Lilies

Kim Jinwoo falls over him like snow, pure and innocent, he is soaked by him, totally under his charms, a spell he doesn’t want to be lifted off him. He is white and perfect, elegant in such an effortlessly way. He looks at him and he is reminded of a field of wild lilies, growing proudly to the sky, beautifully; just like him, who fights and battles and struggles to improve, to be a better person every passing day, to stop being a burden to them – when he is only the tie that keeps them laced, pressed together, forever.

He is in love: it’s not a secret, he has let it all open, clear, he doesn’t care if everybody knows and notices, for him it’s all ok – he is not hiding the fact that he stares at Jinwoo every time, that he evolves him with hands and arms and he keeps him all to himself as much as he can, he is touchy with him especially, but Jinwoo doesn’t mind, he has never minded before. Seungyoon is in love, has always been, since the beginning of meeting him until now it has been a process, gradually, naturally, filled with all the things he has done and said and that are dear to him, that he storage inside his heart, preserving them like treasures – all the lines he has sung and all the praises he has told him, all the moments shared and that are meaningful, all the nights spent together practising, recording, the moon shining in his eyes and stars falling down as if drops of sweat and tears in practise rooms and booths too tinny for to hold them both (but he has never cared, he loves when the space is scarce and his hips brush his thighs, dancing smoothly when they move, a dreamy caress never meant to be done).

He loves him and everybody around knows but him –and it’s ok, he doesn’t need to feel the grunge of his feelings, he doesn’t want the weight of it to break him down, so he shows his affection freely but measuredly, just a bit more toward him than to the rest but not excessively so Jinwoo won’t see, so Jinwoo will keep playing the naïve that he is, thinking that all the admiration is only born because he has raised him like his own son (it doesn’t matter, he loves him more for all of this).

Like lilies there is another layer under the first sheet of Jinwoo; at first, he is all innocent looks, pure and simple, amazing in a graceful way. He is this but there is more, much more; he is rich in meanings and every single day he changes, he shifts, he revolves and turns back in a different form; playful, mischief, lustful biting his lips and batting flustering eyelashes to him, making his heart shake as if under an earthquake – he has never enough of all the shades of Jinwoo, he can’t drink enough of him, his eyes aren't tired to contemplate him trane and change, he can stare at him all day long, forever and more. He is equally masculine and feminine and he loves him more for his duality, for the valance he holds; he is just more than only one, he is a whole and Seungyoon is fascinated by it, enthralled, marvelled.

It doesn’t come as a surprise, the little lily falling from his mouth after a bunch of painful coughs coated in sweat and tears gliding down his cheek, he has been expecting it to happen someday, he has felt them growing inside at the same pace as his sentiments for him, blooming beautifully, peacefully until now. He has thought that he would be able to conceal it, the ache, the red drops and the stains on the back of his hands. He can’t. Seunghoon nags at him, urging him to take further actions – to remove his feelings, to forget it all. Minho supports him, cheering his feelings, keeping him company when the night falls and, with it, flowers do too. He pats his back and reassures him, singing slowly to cover all the coughing so Jinwoo won’t hear – so he won’t know that he is the cause of all his suffering, that he is what is killing Seungyoon, the embodiment of what he means to him flowering into his chest, constricting his bones and his respiration.

He knows that Seunghoon is right, that Jinwoo won’t love him back – the thought hurts even more than all the steams entangled and developing around his veins, cutting the blood, making it hard to think, to watch, to be. But forgetting his name, the way he makes him feel, that is more unbearable, also he is so sure that he will fall again and again, over and over, always, for him, even if he can’t remember his face, just one look at him will make it all come back, as intense and burning as ever. Even if he lives a hundred lives, in every one of them he will find Jinwoo and love him avidly, intently for him there is no way out, not a back door to put his emotions at ease, to delete them from his system and remove the root of his problem – Jinwoo will be always with him.

So he lies and waits for the moment that these pretty lilies will consume him, growing up through his throat and peeking, fully, throw his opened mouth, his lips grazing them, tasting the intense flavour that he associates with Jinwoo. And then there won’t be a way back, he will die and his last memory will be of him. He is alright with it, he won’t let this feeling go away, like these lilies he is watering with his tears: they are evergreen, eternal.

Jinwoo will never know that the lilies that are growing in his grave are for him alone - writing in them are all these years of longing, of a secret love.