.
"I don't mean to," Yoongi reddened, but it's hardly noticeable in the dim light. "But I think you're beautiful."
"I am." Hoseok said matter-of-factly. But he smiles, which Yoongi takes for a good sign. "I'm divine—and so are you. You're beautiful, too."
"But you're a different kind of beautiful," Yoongi insisted. "You're something else—I saw your creation, it wasn't like anything I'd seen before. It was like you were made dancing, from that branch."
Hoseok, pleased by the flattery, preens and glows faint orange.
"Do you like me, then?" Hoseok asked, already knowing the answer.
"More than that," Yoongi admitted. "I adore you."
"Is it you who sends the wind to me?"
"Every day," he answered.
"Thank you."
They began walking, slowly, through the forest. Hoseok tried to mimic the way he saw humans interact, sometimes batting his eyelashes, and at one point, holding onto Yoongi's hand.
"So what now?" asked Hoseok.
"Well, we're already holding hands," Yoongi lifted their fists up. "This is farther than I ever imagined happening."
Hoseok liked the sound of his laugh, which was fittingly breathy and deep. "We could do what humans do," he suggested, raising an eyebrow.
"What's that?" Yoongi stopped laughing, suddenly serious.
"Kiss,"
"Kiss?" he sounded bewildered. "In public?"
"We're in the woods, nobody's around for miles."
"The other dryads are," Yoongi peered around, getting shy. "They're so nosy all the time—excluding you, of course. Any of them could be spying on us."
Hoseok lead them to a pool of disappearing moonlight, where he could see Yoongi's face clearly. He wasn't so handsome as Seokjin, nor as tall as Jungkook, but Hoseok was equally enamored by the light that emanated from Yoongi's skin.
He put a hand against Yoongi's pale jaw, closing the gap between them. When dawn appeared again, with her fingertips of rose, Hoseok felt a dangerous combination of recklessness and affection. He leaned in close enough to feel Yoongi's breath fan across his face.
"Let them watch."