Jongin had always been a child of summer. 

It was a way of life for him, truly, a reality he had never once questioned before. Even since his childhood days, which he had spent chasing butterflies down dirt roads, fingers sticky with watermelon juice and dark skin glowing, he had loved the summer like his own mother.

Summer brought with it the sun, which seemed to shine especially bright just for Jongin back in those days; it brought juicy peaches dangling from neighbors’ branches that tempted naughty little boys with innocent eyes and not-so-innocent intentions; it brought laughter and joy and friendship, all with the burning intensity and fervor of a thousand summer suns.

Yes, Jongin had always loved the summer.

When EXO’s debut was confirmed for April 8, 2011, he’d told s the date must have been chosen so that a glorious summer would stretch out before them, not only literally but also figuratively. Just as the temperatures would soar and the flowers would burst into blissful blossom, EXO’s popularity would thrive in the heat of summer, he informed them sagely. But the only difference was that their summer would never end; no, no autumn would come for EXO, he was sure of that. Their legacy would burn on, uninterrupted, unchallenged, unfazed in the face of time.

The other members had chuckled nervously, patting his arm and telling him not to get ahead of himself. But Jongin knew he wasn't. They were twelve young, handsome, and talented boys, luxuriating in the heady pleasure of youth and their brotherly bond. Nothing could take them down, he thought to himself with a handsome, confident smirk. 

Oh, how wrong he was.

The day the first member left, Jongin felt something akin to fear for the first time in a long, long while. Icy cold, it nipped at his toes, teeth razor-sharp and dangerous. What was it exactly? He didn’t know, but it worried him. Coldness had no place in the kingdom of summer, in the kingdom of Kai. Whatever it was, he pushed it firmly aside and ignored it, patching the icy scars it left behind with forced laughs and jokes told in a practice room that seemed suddenly all too large for himself and his ten remaining brothers. 

But never mind. A child of summer was not meant to linger on sad thoughts or regrets for long, and so Jongin moved on with life. Long days at the dance studio stretched longer and longer; the sweat that beaded up on his sun-kissed skin rolled faster and faster. Practice was more important than ever now to sustain the eternal summer he had promised himself and s. Perhaps Jongin was arrogant, but he knew better than to fall behind in the practice room. Things would get better, he knew they would,