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So Yunho decides that he will stop existing as a human being for today. And maybe for tomorrow too. He deserves a couple of days off, that’s what he decides.
He is lying on the ground of the garden, right under the trees, so that the shadows of leaves cover him with their uneven trembling body. The spring sun is high and bright, and it reminds Yunho of cool homemade lemonade, which he doesn’t really like but appreciates the freshness of.
He hears a bicycle bell, distant yet clear, it sounds as if it’s coming somewhere from the sky, and then everything is peaceful and quiet again, as quiet as a lush garden can get.
Yunho closes his eyes and waits for the grass to envelop him.
When he already feels the first flowers intertwining with his curls and thoughts, the window on the second floor opens with a loud creak, and a few seconds later Yunho is being punished for absolutely nothing by a whole bucket of cold water coming down on him from above.
He sits up abruptly, coughs, gets the wet hair out of his face, and raises his head to look at the window with justified frustration.
The wall facing the garden is all covered with ivy, and Yunho has never seen this side of the house showing any signs of people living in it. But now, on the second floor, there’s a guy leaning out of the window with a bucket in his hands, and he’s staring at Yunho with equally justified confusion.
“What are you doing?” Yunho asks, frowning.
“Watering the plants,” the guy answers.
Yunho looks at the bucket and then at the puddle of water on the ground.
“That’s not how you water plants.”
“Oh,” the guy gets rid of the bucket and squints at Yunho. “How would you know? Are you a plant?”
“I’m not,” Yunho says, getting the last grass blade out of his hair. “I’m Yunho.”
“Mhm,” the guy agrees as if it clarifies something. “What are you doing there?”
“Living.”
“That’s my garden.”
“Correct. I live in your garden.”
“Never noticed you before.”
“That’s the first time I see you open this window, maybe that’s why.”
“Maybe. I like the other window more,” the guy smiles brightly. “It faces the sea.”
Yunho likes the sea too. He thinks about the endless mirror of the water, and the waves take away his annoyance.
“I’m taking care of your garden. So you don’t have to worry,” he says.
“That’s very sweet of you.”
The guy disappears inside, and Yunho figures that’s the end of this conversation, but a couple of minutes later the guy pops up again.
“Do you want to go for a walk with me?”
Yunho doesn’t get to open his mouth because the guy already says that he’s happy Yunho wants to keep him company and that he’ll be waiting for him at the front door in a few minutes. The window then closes with an obnoxious noise. Yunho sighs. Seems like his plan to sink into the ground for some time isn’t going to work.
He climbs over the fence — there is a door leading from the garden to the house, but it is covered in moss and ivy and must have already forgotten it exists, so he doesn’t disturb its peace — and goes to the front door. The guy is standing there.
“I’m Wooyoung, by the way,” he says. “Let’s go!”
He takes Yunho by the arm and excitedly drags him down the street.
Wooyoung reminds Yunho of the spring sun and, consequently, of the sparkling water. He’s cheeky, loud, confident, and he has been talking for the past 20 minutes without a single pause. When you drink something fizzy, it burns your throat, tickles your nose, and goes straight to your head, and that’s exactly what Wooyoung does too. Goes straight to your head and makes himself comfortable there, no matter if you let him do it or not.
They’ve reached the main square, and Wooyoung abruptly stops. A couple of people bump into them.
“Are we waiting for something?” Yunho asks. He’s not a fan of standing still in the middle of a busy place.
“For someone,” Wooyoung corrects.
Five minutes later the crowd spits out one person, a guy in a huge fluffy sweater, and he stands still, looking around in confusion, but then notices Wooyoung and joyfully skips closer. As soon as the guy is within reach, Wooyoung wraps him in a tight hug.
“Hi!” Wooyoung says, letting go of the guy, and then gestures to Yunho. “That’s Yunho! I found him in my garden this morning. Yunho, that’s San!”
Yunho nods awkwardly, and San gives him a big smile. There’s something about the guy, but Yunho can’t put his finger on it. Then he finally realizes.
“You have cat ears,” he points out.
“I get that a lot,” San smiles.
“Because it’s true,” Wooyoung chimes in.
“I’m rather sensitive about them, actually.”
“Yeah, they are rather sensitive. If you touch them, he’ll mewl.”
“I got them in a traumatic accident.”
“A traumatic accident of being born.”
“When I was 5, my pet cat died and I grieved so much that these ears grew on my head.”
“The fucker had them since birth.”
“These are two different stories,” Yunho says.
“Well, I think I would know the origin of the ears on my own head,” San pouts.
“And I never lie,” Wooyoung says as if that’s a logical continuation of San’s thought.
Yunho wonders if these two ever get migraines from each other.
Together they go to a cafe and spend the rest of the morning there, talking about nothing and everything.
“I think it’s going to rain tonight,” San murmurs at some point, looking through the window.
“Do your cat senses tell you that?”
“Yes. And the weather broadcast.”
It indeed starts raining in the evening.
Yunho sighs and heads to the garden, but Wooyoung stops him.
“What, are you going to sleep outside in the rain?”
“I’ve done it before,” Yunho shrugs.
“No, won’t do. You’re staying at my place.”
So after the door is unlocked, all three of them enter the house: Wooyoung as a rightful owner of the place, Yunho as a victim of the owner’s kind heart, and San as a cat that walks by himself and sleeps when and where he wants.
Wooyoung and San take off their shoes nimbly and go straight to another room, probably a kitchen, judging by the smell. Yunho stays in the hallway, shifting from one foot to the other and fidgeting with his sleeves.
“Are you planning on sleeping right there?” Wooyoung’s head asks, popping out from the open door. “I can lay you a rug.”
“No, it’s just… Maybe you can just give me an umbrella for the night? Do you have an umbrella?”
Wooyoung huffs but opens the wardrobe in the hallway and rummages through stuff. He fishes out a big black umbrella.
“I have this one, but I’m pretty sure it’s broken.”
Yunho takes the umbrella, immediately opens it over his head, and — for the second time today — gets cool water pouring down on him.
“See,” Wooyoung chuckles. “I once made a mistake of drawing pretty clouds on the inside with acrylic, but now the rain is confused and is falling from the umbrella too.”
“Well, I guess you did a good job painting,” Yunho says, closing the umbrella. “I’m soaking wet now, so it doesn’t really matter if I just sleep outsi—”
“Stop with that already,” San shouts from the kitchen. “The more people the better, we love the company. So take your shoes off and get your ass here, I found some food for dinner.”
Wooyoung seems excited by the fact that there is food in his kitchen, so he skips off from the hallway, and Yunho has no choice but to follow him.
Later tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, Wooyoung takes Yunho by the hand and leads him up the stairs.
“There’s a bed in the attic,” he says. “You can stay there. You’ll find the bedding in the wardrobe.”
And once Wooyoung’s cheerful “Good night!” fades, Yunho is left alone in a small dark room with a vaulted ceiling.
A noise drags Yunho out from the soft embrace of sleep. The sky outside the small round window is still gray and wet, and everything is quiet for a second. Then there’s this noise again, and Yunho realizes it’s coming from above.
He gets up from the bed, pulls the chair under the hatch on the ceiling, and carefully climbs out to the roof.
The world is peaceful, the rain is tapping its uneven melodies on the leaves and windows, and everyone in the town is asleep except for Yunho and for a dark figure that’s sitting on the edge of the roof.
“Hello,” Yunho says because he’s not sure what to do and he decides to at least be polite.
The figure turns around and transforms from a vague black silhouette into a young man in a huge straw hat.
“Hello,” he answers, and his voice is low and sweet. “Did I wake you up? Sorry.”
“Nah, that’s ok,” Yunho answers, carefully coming closer to the stranger. The roof is wet and slippery. “What are you doing here?”
“Enjoying life, I guess.”
“Cool.”
The guy then looks Yunho up and down.
“Have we met before? I feel like I know you.”
“I don’t think so,” Yunho shrugs. “Maybe in the previous life.”
“Maybe. Is your name Yujin?”
“No.”
“Good,” he tips his hat. “I’m Mingi.”
Yunho doesn’t get to answer because his new friend stands up with a huff and goes to the upper part of the roof. Now Yunho notices a bicycle balancing next to the chimney.
“I’ll head off,” Mingi announces. “Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”
“Are you going to ride off the roof?”
“Why would I do that?” Mingi asks confusedly and then gets on the bike, pushes the pedals, and — too fast and too unexpectedly for Yunho’s sleepy brain — the guy takes off, flies up, and heads to the other side of the town.
Soon the bike together with the guy disappears into the crying sky, and Yunho follows them with his eyes until they’re nothing but a small blot on a dark-blue canvas.
The morning greets them with more rain. Yunho wakes up closer to noon — he’s a morning person only on days when his sleep isn’t disturbed by a weird stranger sitting on the roof — and goes down to the kitchen.
San is chewing on some sandwiches, which is exactly what he was doing yesterday when Yunho last saw him. Wooyoung is making coffee.
“Rise and shine, our garden fairy!” he exclaims. “The rain has gotten worse, it’s hard to walk around because of the water, so I think it’s better if we just spend the whole day inside. Are you hungry?”
“Could use some coffee,” Yunho answers, sitting down. “There was a guy with a flying bicycle on your roof tonight.”
“Oh,” Wooyoung doesn’t seem bothered. “Did he steal something?”
“Only an hour of my sleep.”
“How very rude of him,” San notices. “He’ll have to make up for this. He should gift you a jar of sweet dreams.”
Yunho’s not a fan of dream jars. He trusts his mind enough to let it choose in what absurd scenarios he would find himself every night.
Wooyoung puts a cup of hot coffee in front of Yunho, the latter takes the first sip, the clock strikes noon, and with that the week starts, the week full of rain, kitchen talks, and board games.
Yunho mostly listens, not because he doesn’t have anything to bring to the table, but because nothing that’s on his mind seems significant enough to put into words. Wooyoung and San talk non-stop, because every little thought in their brains is meaningful and crucial and should be announced immediately, preferably very loud and fast, otherwise they would burst and stain the kitchen with all the colorful ideas sitting inside them.
San’s thoughts are like watercolor, gentle and soulful, he pouts a lot and is always munching on something. Wooyoung’s thoughts are like acrylic, bright and clear, and he’s dropped the cups from the table with his wide gestures on more than one occasion. And with these paints they draw together on the same canvas, talking over each other, and their different stories merge into a new one, a weirdly coherent third tale that they know nothing about. Yunho watches this fascinating tale birth process and feels confused and happy, just like you’re supposed to feel when something new comes to the world.
But all the stories have to end one day, and so should the rain.
This day for the rain hasn’t come yet, it seems. Everything is still gray and moody, and the water on the roads now reaches the knees of the unfortunate passerby who’re brave or stupid enough to go for a walk.
People have decided to put wooden planks between roofs, so now there are new streets and roads in the town, several meters above the ground, narrow and slippery. The sound of steps coming from the top of your house becomes an everyday thing. It reminds Yunho of straw hats. He wonders if that guy’s hat has turned into a shapeless mess from all the rain. He also wonders if he’ll ever see him again.
The nights are quiet. The people are not too eager to go outside even during the day, and at night everyone sits at home, wrapped in a blanket and with a book in their hands. So nothing disturbs Yunho’s sleep except for the muted tattle of the rain until one night he hears a sharp sound of a bike bell and all but jumps out of the bed.
Yunho pokes out from the hatch and looks around.
“Mingi?” he says once he finds the hatted figure on the other side of the roof, next to the chimney, tinkering with the bike. That’s such a ridiculously big hat.
“Oh, hello,” Mingi answers. “Did I wake you up again?”
“You did,” Yunho smiles.
“Sorry. Something is wrong with my bell. Here,” the guy fumbles in his pockets, then pulls something out and carefully throws it to Yunho.
Yunho catches a small wrapped peppermint.
“Well, thank you. You really don’t need to buy my forgiveness with sweets, I’m not 5.”
“I’m buying your forgiveness in the most serious adulty way.”
“OK, the deal is sealed,” Yunho laughs.
“I'm really not trying to wake you up all the time. Your roof is just nice. It’s on the edge of the town and the view here is pretty.”
The view right now is nothing but a gray wall of rain.
“That’s fine. You can wake me up as much as you want.”
“Noted,” Mingi chuckles. “I will be going then. Good night!”
“Good night to you too.”
The guy gets on his bike and carefully rides off the roof, and then rises above the town and flies away. Yunho watches him leave and thinks that talking to Mingi feels like catching a fish in the forest lake. It’s right there, right before your eyes, yet you can’t quite get a firm grip on it. He wants to ask Mingi why he doesn’t sleep at night, instead flies over the quiet town, why he stops on the roofs, why he wears that silly hat. And why he still hasn’t asked for Yunho’s name.
“I want ice cream,” San declares one day.
“Too bad, we don’t have any,” Wooyoung answers. “But you can go to the shop if you want.”
San huffs and says that he will, in fact, go to the shop. Yunho finds a tube of black paint in the closet and covers the inside of the umbrella with it. The umbrella remembers its true purpose and can be used properly again.
“I’ll be back in an hour,” San says and leaves the house from the balcony on the second floor.
Wooyoung’s started to worry the second San left the house, so he’s been trying to find some peace in cooking. Yunho reasons with him that San is not a child and can manage to go down the street a few blocks. But the promised hour passes, and then another 30 minutes, and Yunho also starts drumming his fingers on the kitchen table nervously, trying to find himself a place in the monotonous sonata that the rain is performing.
“That’s it, I’ll go and look for him,” Wooyoung finally says, dropping the spatula and marching to the second floor.
Yunho cautiously turns off the oven and follows him.
They haven’t even reached the room with the balcony when they hear a loud knock on another window.
“No rest for the good people like us,” Wooyoung mutters and heads to open the window. “Who is it?”
The scene they see is quite amusing. Outside, floating in midair, there is no other than Mingi on his trusty bike. Behind him, on the rear rack, there is a huge yellow raincoat in a shape of a person, and after a few seconds both Wooyoung and Yunho realize that the bright rustling fabric hides San, who is sitting on his uncomfortable seat and holding to Mingi’s waist for his dear life.
A confused silence falls for a minute.
“Hi,” Yunho says tentatively.
“Hello,” Mingi smiles. “Is that your cat?”
San makes some offended noise, but since his face is still pressed to Mingi’s back and his head’s covered with the raincoat hood, it comes out muffled and resembles a mewl so much that Wooyoung just sighs and nods.
“That’s San,” he says, and then both he and Yunho help their friend let go of the biker and get inside.
“What happened?” Yunho asks.
“He slipped on a plank, fell down into the water, for some reason swam to the tree instead of the house, climbed up, and was kind of just sitting there. I decided to give him a ride.”
“I panicked,” San pouts. “Don’t like water.”
Wooyoung has already run to the bathroom and started to rather aggressively wipe San’s hair with a towel. San’s ears are pressed to his head and he doesn’t seem happy with this whole situation.
“You shouldn’t leave the house these days, then,” Mingi laughs. “There’s a lot of water everywhere.”
Yunho stares at Mingi. It’s the first time he sees his roof friend in the daylight, so he can finally form a proper mental image in his mind. Mingi has plump lips, little golden earrings, and grayish hair. The ribbon tied around his hat is bright lavender and very long, hanging down from the brim and almost reaching the bike with its ends. He looks like a summer person, or like summer itself, and Yunho is astonished that he can live so freely and happily during these murky spring days.
“Thank you for saving this idiot,” Wooyoung says. “Do you want to stay for tea? I want to thank you properly.”
“No, that’s fine. I’ve caused some problems to your lovely household too, so we’re even now,” Mingi winks at Yunho, and the latter averts his eyes. “Please take care of your cat friend.”
He then tips his hat, pushes the pedals, and with a swoosh disappears between the roofs.
“I’ll run you a bath, cat friend,” Wooyoung grumbles, flicks his finger on San’s forehead, and stomps to the bathroom.
“He’s mad at me,” San whines and buries his face in Yunho’s chest.
“He has the reasons, I think,” Yunho chuckles and hugs his friend. “I didn’t notice this raincoat when you were leaving.”
“Oh shit. That’s not mine. That guy gave it to me.”
Yunho runs his fingers over the yellow fabric.
“Did you at least buy the ice cream?”
“I did. But it drifted away when I fell into the water,” San mutters. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing,” Yunho says through laughter.
“And I’ve lost the umbrella.”
“What a pity. You had a hard day, didn’t you, kitten?”
“Horrible day,” San agrees, clinging closer and looking up. “Your ears are red.”
“And yours are covered in fur,” Yunho says defensively.
He scratches behind San’s ear and gets a satisfied purr in return. Then they hear an angry “Can you two hurry up or something?!” from the bathroom and with happy giggling follow Wooyoung’s voice mixed with the sound of running water.
Wooyoung leaves the two in the bathroom — San in the tub, sitting in steaming hot water, and Yunho with a handful of towels and dry clothes — and disappears from the house, but 20 minutes later returns with a bucket of ice cream. They have it for dinner.
“That was the roof guy,” Yunho says when they’re sitting at the kitchen table. “I told you about him, remember?”
“Oh. Well, he seems sweet,” Wooyoung says. “Saves cats from the trees and all that stuff.”
“He’s warm,” San adds.
“He is…” Yunho muses. “I’ll take the raincoat, I think. Maybe he’ll come to our roof again.”
They stay in the kitchen until the night falls, then wish each other goodnight and go to their rooms. Yunho lies in the bed, keeping his eyes closed and listening to the rain drumming on the window, and his mind is filled with yellow and lavender.
Yunho wakes up a second before he hears steps from above. He grabs the raincoat that’s been lying on the table for a few days now and climbs up.
He doesn’t see anyone at first, but then notices the guy lying on the sloping roof. Yunho comes closer and carefully sits down on the wet surface.
“I brought your raincoat back.”
“Thanks. I was planning on leaving it as a gift to your friend.”
“It’s too big for him.”
“True,” Mingi looks up at Yunho. “It will fit you just fine, though.”
Yunho stares at the yellow coat in his hands and throws it over his shoulders.
“You can see the moon tonight,” Mingi says.
And it’s true, the sky isn’t covered in gray mist, the dark clouds are running along so that sometimes the moon and the stars peek through and cast wistful glances at the world below.
“I like the stars,” Yunho whispers.
“Want me to get you one?” Mingi asks in a serious voice.
“No. But I want you to take me out for a coffee.”
“Mhm,” Mingi muses. “What else do you want?”
Yunho pouts, thinking, follows the clouds with his eyes, and tries to find an answer in their ever-changing shapes.
“Want to know more about you.”
“Why?”
“I like you, and I need a reason to justify it.”
Mingi laughs, and Yunho decides that this laugh is enough of a reason for now.
“Anything else?”
“Want you to ask what my name is.”
“I’ll take you for a coffee sometime,” Mingi chuckles.
“Why do you dislike names so much?”
“I don’t. It’s just…” Mingi keeps quiet for a minute. “It seems more meaningful. I think I made a mistake when I told you my name. I could’ve been a mysterious man on a flying bicycle who doesn’t let you sleep. But now I’m just Mingi.”
“And who am I then?”
“A charming guy who sits in the rain to talk to me.”
Yunho wraps himself in the raincoat tighter.
“I never asked you why you fly around at night.”
“Don’t know,” Mingi shrugs. “It fits my character.”
“Do you think your poor sleeping schedule is a personality trait?”
“No,” Mingi laughs. “But it wouldn’t feel as important if we were talking in the daylight, don’t you think?”
Yunho doesn’t quite follow but nods anyway.
“You treat your life like a book plot,” he says.
“So should you. It’s fun.”
Yunho looks at Mingi, sees a warm calming light in the sparkling eyes, and thinks that maybe the summer sky has sent Mingi here to look after the world in these weird foggy times.
“So, am I a side character in your story, or are you a side character in mine?”
“Does it matter? There is one huge magical tale, and we’re all a part of it.”
The chill wind blows and reminds Yunho of his wet clothes and his numb fingers.
“You must be freezing,” Mingi says quietly. “Go back to bed.”
Yunho gets up and starts to fold the raincoat, but Mingi shakes his head.
“Take it. It suits you,” he smiles. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
The moon disappears behind the clouds again, and Yunho slowly walks through the thick darkness. Before closing the hatch, he looks back and sees that Mingi’s covered his face with a hat, and the ribbon, now deep purple, is flattering in the wind.
“The rain’s stopped!” Wooyoung yells the second Yunho enters the kitchen the next morning.
“But there’s still a lot of water on the streets,” San pout.
“Yeah, it will probably take some time,” Yunho muses, looking out of the window.
He settles on the chair and breathes in the sweet smells of the house. San reaches his hand to Yunho’s head — the latter fully expects some sudden but still pleasant pats — and suddenly pulls.
“Ouch! Why would you pull my hair out?”
San stares at him and then opens his hand. On his palm lie a few fresh lavender flowers.
“Sorry, you just had them stuck in your hair. Didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“Not stuck,” Wooyoung says, examining Yunho’s head thoroughly. “They’re growing out of his head.”
“What?” San and Yunho exclaim at the same time.
“You’re turning into a garden yourself,” Wooyoung says, pinching Yunho’s cheek. “I take it that’s not a usual thing for you?”
“Never happened before,” Yunho mutters and goes to the mirror in the hallway.
Wooyoung is right, there is lavender on his head, flowers and leaves, but all of them are rather small, not longer than his hair. He carefully pulls on one stem and hisses from the sharp tingle.
“Well, welcome to the ‘We have things on our heads’ club,” San smiles at Yunho, who returns to the kitchen and sits down with a lost look on his face. “We have gatherings every Tuesday.”
“Very funny,” Yunho mumbles. “Why did it happen, I wonder.”
“Maybe you miss your garden life. You’ll get back to it once the water is gone, maybe then the flowers will fall off. Or you can, like, take them out and plant them—”
“That is, dare I say, disgusting.”
“Well, I’m sorry for not being a flower expert,” San pouts. “Ask your precious plants then.”
Yunho turns to the window. He looks at the old willow that grows there and silently asks it a question, and the willow says that he’s just a little fool with little foolish problems. Yunho sighs heavily.
“It means you’re in love,” Wooyoung says warmly, setting the table for breakfast.
“How do you know? Is it an actual symptom of being in love?”
“Don’t know shit about symptoms. But I do know that when the flowers start to grow in your hair, it can only mean one thing: you’re so full of love and life that they just don’t fit in your body.”
Yunho whines and puts his forehead on the table.
“Cute,” San chuckles. “And your ears are red again.”
“Once the water is gone, I’ll never set foot in this house ever again.”
“Sure,” Wooyoung pats him on the back. “Have some sandwiches, flower boy.”
Yunho turns his head, squishes his cheek against the rough tablecloth, blindly reaches for the sandwich, and slowly starts to chew. His curls intertwine with leaves and flowers, the fresh smell of lavender spreads around the kitchen, and in the rays of the morning sun, his hair looks bright yellow.
A few days later the water finally goes away, and the streets can breathe again.
Yunho is sitting on the floor in front of the couch, and San is carefully combing his hair. It’s become kind of a struggle to do.
“You shouldn’t leave this place, you know,” San says quietly.
“You’re talking as if I’m going to another country. The garden is literally two meters away.”
“I just don’t want you to sleep on the ground. What if the plants see you as one of their kin and won’t let you go anymore? We’ll have to water you every day and look for pests then.”
Yunho thinks of the day he met Wooyoung for the first time and chuckles.
“Maybe I will still spend my nights here. The bed in the attic is comfy.”
San purrs and scratches the back of his neck lovingly.
“What about you?” Yunho asks. “Why do you live here? Don’t you have a home of your own?”
“My home is where I laugh the most. And you guys are pretty funny.”
“Fair enough.”
“Can I put some little braids in your hair?”
“Sure.”
San starts to carefully twist little locks around each other, and Yunho decides that he really likes this place.
When all is done, they get up and go to look for Wooyoung, who’s announced that he’s going to work outside and hasn’t shown up in the house ever since.
They open the front door and see Wooyoung collecting the planks from the fence that’s been destroyed by the water. What they don’t expect to see, however, is the broad back of another person knocking the wooden post into the ground with a hammer. The big hat doesn’t let the secret of identity last for too long.
“Good morning!” San says loudly.
Both Wooyoung and Mingi stop their work and look at the guys on the porch.
“Are you done with prettying yourself up?” Wooyoung asks. “We could use some idle hands here.”
“I see you’ve already found yourself a volunteer to do all the dirty work.”
“Less talking, more working, Sannie.”
San runs up to him and takes the planks from his hands, and Yunho hesitantly goes to Mingi.
“Hello.”
“Hi,” Mingi smiles at him and then looks at his hair. “You’re getting prettier with every passing day.”
“Woo says I have too much life in me.”
“Sounds serious,” Mingi carefully touches light purple flowers. “I like lavender.”
Yunho feels his face heating up, and he figures he doesn’t like the combination of yellow, lavender and red colors — and maybe he doesn’t like it because Mingi doesn’t have a single red thing on him — so he quickly shrugs and asks how he can help.
It’s a well-known fact that fixing up a fence speeds the time up, so when the work is done, the sun is already at its highest point, and there are no shadows, and everything looks fresh and pure.
“Maybe the world needed that deep cleaning,” Wooyoung muses, reading Yunho’s thoughts. “Let’s have some lunch, we still have leftovers from breakfast.”
He heads inside with San following him, and Yunho too gets up on the first step of the porch, but stops and turns around. Mingi hasn’t moved, he stands idly, leaning on the fence, and looks at Yunho with uncertainty.
“Aren’t you going? Wooyoung will be happy if you keep us company,” Yunho says.
“Will you be happy?”
“Of course. And before you ask, San will be too. He will be ecstatic and will purr and rub all over your neck if only you let him.”
Mingi chuckles, but then looks around and bites his lips.
“I think the coffee shops won’t open for at least a week more,” he muses.
Yunho arches his eyebrow in question.
“But the loving arms of nature are always open for us,” Mingi finishes and meets Yunho’s eyes shyly.
“That’s the most cryptic way to invite me for a picnic.”
“Would you go?”
“Sure, I love picnics! Let me just steal some food first,” Yunho runs into the house, jumping over the steps. He does his best to hide a wide excited grin.
When he leaves the house again, closing the door carefully and holding a basket, Mingi is already sitting on his bike. He gestures to the rear rack that’s now covered with a folded blanket and can actually pass for a somewhat comfortable second saddle.
“So, where are we going?” Yunho asks, getting on the bicycle behind Mingi.
His friend takes a basket from his hands and hangs it on the handlebar.
“Somewhere far away. Hold on tight!”
He pushes the pedals, rides several meters down the road, then pulls the handlebars, and with a light jolt the bike takes off.
Yunho’s intended to keep his decency and use as little of his hands as possible, but the second the wheels leave the ground, he pathetically squeals and pushes his whole body into Mingi, hugging his torso.
They rise above the town and fly forward, staying not too high but just enough for Yunho’s pants to not get caught on weathervanes.
“How are you holding up?” Mingi asks loudly.
“Great,” Yunho squeaks somewhere into the other’s nape.
“Glad to hear,” Mingi laughs, and the wind brings his laughter right into Yunho’s ears and fills his body with this sound. “Would be nice if you let me breathe a little. But you’re doing great with the whole holding tight thing!”
Yunho, first of all, blushes intensely, and then tentatively removes his grip, instead putting his palms on Mingi’s waist, and dares to look around.
The view takes his breath away.
They have already left the town behind, so they are now flying over the fields and woods. Everything looks small but at the same time huge and endless, and all the colors of the world merge together into a radiant kaleidoscope. But all this blaze is far below, and here, everywhere, all around Yunho, there’s nothing but the sky, clear blue sky, so bright and clean that if you tap it with a spoon, as they do on fancy parties, it will tinkle like a champagne glass.
“Look, a rainbow!” Mingi exclaims.
The rainbow pops up from the heart of the forest, crosses the sky, and disappears into the distance.
“Can you ride on it?” Yunho asks. “And then slide down?”
“Rainbows are not solid substances,” Mingi laughs. “But we can fly through it.”
He steers to the left and changes their route a little. A few minutes later they reach the rainbow, and with a loud cheer, Mingi drives them right through the colorful veil.
For a second Yunho is overwhelmed, he can sense a milliard of smells, he feels the colors on his tongue, everything is exciting, wonderful, and too much, and it reminds him of the tales San and Wooyoung like to tell.
They leave the rainbow behind, the wind blows off the last vivid sparkles from their clothes and skin, and Mingi starts to slowly fly down.
Yunho closes his eyes, presses his cheek to the wide back, and listens to the other’s racing heart. The ends of the ribbon on Mingi’s hat are flattering on either side of him, interwinding behind him from time to time, and it feels like a hug, and Yunho is filled with gratitude.
They land on a small meadow. Mingi lays the blanket on the ground, puts the basket down, and then throws himself on the plaid fabric, spreading his arms and looking up into the sky. Yunho stretches, then sits down too and grabs two apples, handing one to his friend.
“Life’s good,” Mingi says dreamingly, squinting from the bright sun.
“Yeah.”
Yunho looks at the distance. The grass around them is tall, almost knee-high, and there are flowers everywhere, of all shapes and colors, they peacefully sway in the breeze as if nodding their heads, greeting their two guests, wishing them a happy day and a happy life. The buzz of the bees, the singing of birds, the rustle of the wind, and Yunho’s quiet breathing mix together, harmonizing, and this music fills the heart with a fizzy feeling.
Mingi finishes the apple and grabs a sandwich, and Yunho mindlessly reaches for the straw hat, which has fallen off Mingi’s head at some point, and starts playing with the ribbons.
Suddenly he notices something stuck behind the band. He takes it out carefully: it’s a long and narrow piece of thick paper.
“I love this place,” Mingi smiles, still lying and keeping his eyes closed. “That’s a pity I couldn’t come here during the rains.”
“Yeah…” Yunho breathes out. “Good thing they’ve ended.”
“It’s nice in winter too. Just an endless canvas of untouched snow.”
“Mhm,” Yunho takes a deep breath. “Mingi… What is it?”
He turns to look at the guy and shows him the train ticket — because that’s exactly what it is.
“A train ticket,” Mingi answers, lazily opening his eyes and looking at Yunho.
“Why?”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it yours?”
“Yep.”
“Are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
A bird in a nearby forest starts an obnoxiously loud tune, and the music of the moment is ruined, and everything is falling apart.
“Why?..”
“I don’t like staying in one place for too long. And I’ve been here for half a year.”
“Don’t you want to spend the summer here?”
“I’m sure there are other great places to spend it,” Mingi says. “The summer won’t run away from me.”
Yunho hugs his knees and rests his chin on them.
“So, that’s the end of this chapter, I guess?”
Mingi laughs at that.
“Don’t be sad. The characters never just disappear, they always have some impact on the story.”
“But not all characters come back later in the book.”
“True. Depends on how important the character is.”
“Are you important?” Yunho whispers.
“I don’t know. Am I?”
Yunho takes a deep breath.
“Wish you’d told me about it, you know.”
Mingi sits up and leans closer to look into Yunho’s face.
“Are you mad?”
“I don’t have the right to be mad here. It’s your life.”
“You’re allowed to feel stuff,” Mingi puts his hand on Yunho’s shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m not used to this.”
“To what?”
“To having people that care, I guess.”
“Can I come to see you off?”
“God, please, don’t. I don’t like these dramatic goodbyes. Let’s just enjoy today.”
Yunho raises the hand to his shoulder and interwinds his fingers with Mingi’s. They sit in silence, Mingi with his head thrown back, enjoying the breeze on his face, and Yunho staring at the ticket.
“It doesn’t say the final destination. There’s just a blank space here,” he points out after some time.
“Yeah, they don’t really ask where you’re going. I don’t even know why they have this line.”
“Some deep metaphor. Your journey ends nowhere and everywhere at the same time.”
“Looks like a poor ticket design to me.”
Yunho follows the bulky letters with his finger.
“Song Mingi, huh?”
“Stop it,” Mingi whines. “We’re in the middle of nowhere. No names allowed here.”
“But…”
“Here,” Mingi frees his hand from Yunho’s grip and fishes out a small pencil from the chest pocket of his shirt. “Write your name down.”
“But I’ll ruin the ticket then.”
“Nah, they don’t really check them.”
Yunho takes the pencil, presses the paper against his thigh, hesitates for a second, and writes uneven letters in the free space, so it turns out like this:
Destination: Jeong Yunho
He then carefully puts the ticket back on the hat and fixes the ribbon.
“You promised to tell me more about yourself.”
“I didn’t. But what do you wanna know?”
“How did you teach your bike to fly?”
“Ahh,” Mingi sighs dreamingly, takes another apple from the basket, and starts. “It all started when I was 9…”
Yunho gently puts his head on the other’s shoulder, closes his eyes, and drifts off into a magical land that Mingi’s building for him.
They fly back home when the sun is already setting and the sky is slowly turning from bright orange to deep purple.
“I had a great time!” Mingi smiles.
“Me too. Thank you for inviting me.”
They stay like that. The town is quiet, a lonely streetlight is flickering in the distance. Yunho is standing awkwardly, fidgeting with his sleeves. Mingi is sitting on the bike, resting one foot on the ground. He then sighs and opens his arms.
“Come here, flower boy.”
Yunho slowly approaches, wraps his hands around Mingi, and hides his face in the crook of his neck. He can feel Mingi nuzzling his hair carefully and breathing in the scent of lavender. They hear a door opening down the street, and a loud voice orders the children to go inside. Yunho shuts his eyes tight and begs the time to stop for a second, to let him bask in this warm feeling, and the time chuckles quietly and gives two boys their well-deserved minutes, or maybe hours, or maybe years and centuries.
Mingi pats his back, and they part. The other sighs and slowly goes to the house.
Yunho already has his hand on the doorknob but stops and turns around.
“Good night,” he says.
“Good night,” Mingi smiles. “Sleep tight, Yunho.”
Yunho opens his eyes and sees the first hints of sunlight in the window. He groans, buries his face in the pillow, and tries to go back to sleep, but suddenly sits up with a startle.
There’s a knock coming from the roof.
Yunho gets up, stumbles, nearly falls down, and hastily climbs up outside.
The roof is empty. Yunho looks around in confusion. The town is still asleep, and there’s nothing except for morning chill and gentle tweets of birds.
He then notices something behind the chimney and carefully comes closer.
There is the basket — of course, he forgot to take his basket back yesterday — hidden between the roof and the red bricks of the chimney. Yunho squats down and looks inside.
He sees two things there: firstly, a paper cup closed with a lid, and from the smell Yunho figures there’s coffee inside. And secondly, a lush bouquet of lavender flowers tied with a ribbon.
Yunho stares at it, and after a few seconds, the quiet morning is shaken up by his loud laughter. He sits down, runs the hands over his face, rubs his eyes, and then, still giggling, puts the basket on his lap, grabs the cup, and takes the first sip.
The coffee is unapologetically strong and sweet, and it tastes like summer and childhood dreams. Yunho carefully takes out the flowers, and something falls out and lands on the bottom of the basket. He reaches for it and pulls out a little rolled-up piece of paper. Yunho opens it, reads the message in a whisper — a wide smile spreads across his face, and his vision goes blurry. He sniffles and takes another sip of the coffee.
The paper, with little neat letters written in the middle, says:
“See you in the next chapter.”