Kim Jongin was a naive boy; he wore his heart on his sleave. So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when he proclaimed his love for a certain porcelain boy. Some would call it adolescent spontaneity, others would call it puppy love. It probably was, he expects this to be a small case of infatuation in which his irregular heart-beats and crimson cheeks can be cured with a harsh smack of reality.

What Jongin doesn’t expect though, is a pair of soft lips pressed up against  his own as he stutters his way into a confession.

Their kiss can be perfectly summed up in one word: nativity. Mouths awkwardly move against each other a bit too long for it to be considered as a light-hearted brush of lips,  before both parties step back. Jongin's heart contracts as he is met with warm amber eyes , beneath fine long lashes that flutter in embarrassment.

The two part in the most awkward of ways, with lingering eyes and lips trying to will themselves to say something more, only to be met with a hollow throat and a symphony of disjointed stutters.  Luhan leaves first, and Jongin has never felt happier as a grin plasters itself on the centre of his face for the rest of the day.

Their relationship can be summarised as "adolescence". Almost parallel hands, side by side underneath the blistering sun.  Fingertips repel as two positive magnets when they get too close.

Two small children run off past them hand in hand, both Luhan and Jongin wonder when they would have the courage to be able to so shamelessly personify their feelings for each other.

On Monday, or was it Sunday?

Jongin starts to sing a song when the two are walking on the pavement. Luhan hums along and Jongin feels so dazed that he trips along the curb of the road. Luhan smiles and tries to cover his growing blush with his fringe. Jongin pretends to notice as he cracks another lame joke.

Ice cream cones hold nothing but coloured liquid by the end of the day, when the sun has set; painting the sky in brilliant hues of red, yellows and greens. Now the stars take watch of the night, illuminating every corner and crevice in the sky. Jongin and Luhan are by the beach, the cool crisp air blows lethargically as the tide has come in and the warm summer breeze seems to be urging the two to take a further step this relationship of unsealed promises and not yet fulfilled adventures.

Sand digs between Jongin's toes  as he dances under the moonlight. The wind whispers something along the lines of youth and ignorance, the tide laps over the sand again and again; creating a melodic lullaby. The light seems to effortlessly dance off the waves and the sea, almost mimicking the stars in the sky. With a certain porcelain boy in his arms, Jongin feels like a  juxtaposition; so strong with Luhan in his arms, and yet so vulnerable at the same time.

But that’s what love is, isn't it? Two sides of the same coin.

There is an equal chance of the coin flipping to heads or tails; an equal chance for this love to bloom and for it to wither.

Jongin loves Luhan, he really does, at lest he really thinks he does.

But sometimes love is not enough to keep a rose in blossom.

In fleeting summers, foolish autumns, warm winters , leisurely springs, all three hundred and sixty five days filled with ignorance and bliss.  The pendulum of time seems to stop, suspended in space, as nothing else in Jongin's life could feel quite as surreal. First love is when little boys could wear their hearts on their sleeves; but now they know better. Now grown men know to keep their hands in their pockets.