Warning: I don't know anything about relationships. That's okay, because neither does the bench.

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It's getting colder. The grass began dying not too long ago, but the needles on the trees have remained as bright and green as they had always been. They never change.

No one has visited me since the lovers who engraved themselves into my wood, and even that was months ago. The light above had finally given out and left me in total darkness after sundown. It was then that I had realized that I had never truly been alone until now.

Nevertheless, I enjoy the fall. The season is perfectly nestled between the sweltering heat and the blistering cold, acting as a sort of buffer between the two extremities. The days are generally very windy with a subtle frost on the gusts, but the sun still shines warmly and brightly, even being so kind as to keep me in it's rays.

It was on one of these windy days that two people came through the trees. My metal creaked with recognition; Taemin and Minho had come to visit me once again. They came the way they went – hand in hand. However, something was different. The air around them was almost... solemn.

There was no laughing, no giggling, no stumbling or tripping. Their footsteps made no sound as they traveled towards me like magnets to metal. They settled quietly into my lap, Taemin sighing upon contact.

“It's warm,” he mumbled into his scarf, staring off into the distance, “Like last time.”

Minho nodded, not making a sound. I would have been proud had it not been for the eeriness hanging in the air. Perhaps the silence had been prepared for their arrival and quadrupled it's defenses, refusing to be overpowered by their noises like last time. The muteness wrapped around them like a coil, bringing a sort of tension with it. I shuddered subtly as Minho shifted his position, leaning his back into me. Taemin followed suit not too long after.

“Taemin, we really need to talk,” Minho said finally. Those words must have burned at Taemin, who quickly retracted his hand and shoved it into his coat pocket.

“Then talk,” he breathed, steeling himself.

“Look at me.” The words came out as a plea instead of a demand, but Taemin's eyes were stubbornly fixed on the grass before him. Minho slid off the seat, kneeling before his lover and staring into his downcast eyes, “Taemin, please.”

“Talk.” It was barely a whisper.

“I love you, Taemin. I really d-.”

“What's this about Minho? You brought me here, so get to the point. Just tell me you want to break up so we can get this over with.”

“B-break up?” Minho grabbed at Taemin's arms, his eyes begging for Taemin's attention, “You think I'm here to break up with you?”

The smaller of the two finally looked away from the grass and right at Minho, his face portraying confusion, “What else could it be?”

Minho smiled sadly, resting his head on his love's thin legs, “I... I decided study in America.”

“That's just as bad!” Taemin cried, wrenching his hands out of his pockets and going to push Minho away, but the latter was quick and seized his wrists, “Either way, you're still leaving me!”

The frustration and sadness radiating from Taemin's body blistered my wood. A frosty wind blew through the trees.

“No, no it's not the same,” Minho said softly, trying to calm down the sobbing redhead, “It's not.”

“It is,” the other blubbered, “It's exactly the same.”

“I'll still love you,” Minho's hands grabbed at Taemin's, “I'll call you every day.”

“Long distance relationships never work.”

“We can make it work,” Minho persuaded, “We're stronger than that. Arraso?”

Taemin, who's voice had been suffocated by his immense sadness, could only nod and fall into Minho's arms. Minho whispered soothing words into his ear, calming him and comforting him.

“Taemin, I love you. I love you so much.”