The wisps of Sehun’s hair oddly remind Jongin of monarchs in spring. The blush of his cheeks like the fallen red leaves of autumn and his milky skin like the lazy spirals of snow during winter. Jongin supposes his favorite, though, is his pink lips that resemble the strawberry gelato they buy during the summer, and he decides that Sehun is a lot like the seasons.

Spring

They meet in spring. There is a wall, listing those that have passed; Jongin visits every March, same day, same time. He leaves a bouquet of plastic camellias near his sister’s name.

Today he arrives late, half an hour later than he usually does.

Someone else is there, pale and almost blending into the white marble wall.

He’s startled when Jongin approaches, bowing low and whispering something Jongin can’t quite hear.

He asks him his name, and he introduces himself as Sehun, and Jongin thinks he’s never heard anything better.

Summer

Jongin falls in love in summer.

He falls in love with the blush on Sehun’s skin and the eyelashes that skitter across his cheeks. He falls in love with the gentle caresses and the shy glances.

He falls in love with the long nights that dissipate into short mornings, spent holding hands and stealing kisses, and the whispers and the smiles.

He falls in love with Sehun. Or at least the idea of him.

Autumn

Jongin falls apart in autumn.

He becomes addicted to Sehun’s touch to his kisses and those eyelashes. He becomes infatuated with the soft laughs and the shy glances, the warm touch of Sehun’s hand.

He becomes obsessed with the idea of Sehun.

Winter

Sehun leaves in winter, with a scribbled note that says Merry Christmas. Don’t call.