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At first, it played out in reverse. It began at the end. And at the end, Minho was lying face up on the yellow grass by the road. When he opened his eyes, he saw the lights from the ambulances and the police cars driving further and further away, and their sirens, muffled in his ears, seemed to regret disturbing the overwhelming silence of the hills. They shrinked until the night was only lit by the headlights of the upside-down car a few meters from him and the only sound left was the crickets that surrounded the tragic scene.
Minho couldn't move, but he could watch. His wounds were painless, despite their freshness, but he felt as if a sharp shard of glass had gone through his heart the moment he saw his lover's flower crown, the one made of the flowers they had picked together earlier that day, before any of this happened, stained with blood. And his lover, nowhere to be seen. And the scene was too quiet for too long. The shattered glass from the car windows around him reflected the headlights too brightly, the stars were too still, the red-yellow-green from the traffic light above too repetitive. And then, everything moved.
It was a blur, really, the kind from dreams, where everything makes sense and doesn't make sense at the same time. Where things happen for too long or for too short, and you can't really tell why they are the way they are. In what felt like a second, Minho, Jisung, their car and every part of it that lay destroyed around them flew and were pieced together into a normal scene with a deafening sound that didn’t linger for a second longer than it had to. Both travelers were inside the intact car now, waiting for the light to turn green. They both laughed at muffled words Minho couldn't make out. But before the light could change, Jisung backed up. He drove backwards. While looking ahead. And laughing. And this was okay because it was a dream. And this is the stuff of dreams. After some minutes, or maybe hours, Jisung stopped the car. Minho saw the sun rising behind the hills. All of this has already happened, he thought, but he couldn't explain when.
Minho got out of the car first. Then Jisung gave him the car keys that Minho put in his pocket. He hoped that, when he woke up, he would remember these smiles, the ones they both had on their faces, only one of them aware of what was coming. He hoped he would forget what was coming.
Effortlessly, they ran up the hill, backwards. They could almost fly. Jisung put his flower crown on the ground, and it flew back up to the top of his head. At the top of the hill, sitting on the green grass, they exchanged muffled phrases, but the only thing that mattered was the way the rising sun reflected on Jisung's eyes, his fluttering eyelashes, his effusive hands, his laugh, the only clear thing in this blurry memory. As it should be. Minho didn't like it when things were still.
With the sun higher up, Jisung considered it time to undo his crown, handing each flower to his lover. And when he was done, they got up and walked towards the only tree on the hill, then sat under its shadow, on the yellower grass, and Jisung pointed to the place where they had been sitting. But they didn't move from the place, and, with the world's greatest peace of mind, they lay down, Jisung's hand trailing over Minho's stomach as he dozed off.
And then Minho woke up. And Jisung was still trailing his hand over his stomach. And Minho was strangely relieved that he was still there, he had woken up with a bad feeling in his chest. Why? Oh, yes, the dream. It was not real, though, it was just a dream. No need to worry. He could only remember parts of it, but an image was imprinted behind his eyelids and twisted his stomach under Jisungs's touch: the bloodied flower crown. He didn't know where he had seen it before. None of them had flower crowns on.
"Had a good sleep?" Jisung's words washed any and all uneasiness from his head.
"Of course. I dreamt about your smile, how does it get better than that?" Minho called it and it came: a grin bloomed on his lover's face. Prettier than all the flowers around them. Prettier than the flowers that now busied Jisung's hands.
Jisung sat up and Minho followed shortly after, still getting used to the light, but glad to be shielded from the sun under this tree. Though that didn't last long because Jisung pointed to a sunny spot a few steps ahead and suggested sitting there, with the excuse of the oncoming sunset that would warm their cheeks before night fell. All settled down, Jisung handed him the flowers. Minho remembered the flowers. Where from? Hadn't they picked them up earlier? Or had he seen them somewhere else? Well none of that mattered, because whatever Jisung was doing was a million times more interesting than his thoughts. He was carefully bending two branches from the tree and skillfully joining them to make a perfect circle. No tape, no glue. He was that talented. And when he finished his task he asked Minho to give him the flowers back, one by one.
And he complied, they both sat in silence as Jisung twisted the flowers to the hoop he had created. And Minho watched him in amusement, as he always did. Because he was a bottomless box of surprises, it would take you a few lifetimes to know him completely. But the future is forever, as Minho liked to say. We've got nothing but time. Unfortunately, a memory, a déjà vu, interrupted his thinking. The flower crown on the ground, illuminated by police lights. Very similar to the one that was taking shape in the boy's hands. And Minho had to look away. It was just a dream, nothing to worry about, he repeated in his head, like a mantra, trying to cover the only clear images left from his dream: the flowers, the car keys, the sunrise, the crash.
"Is everything okay?" Jisung's voice appeared, dissipating the thoughts, but leaving the knot in his stomach.
"Yes, just thinking that it might be getting too late."
"Oh, I'm almost done. You almost have no flowers left. I'll finish this and we'll get going."
And then they didn't. They didn't get going. They kept talking and laughing and exchanging caresses and time passed. But as the sun approached the horizon, Minho's discomfort just grew. It was just a dream. But I'm not letting him drive. Or am I exaggerating? Should I just let things happen? There’s nothing to worry about.
But he was worried. So he insisted they left before sunset. They ran down the hill, a last moment of freedom before each one had to return to his home. While they were running, Minho mindlessly reached out to hold Jisung's crown to his head, in case it fell. Just for a moment, and he let go. And smiling, they made it to the bottom of the hill in one stretch, no stopping.
Next to their car, it was time for Minho to take the car keys out of his pocket. But he hesitated. He didn't know what to do. And he doubted his head, too, because he was afraid of something he couldn't even remember, he simply felt like it was coming. Was that excuse enough?
Jisung stretched out his hand, a challenging smirk on his lips, playing a game with a serious Minho. "Give me the keys," he said teasingly. Minho's hand hovered over his pocket. "Or else," Jisung's hands hovered around his waist, threatening to tickle him. Minho made a decision before that happened. He handed him the keys. He smiled at him. A small, fearful smile. But a hopeful one.
Jisung climbed onto the driver's seat, while Minho walked around the car to enter through the other door. Minho saw the sun hide behind the hills they had just run down from, and he was already missing his lover's wide smile, although they were sitting next to each other.
Jisung started the car and drove away, looking unbothered to be leaving such a beautiful place behind. Seemingly glad to simply be by Minho's side, to always be his companion wherever they went. But there was this feeling that Minho couldn't shake, as if he were leaving Jisung at the top of the hill, lying under the tree's shadow, on the yellow grass, barely breathing, with a bloodied flower crown a few steps from him. As if he was never going to see him again.
"Stop the car!" Minho shouted suddenly, his mind in a dream-like state. "Stop!"
"What? Why?"
"Just do it! Please! I'll drive. Please. Trust me."
Jisung did as he was told, his expression full of fear, the opposite of what it had been all day. The opposite of what Minho liked to see. But he had to, Minho had to trust his head. They changed seats and drove on in silence, the world outside of the car growing darker and darker the farther they went.
Minho drove all the way to the traffic light. He stopped at the red. He had seen it before. He was sure. He just couldn't place it in any memory. And a knot was growing in his stomach and his hands started trembling as he waited for it to turn green. There was something he had to do here. What was it? What was so special about these lights that they had his mind spinning and his heart pounding? And when it turned green, something clicked in his head, and he didn't start. He waited, eyes locked ahead, confident in his decision. He didn’t budge when Jisung nagged him, pushed his shoulder, and informed him of the colour. And Jisung, confused, looked ahead too.
And then, on a dirt road that crossed the street they were on, one that neither of them had noticed, a truck passed at top speed, like a flash, before their eyes. Right when they would have crossed if Minho hadn't waited. If he hadn’t trusted his head. If he had forgotten what was coming. They had a bit more of future to spend together. A bit more of forever.