Sungjong’s thoughts are like the raindrop races he plays in the car.

The smallest one slides down slowly, until it collides with a larger one, and together the two spiral past the window frame. Sungjong wonders what happens after the raindrops leave the frame; but just like his thoughts, once they’ve left, they’re gone.

Sometimes, Sungjong will live within a thought, desperately willing that raindrop to stay within the frame for a just a few moments longer. Nowadays, these raindrops are branded with the same name, bouncing off one raindrop and echoed in another, Myungsoo, and Sungjong’s bliss gives way to confusion when the raindrop finally leaves the screen.

Sungjong forgets that all water comes from the same place. That there is but one world to contain these droplets, one realm with which to house his thoughts. That there is but one droplet, one droplet consisting of every raindrop that slips past the glass panels of his windows. Myungsoo.

Perhaps that droplet has a name.

Myungsoo runs his finger against the soft green buds, tracing the new branches from the supple tips to the rough trunk. Beautiful. The leaves are getting ready to form, and the vulnerability of the green flesh calls Myungsoo to it, makes him want to protect it.

He wonders if he is drawn to vulnerability.

Behind him, Sungjong is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The changing of the seasons makes him tired, tired of one season and not quite ready for the next. His skin is tired of the cold and not quite ready for the occasional sun, who teases with rays of warmth that burn when Sungjong realizes how pale the winter has left him. Somewhere in that hidden chamber of his mind, a chibi sits at a school desk, tapping his feet, as though that would cause Sungjong reevaluate his hypocritical assessments.

After all, how long has his heart been cold?

Myungsoo smiles at him. Perhaps the sun will tease, but these rays do not burn. Sungjong decides he is ready for spring. Myungsoo decides he is drawn to vulnerability.

The raindrops on the newly formed branches drip along the length of the branch, collecting at the base of the trunk. Another season, those same droplets will appear on Sungjong’s windows, with Myungsoo’s name etched on them and his voice echoing through them.

Myungsoo runs his finger down the branch, following the tracks of that droplet, collecting that droplet with a finger. Beautiful. His camera embraces this beauty; his camera wants to share this beauty. He flicks the droplet towards Sungjong. It lands in his hair. He shakes it off.

Beautiful. His camera embraces this beauty. But he doesn’t want to share this one.

The biggest problem with spring, Sungjong decides, is that he cannot simply command it to come.

He glares at the melting snow, willing it to melt faster, to vaporize itself, to do something to bring the spring faster. His chibi laughs at the irony. Sungjong wonders if it’s possible to put a chibi up for adoption. His chibi stops laughing.

At least until Sungjong gets the brilliant idea to use hairdryers to melt the snow.

Sungjong is busy contemplating adopting another chibi for the sole purpose of beating up this one when Myungsoo coaxes the hairdryer from his fingers. Or rather, his proximity prompts Sungjong to drop the dryer, but Sungjong is too busy chiding his chibi for adding another tally to the board of lies to correct himself.

“Sungjongie,” his eyes smile. His voice smiles. Even his skin smiled. “What are you doing?” His eyes laugh. His voice laughs. And for a moment, Sungjong’s heart laughs –laughs at all the ironies and blessings that have brought it here. And then Sungjong’s chibi laughs, because somehow, he knows that Myungsoo laughs for that same reason.

Myungsoo is melting the snow with Sungjong’s hairdryer. Sungjong is melting the snow by pressing it to Myungsoo’s cheeks.

And the rest of the snow is melting simply by watching this scene unfold.

Maybe Sungjong can command the spring.

Myungsoo crosses his fingers.

February looms over his shoulders. Myungsoo has never wished for clouds so much. But even Myungsoo cannot know everything. This time, Myungsoo cannot know that even if Sungjong should see his shadow, if Sungjong should see what he used to be, the spring will still come early.

The buds have already formed, and the leaves simply bide their time.

But they are all ready.

There will be no shadows on the second. Sungjong has commanded it to be so.

Special Thanks to: 

SanghyunP, Myungjongkitty, Jaejaehwaiting for upvoting this story~! <3
Honestly I didn't know what a vote was before that
(which is why this thank you is kind of late. I had to research what a vote was xD)

and my special reviewers who are here on EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER. You are amazing

Silversorbet and Deliberatemistake

And for every one of my lovely subscribers and commenters... thank you for your existence. 

random derp moment: you seduce MY CAMERA~!

but in all seriousness... you are amazing.

I know i deleted the opening note and kept the ending note, but in all honesty... MS being retarded doesn't matter. Sungjong's iness and Sunggyu's randomness matters. And you guys matter. A lot. 

Love, hugs, kisses, and Woohyun~! 
BAIIIIII!