Fireworks were something Minho enjoyed watching, something he liked until they were called pretty, until the bright fireworks were called pretty by Nichkhun. It was from that moment on he found it difficult to continue to like fireworks.

Minho believed that it was most definitely not jealousy. The feeling was more metaphorical. Though, if before him, Nichkhun did call someone else pretty, Minho felt that he would be jealous, though only just for that brief moment, because, after all, Nichkhun did sincerely call him and the love between them beautiful and pretty too.

He could hear the cheers and the awe as the fireworks lit up the chilly night sky, welcoming the new year. His face was probably one of the few that had a glum expression as he stared at the flower like fireworks, his ears ignoring ’s excited celebrations. The longer the fireworks flashed before his eyes, the more Nichkhun’s words – “Fireworks are so pretty, so beautiful” rang in his head, over and over, as though those were the only words he could think of.

They shot off through the air, full of sparks and bright colours and then they fan out like petals of a flower, giving the night sky a splotch of colour. However, it only lasts for a couple of seconds before it fades away, before it disappears, and Minho could not not think of how the beautiful relationship he was currently sharing with Nichkhun could just possible end as quickly as those pretty fireworks. That for this moment, Minho is beautiful, but it could just end after a blink.

Closing his eyes, Minho looks away from the fireworks, he had to have trust and believe in the bond between Nichkhun and himself. He had to believe that the love between them is most beautiful, on a scaled where it shouldn’t even be compared to the beauty of fireworks.