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fic advent: day eight
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sunlitstreet ♥
yixing/minseok
pg, 1.3k words
au. "xiumin works at a glass factory and lay is a young nobleman who falls in love with his glass sculptures (and with him)."
sunlitstreet ♥yixing/minseok
pg, 1.3k words
au. "xiumin works at a glass factory and lay is a young nobleman who falls in love with his glass sculptures (and with him)."
Yixing's mouth falls open as he carefully traces a finger along one sharp wing. The glass dragon is small, but perfectly crafted, a pair of delicate wings outstretched as it breathes out glass fire.
“Your father picked it up for me when he was out the other day,” Yixing's mother says, almost proudly. “Isn't it lovely?”
It takes a second for Yixing to look up again. “It is,” he agrees, keeping his tone polite. His mother has always had a love for shiny baubles that his father enjoys indulging, and he's sure she appreciates it. There is a part of him, though, that is telling him that this little dragon will outshine the rest of her collection. “Where did he find it?” He sets it down gently, a little reluctantly.
“The glassblower has a new apprentice,” his mother replies, distracted. She frowns at him and Yixing's eyes widen. “Look at you, such a mess.” She pushes at his bangs and sighs as they just slide right back into his eyes. “Go clean yourself up for dinner. And find your brother!”
Yixing inclines his head, the picture of obedience. “Yes, mother,” he says.
He finds Lu Han in the stable, chin propped up in one hand as he sweet talks the stable boy. It's maybe a little cruel, but Yixing can't help but laugh as the stable boy reddens and ducks his head, returning to his tasks. “Leave poor Sehun alone,” Yixing chides, and he reddens further, back straight as he pointedly ignores Yixing's words. “Mother wants us to come for dinner.”
“How boring,” Lu Han sighs. He turns and hooks his thin arm through Yixing's. “Well, let us go, brother. Duty calls.” As they walk back to the house, Yixing ignores the way he turns to look over his shoulder and the smile on his face.
“Don't you have better things to do with your time than watch him muck out the stable?” Yixing teases. They walk side by side, in step, arms around each other's waists. Lu Han looks nothing like Yixing, he's older but is always confused for the younger brother, his features delicate and his smile disarmingly sweet. Nevertheless, they are often confused for twins. It's not surprising, really, and neither much mind. They are inseparable, after all.
Lu Han shrugs a shoulder, unfazed. “I suppose,” he says. “But he has such nice long legs. And his back. And the bit where those two meet – ” He makes a lewd gesture and Yixing laughs, pushing him away.
“Careful,” Yixing chides, grinning. “What if your future bride hears you talking like that? Aren't you supposed to meet with her in two days time?”
“If it is true love,” Lu Han says, eyes sharp, dark, and amused. “She will ask to join us.” Their laughter echoes in the corridor as Lu Han drags them to the dining room, and Yixing doesn't even mind it when their mother scolds him for not fixing his hair.
-
When next his father suggests that Yixing accompany him to town on some errands, the image of the little glass dragon drifts into Yixing's mind and he finds himself agreeing. His father is a man of little words and the day passes slowly, but it is pleasant enough. Yixing does like to get out and see people, and his father gives him a few sweets to share with the children that run around underfoot in the market. He loves the way they smile.
They're heading home when Yixing catches sight of the glassblower's shop. “Isn't that where you got the dragon?” Yixing asks quickly. It's unlike him to take an interest in the shiny toys his father brings home, and he colours under his father's gaze. “Mother seemed quite taken with it, is all.”
His father is easy. That's all it takes before he is calling out for their driver to stop the carriage and Yixing smiles to himself as he follows him into the shop.
It's a small room, brightly lit to show the wares off to great effect. “Touch nothing,” Yixing's father warns, and Yixing nods. He promptly ignores this, though. It's all so beautiful.
His father goes to speak to the proprietor, a stout man with a barrel chest, and Yixing wanders through the shop, stopping here and there to touch the smooth glass. There is a shelf of vases Yixing knows his mother would adore, and Yixing lifts one with careful hands. Thin threads of gold spiral from the wide neck down to the narrow bottom. It's beautiful. “Yixing.” His father's voice is stern and Yixing bows his head apologetically, replacing the vase.
He drifts on, and finds what he was looking for. There is a whole case of beautiful little creatures. He sighs to himself as he runs a fingertip down the back of of a winged lion, and he laughs a little. “A unicorn?” he says quietly.
“What's wrong with unicorns?” A voice asks. Yixing glances up to see a face he's never seen before. Arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, round cheeks, and an amused smile on his mouth. If Yixing squints, he supposes he could see the resemblance between this young man and the proprietor. A nephew, perhaps?
“Nothing at all,” Yixing assures him, laughter in his voice. “They are very pretty.”
The young man looks at the glass figurines. “They are, aren't they?” he says. The pride in his expression makes Yixing's eyes widen.
“You made these?” he asks. He carefully picks up the unicorn and examines it, as though somehow he could find some part of this glassblower in his work.
The smile on the young man's face widens, and Yixing's chest clenches. “Do you like them?” There's something easy about his eyes on Yixing, his grin. It pulls Yixing in, makes him lean towards him. He watches the young man's eyes flick towards the glassblower and Yixing's father, and then back. “You can have it, if you'd like,” he tells Yixing, gesturing to the unicorn in his hands.
It startles a quiet laugh out of Yixing. What is he going to with a glass unicorn? It's a silly thing. But the glassblower's apprentice is watching him expectantly, a faint flush on his cheeks, and Yixing's fingers close carefully around the figurine. “I think I would,” he says.
“Yixing.” He has to fight back the disappointment in his belly when his father calls his name. “We need to get home.”
With small, nimble hands, the young man plucks the figurine out of his pocket and wraps it in a scarf. “Be careful with it,” he tells Yixing, his fingers brushing against Yixing's as he hands it back.
“I will,” Yixing says firmly.
“Yixing.”
There is no time. Still, Yixing risks it. He catches the young glassblower's sleeve in his hand before he goes. “Your name?” he pleads quickly, feigning ignorance of his father's annoyed expression. “Do I not get to know who makes this wonderful art?”
He grins, showing Yixing a flash of his gums. “Minseok,” he says. “My name is Minseok.”
A big hand closes around the nape of his neck. “Nice to meet you,” Yixing says breathlessly as his father drags him away.
The whole ride back, Yixing's heart does backflips in his chest, the glass of the figurine warm in his hands. His father eyes the bauble in his hands but says nothing, smiling a little. There is a good chance that Yixing will be coming to town a lot more often from now on. He smiles.
“Your father picked it up for me when he was out the other day,” Yixing's mother says, almost proudly. “Isn't it lovely?”
It takes a second for Yixing to look up again. “It is,” he agrees, keeping his tone polite. His mother has always had a love for shiny baubles that his father enjoys indulging, and he's sure she appreciates it. There is a part of him, though, that is telling him that this little dragon will outshine the rest of her collection. “Where did he find it?” He sets it down gently, a little reluctantly.
“The glassblower has a new apprentice,” his mother replies, distracted. She frowns at him and Yixing's eyes widen. “Look at you, such a mess.” She pushes at his bangs and sighs as they just slide right back into his eyes. “Go clean yourself up for dinner. And find your brother!”
Yixing inclines his head, the picture of obedience. “Yes, mother,” he says.
He finds Lu Han in the stable, chin propped up in one hand as he sweet talks the stable boy. It's maybe a little cruel, but Yixing can't help but laugh as the stable boy reddens and ducks his head, returning to his tasks. “Leave poor Sehun alone,” Yixing chides, and he reddens further, back straight as he pointedly ignores Yixing's words. “Mother wants us to come for dinner.”
“How boring,” Lu Han sighs. He turns and hooks his thin arm through Yixing's. “Well, let us go, brother. Duty calls.” As they walk back to the house, Yixing ignores the way he turns to look over his shoulder and the smile on his face.
“Don't you have better things to do with your time than watch him muck out the stable?” Yixing teases. They walk side by side, in step, arms around each other's waists. Lu Han looks nothing like Yixing, he's older but is always confused for the younger brother, his features delicate and his smile disarmingly sweet. Nevertheless, they are often confused for twins. It's not surprising, really, and neither much mind. They are inseparable, after all.
Lu Han shrugs a shoulder, unfazed. “I suppose,” he says. “But he has such nice long legs. And his back. And the bit where those two meet – ” He makes a lewd gesture and Yixing laughs, pushing him away.
“Careful,” Yixing chides, grinning. “What if your future bride hears you talking like that? Aren't you supposed to meet with her in two days time?”
“If it is true love,” Lu Han says, eyes sharp, dark, and amused. “She will ask to join us.” Their laughter echoes in the corridor as Lu Han drags them to the dining room, and Yixing doesn't even mind it when their mother scolds him for not fixing his hair.
-
When next his father suggests that Yixing accompany him to town on some errands, the image of the little glass dragon drifts into Yixing's mind and he finds himself agreeing. His father is a man of little words and the day passes slowly, but it is pleasant enough. Yixing does like to get out and see people, and his father gives him a few sweets to share with the children that run around underfoot in the market. He loves the way they smile.
They're heading home when Yixing catches sight of the glassblower's shop. “Isn't that where you got the dragon?” Yixing asks quickly. It's unlike him to take an interest in the shiny toys his father brings home, and he colours under his father's gaze. “Mother seemed quite taken with it, is all.”
His father is easy. That's all it takes before he is calling out for their driver to stop the carriage and Yixing smiles to himself as he follows him into the shop.
It's a small room, brightly lit to show the wares off to great effect. “Touch nothing,” Yixing's father warns, and Yixing nods. He promptly ignores this, though. It's all so beautiful.
His father goes to speak to the proprietor, a stout man with a barrel chest, and Yixing wanders through the shop, stopping here and there to touch the smooth glass. There is a shelf of vases Yixing knows his mother would adore, and Yixing lifts one with careful hands. Thin threads of gold spiral from the wide neck down to the narrow bottom. It's beautiful. “Yixing.” His father's voice is stern and Yixing bows his head apologetically, replacing the vase.
He drifts on, and finds what he was looking for. There is a whole case of beautiful little creatures. He sighs to himself as he runs a fingertip down the back of of a winged lion, and he laughs a little. “A unicorn?” he says quietly.
“What's wrong with unicorns?” A voice asks. Yixing glances up to see a face he's never seen before. Arched eyebrows, high cheekbones, round cheeks, and an amused smile on his mouth. If Yixing squints, he supposes he could see the resemblance between this young man and the proprietor. A nephew, perhaps?
“Nothing at all,” Yixing assures him, laughter in his voice. “They are very pretty.”
The young man looks at the glass figurines. “They are, aren't they?” he says. The pride in his expression makes Yixing's eyes widen.
“You made these?” he asks. He carefully picks up the unicorn and examines it, as though somehow he could find some part of this glassblower in his work.
The smile on the young man's face widens, and Yixing's chest clenches. “Do you like them?” There's something easy about his eyes on Yixing, his grin. It pulls Yixing in, makes him lean towards him. He watches the young man's eyes flick towards the glassblower and Yixing's father, and then back. “You can have it, if you'd like,” he tells Yixing, gesturing to the unicorn in his hands.
It startles a quiet laugh out of Yixing. What is he going to with a glass unicorn? It's a silly thing. But the glassblower's apprentice is watching him expectantly, a faint flush on his cheeks, and Yixing's fingers close carefully around the figurine. “I think I would,” he says.
“Yixing.” He has to fight back the disappointment in his belly when his father calls his name. “We need to get home.”
With small, nimble hands, the young man plucks the figurine out of his pocket and wraps it in a scarf. “Be careful with it,” he tells Yixing, his fingers brushing against Yixing's as he hands it back.
“I will,” Yixing says firmly.
“Yixing.”
There is no time. Still, Yixing risks it. He catches the young glassblower's sleeve in his hand before he goes. “Your name?” he pleads quickly, feigning ignorance of his father's annoyed expression. “Do I not get to know who makes this wonderful art?”
He grins, showing Yixing a flash of his gums. “Minseok,” he says. “My name is Minseok.”
A big hand closes around the nape of his neck. “Nice to meet you,” Yixing says breathlessly as his father drags him away.
The whole ride back, Yixing's heart does backflips in his chest, the glass of the figurine warm in his hands. His father eyes the bauble in his hands but says nothing, smiling a little. There is a good chance that Yixing will be coming to town a lot more often from now on. He smiles.