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THE sun's rays were warm on his skin. Funny though, it hadn't been this sunny in quite a long while. It was—surprising to say the least, such a morning in the middle of April. April; whence only came hard sheets of downpour and brittle cold. April; whence only came tears and heartbreaks. April; whence only came the sad.
Thus was this one fine, clear, sunny morning, that brought about the memories upon him. Memories so bittersweet, he had almost succeeded in burying them in the deep recesses of his mentality. But no, this day dragged them back out, under the pleasant glare of the warmth.
Who was he to ignore that?
Drink swirling in one hand, back resting on the scruff material the deck chair consisted of, just the right amount of heat hitting his already tanned skin, Jeongguk sighed in content. It had all started on a day like this. All of it; the good, the bad and the ugl—no. Not ugly. Never ugly. For he couldn't think of one moment that fit that word. No, the word he was looking for, was euphoric. So euphoric. So beautiful. It just so happened to bloom hollyhocks inside his chest.
He wondered now, when had been the last time he had recalled those precious times? When he had closed his eyes, heart content, and the reminiscence had poured out like a waterfall? Not in a while, of that he was sure. Not since he had moved, packed his things, told his parents he was trying something new. Not since he had started his new life, cutting off all his old ties.
It's funny really, how some people seem so precious to you, so dear, that you believe that you cannot survive without them. Only, you later understand, that they don't mean as much, and blocking all contact with them is easy.
Then there are the others. The ones who mean nothing to you, the ones you feel as if will disappear forever and you won't have to blink. But, over the time you know them, they gnaw a hole deep in your heart and take it's place, and you don't realize how precious they were until they're gone.
He was like that. Him, with his lopsided smirk; Him, with his cocky attitude; Him, with his pale skin and greyish blue eyes. Him, with a spray of freckles across his cheeks. How euphoric his pale fingers looked intertwined around Jeongguk's own hand. How red his lips were, like the ripest apple. How he scented, like strawberries and cigarettes.
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And how both of them had met, one bright April morning, a morning much like the present one. A morning which had gone something like this....
— a/n: inspired by the troye Sivan song 'strawberries and cigarettes'
