If Junhong were a season, he would be Spring.

At least that was the conclusion Yongguk came to on the first day the second season graced the world with its presence.

The arrival wasn’t unexpected - the van radio on the way to practice had been forecasting the oncoming changes in weather for several weeks - but still it was abrupt. Like Junhong.

One day the dark clouds of winter had loomed over the land, casting everything in a murky shadow, and then when Yongguk awoke the next morning the grass was lush and the sun shone to the point of blinding him. He was reluctant to arise from the comfort of his bed, yet there was an thrilled squeal that reverberated from the maknae as he pushed himself up into the elder’s face to shake him awake; all bright smiles and mussed up bed hair that even Yongguk couldn’t deny were a pleasantry to wake up to.

The pink of cherry blossoms soon followed the shades of green highlighting contours of the landscape, the footpath behind their dorm blanketed in cusps of gentle rose and of the deepest magenta, with just a sprinkling of delicate lavender. Their daily walks, filled with the flurry of dashing feet and the chipper harmonies of bird song, usually entailed the youngest members rushing ahead but always at a safe distance whilst Yongguk tread forward at a more leisurely pace. They paused at the gate at the end of the path to catch their breath, and amidst the worldly thoughts of his mind Yongguk mused that the ruddy dust on Junhong’s cheeks resembled the colour of the petals falling into his prettily windswept locks, and onto the sleeves of his oversized jacket. He spoke his thoughts aloud, and the peppered skin of the one he was watching transformed to that of the darker rubies settled on the ground beneath their feet.

His youth was increasingly obvious at times like these rare moments of freedom, away from the distracting routines of their fast track career and where there was nothing holding him back from being. Being a child.

To Yongguk, the youngest member was but newly hatched chick. The flesh of his childhood still clung to his body like remnants of eggshell, and with each new, inexperienced and wobbly step a wide-eyed look was sent to either of the two eldest, desperately seeking some notion of approval from his figurative second parents.

He was always wary of Yongguk, and the leader suspected that the youngster aspired to be just like him. It was apparent in the way Junhong would copy him from a distance – not only with his rapping, but also in the way that he behaved around the dorm (Himchan’s insistent nudging in a show of amusement had even started to leave bruises). At one point he tried eating uncooked ramen – raw just how the elder preferred it – but after discovering his dislike for the taste of the uncooked food it became one habit he had to give up.

There were also times when Junhong could be compared to the rain.

They’d found an abandoned field – somewhere just off the path that had become so familiar to them – and almost instantly Jongup and Junhong had run off somewhere in the tall grass, the vocalists laughing and chasing after them soon after. With significantly less energy to spare Yongguk stretched himself out on the grass, ignoring the calls of his name and the searing heat as he chose instead to rest staring up at the suspicious collection of clouds. Hearing the distinct low chuckle of Himchan sounding somewhere above him the leader turned his head; gaze extending past the standing visual he located the remaining four members, dancing animatedly along to some unknown routine.

As they swirled and dove about in the knee length grass, the maknae line remained just as fresh cheeked as they had been when they began (Youngjae and Daehyun having given into the impending exhaustion long ago). They were young and fruitful; raw and sparkling like the morning dew that clung to the tips of green emerging from the forest – but even in themselves they were so very different. Whilst Jongup’s movements were precise, filled with the accuracy and purpose of a brilliant ray of sunshine Junhong was everywhere; a long tangle of limbs rising up, down and around and spinning into a new and unexpected direction with every turn, dancing on and on until the first drops of rain began to fall and even Jongup had stopped to take cover from the downpour.

And then it was just him, laughing and smiling and embracing the rain as if he were a part of it – the others watched on entranced at the sparkles joining with his skin and matching its pale colour, and Yongguk thought that maybe Junhong really was a child of the liquid sunshine that provided refreshment for the land.

Then there came the tearful times, the overwhelming homesickness they all seemed to realise simultaneously, but none to the extent of the youngest, the hatchling. Yongguk would call out his name and be greeted with only torrent-filled eyes, a body so uncharacteristically small and in need of a comforting hug. The leader would give and give as much as he could to sooth him – but it was never enough, the warmth that Junhong sought was not that of the source of his aspiration but a tender, motherly touch that gave him the sense of home. In the next moment, as if summoned by some parental intuition Himchan (or, in the visual’s absence Youngjae), would sweep through the room and instantly wrap the sniffling boy into a much welcomed embrace.

Although Junhong was now held in the warmth that he needed, his tiny hand never ceased to grip tightly onto the leader’s, the glowing white of his skin contrasting with Yongguk’s own tanned complexion. The elder brought forward his other hand and began gently massaging the back of Junhong’s hand, encasing the soft flesh between his two aging palms. The maknae was pure, the lack of markings upon his skin evidence of his lack of exposure to manual labour during his youth; in comparing it to his own scarred and creased from hours of working in the fields in the hours of the sun, Yongguk felt old.

It wasn’t just the six years separating them in age that arose his concerns – why, if he were sixteen again Yongguk would still surely be different from the younger, more reserved and shy than the bouncing ball of Spring that was Junhong.

No, he recognised the innocence reflected in Junhong’s eyes, welling with hope and a renewed sense of curiosity with every passing day; and he understood that when the younger looked at him he saw how deep and aged Yongguk was inside – old before his time perhaps some might argue – his experiences giving off the air of wisdom. Though he doubted he really was all that wise.

It was true that the elder had a more sombre personality (he was more like the season of Winter than any other) and had experienced many hardships in his time, but in the mornings when he awoke to Junhong jumping on his bed, with a gleaming smile and chiming laugh and all that energy streaming through his body, Yongguk felt alive again. He could feel the upward tugging on his lips as the maknae danced around, bringing even the quietest child out of his shell and into his own bundle of fun. And even if at times he needed a gentle nudge to boost his own confidence, Junhong was still the soul of the party; the shedder of doubt in a world full of judgement.

Even Yongguk began to let his gummy smile take hold.

Junhong was like fresh rain and the lively winds of Spring, drawing each of them out and helping them find themselves amidst the throes of a never ending cycle.

Junhong was Spring, and Yongguk wouldn’t have it any other way.

A short attempt at something new...more artistic compared to my usual style(s). It was quite fun :)

I know everything is exaggerated here (and yes Yongguk's hands are probably the smaller of the two), but I was just aiming to portray just one side of Junhong's personality - that childish side of his that we often see. Oh and the two photos are ones I took myself :)

Let me know what you think?