Junghoon was now on the brink of the cliff of adulthood. Seungwan, a year older, was free falling off the edge. Wanting to leave her life in this small town behind, she was on her way to board the next train out, pursue music, a life even, in the big city miles down the tracks.

And so he ran. He followed the road down, the streets where they had chased each other as kids. Wasn't it funny how he was still chasing her down them? She was always so far ahead of him, now more than ever. Everything for him was here, in this town. His family, his friends, his future. He always thought that included her.

She must've not thought the same way. Her future was elsewhere. Hers included music, lyrics, a love he couldn't offer.

He weaved through side streets, ducked into alleyway shortcuts, and wound up on the main road leading toward the station. Lining the path were cherry blossom trees in full bloom, none catching his attention as he only centered on thoughts of her. Petals drifted past him as he ran, looking more like smudges of pink paint against the broken canvas of his town than the awe-inspiring beauty they often marveled at on birthday trips to the city. But this move would've been far more permanent than those. He would no longer be by her side.

Nearing the figure of the girl he loved ascending the steps toward the terminal, his steps felt heavier as he slowed down. His legs were lead, thighs aching as the adrenaline slowly leaves, no longer suppressing the pain of his urgent run.

Chest heaving, he placed his hands on his knees. Using the last of his breath, he called out, "Seungwan!"

She turned toward him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Her expression quickly turned to a smile. "Surprising me on the day before I leave, Junghoon? That's nice of you."

But she was confused. Why was he sweating, why was he breathless? She was moved to ask, "Did something happen?"

"No, I- I just had to stop you."

"Stop me?"

His voice was wistful as it always was when he became contemplative, so contrary to his usual reckless demeanor and charming self. She knew him too well, knew that this meant he had something important to say. He was always like this during conversations at the riverside, during nighttime walks. 

If it even could, his voice grew lower, "Do you see these blossoms Seungwan?"

She nods.

"Every year I look forward to your birthday, just to see them with you. If I had known a week ago that you were leaving, I would've kept us there in that moment under the night sky, barely able to make out the petals in the glow of the streetlights." He sighed. "But now you're leaving. I thought that we'd have many more birthdays here together, but our time together is so damn transitory."  His shaky breath translated into a shaky voice, unsure as to whether he trembled from his arduous run or the weight of his confession.

" I want to spend a whole lifetime with you. So don't leave me. I love you."

Seungwan inhaled deeply before she responded, choosing her words carefully, delicately. "You know, these blossoms will be gone in a week. I won't be here to see the last of them. I can't stay for you."

He looks down, back almost bent lower than it was immediately after his run.

She continues, "If you really love me, I hope you cherished our time together."

"I did." His youth shone through even now, bringing larger fists up to his eyes to rub out tears, provoking memories of the smaller ones he made years ago. He cried a lot less now than he did back then, but he still looked the same to her. Childish younger brother. Partner in crime.

Her eyes were sympathetic, the twitch of her hands and the quiver of her pupils indicating how much she cared. She broke eye contact, looking out over the line of trees stretching almost endlessly before them. He turns to look with her, wishes he could see from her point of view. 

The movie was too similar to what they've been through. In both, the love interest leaves. But here was the difference: reality doesn't have as many happy endings. There was no fated reunion. There was no return. Seungwan had not seen her childhood friend since then.

That was the first time she learned to be scared of love. Though she had always learned that love should be freeing, she had never felt such a strong love be so chaining than she did then.

Oddly enough, the tragedy of their reality, though bittersweet, had a glimmer that even the silver screen lacked.

Seungwan hoped her final comments could comfort him. "Spring's nature is fleeting. The blossoms are fleeting. Even time is, humanity is -- even me. But though it's transitory..."

Junghoon wishes he could walk up the steps to her and pull her in a hug, never let go. But he was rooted to his spot on the sidewalk, still peering over the blossoms lined up like soldiers, their petals like guns pointed at him, reminders of everything he would miss. The only movement he can manage is to shut his eyes, block out the wind and the buildings, block out the train coming down the tracks, block out the voice coming over the loudspeakers calling out the departure. 

The only sound he allows himself to hear is Seungwan's voice, a singular petal drifting into the lonely sidewalk of his heart. He won't sweep it away.

"Isn't that what makes it beautiful?"