Your story is a never-ending circle of hellos and goodbyes.

Every time he comes, you die a little. The closer he is, the weaker you are. But you can’t resist the push and pull, it’s too strong and you just stand there, waiting, in a white frothy dress and pink flowers in your hair. Anticipation is eating you up but you don’t have to wait long. It happens practised, like clockwork: the door undergrown by tree branches opens on time and a slight tremble rushes through your body as the cold wind sweeps under your sunkissed skin.

A tall figure steps out of the grape and chestnut scented room and elegantly as ever, he makes his way down the marble stairs. Straight towards you without hesitation or any second thought. It drains and suffocates you, the closeness, but you know he feels it, too. You have learnt to live with the heavy burden on your chest a long time ago. Yet, you let out a shuddery breath when he stops an arm-length away from you. You are not sure though whether it’s out of relief or disappointment.

“Long time no see,” he greets you, his raspy voice a little cold and distant but the slightest warmth is mirrored in his falling leaves coloured eyes. He looks refreshed, wide awake after sleeping for six lunar months. It is indeed a long time. Even for you, eternal creatures.

“Yes,” you nod with a painful smile, fingers mindlessly tapping on the thorns of the flowers in your hand. You are not capable of bleeding but you wonder, if they opened up your chest, would your heart bleed carmine love?

It’s always like that. Bittersweet moments of small talks, avoiding the obvious, never addressing the elephant in the room. Of course, it always has to be that one who you can’t have. Even immortals aren’t smarter than foolish humans hoping for more than they can get.

You watch the sadness shift and turn in Younghyun’s beautiful orbs, the ache written clearly in the wrinkles of his eternally young features and the nostalgia in every swift move of his. You love the sound of melancholy dancing in his voice, the evanescence in his bones, the mystery of his being.

He is like autumn itself: one part warmth, three parts cold. As time goes by he’s rougher and lonelier. Ruthless with storms in his eyes and harsh words dancing on his lips. The nature dies under his watch but he directs it so beautifully like a conductor with a grand orchestra playing Vivaldi all majestic and flawless, like a painter working on an empty canvas, spilling fierce reds, vivid oranges, sorrowful yellows and all kind of browns all over it, painting a colourful chaos pleasing to look at or like a writer typing a story so angst that it tugs on the readers’ heartstrings making them cry but adore his work.

He is one of the creators of withering and you were born to help the world bloom. You two are the same yet you couldn’t be any more different: like the day and the night, the sun and the moon. One cannot exist without the other but you cannot exist at the same time in the same place. You are circling around each other like bees around flowers rich in nectarine.

“How has the summer been so far?” he asks and you say: “Hot.”

Colder without you, you mean which is a paradox in itself but you know better. He may bring cool breezes or even vicious hurricanes, but his loving arms keep you sound and safe. Metaphorically, of course.

You look up at sun shining high in the sky, providing the longest period of daylight today of all days of the year. It’s the day he wakes up and you go to sleep leaving you only precious moments to meet. The summer and winter solstice, you can only see each other during these events. You miss the autumnal equinox, he misses the spring one. Because that’s just who you are: spirits of seasons, guardians of the balance.

“I made you something.” Still lost in your thoughts you find your voice and it’s sweet and airy as you lift the flower crown in your hands to eye-level.

“You shouldn’t have,” Younghyun mumbles, his stiff features morphing into apologetic already.

“I wanted to,” you whisper bashfully and standing on your tiptoes, you gently place the crown on his head, careful not to touch him. You are dangerously close and the way he looks at you is so intense, it makes you tremble.

You can’t explain the longing in your heart but you have lived long enough to know that this isn’t like the respect or fear that you feel towards the spirits of summer and winter. This is something more, a little more intimate and you wonder if anyone ever felt this way. Like the sun that loves the moon so much he dies everyday just to see her shine. Can it be real, a love like this?

Even gods and goddesses aren’t immune to love and they are not supposed to be but in your case, it’s not that easy. What would happen to the balance? You can’t even touch each other without causing a little havoc, messing up the seasons’ order. But of course, everybody yearns for the forbidden fruit. It’s something humans took after the deities.

You watch in silence as the flowers in Younghyun’s hair change colours and wither in front of your eyes leaving nothing but a thorny circle of branch. You knew it would happen since everything he touches, slowly dies. While you, you are the definition of everything that blossoms and flourishes and wherever you go, flowers bloom. Sometimes you recklessly think about what would happen if you two made love. Would his powers kill you, bare you from your existence, make you grow cold and lifeless? Or would you plant flowers of love in his lungs making it hard for him to breathe?

Silly, silly thoughts. You cast your eyes down at your risky daydreams and Younghyun’s voice is soothing when he speaks up:

“Are you tired?”

You nod as honest as you can be. His presence makes you even sleepier.

“You know I am. It’s your turn to take the stake,” you force out an encouraging smile but sorrow is evident in your light voice. “But I wish I could stay longer.”

“It’s okay,” he says understanding. Nobody can say no to the laws of nature. You are no exception. That’s the saddest thing: you are supposed to be deities, yet here you are, slaves of the nature.

“Rest well, petal,” he smiles at you and your heart aches. He has such a beautiful immortal soul, it makes you want to fall in love with him even more.

You don’t say anything while he accompanies you to the rose and cherry blossom scented room and from the door he watches you lie down on your bed of flowers.

He is the last thing you see before you close your eyes and you know he will be the first one when you wake up. You just have to wait for another autumn to pass to meet again but until then, you hope to dream about him and the beauty of autumn you have only seen in him.