Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You can listen to this playlist for mood setting.

Villa-sur-mer
June 22^nd, 1979

Hi Jihoon! 

School is over (hehe of course you know) and I am here again, with Mom, Dad and Dana in our villa by the sea. 

Another summer away from the city. 

I'll miss you for sure, you're my best friend after all! But I forget how much I like it here. It’s quiet and I can do what I want. I'm sure you'd like it too. Maybe one day your parents will allow you to come with us. Here, there's no teacher to ask if we're listening, and no stupid kid to pick on us. Mom and Dad don't even boss me around, and Dana spends her time with friends her age that live in the mansion next to ours. They come sometimes to the house because we have a pool and they don't. But I'm not really friends with them. 

Actually, I don't have friends around at Villa-sur-mer, and I don't want to. Of course it would be nice if you could be here with me. But I like the fact that I can be totally alone. It's like everything is for me, and me only. I like the sea, the flowers and the sun here. I like everything. Except for the bugs in my room at night. Them I don't like. I hope there won’t be any this year…

I'll write to you often, I promise!!

Your best friend, 

Minho

Satisfied with his letter, Minho slowly detached the page from his lined notebook, taking care not to tear it while doing so. He then folded the page in four, forming an almost perfect square, and slipped the piece of paper into the pocket of his trouser.

Through the half-open window of his room, a warm breeze blew away the fine mesh curtains and brought to his nostrils the scent of salty seaweed, honeysuckle and hollyhocks—the smell of summer vacation.

Jumping up from his creaky chair, Minho rushed out of his room and down the stairs to the living room where his mother was lying on one of the sofas, casually reading the newspaper. La vie en rose was playing on the gramophone next to the wide-open glass doors that led to the terrace and the garden, letting sparse strings of melody escape the villa.

The cry of the seagulls mingled languidly with that of the waves and the voice of Edith Piaf, but Minho did not stop to listen to the song, nor did he lie down on the couch next to his mother to enjoy this moment of peace. Instead, he ran briskly to the garage where his bicycle had been sleeping all year long. 

Minho wiped the dust from the seat with a fretful hand. The bicycle's red aluminum frame had fortunately not rusted during his absence, but its tires would surely need to be re-inflated. Minho took a mental note to stop by the gas station on the way back from the village.

"Where are you going?" called out his father, who was busy contemplating the hollyhocks shrubs at the entryway, while smoking on his pipe.

"To the post office," shouted back Minho, already getting on his bike.

He heard his father's laugh in the wind whistling in his ears as he raced down the rocky road.

Every summer, it was the same story. Minho religiously wrote a letter to his best friend Jihoon every week, a letter he would then take to the village post office, paying for the little weekly stamp from his own savings. A small price to pay, he said, to entertain his poor Jihoon who remained in the smog-filled and boring city during all summer.

The village was a few kilometers away from the avenue of the large secluded villas whose humble orange groves lined the sea shore. In about twenty minutes, Minho, pedaling in the middle of the deserted asphalt road and burning from the midday sun, stopped his race in front of the post office, a small store recognizable among so many others in the town's plaza by the blue, red and white pennant that decorated its front.

The postal clerk, an old man with a tanned complexion and thinning snow-white hair, smiled when he recognized the boy.

"Why," he exclaimed, "our little writer's back! Boy, you've grown since last summer! How old are you now?"

Minho smiled awkwardly. 

"Thirteen year-old, s..sir," he stammered.

The old man whistled through his teeth, and laughed heartily.

"Thirteen years old and ever so shy."

He reached out and grabbed an envelope and a pencil.

"Here you go, kid. Is this for your friend from the city?"

Minho nodded, taking the pencil and the envelope. He wrote down Jihoon's address, which he knew by heart from copying it every week, every summer, for the last seven years. The tip of his tongue was darting between his teeth as he carefully traced a sunflower next to his friend's name on the paper. Once the task was done, Minho licked the dry glue from the flap and sealed the envelope. The clerk handed him a stamp. Minho took it and pressed it flat on the tip of his tongue before attaching it to the upper right corner of the envelope. This too tasted like summer vacation.

The letter was then all ready to leave Villa-sur-mer. Minho dropped the envelope into the large mailbox at the entrance to the store. As he was about to leave, the post office clerk held him back.

"Hey, kid, while I'm thinking about it, tell your mom that the Villa des Alouettes is occupied this year, and that the lady who rented the place would like to meet her, since she doesn't know anyone around here."

"All... all right," Minho stuttered again before hopping on his bicycle. "G...good day." His tire screeched on the bumpy cobblestone path and Minho remembered to stop by the gas station that bordered the main road a little further away.

When he reached the station's air pump, Minho was surprised to see someone else there, moreover a boy of his age unknown to him, busily inflating the meager tires of what looked like a rusty century-old bicycle.

It was common to see a few new faces every summer, as the coastal villas were often rented out to strangers when their owners couldn't spend their summer at Villa-sur-mer. But it was not common for Minho to meet a boy his own age. The kids in the village were all about Dana's age, or even younger, and the older ones fled Villa-sur-mer, where nothing ever happened, to enjoy the nightlife of the big cities nearby, riding out on their fancy scooters, boys all wearing leather jackets and girls polka dot dresses.

Minho stood still for a moment, watching the boy on his knees in front of his bicycle. His flat brown hair fell like a curtain before his eyes as he sighed loudly, his face twisted into a grimace, his hands trying in vain to connect the pump's hose to the withered tires on the rusted metal hoop. When he felt Minho's gaze on him, the boy raised his head and, with his chin pointed forward, he made a pout that swelled his lower lip, brightly pink and glossy. 

"Do you know how this works?" he asked Minho. "I've been here for an hour doing my best, but nothing goes my way."

Minho sketched a smile and walked over, leaning his bike against the stone fence. He knelt down next to the other kid and gently took the hose from the other's fingers. Minho spun the wheel of the bike, running his fingertips over the rubber, before planting the nozzle right in it. He then stood up and turned on the air pump. Amidst the noise of grasshoppers, leaves in the poplar trees and wind from the sea, the boys heard a little whistling sound. 

"The tire is punctured," Minho explained simply, kneeling down again. He placed his ear against the rubber circle, immediately imitated by the other boy. "We have to find out where," he added, meeting for the first time the hazel eyes of the owner of the outdated bicycle. The boy smiled back at him and Minho smiled softly. 

"It looks like it's... here," Minho said, pressing his finger against a thin slit in the gummy material. The whistle stopped.

"What do we do now?" the brown-haired kid asked, eyes shining so vividly and cheeks puffed with admiration.

"Go ask the mechanic for a tube of glue."

Quick as a rocket, the boy got up and ran inside the gas station. He returned a few moments later with a tiny tube of glue.

"Okay," Minho said. "Now, open the tube and put a few drops where it's cracked. Careful, don't stick my finger! 1, 2, 3, go!"

Minho withdrew his finger, which was immediately replaced by the tip of the glue tube, neatly sealing the punctured tire. The boy let out a little squeal of victory.

"Now we just have to wait for it to dry," Minho explained. "In two-three minutes."

The other boy nodded.

"Thanks," he said, as he walked away to give back the tube of glue inside the station.

Minho stood up, dusted off his pants and took the handlebars of his bicycle to guide it to the pump. He inflated his tires and then looked at the other bicycle, hesitating whether to inflate the tire they had just repaired, or to let the boy do it. He opted for the friendliness option and pumped the necessary air into the old bicycle's wheel.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that."

The boy walked over to Minho, two sodas in his hand. "Here, to thank you." And he handed one of the two glass bottles to Minho. "My name is Seungyoon."

"Min...Minho," Minho stammered slightly as he grabbed the offered drink. "Tt...thank you."

Seungyoon smiled. He had tiny white teeth with sharp canines, and his smile carved a small dimple on his chin.

The two boys took a long sip in silence, bubbles tickling their palates. Minho stifled a hiccup, Seungyoon let out a small burp, making them burst out laughing at the same time.

"You... you live in the v... villas?" asked Minho after a moment.

Seungyoon nodded lively, the rays of the afternoon sun making the golden glitters in his eyes shimmer.

"Yes, Mom rented the last villa on the avenue, just before the cliff. We arrived last week. Do you live in the villas too?"

Minho nodded, shyly.

"Yes, at the Villa des Roses."

"Oh!" exclaimed Seungyoon. "The one with the roses and the hollyhocks climbing over the gate? It always smells so good when I walk by. We're neighbors then!"

Minho took another sip of sweet soda. Seungyoon followed along. 

"Were you going home?"

Minho nodded timidly.

"Yes..."

"Can we go home together?"

Minho nodded again and offered a small smile to make up for his lack of words. Seungyoon returned him a kind smile that made his eyes crinkle and his nose scrunch.

"Do you know people here?" Seungyoon asked as they rode down the hill leading to the avenue of the villas, both holding their bikes by the handlebars with one hand and their lukewarm sodas with the other, trying not to trip and fall in the gravel.

Minho shook his head.

"Not really. M...my sister has a lot of friends, though. You?"

Seungyoon laughed. 

"No, that's why I'm asking you. I know absolutely no one. I've been hanging out in the village, I've been in all the cafes, all the stores, and I haven't met anyone my age... our age... So I spent the last week all by myself exploring the coast, the beach, the cliff. It's so pretty here. So peaceful. You know, I discovered a really nice place, with a beautiful view of the sea. A big flat rock, someone even carved a drawing on it, a..."

"A sun... sunflower."

Seungyoon turned to Minho in surprise, the wheel of his bike squealing on the asphalt road.

"You already know the place?"

Minho smiled sheepishly.

"It's me... I carved that drawing," he confessed. "Three years ago. This is my favorite place."

"It's a beautiful place," Seungyoon replied softly. "You have good taste."

Minho let out a laugh. Strangely, he didn't mind too much that Seungyoon had discovered his favorite place. Seungyoon wasn't mean like most kids at school. He talked a lot, sure, but he didn't laugh at him, or shun him for being timid. Seungyoon was... kind of nice.

The two boys rode their bikes side by side down the avenue, passing each of the various estates lined with fruit trees, flowers and birdsong. Beyond the large gardens, they could heard the sea lapping its waves on the beach shore. 

"Thank you," Seungyoon said again when Minho stopped in front of the open gates of the Villas des Roses, covered with ivy and sumptuous pink and fragrant flowers. "For the bicycle."

"You're welcome," Minho replied shyly.

"Say," Seungyoon added as Minho rolled his bicycle under the blooming arch, "would you like to hang around with me tomorrow? Maybe show me the best places you know?"

"Okay."

Seungyoon gave him his most cheerful smile.

"Great! See you tomorrow then!"

And Seungyoon waved at him as he dragged his old bicycle along the path to the next estate.

Minho watched him ride away and smiled to himself as he deeply inhaled the scent of hollyhocks above his head.

"The air smells good here, it's true," he thought, carrying his bicycle to the garage.

The house smelled like roasted meat, fresh herbs and wine when he stepped in the mansion. 

"Get changed before eating, darling," his mom said dearly as she saw him enter the dining room, in his dusty trouser and stained shirt.

Minho climbed up the stairs and it's only when he fell back on his bed that he realized he was still holding the empty bottle of soda in his hand. He laughed to himself and put down the bottle on his desk, grabbing a pen instead. 

And on the open page of his lined notebook, Minho wrote down a little sentence, so that he wouldn't forget to add it to the next letter he would send to Jihoon.

I lied to you, Jihoon. I think I made a friend at Villa-sur-mer today. 

His name is Seungyoon.

{tbc}

Chapter Text

The next morning, Minho woke up, blinking his eyes to find himself contemplating the rays of sunlight dancing on the wooden slats of the mansard ceiling above his bed. Nonchalantly, he turned his gaze to the open window. Outside, the sun, radiant and warm, was glinting over the garden, and the sky was a clear shade of blue. Downstairs, the radio sizzled a three-count waltz, punctuated by the sound of silverware being set on the patio's table.

Minho sat in the ruffled sheets of his bed. Through the window, he heard the rustle of a newspaper, followed by his father's distinctive cough, and then came with the breeze the dry smell of tobacco mingling with those of coffee, toasted bread and fresh eggs. Breakfast was ready.

Staggering on his feet, the boy stretched his arms, and put on a pair of shorts and a flared shirt. Before leaving the room, his eyes lingered a moment on the empty soda bottle standing alone on his desk, and it made him smile—even though a tiny corner of his heart was scared he had imagined the events of the last day. However, Minho knew it was nothing he needed to kindle, and so he jumped down the stairs instead, as loudly as he could, just to fill his head with sound and his stomach with butterflies, chasing away the feeling he didn’t wish to nurture.

On the terrace, as per the breeze in his room had hinted moments before, Minho found his father skimming through the morning's paper while smoking, a cup of café au lait placed before him, untouched. When Minho passed by him, his father put down his reading to shuffle the child's short hair. On the other side of the table, next to a giant pot of blooming gardenias, Dana, as usual, was singing a song to herself, her gaze fixed on the sea visible at the end of the garden, legs swinging under the table while her mother held her hair up, securing them in a ponytail with a velvety leopard scrunchie. 

"Good morning, mon ourson," Minho’s mother said, leaving Dana’s hair to get her boy a large bowl of hot chocolate, and leaving a kiss on his cheek, as Minho sat down at the table and helped himself to some bread he spread with wild berries jam.

"What are you up to today?" his father asked. "I repaired the second bicycle yesterday. Do you want to have a bicycle race with your old dad up to the beach later?"

The boy, his teeth carved in his breakfast, mumbled something, swallowing quickly enough to answer,

"I... I'm already doing that with Seungyoon today. Sorry.”

Mother and father exchanged a look and a brief smile.

“Who’s Seungyoon?” asked Dana, who had already been sleeping the night before when Minho came back to supper and who had missed the long and detailed story Minho had told his parents about the new friend he had made that day at the gas station.

“A boy my age…” Minho answered softly, “staying at the Villa des Alouettes…"

Dana scrunched her nose, most likely ready to throw in a mocking comment, but if she wanted to tease her ever-so-lonely brother, she held her banter in front of their parents. Minho’s mom sensing her young daughter’s taunting wit held Minho’s hand on the table and took on the conversation instead.

“I called Seungyoon’s mother this morning like you told me, baby bear. We agreed I’ll spend the afternoon with her, help her get around things. You know, she’s a correspondent for an international press agency. We probably already read some of her pieces, darling,” she added to her husband’s attention. “She sounds fascinating. I’ll bring a bottle of Chardonnay and a few oranges from our grove.”

“I’m going with Ann to pick some berries today,” Dana interrupted her, flapping her legs frantically under the table, as every time she asked her mom a favour. “But can we come here later for the pool? Johnny might come too with his sister.”

“Sure, baby. If your father is there to watch over the pool, no problem.”

Dana sketched a missing tooth smile—she had lost it the day before while eating a peach from the neighbour’s orchard. Minho grinned, glad that he had passed this phase of his life when his baby teeth fell down like ivory droplets for his mother to collect. He was also very happy to have something else to do that day because if the pool was full of Dana’s friends in the afternoon, anywhere else in the whole wide world would be quieter than the Villa des Roses.

Seungyoon came by looking for Minho a little after lunch time. Dana had left for her friend's house, and Minho’s mother was getting ready to leave as well. The garden was a tranquil little place to be with the sun getting warmer by the minute as it reached its highest point.

The brown-haired boy passed the gate adorned with hollyhocks, rolling his rusty old bicycle by the handlebars up the path leading to the poolside where Minho was reading a book, a glass of lemonade next to his feet on the mosaic floor. 

“Hi,” Seungyoon said, with a vibrant voice. 

Minho lifted his head up from his book and set it aside, to jump back on his feet. His eyes were shining as bright as his smile.

“You’re ready?” he asked.

Seungyoon nodded vigorously as he followed Minho to the garage where he was surprised to meet a man whom he could only assume to be Minho's father by the likeness of their smiling eyes and the shape of their high and round cheeks. 

“You must be Seungyoon,” the man said, “Minho told me you were using the old bicycle that’s been dying alone at the Villas des Alouettes for decades…”

Minho’s father kneeled down to better inspect Seungyoon’s bicycle, his fingers running on the rubber tire the same way Minho had done the day before. Seungyoon bit his lip in a smile.

“Yes, it looks a bit sad…” he said.

“It indeed needs a bit of love, poor thing,” Minho’s father said looking up at the boy. “Say, let me take care of it today, and take the other bicycle we have here.”

Seungyoon looked shocked.

“You… you would do that?”

The man laughed heartily, ashes falling down the pipe between his teeth. 

“I’ll change the tires, work on that rust and grease up the chain. It will feel way better when you boys come back here later.”

“Thank you… sir…” Seungyoon replied, bewildered.

“Dad, you’re the best! Come on, Seungyoon! Take this bike,” Minho exclaimed, giving Seungyoon the steering wheel of a blue bicycle.

“You boys be careful now!” they heard Minho’s father shout behind them as they jumped on their bicycles to pass the gates of the estate.

Once they reached the avenue, Seungyoon slowed down to turn to Minho, smoothly pedalling beside him.

"Where are we going?"

Minho took a hand off the handle to point a little further ahead at the vast green and golden hayfields.

"Have you already been in the fields?"

Seungyoon shook his head. 

"No. I've walked the avenue 100 times, I've been to the cliff, I've been down to the shore, I've been to the village, but I haven't been to the fields. Is there anything to do there?"

"We can follow the small paths the farmers use to ride from field to field. That way, we can get on the other side of the peninsula and even reach Port Sablon," Minho replied, a bit out of breath.

It was probably more words than he had spoken since he arrived at Villa-sur-mer. 

“What’s in Port-Sablon?” asked Seungyoon, his bicycle riding in a wavy line next to Minho.

“There’s a lighthouse and a bookstore. There is also a nightclub where people from Villa-sur-mer go when they’re bored. Restaurants. Cafes. And there is an ice cream store, with really good ice cream.”

Seungyoon laughed.

“Better than the one in the village?”

Minho smiled forward, looking at the road ahead.

“Way better.”

 "Okay," Seungyoon said. "Let’s go there."

The two boys sped along a small dirt road that ran the length of an immense field of high crops that seemed to go on forever. Only the sea birds calling out reminded them that Villa-sur-mer was indeed located on a cape, on a peninsula in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, ever much so that the scent of the salty shore and the sound of the waves were muffled by the smell of plowed earth, wild flowers and the song of crickets. Above their heads the sun was glaring and Minho regretted not wearing his baseball cap.

After a while, a small wooden fence, eaten away by ants and weather, stopped the boys in their ride. Minho got off his bike to climb over it and dragged his bicycle with him, immediately imitated by Seungyoon.

"Whose fields are all these anyway?" asked Seungyoon, wiping his dirty hands on the back of his shorts. "And what's growing there?" he added, as he watched the golden crops that tickled his bruised calves.

Minho cut a twig and brought it to his mouth, like a little rascal. 

"Here, it’s usually a pasture. With cows, sheep and horses. Over there,” he pointed to the farthest house they could see, “they grow vegetables and fruits for the village. The farmers live further away, closer to the village than to the coast. And the fields are what separates the two villages of Villa-sur-mer and Port-Sablon."

Seungyoon smiled at Minho's explanation. Again, it was more words than he had heard from the boy since they met the day before.

"What if we continue in a straight line?” he asked. “Are there any more fences like this one?"

"Not for a little while."

Seungyoon grinned wickedly.

"Let’s race then! Last one to the next fence pays for ice cream!"

And he dashed forward on his bicycle, leaving Minho in a daze. A few seconds later, though, the boy had jumped back on his bike to chase after him, laughing out loud under the sun. 

They exchanged the lead on the dirt trail a few times, with Minho passing by Seungyoon on the right and Seungyoon narrowly catching up with him on the left. Luckily, the next fence had been left open and Minho took the lead, dropping the handlebars to raise his arms in the air with a victory shout. He heard Seungyoon laugh behind him.

"You're fast!"

Minho braked with his shoes on the ground, and Seungyoon stopped right next to him. The wind had completely tousled his hair, revealing a forehead shining with sweat. Minho's face was also red and glistening. Around them, the sun seemed to make the tall grass vibrate.

"I'm hot," Minho gasped.

"If we lie down in the grass, we'll get some fresh air," Seungyoon said. He too was out of breath, and he quickly initiated a movement toward the ground, leaving his blue bicycle to fall on the trail.

Minho hesitated, the sound of crickets and grasshoppers reminding him the grass was home to some insects he would much prefer not to meet up close—but the quest for some coolness soon won over his inner battle.

Lying on the ground, the air was chill and smelled like wet earth and it did them good. Above their heads, between the tall blond twigs, the sky was a cobalt blue, without clouds. Minho was startled when he heard a noise near his ear.

"What's wrong?" asked Seungyoon. 

"I... I don't really like bugs," Minho confessed, nervously shaking his hand through his short hair. "That's the only thing I don't like here."

Seungyoon turned his head slightly towards him and looked at him through the grass between them. 

"I don't like bugs much either. But like my mom always tells me, 'Small critters don't eat big ones.'"

Minho chuckled as he contemplated the sky.

"My mom says the same thing. But last year, I had some spiders in my bed and it scared the hell out of me."

Seungyoon giggled.

"Do you always spend your summers here?"

The wind blew through the hay, caressing their pinkish cheeks.

"I've been coming here every summer since I can remember,” Minho answered. “Villa des Roses always belonged to my parents, and my grandparents before."

Seungyoon whistled.

"Mom rented the villa this summer because she's wanted to do something like this for a long time,” he said. “A villa by the sea, the sun, the sweet-smelling trees. She’s always working, travelling all around the world, and she wanted to have a nice getaway with me this time. Getting out of the city. It’s fun, it’s relaxing. I like it, it’s different. Usually I don’t like travelling much, I like my house, my room, my friends…”

He stopped for a moment, sitting back up in the grass, the sleeve of his shirt soiled with dirt and loose on his bare shoulder. 

"I’m sorry. I talk too much, I know. Everyone tells me that. Sorry. I don't mean to bore you to death."

Minho sat back up too, and ran his hand through his short-cut hair again.

"That's okay, I don't really talk much,” he said. “But I like to listen."

Seungyoon smiled and laughed a little. His damp hair fell flat on his forehead as he shook his head, a smile tracing itself on his lips as he looked at the lines of dirt and grass imprinted in the palms of his hands. 

"Port-Sablon, is it still far?" he asked, a little sparkle in his eyes.

Minho stretched his head as if to look into the distance, but he could see nothing really with the tall grass surrounding them. 

"I'd say another fifteen minutes. Do you still want to go?"

Seungyoon stood up and extended his hand to Minho to help him up. Both of them shook out the dust from their pants.

"Let's go,” Seungyoon said. “I owe you ice cream."

{tbc}

Chapter Text

The town square of Port-Sablon was swarming with vacationers when the two boys arrived on their dusty bicycles in front of the ice cream shop. Around them, young children were running and chirping, dressed in bathing suits while adults sipped on their pinot grigio and their aperol spritz on the terraces of nearby bistros. 

“You said your mom travels a lot,” Minho said as they were waiting in line to buy their frozen treats. “Do you travel with her?” 

Seungyoon pouted as he looked back at Minho, answering with a cutesy voice, “sometimes~”

The line moved forward and the vendor, sporting a large grey mustache on his upper lip, asked the boys what they wanted. Seungyoon looked at the display stand, eyes big and shiny in front of all these refreshing colours. Minho slipped his head next to his to better see the choices, and Seungyoon’s hair tickled his ear as he did.

“I like the chocolate one,” he suggested, pointing at the rich brown swirls in a frozen basket before them. “There are some chunks of caramel in there too.”

“I like strawberries,” Seungyoon whispered back, his gaze fixed on the pink ice cream filled with tiny pieces of red fruit.

Minho immediately moved his head back up, a large smile plastered on his face, and he almost didn’t stutter when he told the vendor with a slightly high-pitched voice,

“We… we’ll take a chocolate one a…and a strawberry one!” 

Seungyoon giggled and fumbled in his pocket to find some coins to pay.

“How do you go to school then?” Minho asked as they walked around the plaza to find a place to put their bicycles down and eat their ice cream before it melted completely on their fingers. They finally settled under a large pastel-striped sunshade hanging over a public fountain, sheltering them from the strong rays of the afternoon sun. Seungyoon stretched his lips in a dummy smile as he licked the pink gooey cream sticking his hands.

“Up till now, I had home lessons.” His voice lowered in a mumble as he continued. “But next year I’ll go to a boarding school.”

Minho leaned against the fountain and tried to hide his face from the sun peeking through small holes in the shade with his hand. 

“That's sad. Aren't you scared?”

Seungyoon shrugged his shoulders, and kicked an invisible pebble with the tip on his foot before licking some more of his ice cream. Droplets of pink cream crashed on the pavement and on his big toe, but Seungyoon didn’t seem to notice.

“No, not really,” he answered, but Minho could hear his friend’s voice faltering. “It's gonna be different. I'll make new friends, I guess.” Seungyoon smiled, “and Mom told me if we like it here this year, we can come back every summer during the boarding school vacations.”

Minho’s jaw dropped and he almost let go of his ice cream. Suddenly, he was filled with excitement and a bubbling joy—a very close feeling to a sugar rush, indeed, but this one wasn’t initiated by the sweet taste on his tongue.

“You would?! I mean… come back next year?”

Seungyoon chuckled, a soft expression of wonder on his face. “Yes, probably… Why are you smiling like that?” he added, his lips stretching again in a smile as he tilted his head to the side.

Minho wondered if his own face was red from flustering or if the sun and the heat of the afternoon were masking his spontaneous shyness. He breathed deep, but his smile just bubbled back up. “This morning, I was scared you wouldn’t show up,” he confessed. “So I'm just glad you did,” and he turned to show Seungyoon his smile.

Seungyoon scrunched his nose, all of a sudden feeling very shy too. He moved back his eyes to observe the crowd of the plaza. More kids were getting in line at the ice cream parlor. 

“Why did you think that?”

Minho licked his chocolate ice cream, and his answer was as genuine as it could be, “I never had a friend here to do all this stuff together with me… It's exciting.”

Seungyoon’s eyes opened in shock.

“You never invited a friend to spend summer here with you!?”

Minho shook his head, “Nah. I tried to get my best friend Jihoon to come many times. But his parents never said yes.”

“No other friends from school?”

Minho hung his head low, and he noticed the bottom of his cone was getting all soggy, ready to break any second. He brought it to his mouth and bit down to suck in the melted ice cream instead of risking losing everything if it were to fall on the ground.

“I don’t really have other friends…” he murmured after swallowing every last bit of his ice cream cone. “I… I don’t like school that much… Kids pick on me a lot.”

Seungyoon frowned. In his hands was only left a tiny portion of the ice cream cone he had chewed down to only a few centimeters high.

“Why?”

And it was Minho’s turn to shrug his shoulders, his lower lip turned into a frown. “Because I don’t talk much… and I stammer a lot when I do.”

“I didn't hear you stammer,” Seungyoon replied.

“I often stammer when I talk to someone for the first time, or like if I’m not familiar with them.”

Seungyoon patted Minho’s shoulder. His fingers were stained by sugar, and they stuck on Minho’s shirt.

“You didn’t stammer yesterday when you helped me with my bike.”

Minho chuckled, “You're right.”

The other boy furrowed his brow and his mouth formed a thick pout as he shook his head ferociously. “Anyway those kids are stupid and mean to pick on you just for that.”

Minho pursed his lips in a thin smile, and lifted his head to look at his new friend. Seungyoon’s eyes were smiling back at him. 

“If they were just a bit wiser they'd get to know a really cool dude. Their loss.”

Minho laughed in a coy way, “Thanks.” He felt warmth creep on his cheeks, and he quickly changed the subject. “Do you like reading?”

Seungyoon made a funny face at the unexpected question.

“Books? Not really, why?”

“Not even comic books?” Minho asked back.

Seungyoon scratched the top of his head with his pinky finger, pensively.

“Well, yeah, I like comic books better.”

Minho jumped excitedly on his feet as he pointed at a little store on the corner of the street. “There are plenty in the bookstore right there. We can go read some if you want.”

“They’ll let us?” Seungyoon was doubtful. In his child’s mind, bookstores were just like librairies—boring places reserved for adults and students forced to read, places where you had to stay silent and where his tendency to chit-chat wasn’t the most welcome.

Minho smiled and explained, “I am here every summer. It's one of my favorite things to do—cutting to Port-Sablon by the fields and reading at the bookstore all afternoon. The owner is very nice. She even gives me chocolate and lemonade sometimes.”

“You don’t have books at your place?”

Minho chuckled. “Only my parents’ books and they’re boring.” It made Seungyoon laugh. 

“How about we go another day?” Seungyoon said. He pointed instead in the direction of the lighthouse, visible from where they stood in between the pastel-colored buildings of the cobblestone streets. “I want to go see that.”

Minho gave a sad look at the bookstore, but spending the afternoon on the seashore was indeed appealing. As he was about to grab the handles of his bicycle when he realized how sticky his fingers were. He grimaced, and, without thinking about it twice, plunged his hands in the cold water of the fountain. Seungyoon looked at him curiously.

“You’ve got chocolate on your chin,” he said.

Minho wiped his dusty face with his wet hand and used his shirt to dry it out. 

Seungyoon gave him a smile and a thumbs up, “All good”, before doing the same to clean his hands and his face.

Soon, the boys were back on their bicycles, rolling down the cobblestone street to meet with the breeze of the sea—a fresh wind of freedom—and the sight of the massive lighthouse towering over the banks of Port-Sablon. In front of them, the beach stretched its silky sand dunes for miles and the sound of the waves and seagulls mingled with the laughter and songs of the swimmers and sunbathers. Seungyoon kicked out his sandals and ran into the sea in a matter of seconds, his piercing laugh resonating sound and clear. 

Minho took off his shoes and put them next to the bicycles, against a large rock, but his gaze rather hung on the small multicolored seashells that sprinkled the ground around him, like the painting of a landscape waiting to be completed—probably the work of some other kid before him. And while Seungyoon played in the water, soaking the rim of his shorts as the waves licked his calves and covered his knees, Minho gathered these small treasures and arranged them on the beach in such a way as to create drawings, imaginary shoreline landscapes. A shout made him lift his head up after a while.

“Minho-ya!”

Far at sea, Seungyoon was waving in his direction—an invitation to join him. A wave passed by him, crushing on his back, and it made him sway. 

“We don’t have our bathing suits,” Minho said, leaving his artwork to walk over to the place where the water made the sand swallow his bare feet.

“So what?” Seungyoon laughed, fighting to keep his balance, “this is so fun!”

Minho stepped further in the water, but as soon as he arrived in front of his friend, a wave made them capsize. Minho grabbed onto Seungyoon's arm, which made them both fall on their butts in the sand under the water. Seungyoon burst out laughing, immediately accompanied by Minho's happy giggle. The salty taste of the sea filled their noses and their mouths, wiping all remnants of the sugary ice creams they had.

“Look what I found,” Seungyoon said as they were carried by the waves onto the shore. He opened the palm of his hand, discovering a small pearlescent seashell, shining just like a real pearl. “It was full of sand. It's all washed now. It's beautiful, huh? Here.” And he simply placed it in Minho’s hand.

“It’s prettier than all the seashells I found here today,” Minho said, amazed by the peculiar object.

“It was in the water,” Seungyoon explained. “The sea was kind enough to give it to me. And now it’s yours.” he added with a pearly white smile.

They left the beach that day a little before dusk, returning to Port-Sablon on their bicycles, then making their way on the main road to Villa-sur-mer, sipping sodas, as Minho had so often done alone in previous summers. The road linking the two seashore towns was bumpy, but also very quiet at this time of the evening since everyone was home, enjoying supper. The sky was streaked with warm colors on the horizon, and dark and starry over their heads. The wind was warm, drying their clothes full of white salty stains.

The boys said goodbye to each other on the avenue. Around them the villas were silent. Seungyoon yawned and said that he would bring the bicycle back by lunchtime the next day. Minho nodded, happy that Seungyoon would come back in the morning.

The house was quiet and cozy when Minho entered the lobby. His parents were reading in the living room, with the sound of the gramophone playing an old jazz tune. Minho came to kiss them goodnight, already drowsy, and went up to bed, putting the second empty bottle of soda next to the one he had brought back the day before.

The next day, Seungyoon arrived around lunchtime wearing a straw hat, a blue shirt and shorts, bringing the blue bicycle. Minho, who was in his room when he heard his friend's voice, said hello to him through the window, before going down to join him. When he arrived on the terrace, Seungyoon was in great discussion with his mother who spoke to him gently, a hand on the shoulder. Minho didn't have time to catch a few snippets of their conversation when his father came out of the garage with the bicycle of the Villa des Alouettes, all beautiful, repaired, oiled and shiny. Seungyoon was thrilled and hurriedly thanked Minho's father with profusion and small bows.

“Are you going exploring again today?” Minho’s father asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Seungyoon looked at Minho, and the two laughed.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Seungyoon, honey,” Minho’s mom pitched in, “if you want, you can stay for dinner tonight after your excursion.”

Seungyoon blushed. Minho gave his mother an embarrassed look, ready to speak up to get Seungyoon out of trouble, but before he could say anything, Seungyoon smiled brightly.

“Thank you for the invitation. If my mother gives me permission, it will be my pleasure to join you tonight.”

Minho's mother smiled. 

“What a polite child you are,” she replied warmly, before shooing them away. “Go on, boys, go have fun.”

“Sorry about my parents,” Minho said as they were leaving the estate. “They're a little too much sometimes…”

“Your parents are nice,” Seungyoon replied. “Your mom went to see my mom yesterday while we were gone. They spent the afternoon getting to know each other, kinda like us.” He laughed, then whispered. “Except that they drank a lot of white wine.”

Minho chuckled. “We drank soda.”

Seungyoon smiled. “You're right. It must be a bit like that too.”

That day, the boys went to the beach again, then walked to the cliff, just to watch the blue sea on the big rock marked with a sunflower. When they came back to the Villa des Roses, Seungyoon's mother was already there, invited like Seungyoon to the friendly dinner hosted by Minho's parents. Dana was also there with some of her friends.

It was a long supper—like many others that would be held that summer—one of those suppers that stretched into the night. While adults drank, smoked and talked, children chased fireflies in the garden and told each other tales and stories while playing hide-and-seek. It was past midnight when Seungyoon and his mother walked quietly back to the Villa des Alouettes, one staggering with fatigue, the other with slight drunkenness, both promising to host the next friendly gathering.

Going up to his room, legs wobbly and eyes itchy from slumber, Minho got undressed. While emptying his pockets, he found the pearly shell Seungyoon had given him the day before. Holding the little treasure in the palm of his hand, he admired his friend’s gift and smiled fondly, before delicately putting it on his desk, right beside the empty bottles of soda—mementos of a newborn friendship.

{tbc}

Chapter Text

Days that year at Villa-sur-mer passed as quickly as summer days can flow on their own when they are filled with races to the beach, hide-and-seek games in the fields and skipping stones tournaments in the villa’s pond (something Seungyoon was incredibly good at). 

For the first time in thirteen years, the little seaside village saw its lonely quiet summer child Minho weave his games and his dreams with a new-found soulmate, Seungyoon. The sun smiled over their friendship, coppering their foreheads and their arms, and the waves danced with them to the sound of the seagulls.

Days passed at Villa-sur-mer, and one morning in late July, Minho woke up and realized he hadn’t written to Jihoon for weeks.

The bedroom on that morning was soon filled with the scratchy sound of a lead pencil on the lined paper of Minho's notebook. And besides the singing of the morning birds were the little sighs of the child writing his long-postponed letter to the only best friend he thought he had, only weeks ago.

Minho wished he had been more diligent in his correspondence with Jihoon. The days had passed so quickly in Seungyoon's company. No dullness, no empty moments. And Minho was a little angry with himself to have forgotten about his weekly letters, even though he knew that his letters often reached Jihoon only at the end of the summer, when he met him at school. 

Hello Jihoon!

I hope you're doing well and that your summer is not too boring. I really wish you could be here with me. 

Maybe his mother was right. Surely calling Jihoon on the phone would be more convenient than writing letters to him that had to travel miles by boat or plane to get home.

I thought it was fun to be alone here, but I know now it's more fun to have a friend.

Yes, the reason why he had so much fun lately. The reason that made him forget the time, the days, the weeks that go by. His new friend.

Seungyoon and I have been to the beach hundreds of times, we drank way too much soda and ate too much ice cream. Mom would never let me if she knew. Riding in the fields alone is fun, it’s quiet and peaceful, but racing with someone in a dirt trail is a thousand times more fun.

All these things he dreamed of sharing with Jihoon. 

We’ve been to the bookstore too. 

That perfect afternoon at the bookstore when Minho had dragged Seungyoon inside the boutique, with their knees scratched and sweat under their baseball caps. There was a lazy rotating fan in a corner of the bookstore and the breeze felt so good on their cheeks. The librarian greeted them kindly—surprised to see her favourite little bookworm accompanied by a friend. Seungyoon was a bit intimidated at first, but the lady gave them fresh lemonade and macarons, and Seungyoon relaxed the minute he closed his mouth on the soft meringue cookie. Some French pop song was playing on the stereo. Minho showed the comics section to Seungyoon who chose a rock music magazine to flip through instead. The boys sat on the floor in a corner of the store and stayed quiet all afternoon, reading and exchanging comics and magazines. 

Jihoon would surely understand, right? Jihoon wouldn't be jealous. Jihoon would probably be happy for him. Minho could have more than one friend, couldn't he? Even if it was such a funny notion in his head.

Jihoon, for real, I'm sure you'd like Seungyoon. It's easy to be around him. And he smiles all the time. A bit like you. But he talks a lot. Even more than you when you went to the movies with your mom to see Superman and you told me the entire show after.

I like when Seungyoon talks. I like to listen to him. Sometimes he talks so fast it sounds like music. 

And you know what, Jihoon? Seungyoon even knows the place where I drew a sunflower so you'd be there with me. On that big rock watching over the sea I told you about. We went there often last week.

Eyes covered by the rim of his straw hat, Seungyoon had traced with his finger the sunflower engraved in the rock. 

“What did you use?” Seungyoon asked. “To draw that?”

Minho could see his new friend’s beautiful smile that made his cheeks round and pink. 

“A long nail I found in the garage.”

Seungyoon’s finger stroked the brash lines of the petals.

“Why a sunflower?”

Minho smiled shyly when Seungyoon looked back at him with the setting sun glowing in his eyes. 

“It's so that I feel like Jihoon is always with me on vacation,” Minho giggled. It seemed a bit absurd now with someone sitting next to him on this big rock overlooking the sea. “Jihoon has always been a sunflower in my head. A sun that shines.”

Seungyoon smiled wider.

“Are all your friends flowers?”

Minho blushed and chuckled.

“No, not really,” he mumbled.

I didn't tell him, Jihoon, but I think Seungyoon would be a rose. Just like those that grow on the gates of our villa. Sweet, soft…and pretty.

Minho paused as he wrote those words, and his gaze moved to the collection of strange objects that grew on his desk over the days spent with Seungyoon: soda bottles—some green, some yellow, some clear—sandy seashells, dried field flowers, and small heartbeats that fluttered…

Minho sighed and erased his last sentence.

On his way to the post office later that day, Minho passed by Seungyoon and his mother in a car riding in the direction of Villa-sur-mer to do some grocery shopping. Seungyoon's mother invited him to come for dinner. 

“Your mom will already be coming later at the Villa-des-Alouettes. You should come too.” 

Minho nodded timidly. Seungyoon leaned outside the rolled-down window to talk to him. His hair was falling flat on his forehead, and Minho could still see the lines of his bed sheets printed on his face. Cute.

“Where were you going?” Seungyoon asked. 

The sea breeze, sipping through the honeysuckle trees, blew away the curtain of his hair to reveal his brown eyes twinkling. Minho’s heart skipped a beat.

“The post office.”

Seungyoon grinned, and grabbed Minho’s hand on the handle of his bicycle. 

“Let’s meet there. Last one in the race pays for the soda.”

And all the rest of the ride to Villa-sur-mer, Minho pedalled as fast as he could, like he had fluttery wings on his wheels.

When Seungyoon arrived at the post office, Minho was already there, scribbling down Jihoon’s address on a thick envelope. 

“How did you win?” he asked, patting Minho’s shoulder. “I had diesel power.”

“I had wings,” Minho replied, grinning. “Don’t make me move, now. I need to be careful.” 

Curious, Seungyoon dropped his chin on Minho’s shoulder, and watched intently how his friend meticulously traced the letters of his home country, and then drew a little sunflower on the bottom right corner of the paper envelope before licking the stamp with the tip of his tongue and sticking it.

“Come, I’ll buy us soda,” Seungyoon said as they stepped out of the post office after Minho had dropped the envelope in the mailbox.

“Okay.”

Minho put his bicycle on its wheels and rolled it next to him on the paved street. The sun was high in the sky, a bit like the first time they had met.

“Your friend Jihoon is lucky,” Seungyoon stated when they reached the gas station.

The little bell chimed when they stepped inside the store to get two bottles of soda from a rusty refrigerator. Seungyoon got a coke, Minho chose a cream soda.

They found a nice spot under the shades of some poplar trees along the avenue. Minho leaned his bicycle along a fence and lied down in the grass, followed by Seungyoon.

“Why do you say that?” Minho asked.

“I never got letters,” Seungyoon answered. “Like, handwritten letters. My mom gets bills and reports and the newspapers. But no one ever wrote me a letter.”

“I can write to you. If you want,” Minho suggested softly. He didn't quite understand why saying this felt so right, but it was like dancing in sync with the butterflies in his stomach.

Patches of sunlight danced on their tangled hair. Seungyoon bit his lip, and gave Minho an unsure look.

“I… I’d like that.”

Minho slurped a long sip of sweet soda, to calm his quickening heart. Seungyoon’s face was flushed. A robin whistled loudly above their heads as they sipped silently on their drinks, lying next to each other.

“I know what we should do!” Minho suddenly exclaimed. The robin flew away to hide in a different tree further down the road.

Minho stepped right on his feet, and pointed at the sea they could only hear across the gardens of the villas. 

“I heard people throw bottles in the sea, with love letters, for other people to write back to them.” 

“Love letters?” Seungyoon gave Minho a strange look.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be love letters, it can just be simple letters asking to be friends or something.”

“Like asking random people to be penpals?” Seungyoon frowned.

“In the story I heard,” Minho continued, “two girls on a vacation had written letters to try to find a boyfriend, asking who was interested to write back to her home addresses.”

Seungyoon laughed.

“Did they get any answers?”

Minho shrugged his shoulders.

“I don’t know. But it’s worth the try, right? So you get tons of letters and you’ll make new friends, and… well… you don’t get so bored in your new boarding school.”

Seungyoon smiled warmly as he got up and finished his soda. He clicked his nail on the clear glass. 

“Okay, let’s do that.”

Minho stopped by his room to gather all the coloured pencils, papers and empty bottles he could find, and joined Seungyoon at the Villa des Alouettes where both their mothers were enjoying the sun and their vinho verde.

Past the garden, there was a steep path made of cracked stones and pebbles that ran down to a secret shoreline. It wasn’t one of those beautiful postcard-like beaches—there were algae and broken seashells washed up where the waves licked the grey sand, but it was peaceful and quiet. 

Perched on some rocks, their bare feet covered in dust and sand, Seungyoon and Minho composed letters all day, with the sun slowly setting. They had 12 empty bottles of soda, and when Seungyoon’s mother called the boys up for supper, all 12 bottles were filled with a simple letter, clearly stating Seungyoon’s name, his age, how he looked, what he liked and his home address—so his mother could send the letters to the boarding school if he ever received some.

“Don’t you want to get new penpal friends?” Seungyoon asked Minho when he realized all the letters concerned him.

Minho blushed, and drew a small flower on the last letter, next to Seungyoon’s name.

“I’ll be writing to you, so I don’t need anyone else.”

{tbc}

Chapter Text

That night at the Villa des Alouettes, while the adults drank and smoked, Seungyoon and Minho escaped to the big rock to ship their bottles at sea.

“You have to throw them really hard so they don’t break on the shore,” Minho said, showing his friend how to do it.

Seungyoon’s laugh echoed in the night as the first bottle Minho threw was eaten by the waves below.

“Have you done this before?” he asked.

Minho shook his head.

“Never. Why?”

Seungyoon giggled and took a bottle from Minho’s hands. 

“Because you’re really good at it!” and he took his momentum to throw the bottle over his head and off the cliff. 

They heard the sound of glass shattering.

“And I’m not really good at it,” Seungyoon added, laughing.

Minho grabbed another bottle and swung in the air. 

“You just need practice.”

“Maybe,” Seungyoon said, throwing a second bottle. This one landed in the water with a splash.

“I… I really enjoyed spending summer with you.”

Seungyoon’s sudden confession made Minho stop in his tracks. He turned to his friend.

It’s true that weeks had passed so quickly since Minho had met Seungyoon—he only realized now that the evening wind was slightly cooler, that the sun was a bit more shy during the day, and that even the sea had changed colour. Yes, summer was ending, slowly but surely.

“I really enjoyed being with you too,” Minho replied.

In fact, he didn’t have the exact words to say what he felt in the last weeks, what he was feeling now. It was a strange but very warm feeling in his chest when he’d see Seungyoon, when he’d think about him. A warm feeling that made him want to dance and smile and fly and clown around. Maybe that’s what it was, like in Edith Piaf's song, a piece of happiness.

“I—”

Seungyoon exhaled loudly, and grabbed another bottle to throw. 

That night, when they walked back to the Villa des Alouettes, exhausted from their extreme letter shipping method, Seungyoon and Minho said goodnight to their parents chatting the night away to the sound of crickets, and they both fell asleep on Seungyoon’s tiny bed, nuzzled against one another, with the warm breeze that made the curtain fly above their heads.

And thus, ended the summer of 1979.

Seungyoon and his mom left Villa-sur-mer a few days into the month of August. Minho’s family soon after. 

Minho found Jihoon back in the city. His last letter hadn’t reached his friend yet, so Minho told him everything about his summer. About Seungyoon.

Jihoon laughed and asked tons of questions, curious. He had never seen his best friend so excited about something—or someone.

And on the first day of school, Minho wrote a letter to Seungyoon. The first of many letters. 

And each time he wrote a letter to his summer friend, Minho would feel the butterflies fly around his stomach, and this tickling feeling would warm him up inside.

Seasons passed—autumn, winter, spring, and vacations came back again.

Although the Villa des Alouettes stayed empty during the summer of 1980. Minho’s mother received a phone call one morning Minho was out waiting under the hollyhocks at the gates of the estate for his friend to show up. Seungyoon’s mother had work to do in Australia—she and her son would spend their summer there. She sent her kind regards to everyone and said they would probably see each other the next year. Seungyoon wanted to talk to Minho, but Minho was out somewhere, his mom answered. Okay, yeah, next time. Bye bye.

That day, Minho cried.

Around July, Jihoon came to join Minho’s family with his parents in Villa-sur-mer for the first time. Minho dried his tears and showed his best friend around town. But every little thing they did reminded him of Seungyoon, and the warm feeling he had felt all year at the thought of his friend was now more like a cold pinch in his heart.

“You like him, right?” Jihoon asked, one night they were sitting on the big rock overlooking the sea. “Seungyoon?”

Under Jihoon’s fingers were the petals of a blooming rose, engraved next to the sunflower. Minho gazed at the water before them. He buried his forehead in his arms crossed on his knees, and said nothing.

The end of summer came again.

While cleaning his room before leaving, amidst the sparse papers, the dusty dried flowers and the rusty bottle caps, Minho found the pearly seashell Seungyoon had given him the previous year—that gift from the sea, standing out on the messy desk. A thin smile etched itself on his lips, and he slipped the shell in his pocket. He would carry it around for most of the year to come, and he would still write letters to Seungyoon in the following months. 

But he would only send out very few of them.

In 1981, for the first time in years, Minho stayed home all summer with his family, in the shadows of the concrete buildings. Danah had to take special classes, his father had to work, Minho had to prepare for college... and it was less complicated to just stay in the city than fly across the world to smell the scent of roses.

The following year, Minho arrived in Villa-sur-mer three weeks after the rest of his family. College exams had taken longer than he had planned, and he only got on a plane to fly in the south of France sometime in the second half of July. He was sixteen now, and it was the first time he flew on an airplane by himself. He had told his parents he'd be okay to reach the villa after landing, so his mom—all too proud of his grown-up boy—told him they'd send a taxi at the airport and leave him supper ready on the stove if he arrived late.

But the night the taxi dropped him in front of the gates of the Villa des Roses, Minho put down his bag under a shrub of hollyhocks, and walked the rest of the avenue, passing by the Villa des Alouettes without even a glance. He went up the steep path leading to the Flower Rock, as he called it now.

As he climbed—an easier climb it seemed, but maybe it was because he had grown up so much in the last years—Minho smelled the odor of tobacco. He slowed down his pace. His favourite spot seemed to be occupied. A lonely silhouette sat there, smoking in the night, with the stars shining above and the waves shimmering below.

“Hi,” Minho said, approaching.

Seungyoon turned his head. Between his fingers sizzled a cigarette. His eyes lit up when he recognized Minho.

“Hi.”

Minho sat down next to him. The wind blew gently on his hair. They weren't as short as they used to be, Minho even let them grow longer.

“How’s boarding school?” he asked, simply, his heart beating hard in his throat. His fingers skipped next to Seungyoon. Under the palm of his hand, Minho could feel the engravings in the stone.

“Different,” Seungyoon answered. “But after three years, I’m okay with it. You? Is school any better?”

Minho chuckled.

“Not really, but I’m in college now, and I have special art classes.”

Seungyoon turned to him and smiled. A bright smile lightened by the summer moon.

“I learned to play guitar,” Seungyoon said from the tip of his lips. “I could show you later…”

Minho blushed, and felt the warm feeling in his chest again.

“I’d like that.”

They stayed silent for a while. Seungyoon butted out his cigarette and dropped his hand next to Minho’s on the rock.

“Did you…” Seungyoon cleared his throat. “Did you get any answers from, you know, the bottles?”

“No,” Minho chuckled. “We only send bottles with your address, remember?”

Seungyoon chuckled in his turn.

“It’s true…”

Minho’s fingers clenched, nails screeching on the rock, as his heartbeat accelerated. 

“Did you?” he asked.

“I… I got your letters,” Seungyoon huffed out. “They were… sweet...” 

His hand searched for Minho’s hand in the dark, and when he found it, he simply held it gently.

“I… I really missed you,” Minho said. "Villa-sur-mer is really not the same without you."

“I missed you too.”

Seungyoon’s voice cracked in the end, and Minho thought his heart would explode.

"I won't lie, I'm a bit mad at you, though," Seungyoon added. "Who writes tons of letters to someone but never gives them their address to write back?"

Minho frowned.

"Did I? I... I'm sorry..."

Seungyoon smiled softly, and squeezed Minho's hand in his.

“Nevermind now," he chuckled. "But don't forget to give it to me next time. Or your phone number."

"Okay..."

Seungyoon's hand was warm in his, and Minho's heart palpitated when Seungyoon slowly moved his thumb to caress his knuckles.

"You drew a rose on the envelope,” Seungyoon said, softly. “On each one of the letters you sent me. Mom thought I had a secret admirer.”

Seungyoon bit his lower lip and gazed into Minho’s eyes. 

“But maybe I did, right?”

Minho nodded, his lack of words getting the best of him. 

“I thought you didn’t have any other flower friends,” Seungyoon whispered.

“Well, I lied.”

Seungyoon leaned closer.

“So, I’m a rose?”

Minho reached down to feel Seungyoon’s nose rub against his, his lips so soft.

“I think… you’re a piece of my happiness."

Seungyoon smiled gently, and pressed his lips on Minho's lips again. His breath was shallow, his heart running wild.

"I think... you're a piece of mine too."

{the end}