[The Ocean and the Sky]

Foreword: A story born out of a dream, a hot day and unhealthy amounts of weird music. You have been warned.

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It started with music and a gust of summer wind.

The tender tones of a piano, an old sentimental movie, an introduction to something careless, a sunset. A place Jonghyun has never seen was being born before his eyes.

A flower, orange-red, growing quickly, excitedly, bursting into flames.

A street, houses cuddling together, no fenses separating them, a balcony falling into a wall, melting, not crashing, merging as if made of something soft and elastic.

Music again, whistling, this time, Jonghyun can now move his legs. Dropped out of the sky, Jonghyun is pleasantly unstable, dazed, drunk. The sunset explodes in shades of pink and purple and scarlet.

For a while, it’s nice to just feel the wind on his face, warm and welcoming like a lover’s breath.

But Key’s smile overwhelms it all, happy and alluring at the same time, like summer, and warm as one, sweet, it’s natural for Jonghyun to smile back.

The wind fiddles with Key’s hair, blonde, like Jonghyun liked it, just long enough to fall into his eyes, two pools of glittering light, pleasantly cool, curious, excited, Key has a plan.

Before he can react Jonghyun finds himself pulled gently by the soft hand, walking through the street, a slow pace, an orange shimmering coating on everything they see, an echo of the sunset, the asphalt hot below their bare feet.

Every now and then, Key turns to Jonghyun, smiles like he’s shy, faces forward again. The golden light is making his eyes even brighter, and now he’s under purple light, and now it’s dark red, now jade green, it doesn’t matter, Key outshines it all. He glows.

Just a warm summer evening. Somewhere far away.

Little by little, the sun sets. Little by little, Key solidifies. His features sharpen, crystalize, details, the soft curve of his smile, the tiny little lines around his eyes, the pale valley of his neck, the rose shades adorning his cheeks.

The music plays on, a soft murmur of strings, a summer serenade. The ebb and flow of the ocean, like breathing, rising, falling, a chest of a lover, a slow intake of breath, eyes fluttering closed. Something so simple. Something so natural.

The air smells like salt and oregano and something like love. The sand is warm throughout the night, hot from when the sun made love to it. Key is wearing the shirt Jonghyun brought him, and the skinny jeans that show the subtle curve of his body. It’s getting darker.

The air is pleasantly heavy with the memory of the sun. It presses around them, presses them together. The ocean swirls at their feet, encouraging them, the wind pushed Key into Jonghyun’s arms. Key giggles, night falls, Key is shorter than him, he snuggles into Jonghyun’s bulky muscles. Key radiates light, the rest of the world falls to darkness, pleasantly, sinking into a warm bathtub, fingers in a bowl of chocolate, falling in love.

Jonghyun is strong, he holds Key to his chest, the night is dense, it pushes them down. Things are upside down, inverted visions, turquoise oceans above their heads, the star-gilded skies next to their intertwined legs.

The sand is soft and yielding like a favourite bedsheet. Key still smiles, Jonghyun knows because his lips feel that way, curved, stretches, luscious, confident, they taste like cherry whiskey and they invite, it’s summer. Jonghyun presses his own onto them again, Key places a warm hand behind Jonghyun’s neck. The first drop of the ocean, bright as a tear of happiness, it falls into the sky, disappears, willing, wanting, pleasantly lost in its depths.

Key, snuggled between the sand and Jonghyun’s body. Key, reaching between them to open the first button of Jonghyun’s shirt. Key, smiling like all that ever happens are good things. Key, a summer and a sunset and a sky.

Jonghyun, heavy, the scent of cinnamon, the ocean. Jonghyun, staring at Key to engrave the sight of his face, a golden constellation in the sky.

A warm gust of breath, a yearning, a hand unlocking two more buttons.

A touch. Burning skin. Key’s hand, sliding down Jonghyun’s chest. Playing with his necklace. Sliding down his toned stomach. Sliding down.

In the sky, in the ocean, in their kiss, it’s easy to get lost. Endless.

The world is burning itself from the inside out, a hedonistic ecstasy, a suicide, a phoenix.

Key’s mouth tastes like a red cherry desire. It’s not wrong to try it all, to up the sweet water inside Key’s mouth, the perfect poison, the elixir of life. It’s not wrong to gently peel off Key’s shirt, to trace a line down his law, his neck, his chest, to dip his tongue into Key’s belly button, to hear Key giggle at it, clear laughter in the night, crystal cascades of water. It’s not wrong to slide an eager hand between Key’s body and the sand, to fell the rough surface of Key’s jeans fall apart before the sheer heat of Jonghyun’s skin, revealing pink baby skin. And that heat, buzzing through his body, is not wrong. Nothing is wrong, here, at the end of the world, at the heart of all things. Jonghyun, wrapped up snug in vision. A lullaby of eternal summer.

Magnetically, in a vortex of summer scent, the ocean is falling down, into the sky. Rapidly.

It’s too soon, it’s too late, it’s still night, it swallows Key whole, wind turns cold. Ocean, heavy, final like judgment, it collides with the sky, taking the world along with it, crushing everything in sight, crushing Jonghyun and Key both into fine grains of summer dust.

Panic, a countdown, an alarm clock.

“JONGHYUN!!! JONGHYUN!!! WAKE THE UP!!!”

It’s light again, it’s loud, it’s difficult to understand. It can’t have been a dream, it mustn’t, it felt more natural than life-

“JONGHYUN IF YOU DON’T WAKE UP WE’LL LEAVE YOU HERE AND YOU’LL HAVE TO EXPLAIN TO THE MANAGER WHY YOU DIDN’T ATTEND THE MORNING PRACTISE!!!”

Jonghyun’s eyes slam open.

Key stands at the door, suddenly nervous.

“Get out of bed. A-and d-don’t look at me like that.”

“But, really, why not?” asked Jonghyun. His mind was still soaked in dream.

“Jonghyun, stop it. I’ve told you before.”

Key sounds more apologetic than he has to. Sad, even. Wishful, maybe.

Dreams to dust.

It’s not summer. They’re not far away. Some things are considered wrong.

Anything seems possible, in summer, in a sunset.

But skies and oceans cannot collide.

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