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The window trembles gently as the morning breeze wafts through the room. A single ray of sunlight follows its path towards Minho’s bed, tickling his skin. The boy sleeps peacefully.
It’s the harsh alarm that sets off on the night table that stirs him awake, letting a pleasant dream slip away. Minho blinks his eyes open, scanning the room – or rather, observing the window.
Not because of the rattling noises, not even the cold.
On top of the windowsill, seemingly unbothered by the wind, sits a pile of letters. He smiles at the sight and wills himself to finally get up, shuffling towards the window. His bare feet regret coming so close to the source of crispy morning air but he’s too immersed in the view to be bothered about it.
A rooftop upon rooftop of crimson coloured tiles, peaceful streets lined with greenery and blooming flowers on every balcony in sight. It’s been a year since he took his younger brother and moved out from home, and he misses the familiar streets and his family house sometimes, but it’s nothing to beat the scenery – the feeling of serenity the seaside town radiates in early mornings.
He feels longing towards this place even when he doesn’t go further than the college complex a town away. He can’t picture leaving this place anytime soon.
The memories, the scenery, not even the residents. Especially not the residents.
Satisfied with the view, Minho shuffles towards the bed. He scissors each envelope open, scans its insides and places it aside. On weekdays, his night table piles up with unread mail, threatening to fall over and scatter around the floor. So be it.
Nothing out of ordinary, just the regular morning mail – the monthly electricity bill, a letter from home, a few package notifications. He will send Jeongin to collects those while he’s at school.
An appreciative smile blooms on his face when he finds a daisy tucked between the letters. He brings it towards his nose, smelling it, then places it into a vase with numerous others. Some are already withering, their petals covering the wooden surface, but he doesn’t have it in himself to throw them away.
He returns to the letters – one last is lingering in his hands, a plain lilac envelope with no address written.
He almost opens it, if not for the sudden intrusion of gentle knocking on his door.
“Hyung, classes in twenty minutes, you overslept again!” Jeongin sounds from the door, peeking inside with a bright smile. It’s nothing like the sleepy excuse that tugs at the corner of Minho’s mouth as a greeting. Where does Jeongin get all his energy from?
“My alarm rang just now,” he defends himself weakly, gesturing at the clock that keeps innocently counting seconds. It’s significantly later than he remembers when he opened his eyes.
Maybe it’s really just the mail that carried him away. The sight outside the window, for the most part.
“Hey, found anything special in yours?” he inquires when Jeongin doesn’t walk away yet.
“Nah, just the regular fortune cookie,” the younger shakes his head. It started a little over a month ago, and while Jeongin joked about requesting full deliveries, Minho couldn’t tolerate the favouritism.
All he got were flowers – which is cute and all, but what could potentially top free food?
“And? What did it say?”
Jeongin rolls his eyes affectionately, sporting a teasing grin. “That we’re gonna be late, again.”
The door slam shut.
⁎✉⁎
He makes it to the second class of the day and pretends he’s been in the classroom since morning, despite looking obviously out of place with his mussed hair and haphazardly fixed shirt. But his appearance goes unnoticed, unlike the spaced out expression the professor calls him out on not even ten minutes into the lesson.
The voice of the professor goes to his left ear, then right out of the other. Normally, he would be immersed in the studies, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the blue envelope.
He spent the whole train ride imagining what could await him inside. It could be anything, from unprompted greetings from friends, blackmailing money, or maybe a love letter.
He glances at the letter peeking out from between his books, just enough to tease him.
Many questions pop up in his head at the sight – he wonders what prompted its delivery, and what are the odds of having received someone else’s mail. Pretty low, but it’s there.
But he won’t know until he opens it – so he does just that.
Fingers trembling with excitement, he unpeels the envelope carefully, making sure not to tear the letter inside nor ruin its neat appearance. A folded piece of paper is what he finds inside.
The wind I chase each morning, to get to you,
The rays of sun that are weak compared to your smile,
Magic would not be enough to share my love with you,
I wish for nothing else, but to call you mine ♡
Pleasant warmth spreads from the pits of his stomach, all the way to his heart. He fights the smile that threatens to appear on his face, but it’s a battle lost from the beginning.
He brings the letter to his nose, catching a faint smell of tulips by its corners, lingering from the nervous rubbing of its sender’s finger pads.
Cute.
⁎✉⁎
He returns home later than usual, blamed mostly on a stretched out afternoon class and his need for coffee from the busiest café in town.
The train ride home is spent by checking his phone for any messages from Jeongin and thinking about the letter. He almost misses his stop, if not for the bright flower shop that catches his attention – and reminds him of the tulips that are waiting for him at home.
He’s surprised to find them all thriving and, most importantly, already watered.
He must have returned sooner.
Before he goes to sleep, he remembers to set the alarm early – although it’s weekend tomorrow, he wants to be awake for the delivery time.
He can’t wait to see him.
⁎✉⁎
Minho stirs awake, unwillingly sitting up to glance at the alarm – then at the window.
It’s open, letting the morning breeze and the smell of tulips waft inside, but the windowsill remains empty. Which means it’s early enough, so waking up was worth it, after all.
The sky is blooming with soft colours; pastel pink and purple soon to be faded to blue. The breeze gently ruffles his fringe when he leans out of the window to smell the tulips. It’s the smell of home, and the boy he fell in love with all these years ago.
The boy who appears in his peripheral vision not long after, flying slowly above the rooftops, careful not to tip over his messenger bag.
It takes a moment for their eyes to meet but when they do, Jisung’s turn into crescents of joy.
Jisung swiftly pulls up and twirls in the air to avoid crashing into the window, beaming at him. His hair is ruffled by the wind, and his cheeks flush the prettiest shade of pink – he keeps claiming it’s from the wind, but Minho knows better.
“Hyung, good morning!” the younger chimes, all teeth and heart smiles. “What got you up so early?”
“Hm, you,” Minho answers, hoping he sounds nonchalant.
Jisung giggles in response, swinging just close enough to reach his head when he leans in to press his puckered lips to Minho's cheekbone. Minho pouts and waits for the younger to connect their lips.
“Did you get my letter yesterday?”
“Thank you, it was pretty,” he hums against Jisung’s lips.
“Want me to come in?”
Jisung swiftly pulls through the window, setting his broom by the wall before Minho helps him climb through the windowsill. They’ve done this enough times to know exactly when to pull, where to step and quickly strip Jisung off his messenger bag before they stumble to the bed.
He pulls Minho down by the collar of his pyjamas to connect their lips, giggling into the kiss. It feels really, really good – he didn’t know how much he missed the cloud-like soft lips and the taste of strawberries lingering in Jisung’s mouth when he swipes his tongue in.
Jisung practically melts into his mouth and touch, humming an appreciative melody as he circles his arms around Minho’s neck. But he never stays plaint for long, too eager to roll them around just to cage Minho down and press a loud smooch to his cheek, then the other.
“What was it for?” Minho reaches his hands around his waist, thumbing at the fabric of his tunic before slipping underneath.
“Hm?” the younger hums, lost in the crook of Minho’s neck as he peppers it with kisses.
“The letter, it’s not our anniversary yet.”
“I know,” Jisung confirms, leaning up to meet his eyes. “I just wanted to give you something pretty.”
“Hyung was complaining about not getting free food.”
“How do you know that?” he quirks his brow. Jisung kisses it gently.
“Jeongin was home early yesterday,” the younger smiles, and it comes with a pang in Minho’s chest when he realises he could have caught Jisung yesterday, would he have come home sooner. “I stopped by to ask for your reaction.”
“Hmm, I don’t need free food,” he concludes, chasing after Jisung’s lips. He sighs against his mouth happily, bringing his hands to wrap around his neck. Jisung hums into the kiss. “I like your mouth better.”