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Namjoon steps out onto the dirt road with hesitance.
Another door slams shut right after his. It sounds manmade and unwelcome amidst the quiet around them, yet gentle in comparison to the roar of their automobile’s engine moments ago.
“This is the place?” Namjoon asks, twisting around to eye his companion unsurely. Seokjin comes round the vehicle, into Namjoon’s view as he straightens his tie. He looks too crisp to be this far out in the countryside, too clean and city-shaped, but he doesn’t seem to notice how much he doesn’t fit the picture around him.
“This is the place!” he confirms with cheery disposition. “Moonchild Cottage.”
He gestures out in front of them, where Namjoon can see nothing that resembles the property he was advertised. Instead, what lies ahead of him (and on all sides) is a large field of long grasses, bordered by many large trees that obscure the horizon. He should have known that it would end this way, when the roads turned to dirt and tree branches started scraping the windows of Seokjin’s automobile twenty minutes ago.
Seokjin pointedly ignores Namjoon’s hesitance, instead reaching back around for his luggage. Namjoon hadn’t brought much with him--after all, this was only supposed to be a temporary arrangement for the spring and summer. Most of what he needs should already be at the cottage. The only problem would, of course, be finding the cottage.
“Would you mind grabbing the last of your bags?” Seokjin asks, before heading slightly down the path towards the grass. “It’s not far, there’s a path to the property right along here.”
He doesn’t wait for Namjoon, ambling down ridiculously with two bags in each hand and one stuffed underneath his arm. Namjoon leans over the car door to grab the other one and hurries after.
Seokjin is right. A few steps further along the road (calling it that was generous, it was less of a ‘road’ and more of a ‘vague path worn into the ground by Seokjin’s car tires’) a clear path was cut into the grasses going into the trees, marked by a small, rusted mailbox. Seokjin keeps up a jovial conversation for the entire walk, talking to himself, but Namjoon is more captivated by the plant life around him.
Beyond the tall grasses there is a barrier of deciduous trees. The grass becomes shorter here and there, where small species of white mushrooms dot the ground, as well as a few dandelions and other small flowers. Are there more flower species nearby, growing wildly? He wonders what other flora would be present within the boundaries of Seokjin’s property. It would be a good way to start his work here, he’ll have to take his sketchbook and make a point to spend the day out here, sketching and writing notes about every different kind of flower or fern he comes across--
“Careful!” Seokjin’s hand comes to steady Namjoon as he suddenly tips over, foot caught on a large tree root. He clutches his bag close to his chest, blinking in surprise. Seokjin sighs, letting go when Namjoon regains his balance and is on two feet again. “Namjoon-ah, really. We’re not even to the house yet. Please wait until I am off property grounds to injure yourself.”
“Where is this so-called house?” Namjoon asks back, to make up for the fact that he’d just embarrassed himself. “Have you brought me out in the middle of nowhere?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes and continues walking. “It’s just beyond these trees, you whiny baby. The previous owner valued his privacy.”
“You know,” he says, just barely avoiding another tree root, “I’m having second thoughts about this, hyung, and I’m not sure that I should….”
Seokjin pauses to wait for him, as they come into the clearing. Namjoon can’t finish his sentence because he’s too distracted by...everything.
There are two buildings that have seemingly come out of nowhere, built in a small clearing beyond the tree shade that Namjoon still stands under. One is a small cottage-like house, and the other is a greenhouse that sparkles like diamond under the bright sunlight. The house is connected to the greenhouse, and is painted a yellow color that was probably much more vivid twenty years ago, but has since faded into something buttery. On the other side of the house is a large weeping willow. It’s nothing impressive, but it feels quaint and like a home. If love at first sight exists, Namjoon has just discovered it.
Seokjin looks at him, eyes crinkling on their edges with amusement. “You were saying?”
There’s a path to the front door, neatly kept despite the wild and untamed grasses around it. Namjoon follows Seokjin down it and watches as he digs a keyring out from his suit jacket’s interior pocket and cycles through them until he finds one that fits in the door.
“I told you that you would love it,” Seokjin says. Namjoon walks through the doorway, drinking everything in. The floor is natural wood, and there is little light other than what streams through the windows. A large, intricately woven rug sits in the center of the room. A small kitchen is set up on the other side of the cottage, blending into what looks like a dining and living area. One door leads to the greenhouse, and on the other side it leads to what might be his bedroom. It’s functional, homey, and aesthetically simple. “It has that rustic charm I knew you would die for, and is surprisingly resilient. In my opinion, perfectly Namjoon-proof.”
“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes. The cottage smells like the woods, fresh and piney.
“A little more information about the property,” Seokjin goes on, dropping Namjoon’s luggage onto a small couch. “There’s no running water. But there is a well in the back, and the stove works. A few lamps are around here and there, but no electricity either. You saw the mailbox on the way in, Yoongi’s already sent you a letter, by the way--and I’ll try and bring you groceries every week or two...the bedroom is to the right, there should be extra blankets and sheets in the wardrobe.”
Peeking into the main bedroom, it’s simple. There is a comfortable bed, not grandiose but large enough that Namjoon won’t have to worry about rolling off or his toes hanging off the end. There’s a wooden wardrobe, and a vanity with a basin for face washing and a small mirror hanging from the wall above it. A large window lets light in and an unlit lamp sits on the small bedside table next to a bundle of dried flowers. He can hear the birds outside, chirping away.
Namjoon sets the last of his things on the bed as he looks around, a little awestruck. He had expected that it would be quaint and small, but he hadn’t expected to like this little house so much.
“Any questions?” Seokjin lingers at the doorway. He produces an envelope from the inside of his suit jacket and sets it down on the vanity along with the key ring. “These are some simple instructions about how things work around here, along with what keys go to what. There’s a shack in the back too. If there’s something you can’t find, it might be there.”
Namjoon breathes in, taken by surprise at the fondness that swoops into his chest for his friend.
“I really appreciate this,” he says into the quiet of the room. “Hyung, you’ve done me a great favor.”
Seokjin stares at Namjoon for a moment too long, as if figuring out the proper response. He really doesn’t fit the rustic charm of the cottage, but Namjoon could see him with his hair a little less perfect, his nails less manicured, sharing a hot cup of tea with him in the morning. He hopes that Seokjin visits often enough to make that into a reality.
“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin settles on, letting his voice carry all the warmth in the world. “It was my pleasure. At least this way, the property is being used. And I know you’ll take good care of the greenhouse.”
“Yes,” he rushes to say. “You can count on me, hyung. I’ll clean it up, and by the next time you visit there will be plants busting out of the door.”
They share a laugh. Seokjin claps him on the shoulder, then decides that he’d rather have it be a hug, and pulls him further into an embrace. It’s not usual for Seokjin to be so forward in his affections, so he cherishes it while he can. Namjoon inhales, breathing in the woodsy scent of the house and the familiarly airy smell of Seokjin’s cologne. Then it’s over too soon, and Seokjin is apologizing loudly for how dusty the air is, and that he must be sniffling because of his sensitivity to particles in the air.
“Is there anything else you need?” Seokjin asks. He eyes Namjoon’s suitcase, as if itching to unpack it and get him settled. “You’ll eat the bread I packed you, and those preserves? Yoongi made that, so you’d better love it, you know. I’ll never hear the end of it if you don’t like the tangerine preserves.”
Namjoon laughs again. Seokjin reminds him of his own mother, the way he’s suddenly nervous about leaving him alone to his own devices. He admits, the atmosphere of this place excites him. He can see himself doing well here, staying busy. Improving the quality of his mind. “I promise I will, hyung.”
Seokjin stays for a few hours longer, helping Namjoon unpack his things and cook a small dinner. Together they look at the state of the greenhouse, and Namjoon surmises that it’s really not that bad. It’s aged, the glass is stained and foggy in some areas, broken in a few others and the cobbled path is overgrown and uneven in places. But they find a few watering cans, seeds, and gardening supplies by the door, and the plants look healthy and not too out of control. Namjoon can work with it.
He’ll need to fix the greenhouse up a bit, clean it so that he can have a semblance of organization. Most of the plants, herbs and flowers that he cultivates will go back with Seokjin, either to be arranged in bouquets or for Yoongi to use in his own goods.
“I hate to go,” Seokjin tells him, as the sun starts to sink and change the sky into darker hues. “But if I don’t leave now, I’ll be driving through the woods in complete darkness. You don’t want me to die tragically out there, do you?”
Namjoon shakes his head. “You’re too charming and handsome to die, hyung.”
Seokjin smiles, pleased. “Ah, Namjoon-ah, that’s why you’re my favorite. I’ll be back to check on you in a week, alright?”
Namjoon walks with him back to the road, where Seokjin’s car still sits. They hug one more time, Namjoon roping Seokjin in with only a few small protests. Then, Seokjin turns the key and his automobile coughs to life, shining two beams of light into the trees. Seokjin pulls a silly face, waving goodbye before pressing on the gas. Namjoon watches until his tail lights and the sound of his engine disappear, leaving him alone with the sound of cicadas and the gentle pulsing lights of early fireflies. He trudges back to the cottage, feeling along the trunks of trees so that he doesn’t trip again. His footing feels more sure than before, despite it being so dark.
Back at the house, he lights a lamp and sits with Yoongi’s envelope that Seokjin left on the table. His chicken scratch is almost indecipherable:
Namjoon,
I’ve sent this ahead of time because it’ll take a while for the postman to get out there. So I apologize if this sounds awkward, you’re still in the city as I write this. I’ve never been to this property that Seokjin is taking you to, and to be honest I’m not sure why he has such interest in it. He’s a man of mystery. Why am I business partners with him?
I looked at the property deed out of curiosity, and it’s peculiar. The last person who lived in Moonchild Cottage mysteriously disappeared, presumably they just decided to leave the cottage behind and go live in the woods. I don’t know if Seokjin told you, it was his great uncle who left it to Seokjin’s parents. The letter that he wrote giving property rights to them is perfectly legally binding and there’s no signs of insanity or anything--but he also gives no hint to where he went. Super strange. I definitely see where Seokjin gets his little quirks from...the reason I bring it up is just to warn you in case you find anything odd that may have belonged to the previous owner. He seemed like a peculiar man. I know you don’t like being in the dark about things and this struck me as something Seokjin might forget to tell you.
Anyway, that’s not the original purpose of my letter. I just wanted to send you something so that you’ll have my address if you ever want to write to me during your stay. Don’t feel any obligation, but it would be nice to hear from you. It would be nice to hear how you’re doing, how you’re feeling. I really hope that you find what you’re looking for outside of the city. I think you have the kind of heart that has always been too gentle for the harsh hustle and bustle of city life. The fresh air should be good for you. And you can make some new plant friends.
Until then, my address is on the envelope. I’ll come visit you with Seokjin when I can. And I look forward to seeing what you grow. Your absence will be felt.
Yours,
Yoongi
The previous owner? Namjoon flips the paper but there’s none of Yoongi’s handwriting on the back. No more explanation.
“Weird,” Namjoon says to himself. But he quickly puts it out of mind. Whatever happened then is in the past, and has no reign on him now. He shouldn’t waste time worrying over something like that. Thinking like that would be something that the old Namjoon did, the Namjoon who was constantly unhappy. He’s not trying to be like that now.
He locks the door shut behind him when he goes back to the bedroom, changing into sleep clothes and then blowing out the lamp. He takes off his glasses and leaves them on the nightstand, next to the matchbox.
The blankets are light and only smell slightly musty. Namjoon shucks his feet underneath them in the dull, bluish moonlight that streams through the window. Belatedly, he realizes it’s been left open, and the soft sound of leaves rustling and crickets chirping is seeping inside.
But he doesn’t want to get up, after he’s already changed and gotten into bed. And surely, there’s nothing but the curious insect that might come inside, right? He looks at the moon, silently asking it the question as if it might answer. It hangs in the sky in a bright slivered crescent. Namjoon isn’t normally superstitious, but maybe Yoongi’s letter and the name of his new home--Moonchild Cottage--make it feel somewhat auspicious. As he stares, he feels as if it might be staring back. He wonders if the moon could speak, what would it say?
The feeling of being watched doesn’t disappear, but Namjoon falls asleep anyway, curling up in the sheets in the moonlight that streams through the open window. He’s more tired than he thought, after the journey and spending the evening with Seokjin.
He only wakes once in the night. He blinks awake suddenly, confused by what woke him. There’s an echo of alarm, like there was some sudden noise or disruption. Blearily, he glances about the room, but sees nothing obviously amiss. The door to his bedroom has drifted open--he must not have closed it correctly when he came in. He rolls over, squints in the brightness of the moonlight. The window is closed as well. Perhaps the slam of the window is what woke him, pushed by a strong gust of wind?
Namjoon resolves not to worry over it. That’s his goal here, to stop worrying about every little thing that happens around him. He turns over again and closes his eyes, forcing himself back to sleep.
Nevermind that the trees weren’t moving with even a small breeze, and that he knows he locked the door. He screws his eyes shut and ignores the watchful gaze of the crescent moon.
✧
Living in the cottage is surprisingly easy.
There are a few things he doesn’t have to do while living in the city, like boil the well water and put wood in the fire, but there’s a certain simplicity to how things work that feels more compatible with his brain. He likes the rhythmic work of cleaning up the greenhouse, sweeping the cobbled floor and taking inventory of all the overgrown plants. Namjoon finds himself eased by the steady to-do list, the quiet peace that accompanies him with every task.
He was afraid that having so much time alone would make him worse. He feared that his thoughts, given the time and space to freely wander, would quickly overwhelm him. But he’s had no nightmares since he’s come to stay. Aside from the small disruption on the first night, there’s been no difficulty sleeping, even though he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in months back home.
It’s all very strange. His problems don’t feel gone, necessarily, but they certainly feel muted. Like a blanket of cool fog has settled and softened the edges of it all, given him a fresh perspective. Like the real world and its deadlines and life-or-death decisions is far away. It’s a nice change. It certainly has him feeling more relaxed and more in control. The steady, self-managed work he does might have a role in that.
About four days in, he’s almost finished with his work in the greenhouse. He has a pencil and paper and is categorizing the species of plants already present--most of the flowers and herbs will be good to go (with a little care and nourishment) to Yoongi and Seokjin, but there are some weeds and fungi that he’s writing down as well. He’d found a phonograph and set it up to play music, too. It seemed like the previous owner liked jazz, that was the only genre of record he could find. So he plays jazz as he works. It’s nice, if he’s honest.
It’s very different from his previous work. There’s nobody hounding him for results, and the quiet ambience of the greenhouse is startlingly different from the mind-numbing drone of air conditioning in the lab. It’s nice to be his own boss too, instead of being yelled at when he’s not fast enough, or if he breaks something when he’s trying to be fast enough.
He’s in a good mood. There’s a large variety of flora here and it’s all in surprisingly good shape. There’s daisies, buttercups, and he’s just moved on to a batch of colorful and diverse tulips. The blossoms are already forming from the bulbs, a little early but not unexpected since the greenhouse traps so much sun-warmth inside. There’s white, red, pink, and surprisingly--a single yellow tulip.
Intrigued, Namjoon sets down his paper and pencil and leans in closer.
“Hello, little friend. How did you get here?” As he comes closer he notices the blossom is irregular in shape, heavier than it should be at the bottom. The stem bends like there’s something inside. Did something get caught in it?
Carefully, he takes two fingers and pulls the petals apart to peer into the inside. He goes slowly, not wanting to damage or tear the flower. He bent down even closer, squinting. Yes, there was something nestled in the flower’s blossom.
He blinks.
That couldn’t be real, could it?
He blinks again, ever so cautious as he came within inches of the plant staring disbelievingly. His eyes wouldn’t lie to him, would they? What was curled up in the single, yellow tulip was what looked like...a small human. Or some kind of human-like creature?
“What…?” Namjoon breathes. Surely this is impossible. But then--he remembers what Yoongi’s letter said, about strange things happening on the property, and suddenly feels less sure.
The creature is curled up, seemingly asleep, and impossibly delicate looking. As close as Namjoon is, he can make out a short mop of rose-pink hair, dark against the yellow petals. The creature is clothed, oddly similar to humans, in garments that look to be made of plant material. And there were wings--insect-like in construction, most similar to a dragonfly’s in shape but wholly original in the way they almost shimmer with iridescence, like bubbles caught in the sun. They flutter daintily as the creature shivers, and Namjoon realizes that it is not asleep, but looking directly at him.
“Oh,” Namjoon breathes, caught off-guard. It shivers again, clearly frightened, but keeps its eyes on Namjoon. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you…”
At the sound of his voice, the creature flinches and makes a tiny sound of alarm. It shrinks down into its large, leafy poncho. Namjoon immediately feels terrible. He can’t help that his voice is so deep, or that he’s so large in comparison. This poor thing must be terrified of him, especially after being caught unaware during a nap.
“Shh,” Namjoon whispers as quietly as he can, as the creature continues to make sounds of distress, it’s ears pointing down in fright. It’s quite noisy, for such a small thing. Is this creature used to staying in the greenhouse like this? Is this its home? If that’s the case, Namjoon is the intruder here, and this little thing has every right to be frightened. As sad as that makes him, he tries to keep his voice level. “Shh, it’s okay.”
Maybe it was just his weakness for small, cute, delicate things, but its tiny noises of fear broke his heart. Slowly, he lifted his fingers from the flower entirely. Of course, he would find a way to screw something up so soon after coming here. “I’m so sorry. I apologize for disturbing you.”
But as his hand moves away, the little creature’s head pops out of the tulip, following the movement with its eyes. It quiets, tilting its head. Maybe curious?
Its reaction dampens some of Namjoon’s disappointment. Maybe he can prove to the creature that he’s not scary. Maybe he can figure out what it is--it’s about the size of a hummingbird, maybe it pollinates plants? Acts as a similar part of the local ecosystem?
“I’m Namjoon,” he whispers slowly, patting his chest. “It’s nice to meet you, little friend.”
The creature sticks itself out of the flower a little further, shaking its wings. Maybe an acknowledgement in of itself, some kind of greeting. It reaches for something, fidgeting around--and Namjoon realizes as it dips into the flower and then reappears, it has grabbed a hat , fashioned out of a smaller, white flower bud. And a bag to sling across its body made from grass blades and an acorn. The creature makes more noises, but if it meant anything the meaning was sadly lost on Namjoon. Its voice sounds like something in between a squirrely chirp and a melodious bell.
As strange as they are, Namjoon has to admit he is wholly endeared.
When they figure out that their voice will not work, the creature stops talking and instead sticks out its hand towards him. Namjoon is surprised by the human-ness of the gesture, and somewhat impressed. He sticks out a single finger in return, as his hand is almost the size of the entire creature’s body, and can’t help but laugh when they make an affirmative chirp, shake his finger with both hands, and bows . Namjoon makes sure to bow in return, slightly deeper to show his apology.
They chirp again, and then beat its wings. Before Namjoon could react it zips forward, airborne and all-too-close to his face.
He gasps in surprise, but tries to maintain very still and quiet as it touches its soft, tiny hands to his nose, his cheeks and his eyelids. It gets so close, he can make out the finer features of the tiny creature. Its ears, nose, and chin are all rather pointy and his eyes are an inhuman purple. His face is surprisingly expressive, shifting through expressions of surprise, curiosity, hesitance, happiness and embarrassment all at once. Their dainty features tug at something in Namjoon’s heart, the same instinctive urge he has to take care of his smallest, most delicate plants. Whatever this creature is, they’re pretty .
They talk again, patting their hands all over his face. Namjoon is clueless as to what they’re trying to communicate, but laughs because the tiny size of the creature’s hands are so absurd and ticklish.
They make a loud, almost whiny noise, as if annoyed by his laughter. Yes, if the expression on their face is translatable, they do seem a little put off. Do they think that Namjoon is mocking them?
As he tries to think of an appropriate apology, the creature backs away from his face. Their iridescent wings beat fast, like that of a dragonfly or hummingbird. The small creature is much too fast for his clumsy hands to catch, if Namjoon had even had the thought to do that. Instead, he simply watches as they dart upward. They hesitate near the door, which is propped open with a brick. He thinks they look back at him, before disappearing in a blink outside.
Namjoon is left stricken with wonder, kneeling on the dirty cobbled path of his greenhouse.
✧
Namjoon is less sure that what he saw was real, the longer he goes without seeing them again.
He sees nothing more of the little creature that day, or anything suggesting their presence for the week afterward. He goes back to the tulips and carefully looks through each one of the blossoms, but finds no more hints to the existence of anything living there or his strange encounter. The logical side of his brain tells him it must have been a dream. He must have dozed off while cataloguing. It’s happened before, back in the city. But he knows he didn’t. He’s been getting so much sleep here that there’s no way he’d drift off like that. In fact, he’s feeling the healthiest he’s felt in a long time. So it must have been real.
Today, he’s decided to pause work on the cottage and the greenhouse in favor of relaxing, or at least finding something else to fill his time and occupy his mind. He has to remind himself that there’s no rush to this project. Seokjin and Yoongi will take what he has for them whenever he’s ready.
He brews himself some tea out of some lavender he’d dried. His tea set is one of the few things he’d brought with him from the city. He loves the simple construction of them, the delicately painted glaze in the ceramic. A gift from his parents, and one that he has always treasured. The sky is a little cloudy and the air is cool today, perfect for sipping on a hot drink. Maybe it would also be a good time to write Yoongi a letter in return.
As an afterthought, Namjoon sets down his hot tea cup and goes in search of a fountain pen and paper.
He hasn’t had a chance to dig around yet. There are a few cabinets here and there in the house, full of miscellaneous objects that most likely belonged to the previous owner, Seokjin’s dead relative or what-have-you. He finds an old camera, half-finished embroidery projects, an out-of-tune violin. He finds what he’s looking for, however, in an old drawer in the nightstand of his bedroom.
“Ah,” he remarks victoriously, after forcing a stubborn drawer open. He is greeted by the familiar scent of old loose leaf paper, which takes over the entire drawer. Some are blank, and some are already marked on. Namjoon takes it all out, in search of pens that could be hidden underneath.
Some of the papers grab his attention when he drops them down onto the floor. It looks like there are drawings, along with regular old writing. Namjoon pauses. Would it be rude to read them? Certainly, Seokjin’s great uncle is dead by now. It wouldn’t be considered an invasion of privacy, would it? Well, nobody has to know he read them, do they? Giving in to his curiosity, Namjoon scoops up the pages to rifle through them.
What he finds makes him blink twice.
The drawings accompany the writing as illustrations, or sometimes stand alone. They depict the same kind of creature that Namjoon saw in the greenhouse--this one isn’t the same creature, but it has similar wings and pointed ears. Whoever had drawn them had done so in great detail, many times. They have a pouty face, lighter hair, and the wings are opaque and highly detailed. Closer to a butterfly’s wings. The drawing is beautiful, and the creature makes direct eye contact. It’s not a study, or at all diagram-like, but it was clearly drawn en plein-air. They seem to be posing. Namjoon is awestruck. How had this artist gotten the creature to stay still for so long?
He goes through the other papers and finds another illustration. Another small creature, with darker, longer hair. This one doesn’t make eye contact, but is lying down on a lily pad. Its wings are darker and thicker than the other drawing. Like a moth, maybe. There are simpler, quicker sketches of them both that show movement, how they zip around and float in the air. Namjoon remembers the light, iridescent wings of the one that he met. Somehow, he doesn’t think that these two are as quick.
There are dates on some of the papers. Namjoon is shocked to see them dated all the way back to fifty years ago. The writer would have to be Seokjin’s great uncle, wouldn’t it? The handwriting is slanted and faded with time, but Namjoon tries to read what he can. He finds the two creatures labelled with names. The lighter, butterfly-winged one is Jimin. The darker, moth-winged one is named Jungkook. Seokjin’s uncle calls them several things. Fairies, fae, fair folk.
Did Namjoon meet a fairy? He must have, this was too similar. What was their name? Could he meet them again? As much as he loved this newfound peace, he had to admit he wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to. Even if they were a tiny, magical fairy. A friend is a friend.
He takes the papers back with him to the living room and resumes drinking his tea, studying the notes and written entries instead of writing Yoongi, like he had originally planned to. He learns all sorts of things. Apparently, Seokjin’s great uncle had talked to these fairies for years. He had learned much about them, including the rules they followed, special abilities they had, customs they kept. He also wrote about their friendship. Namjoon found those accounts the most heartwarming. He discussed going on picnics with his friends, being gifted flowers, how they liked to model for his drawings and having conversations with him about aspects of humanity they didn’t understand.
If I want to talk to them, the man has written, All I have to do is tell the moon, and she passes the message along. Then they know to come and visit. Someday, I think I’ll be ready to visit them in their home too.
Tell the moon?
Namjoon flips through the other notes, looking to see if there’s anything else on what that means. There isn’t. Seokjin’s great-uncle, as Yoongi implied, was strange. He had a very point-blank, non explanatory way of writing. Of course he would, why would he need to explain what he already knows? Clearly, these weren’t meant for anyone to see. They were only meant for personal recollection.
The last drawing he finds is of the two fairies together. Jimin and Jungkook both seem human-sized, wings completely missing. They are smiling and sprawled across each other, as only people who are very close can do so casually. He can’t discern if it’s brotherly, or more romantic in nature, but what is clear is how much care the artist had for them both. The drawing has clearly been sketched with careful, slow markings. There is only a small excerpt for writing near the bottom of the paper:
I came to see them today for the first time. They were so happy to have me, even though I was nervous. Their realm is the most beautiful place I have ever seen.
Namjoon finishes his tea. He picks out a blank piece of paper and tries to think of what he could write back to Yoongi. Hi hyung, I’m doing better. I met a small fairy that has magical abilities and found out that Seokjin’s great uncle actually disappeared into a fairy realm. How are you? No, that won’t do. He gnaws on his lip. Maybe it would be better for him to leave out the part about fairies, for now. He can tell Yoongi if he comes to visit in person. Maybe when he feels the aura of this place, he’ll feel less inclined to bring Namjoon to a psychologist. If someone told him that over a letter, he wouldn’t believe it either. But there’s something about the atmosphere here that feels magical. The quality of the air is different. Things don’t seem so impossible in Moonchild Cottage, whether it be magic or his own improving health.
He ends up writing a brief letter, mostly about the details of the house. He includes a sample of the tea bags he’s made too, one for Seokjin and Yoongi each. If they like it, he’ll make more.
After that, there’s not much else to do. It’s nice, actually. Back in the city there was always something going on, something he needed to do, not enough hours in the day to get everything done. He thought that was what he wanted, but it got so overwhelming. He didn’t even realize it at first, it was Yoongi who had sat him down and told him--after he hadn’t slept for three days--that he was running himself to the bone. Here, he finds the time to breathe. He goes to bed early after taking a bath.
The sheets are soft and cool under his clean skin, and he lets out a sigh of contentment. The moon is out tonight again, slightly bigger and brighter than the crescent that had hung in the sky before. He can even make out a few stars beyond the trees too, hanging out with the moon like its twinkly little friends. Did the previous owner lie in this bed and look at the moon just like this? Did he talk to it?
Hello, Moon, Namjoon thinks. He’s not quite brave enough to try speaking out loud, even if he is alone. Are you watching? I read something today that said I should ask you to see the fairy again. The little fairy that I met in the garden. Namjoon thinks about the creature again, it’s delicate little wings and cute, exaggerated expressions. It really was adorable. It would be really interesting to study, but more than that, he likes them. The idea of seeing them again makes his heart jump with excitement. He falls asleep, and dreams of it flying up to his bedroom window and peeking through at him.
✧
The next morning, he goes to the greenhouse and the little fairy is there waiting for him.
He doesn’t expect them, and startles when he sees them sitting on a large plant leaf just inside the entrance. He drops his watering can and makes a sad noise when all of the water spills out onto the ground, splattering his overalls.
“You scared me,” he says to it, a little breathlessly. Part of him can’t believe that it’s actually here again. Did talking to the moon work? Or is this just a coincidence? As Namjoon bends over to pick up his watering can, the fairy makes little indecipherable noises. When Namjoon looks up at it through his bangs, it’s gesturing widely and clearly trying to communicate something.
“I’m sorry,” he tells them. “I can’t understand you.” He straightens with a sudden thought. “Wait, wait, wait.” He holds his hands up and the fairy quiets. He points to himself. “Can you understand me ?”
The fairy nods up-and-down. It makes more bell-like noises, then seems to give up with a frustrated harrumph. Today they have a different set of clothes on. The bag and the hat are still the same, but the poncho is gone. In its place is a short, tunic-like garment that ends in shorts rather than a skirt. The fairy is barefoot. Namjoon watches, enchanted, as they stand up on the palm leaf and begin to make big gestures. First they make their arms into a large circle above their head, then mime two people talking with both hands. Then they point to themselves, flutter their wings, and finally, the journey ends with them pointing towards Namjoon. They say something short and tilt their head. A question?
Namjoon hums. He’s not sure he understands, even with the imaginative pantomiming. He fixes the fairy with a sorry look, and to his quiet distress the fairy droops when they realize that he still doesn’t get it. “Can you write?”
The fairy nods. The humanity of its gestures surprises Namjoon. He wonders how many humans they’ve met. Do they know Jimin and Jungkook? Would they have known Seokjin’s great uncle? He needs to look deeper into those papers, there might be something about how they communicate. Namjoon slowly extends his hand out to the fairy.
“Come with me?” he asks.
The fairy looks unsurely at Namjoon’s extended palm. Their wings flutter unsurely, capturing light in a captivating way. It edges towards the end of the leaf slowly, glancing up at Namjoon periodically. He feels a little like he’s taming a wild animal. The key is to remain calm, quiet and still. The fairy fixes their little hat and makes a quiet noise before flapping their wings once to hop off the leaf. Namjoon holds his breath as they gently land on his hand, light as a feather. They sit down in his palm immediately, leaning over to hug his thumb as Namjoon begins to move. So tiny.
“I have so many questions,” Namjoon begins as he opens the door of the greenhouse. “How did you get in there? Did talking to the moon really work? What’s your name? What do you eat? Why are you here? Do you have to clean your wings?”
The fairy chatters back, but whether they answer his questions is unclear. Their voice rises a panicked octave when Namjoon’s foot catches on an uneven floorboard and he teeters for a second, before regaining his balance.
“Sorry!” Namjoon says, and brings his other hand to hover above where the fairy clings to his palm for extra protection. Not that the fairy would get hurt, it could just fly away, but--it makes Namjoon feel a bit better until they reach the house again, where the papers have been collected and spread onto his dining table. The little fairy carefully dismounts from his hand, stepping gingerly onto the table.
“I’ll find a pen,” Namjoon says, ducking away. When he comes back with one, some of the papers have been moved. The fairy is staring at a drawing of the two fairies. Not one of the more highly-rendered ones, but a sketch that looks quick and gestural. Namjoon tilts his head. “Oh, do you know them?”
The fairy turns at Namjoon’s voice and makes grabby hands for the pen excitedly. Namjoon hands it over easily. Even though it’s only slightly smaller than the fairy’s entire form, it seems to know how a pen works and uses it with surprising ease. They bring the pen over and...they draw a mustache over Jimin’s face.
Namjoon blinks as the fairy starts to giggle. It flutters its wings over to where the darker fairy is drawn, and starts adding more facial hair while also trying to stifle its own amusement. It fails, and quickly collapses onto the paper with the tiny force of its bright laughter.
“You know them?” Namjoon guesses. The harmlessness of the defacement suggests--”Friends?”
To his delight, the fairy nods after recovering from its own giggles. They move the pen to the side, and with a little more care start to write.
Namjoon holds back his excitement as much as he can. A fairy that is literate! And in human language, too! What could that possibly mean? Where could it have learned their alphabet? Has it read real books, or are those too large? Does it have little fairy books? Does this imply the existence of a written alphabet for fair folk, and the existence of non-human literature?
The writing (probably due to the ginormous size of the pen) is sloppy, but in rudimentary letters, the fairy spells out a word. Namjoon leans closer to read it.
“Hope?” he says, glancing at the fairy. “What do you mean?”
The fairy gestures to itself, then back to the word.
“Is that...your name?”
Vigorous nodding.
“Ah,” A smile grows on Namjoon’s face as the fairy--Hope--continues gesturing between itself and the name. “That’s really cute. It’s nice to meet you, Hope-ssi.”
Hope gets shyer at the compliment, a dusting of vibrant pink spreading across their face. It’s just slightly too saturated to be human--it must be magic.
He has no idea what such a delightful, magic being is doing at Moonchild Cottage. He has no idea why Hope seems to be entertaining Namjoon’s questions and sticking around, but he’s not about to complain about it. Does Hope know how to garden? There are already half-formed plans in his head for all the things Hope and he could do together. But for now, he’ll remain happy with the fact that Hope can write, and try to get to know and understand them a little better.
That night, Hope chooses to stay in the cottage with Namjoon instead of disappearing. They converse late into the evening, and Namjoon takes special pleasure in the fairy’s cute reaction when he brews him a tiny cup of tea and gives him a honeyed sugar cube to munch on. And when lifting the pen gets too tiring for Hope, he gets the fire going (without lighting himself on fire, which is an accomplishment by itself) and a book out, and Hope settles on his shoulder to listen to Namjoon read out loud.
Hope falls asleep around two hours in, slumped against the slope of Namjoon’s neck. They clearly didn’t mean to. They’d been paying such close attention before. It was touching. Normally when he went on and on like this, people got bored or asked him politely to shut up. But not Hope. They seemed interested in anything human. Namjoon moves with more delicacy than he knew was possible, lightly cradling the small fairy into his hand.
If this is going to be a regular occurrence, Hope really needs a good place to sleep. Maybe he should consider building him a little space, with correctly proportioned things to make their visits more comfortable? He’s dabbled in construction before, surely making a small bed wouldn’t be so hard. And surely, the previous owner of the house had also made some accommodations for fairy-sized people that he can find.
For now, he’s not sure what he can do besides tuck them into his bed and pull the duvet up to Hope’s waist. He doesn’t want to cover the wings until he knows the blanket’s weight won’t damage them by accident. The moon is out, in almost full force. It seems brighter tonight as it lights up his bedroom. Hope had confirmed this evening that there was a connection between the natural world and his kind. That the moon is like a power source, something that helps them cross over from their own world of magic into the world of mundanity. Seokjin’s great-uncle must have been right about the moon hearing Namjoon’s thoughts, and granting them.
Namjoon came here for some time alone. He came here for peace. He didn’t envision being around people very much. Just Yoongi and Seokjin, mostly. Maybe the mailman. But he has to admit, it’s nice to have a friend. One who isn’t tied to the smoggy city he came from. Someone who is as refreshing as the clean, clear breeze and just as free.
With that in mind, he asks the moon one more thing before getting ready to sleep himself.
If Hope likes it here, would you mind letting them stay just a little longer?