SPRING

Taemin walked down the endless upon endless row of cherry blossom trees, soft pink petals fluttering all around him with every mid-spring breeze. He took a deep breath, his steps slow and steady and unsure, and smiled.

It was one of those awkward seasons, spring. Not yet summer, and no longer fall. Something inbetween. Just like he was. No longer a child, but not yet a man. 

He stopped in the middle of the road and took another breath, savoring the faint, sweet scent of the barely blooming blossoms. And Taemin thought, that if he was a season, he would be spring. 

He took a seat on his favorite bench, and looked out at the soccer field. His eyes darted around the field, flitting over the unfamiliar faces, until he found him. With his long, soft, brown locks pulled messily into a short pony tail that wasn't quite in the middle of the back of his head. Taemin frowned, but quickly dismissed this slight displeasure as he watched Choi Minho drive towards the goal. Because even in a crooked up do, Minho was perfection. 

He pulled out his sandwich and took a large bite. Taemin was never much a people person. He much preferred his own company. That, and he could never bring himself to eat in front of people. He took another bite, utterly absorbed in peanut butter and banana bliss, that he did not notice the muscular Adonis that was Choi Minho walking over to him.

"Hey."

He almost choked, a sliced banana lodging itself momentarily in his windpipe rendering Taemin a coughing, crimson mess. He couldn't bring himself to answer. Instead, he shoved what remaind of his lunch into his brown paper bag and ran faster then he had thought he was capable of, hot tears of embarrassment sliding down his cheeks. He wiped at them messily with the back of his hand, when he was locked safely inside his room, and for the millionth time in his life, Taemin did not want to go to school tomorrow. 

___

Taemin had spent the better part of his morning classes debating whether or not he should return to his usual spot. But the cafeteria was always so noisy, and full, and Taemin reasoned that he didn't really have a choice. 

He walked through the cherry blossomed asphalt, dragging his feet purposefully, as he walked towards his bench. He saw the plastic bento box long before he arrived, a small frog shaped container with a bright yellow post it. He frowned and glanced around his empty surroundings. He glanced at the soccer field, and shrugged.

Taemin pushed it to the side, but paused as he caught a glimpse of the familiar, sloppy handwriting. His breath caught in the back of his throat and his head shot up. He searched the soccer team's faces, suddenly desperate to find that all too familiar face, ridiculously and hopelessly hopeful.

He met Minho's large, warm, brown eyes, as they wrinkled around the edges and shrank into crescent moons. He waved his large hands and scratched the back of his head bashfully. Taemin placed the bento on his lap, and traced the words lightly with the pads of his fingers.

To: The Beautiful You.

SUMMER

Taemin hopped across the hot, golden sand, the waves at his toes with every wave, his brown hair whipping in the sea breeze. He took a deep breath, his steps steady and sure, and smiled. 

It was one of those beautiful seasons, summer. Filled with endless possibilities and equally endless nights. Blazing and bright. Just like they were. No longer friends, but lovers. 

He stopped at the edge of the water and took another breath, savoring the strong, salty scent of the sea. 

The sun was scorching and unmerciful as it beat down on him, the harsh rays burning his milky white skin. And Taemin frowned. The mere thought of sunburn sending his good mood spirling into the complete opposite. He brought his hand to shield his eyes and looked out across the wide expanse of sea, eager to find his boyfriend so that he could drag him somewhere with a/c and a lot less sunlight.

He found him with little effort, weaving through, yet another, large wave. In his bright yellow, hawiian print, slightly tacky, swim trunks hanging precariously on his sharp, hip bones. His well defined midsection rippling as he changed direction. And Taemin decided a little sunburn wouldn't hurt.

He called him over. And as Minho ran, all bronze skin and sparkling droplets of saltwater and sweat dripping from his every pore, large white smile on his face, and eyes still glittering with exhilaration. And Taemin thought, that if Minho was a season, he would be summer.

FALL

Taemin and Minho walked, hand in hand, down the busy row of bare oak trees, leaves of burnt orange and fiery red crunching beneath their boots. He looked at Minho and smiled, their steps falling into unison.

It was one of those quite seasons, Fall. Not very eventful but oddly comfortable. Brisk and full of change. Just like they were. The blaze that burned when they were lovers having now dwindled down to the small, constant flame of becoming partners.

He walked to the large, cement steps and took a seat while Minho dashed to the nearest coffee vendor. Taemin wrapped his arms around his torso and watched as he bounced up and down on the balls of his feet impatiently.

He frowned. It wasn't that Taemin was not happy. He was. He was happy. Or, at the very least, content. It was just, Taemin always thought love was magical, passionate, and...forever. He did not expect it to fade so much so quickly. He longed for the days of summer to return, along with Minho's "newness". He missed not knowing. He missed the mystery that comes with a stranger but fades once you know them. 

Minho rushed back across the quad, his long legs taking even longer strides, his brows furrowing in concentration as he tried not to spill their hot beverages. He handed Taemin a cup, and Taemin couldn't help but wonder if everything was moving to fast. He shivered against his fashionable, yet too thin, coat, his teeth chattering loudly. Without much thought or words, Minho pushed his cup into Taemin's hand and removed his thick, well insulated, jacket. 

Taemin smiled and hugged it closer around himself. He took a deep breath, and instead of the smell of pumpkin, spices, and familiarity, the lingering scent of sea and sun block filled his nostrils. Taemin turned to Minho, who tried his best not to shiver and shake, and thought that maybe knowing someone was just as good as getting to know them. Maybe even better.

He took a sip of his, now tepid, coffee. And Taemin thought, that if love was a season, it would be Fall.

WINTER

Taemin trudged through the three foot high snow, his legs sinking in down to his knee. The flurries of ice fell aimlessly covering every exposed surface with a thin veil of white, including Taemin's shoulder's. He shook his jacket, desperately trying to rid himself of the annoying flakes, and rang the doorbell.  

Minho and Taemin had decided to spend Christmas apart. And, if Taemin was honest with himself, he was relieved. He couldn't see himself meeting Minho's parents. He was always awkward and unintentionally rude, and Taemin decided that this decision was one of his best.

It was one of those empty seasons, Winter. Bitter and chilling. Harsh and full of regrets . Just like he was. No longer a child, but a man. 

Taemin sat by the fire, chatting with one of his childhood friends. Kibum had done well for himself, traveling to America, becoming a fashion photographer, and he was clever, witty, and funny.

Everything Taemin used to be.

His phone rang once again, and although Taemin did not have to check the caller i.d., he did so anyway. This had been the 3rd time Minho had called him. He knew he should answer. That was what any other decent boyfriend would do...but Kibum was still speaking his smooth words asking if he "had ever thought about modeling?" And Taemin smiled at Kibum and decided he didn't have much of a choice. 

He popped open the back of his phone and removed the battery.  

___

He lay next to Kibum, both of them tangled in the sheets, and tried not to cry. Taemin looked around the room and wished that he was with his reliable Minho in Busan instead of here. He checked his phone, the large screen illuminating the heavy darkness and making Taemin squint as he attempted to read a text from his Minho. 

"Was just calling to say I love you. And I miss you."

Fat tears rolled down Taemin's cheeks and glanced back at Kibum. And Taemin couldn't help but hate Minho, and his sweet words and sentiments.

 Because Kibum was everything he was not.

And Taemin decided that Choi Minho was the worst decision he had ever made.

He held his mobile close to his face, under the covers, and sniffled as he text Minho back.

"Busy. You know my mother. I love you, too."

He pressed send and took a deep, calming breath, the musky, thick aroma of hanging in the air. And Taemin thought, that if loneliness was a season, it would be Winter. 

SPRING - 1 year later

Minho walked down the endless upon endless row of cherry blossom trees, soft pink petals fluttering all around him with every mid-spring breeze. He took a deep breath, his steps dragged and unsteady, and he tried not to cry. 

It was one of those disoriented seasons, spring. Not yet summer, and no longer fall. Something inbetween. Just like he was. Confused and broken. 

Minho thought back to Taemin's letter, his words unable to dislodge themselves from Minho's mind.

I'm sorry that you were asleep when I wrote these words down. 

You'd think I'd ought to be used to that by now.

Save for a few of those late night episodes, missed opportunities and "I don't care's", there's not a lot that I feel obliged to share, or talk about.

I'll have my brother stop by this Saturday to pick up my things, just make sure you're not there. 

This may sound bad and don't take it the wrong way: I love you, however, you hold me down. 

You're the echoes of my everything. 

You're he emptiness the whole world sings at night. 

You're the laziness of afternoon.

You're the reason why I burst and why I bloom. 

How will I break the news to you?

Cancel our dinner with Max and Yunho, feed Jinki's gerbil and try to stay clean. 

We'll talk about it over after I've had some time, alone, to sort it out.

You're the leaky sink of sentiment.

You're the failed attempts I never could forget.

You're metaphors I can't create to comprehend this curse that I call love.

He stopped in the middle of the road and took another breath, gagging at the faint, sickly sweet scent of the barely blooming blossoms. Minho closed his large, teary eyes and bit his bottom lip. Unable to remember the rest; unwilling to. He took a deep breath to settle himself, the back of his head resting against the warm petal covered bench. 

He tried to remember, all of their arguments. But now that Minho thought about it, there wasn't really any.

He tried to pinpoint Taemin's fake smiles. But, then again, Minho was never very good at reading others. 

He tried to understand.

He really and truly did.

But Minho couldn't.

They had been happy. No, not they: he. He had been happy.

His breath caught in the back of his throat, and all too suddenly, Minho was reduced to a sobbing, crimson mess. The remnants of their past still hanging in perfectly placed frames back in his fully furnished apartment.

Untouchable and much too long ago.

And even though there were still belongings, it was as good as empty without Taemin.  

He wiped at his tears messily with the back of his hands, revealing his bloodshot eyes from countless sleepless nights. Because without Taemin by his side, he just couldn't sleep.

And Minho thought, that if heartbreak was a season, it would be Spring. 

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a/n: I'm trying out some different writing styles...

What do you guys think?

I don't think it's my best work but I do like some lines. 

Might delete this one a little later but enjoy for now!

**text in italics is not my work!

And, as always, thanks for reading.♥