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A meadow at the forest's edge, a sea of red in summer.
Junhui picks a single poppy from a million and holds it out to the boy.
"It's for you."
Minghao doesn't reply, nor does he take the flower.
"I know."
there's something sad in Minghao's eyes that Junhui wishes he didn't see.
It will always be for you, Minghao.
Something tears at his throat, his lungs, his heart.
Summer is when Junhui watches and feels the flowers bloom. Blood red. Crawling up his throat, dripping onto white sheets and white tiles and, eventually, down the toilet.
Summer is the beginning.
The constant buzz of cicadas. Long swims in the river on the other side of the forest. Red poppies tucked away in raven hair.
Summer is when Junhui feels like he is painted in red, and Minghao, beautiful Minghao, holds the paintbrush, nonchalant, ethereal and miles away from his reach.
Warm rays of sun seeping through curtains, into golden skin and flushed cheeks.
Soft gasps and muffled whimpers against white pillows, Minghao's name is the only thing on Junhui's lips.
"I love you, Minghao" the warmth in Junhui's gut is brimming, threatening to fall.
"I don't love you, Junhui" Minghao keeps working his hips into him, even harder as the weight of those words settle snugly over them.
"I know" Junhui whispers, throws his head back as he feels Minghao release deep inside him.
Minghao is a lot like Summer, Junhui thinks.
He's full of promises yet unmade, full of carefree innocence, full of that little something why we all look forward to summer.
He's bright mornings over a cool glass of lemonade in the garden.
He's lazy afternoons spread on cool sheets of the bedroom and the air conditioner turned just right.
He's warm evenings of tea and television on the worn old couch in the living room.
And he's countless nights spent in the middle of a poppy field, under a million twinkling stars.
"I love you, Minghao"
Eventually, Summer gives way to Rain.
And as the bright blue sky slowly seep into rumbling clouds of black and grey, Minghao slowly retreats out of Jun's world.
Little by little, step by step, untill Junhui calls his name over his shoulder, but it's too late and Minghao's gone, disappearing into thin air.
Junhui startles.
He was here. He was right here. Where is he?
He thrashes violently, long limbs flailing, screaming as rivers flow down his sunken cheeks.
Where is he. Minghao. Where is he. Minghao. Minghao. Minghao.
Then the nurses come, a multitude of hands holding him down, rushed whispers and then something sharp and needle-like shoved into his arm.
Wait.
A boy, tall, beautiful, with red poppies in his raven hair stands beside the metal table.
Minghao.
His screams stop, body relaxing into the cold metal operating table.
You're here. Right here. With me.
Minghao gives him one of his signature smiles, eyes crinkling prettily at the corners, the ones that made Junhui cry himself to sleep to.
The "in use" sign outside the Operation Room turns red.
"Junhui. Won't you come with me?"
A scalpel cuts into his chest.
Yes, Junhui wants to say. Yes, always Minghao. For you, always.
A sleek pair of scissors cut of the poppies tearing at his lungs.
Suddenly there's a heaviness in his mouth, in his head, in his heart.
A low, burning hum, and blurred, fleeting images of a boy with poppies in his raven hair standing in a field of red.
"Who are you? Do I know you?"
Outside, the rain beats down harshly against the closed glass windows.
Minghao's smile falters.
The heart monitor beeps furiously into the silent room.
"It's me, Junhui. Minghao. Don't you remember me?"
No, I don't. Who are you?
"Don't you love me, Junhui?"
The heart monitor stills for a moment, then resumes a normal pace.
"I don't love you, Minghao"
He starts to fade, shimmering softly as the rain pours down, heavier than before. Minghao gives Junhui one last, long look over his shoulder.
"Not anymore. I know."
And then he's gone.