Tiny butterflies line the creases of his arm; ticklish legs lay on the spread of his skin—pale, smooth and smudged with soil and grime. Pink remains of fresh bruises and patches on his thighs; bony knees and small fingers.

Kyungsoo is five years old.

A numb year of innocent numbers and an age he can hold within the palm of his hand; an ignorant feat of bliss and forgotten hands of a ticking clock.

Time is consumed by a hollow of darkness—a stretch of nothing against a blanket of sky and clouds and stars and the wonder of a toddling boy.

And just as suddenly as the string of insects sit on the corners of his elbow, Kyungsoo yelps in terror. He slams his brittle arms against the whoosh of crashing waves; the butterflies abandon his skin and fly in hectic spirals.

They then settle carelessly on top of another sleeping boy—his hazelnut hair entangled with grains of sand and salt—and trail their flutters across the curves of his stomach.

The boy’s skin is tanned and huddled under smothers of lotion; his lips curve into a small smile as he squeezes his eyes and giggles—his body softly jerking as a million little insect legs tickle his skin.

Kyungsoo can’t help but giggle too—the butterflies cross paths, frenzied and confused. They curl into a stream, like floating leaves, and turn their attention to the tang of the seawater.

Their wings flicker with the brief scent of light—sparkling stabs of flames engulfing the paper of their bodies. And Kyungsoo can almost make out the calligraphy print of Korean characters on the sides of the butterflies’ wings.

Their bodies enlarge into arches of ringed metal—hot and burning as their wings morph into bright flashes of fire.

His eyebrows furrow as he watches the butterflies fly up, up, up….

and they’re not butterflies anymore.

Kyungsoo screams as he shakes the other boy to his senses, “Jongin… Jongin, wake up!”

“What? WHA—” Jongin is cut off as his eyes widen in surprise, his small fingers hooked onto the crook of the other’s neck.

Flashes so vivid, they illuminate the night with blinking jolts of electricity. 

“Kyungsoo, do you see those stars too?”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes in exaggerated amusement, “Silly Jongin, they’re called sky lanterns.”

❖