#the guy ever i will mold him like a blob of clay

[lxveille]

for the 100 ways to say I love you, can I request 57 with Jeonghan please~

100 ways to say i love you (send a member + a number; still accepting)WC: ~ 1220 ; non-denominational divinity!AU (honestly, idk guys)

In the bright, empty space of before, the Architect drew a map. It was painted on a black-and-silver canvas, and stitched into existence with the finest thread of time. The Architect painted in the plateaus and poured vast oceans with tender care before They set a light above it all and burned Their own thumb upon the fire therein.

A power higher than the Architect whispered inspiration, and They went to Their next task. From the clay of the earth, the Architect molded you into existence. The first divine craftsman, born with soft hands and a strong will. The Architect set you to your purpose: to add detail and life to the world They had created.

So you calloused your palms molding mountains and weaved long grass and cattails into plains and wetlands.

You were not there when the Architect funneled saltwater over marble coverings and brought the second craftsman into being. But you smiled when They presented him to you as your companion and equal, and called his name as Jeonghan.

It was a smile that did not last.

For now, as an example, you stand on the opposite side of a stream from him and throw your hands into the air with an exclamation of, “You wretch!”

His smirk tells easily that he knows exactly why you’re upset even as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This?” You gesture towards the steady flow of water between the two of you. “This was not the plan!”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Jeonghan replies with a carefree shrug, “I don’t see why you’re so wound up about it.”

“You’re insufferable!” you yell, “Why do you insist on this? Just, water? Everywhere? You’ll end up flooding all of the earth at this rate!”

“You’re exaggerating.” He rolls his eyes, but that frustrating smirk is still firmly planted upon his expression. “But now that you mention it–!”

“Don’t you dare!” you cut him off, taking strides through the water separating you to arrive right in front of Jeonghan. “I’ve put hard work into this! Do you really think They would approve of you pulling something like that?”

Jeonghan’s smirk only seems to grow, head tilting several degrees to the left as he contemplates your question. “Wouldn’t it be interesting to see what would happen, though?”

The stream expands at his will as his speaks until you are both standing knee high in cool water. You look down and then back at him with half a mind to reach out and smack him for his imprudence. Instead, you manage to catch him off guard by shoving at his shoulders suddenly, sending him falling back into the river water ungracefully.

You trudge out to the new banks of the river. With a glance back, you find Jeonghan sitting up, drenched and eying you with nothing but amusement in his gaze. “Have fun with your… blobs,” you call to him as you turn to leave.

“Fish,” he reminds you of his creation’s appellation quickly, and you can hear the smug expression back in his tone.

These bickers are commonplace between you two craftsmen. The Architect has never told you to make amends, or have They ever given you any direct answer when you’ve inquired why exactly it seems Jeonghan treats you more as competitor than equivalent.

“It will be as it’s meant to,” They tell you as you kneel in deference at your creator’s feet.

“It’s meant to be infuriating?” you question back, your voice wavering from its usual compliance where the Architect is concerned.

“My cherished craftsman, I’ll answer you only with a second inquiry,” the Architect replies, leaning forward to touch a gentle hand to the top of your head, “What did you ever feel before Jeonghan’s existence?”

You consider the Architect’s words for five days in isolate corners of the earth, constructing new flowers and stretching trees into open sky, before realizing the answer is nothing at all. Even appreciation and devotion to the Architect themself hadn’t rooted itself in your heart until Jeonghan appeared as a contrasting force in your life.

“Where have you been?” Jeonghan asks when you come upon him on a shores of a sea.

“Inventing,” you reply vaguely.

“That’s a what, not where,” he points out, looking you over from head to toe as if searching for residual evidence of the the answer he’d asked after. You smile, tongue to the back of your teeth, as you mimic his usual demeanor and shrug back at his words.

He scoffs, looking back out to the waves as he adds, “I have something to show you.”

You comply, and let him take you from seaside inland, leading back to a lake you’d begrudged him for forming quite some time ago. On the hilltop, he gives a subdued gesture towards the water. (Odd, because usually he presents things with flourish and enough pride to make you irate; it’s almost as if he is nervous this time.)

At first glance, you believe the lake has shrunk in size — but the green that sits there doesn’t resemble any grass you’ve yet known. A few disbelieving steps downhill let you make out that rather than smaller, there’s greenery floating upon the water. Rounded pads of thin green life, interspersed with bright blossoms of white and pink.

“What are there?” you ask when you feel Jeonghan fall into place beside you.

“Lilies,” he says simply. You tear your gaze from the plant-spotted water to give him a puzzled look. Lilies were your own doing; a past time almost how many shapes and colors you’d created of them thus far. You had doubted Jeonghan even known their name.

“They don’t exactly look like lilies,” you tell him. The words come out gentler than even you are expecting.

He is still looking down at the lake when he clarifies, “Well, they’re water lilies.”

You let your sight trail back down the hill to the flowers floating atop the lake. “Why?”

“There is enough room for both of us.” Jeonghan looks at you with that; you can feel his gaze upon your profile as a breeze passes between the two of you. “It’s a big world They made.”

“So you’re suggesting we stay apart from one another?” It’s your first interpretation of his words, wondering if perhaps these flowers are meant to show that he can create things the resemble your own work as well.

“The opposite, actually,” he says, drawing your attention back to his face. You search his expression for further explanation, and find only that there’s something uncertain but tender in the curve of his smile.  “There’s something else I wanted to show you.”

“What’s that?”

He steps closer and rests a hand upon your shoulder. “I don’t know what you’d call it,” he speaks lower now that his face his merely centimeters away from your own, his voice no louder than the wind that brushes by, “But I want to try.”

It is odd, at first, this new and nameless invention of his. His mouth comes to rest against yours, lips no longer in a smirk nor frown, but instead pressing plush on your own. You feel compelled to close your eyes, and so you do, returning some light pressure back against his until your lips part delicately, like petals unfolding to bloom.

Something yet undefined sparks within you.