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“I had another vision,” Donghyuck states as soon as he opens the door, loud and clear. Everyone in the living room groans in response.
“Alright, Hyuckie,” Jeno says, in the same calm, reassuring voice he always uses, even when it’s pretty damn obvious he’s not being honest.
“Oh, c’mon!” Donghyuck whines. The worn out rug, with its colours fading away due to years and years of use, absorbs part of the sound when he stomps his feet. “You guys never take this seriously.”
“We would take your ‘visions’,” Yangyang draws the quotes in the air with his fingers, barely looking away from his fish tank, “seriously if they actually came true, which is still very much yet to happen.”
“Maybe if you were a little more positive they would!” Donghyuck complains, heavily falling onto the sofa and immediately hooking one leg over Sicheng’s and laying his head on Jisung's shoulder. “Being surrounded by you losers and all your negative energy doesn’t help.”
“Aren’t you gonna tell us about what you saw?” Yuta asks, and Leon, laying on his lap, lets him know he didn’t enjoy how his fingers stopped petting his fur by meowing loudly.
“No. You guys don’t deserve to know.”
The orange curtains aren’t opaque enough to block the afternoon light that floods Yangyang’s living room, leaving only the corners hidden under the shadows, while the strings of seashells and coloured glass they find washed up on the shore reflect the sunlight and cast rainbows on the walls. September has just started, and even though the days are still scorching hot, a cold wind, coming from the mountains, chills the evenings as the sun sets earlier and earlier every day. Yuta has lived his entire life there, happily stuck between the vast ocean and the desert. Most of the young people leave when they reach a certain age, searching for more and for something different, somewhere else, far away. They always leave by boat, never by train, abandoning land and sailing away until they were nothing but a dark dot on the horizon. Yuta didn't want to leave, and neither did his friends. Just imagining his life elsewhere made him feel homesick. Life without his friends, his family, the townspeople, or without the fine white sand from the beach and the rough yellow sand from the desert, simply wasn’t worth living. Their city comes alive during the summer, when the warm desert wind clashes against the sea breeze and people light bonfires on the main plaza, dancing around it until the sun rises; but school's about to start again, and now that they were strictly prohibited from ‘helping’ with the festival's arrangements, there was nothing more to do besides hanging out in each other's houses and discussing who in the group they'd sacrifice to the ancient gods to receive an endless summer in return. (It was always Yangyang.)
The fish inside the bowl swim as slowly as the boys had been talking before Donghyuck bursted in, bored out of their minds. The cat stretches his limbs idly, the wind-chime sings when the curtains move. For another minute, the room falls silent again, and only the sound of Sicheng flipping the pages of his magazine can be heard.
“Okay, so anyway, the vision went like this–” Donghyuck started. Jeno breaks out in laughter, but no one's surprised.
“There we go!” he says.
“Give us everything, baby,” Yuta says, cracking a smile when he sees Donghyuck rolling his eyes. Nonetheless, he continues.
“I saw two people arriving at the station.”
This time, even the flipping of the magazine's pages stops. The window is open, they can hear laughter, loud words, objects being moved around as the people prepare everything for the festival, but inside the room the air feels heavier.
“By…” Jisung clears his throat, “By train?”
“Yep,” Donghyuck confirms, straightening his back and crossing his hands behind his head. He can’t fight the smile on his lips, now that everyone's attention fell on him, even the ones who didn't look in his eyes. Yuta's hand stops again, frozen, eyes lost in the softness of Leon's fur but not actually paying any attention to the animal. Leon decides he's had enough of that intermittent petting, and jumps out of his lap.
“You know the train always comes empty, right?” Sicheng's deep voice is careful, slow. He closes the magazine, marking down the page with a finger. “It's been years since–”
Donghyuck shrugs.
“I know,” he says. “That's why I found it so weird.”
“But it was just a vision, right?” Yangyang sounds careless, almost uninterested, but he shuffles on the pillow where he's sitting, and there’s a certain glow in his eyes. “Like, they're not true. Right?”
“To me they are,” Donghyuck says matter-of-factly. His eyes are closed. “Even if they don't come true here. There are more worlds out there.”
“But…?” Yuta pushes. He knows when his friends are biting their tongues. Jisung's eyes glisten. He still believes deep down, if not out of evidence (or lack thereof) he'd been shown over their many years of friendship, then because his mind had always lived partially somewhere else, maybe where the summer doesn't end.
“But this one felt different. I don't know.” Donghyuck shrugs again. “I think it's tonight. And I'm going to the station to check.”
“Tonight?” Yangyang asks, looking away from his beloved fish for the first time since the conversation had started. “But the festival starts tonight!” Donghyuck opens one eye.
“Didn't ask you to come with me.”
“I'm not going,” Sicheng states as he opens the magazine again. “Jeno doesn't want to go either but he's too nice to say it, just so you know.” Jeno doesn't protest, but his cheeks turn rosy.
“I would go–” Yangyang starts.
“No, you wouldn't.”
“No, dude, I would!” he exclaims, “The festival only starts after the sunset and they don't want our help, but if we're going tonight then we're gonna miss out on everything. It’s the best night of the year.”
“Yeah…” Jisung agrees, his voice down to a whisper. The glint in his eyes had faded away.
“In case you weren't listening, I said I didn't ask you to go.” Donghyuck's voice sounds tense now. He stands up. “I'm going, and I don't care if I have to go alone. It's not that far away.”
“I'll go with you,” Yuta says. As soon as those words leave his lips, he feels every single pair of eyes in the room facing him. “When was the last time we went anywhere on our own, anyway?”
“Yuta, don't enable him.” Sicheng still doesn't lift his eyes from the page in front of him. Yuta absent-mindedly reaches out for Leon again. The cat ignores him, still offended.
“I'm not, I want to go,” he says. He doesn't miss the faint smile that crosses Donghyuck's hopeful lips.
“But the festival…” Jeno protests.
“The festival happens every year, this could be a one in a lifetime event,” Yuta says. “If those travelers arrive while you're getting drunk then don't complain.” Sicheng mumbles something that sounds awfully similar to ‘There aren't gonna be no damn travelers’, but Yuta ignores him, this time staring straight into Donghyuck's eyes. “I'll go,” he repeats.
Does he believe something's going to happen? No, not really. Is he still willing to waste maybe hours of the ‘best night of the year’ for his friend? Yes. Absolutely.
And that's how they end up packing dried seaweed and other snacks as the sun starts to say its goodbyes, and head to the train station. All of them.
The building had seen better days. Technically it was still functioning, as the train, the only train that stopped there, did indeed arrive every month, no matter how empty it always came. Yuta had seen it before, many times. The old doors would open after the carriage came to a halt, the clatter echoing across the empty platform. Inside, the yellow lights were all on but every seat was empty. No passengers hurried to leave the train before the shrill whistle announced the doors were about to close again, no one grabbed bags and suitcases and coats in a rush, no conversations were shared, no children laughed, excited about finally leaving that confined space where they’d been forced to sit still and behave for hours, and to cross the few dozens of meters of dry ground that separated the station from the outskirts of that luminous oasis town, the only one still standing in miles and miles of desert. Instead, the doors opened and waited for a minute, where they could peek inside and see the walls were still as red as they had ever been and the hardwood floor still shined, polished and unused. Then, the whistle ringed and the doors would slide again to their original place. Seconds later, the yellow light from the windows went from a clear vision to a hazy blur as the train picked up speed and disappeared again. They used to go there every month when they were younger, (several times a month, in fact, as the train seemed to arrive only when it wished and obeyed no schedule), as long as they promised they’d never get in. It wasn’t a hard promise to keep. The train wasn’t meant for happy people like them, and whoever wanted to leave when they were no longer happy, did so by boat. Everyone knew that. As the years passed, the enthusiasm died down and, when they leave Yangyang’s home tonight, they notice they can’t remember the last time they’d been to the station.
“It was last year,” Jisung insists, fixing the strap of his bag on his shoulder.
“It couldn’t be last year,” Sicheng says, for the tenth time. “Last year it rained for most of the summer, I remember because it never rains here.”
“And this year it’s gonna rain too.” Jeno lifts his eyes up to the sky. The dark clouds make it seem like the night has arrived earlier, blocking the last rays of sunlight behind them and hiding all the faint stars that should have bloomed in the sky by then.
The upper layer of dry, hard sand cracks under their feet as they approach the train station. If they looked back, they’d see the multicoloured lamps of the food stalls lighting up one by one as the festival kicks off. In front of them, the abandoned station approaches them with every step they take. Behind it, only the vastness of the desert, and the dark silhouettes of the mountains, far away. That final building, with its wooden walls worn out by the sun and the grains of sand carried by the wind, and its metallic benches and beams corroded by years and years of loneliness, were the further Yuta had strayed away from the city that had seen him grow. He doesn’t mind.
The lights inside the station are almost all still working, bathing the space in their yellow glow. No one sells tickets anymore, nor do the automatic machines still work, and instead of people and luggage, the old benches hold only a layer of sand, brought there by the wind and through the wide open glass doors, ornamented with cast iron rails and grilles forming flowers and leaves. Piles of yellow sand accumulate in every corner. They’re too far from the city to hear the music now, but Yangyang checks his wristwatch and tries to hide a sigh.
“Here we are,” Jeno comments, wiping the sand away from one of the benches and heavily sitting down. “Now we wait.”
“I hope it doesn’t take the whole night,” Jisung whispers. He carefully places next to him the bottle of black tea with cinnamon he stole from his fridge before they came, staring at it for a few more seconds than necessary, lest it decide to fall on its own. “This would be easier if the train came every month at the same time.”
Sicheng stretches on the floor the linen blanket he carried, and lays down on his back, hands crossed behind his head. Yuta sits next to him.
“The gods don’t like us enough to make anything easier,” he says, eyes already closed. Yangyang laughs.
“What, you think they even like us?” He lays down as well, swatting Sicheng’s hands away when he tries to stop him from resting his head on his stomach. “I’ve accepted a long time ago that no prayers can save me anymore.” Yuta rolls his eyes with a smile.
“You think you’re a bigger rebel than you actually are,” he offers.
“No, I am. I’m mean, I’m evil. I’m a force of nature. I’m–”
“Guys?”
They all turn around in sync. Still standing and speaking for the first time since they’d left home, Donghyuck holds his bag close to his body, filled to the brim with all the snacks they could find, his eyes glued to the beige matte tiles of the floor. His dark red cotton cardigan, adorned with drawings of wildflowers and blackberries, dances with the chill breeze, coming from the sea. Yuta can smell the fish and the salt in it. When Donghyuck raises his head again, his eyes sparkle, like the stars hidden on the other side of the dark clouds.
“Thank you,” he says. He doesn’t look anyone in the eyes, but he can’t fight a faint smile. “For coming, I mean. This means a lot.”
Yuta smiles.
“Do you think we'd even be able to have fun at the festival if we knew you were here on your own?” he reaches his hand out and grabs the bag Donghyuck holds, laying it on the blanket next to him. Then, he opens his arms. “C'mon.”
Next thing he knows, there's a cuddly boy wrapped in his arms, smiling like it's the first day of summer. Their friends laugh too. For a minute, everything's alright. It doesn't matter if the train never comes.
But because they'd always known there was something a little magical about that town, it does. It really does, and they almost scream when Jeno's the first one to spot the pair of headlights in the distance, the only thing visible in the darkness of the desert. They get up, there's laughter, there are screams and squeals of joy, the package with the dry seaweed spills over but everyone's too busy hugging Donghyuck and ruffling his hair to care. The minutes they have to wait from the moment Jeno got up until the train arrived are the longest of Yuta's life. His fingers tremble in excitement, even though he tries to tell himself there's a big chance the carriages are as empty as they've been for all those years. They abandon the bags and the blankets and stand as close to the railway as the platform lets them. As the sound of the wheels rolling comes closer and closer, their voices die down, their bets about whether there's actually someone coming go quiet. The wind makes their light, loose clothes dance. Jisung bites his lip, squinting at the headlights approaching, holding Jeno's hand. Yangyang and Donghyuck still have their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders, but they stay quiet. Sicheng crosses his arms but there's a glint of hope shining in his eyes, one that wasn't there before. They wait.
For the first time that night, Yuta actually believes.
🌃
“Are you alright?”
Ten doesn't miss the way Renjun blinks a few times before he answers. His younger brother leans his head on the window pane, and it takes him a few seconds to face Ten. On the other side of the glass, nothing but a deep darkness greets them, as the train rolls by the mountains and dunes of the seemingly endless desert. They're still yet to see any light source ever since the sun had set.
“I think I will be,” Renjun finally says. That eternal sadness Ten spent years seeing in his eyes, agonizing over the fact that he could do nothing to erase it, is still present, but he dares to believe that there's a light in his gaze that he hadn't seen in a long time. He hopes it's true. That's why they'd left the place they'd called home their entire life, even if they couldn't pronounce that word with any of the love it deserved. When life doesn't make you happy anymore, you take a deep breath and try again. When life doesn't make your adored little brother happy anymore, you take him by the hand and run away with him. You do something so incredibly stupid it almost sounds magical. You take the train no one takes anymore, hoping to find happiness at the end of the journey.
So far, Ten hasn't regretted it. He only hopes Renjun hasn't either.
“What if the train never stops?” Renjun asks, before Ten has the opportunity to comfort him. “What if this desert just keeps going forever? And we're trapped here?”
“That's not gonna happen,” Ten states, not letting his voice shake. Being a good older brother was also not letting his worries show, sometimes, but he can't lie to himself. They checked: they are the only passengers of the train, otherwise as empty as the landscape outside the window, and there's a faint pressure in his chest that begins to surface. Once in a while, he doubts their sudden, reckless decision.
Then he remembers how he saw his little brother smile for the first time in months when he suggested they should run away from their grey, dull city.
Anywhere this train takes us will be better than the place where we were.
“Maybe you should get some sleep,” Ten suggests. Their scarce luggage sits randomly next to their seats, scattered around the floor. It's not like they're bothering any other passengers. “Then when you wake up, we'll switch. That way we won't miss any stops.”
Renjun nods.
“Alright. Wake me up when you start to feel tired.”
“Sure,” Ten says. He wouldn't, of course. Not even if he had to stay awake for the entire night. Renjun smiles again, making Ten's heart tighten in his chest, but just a moment after he closes his eyes and leans his head on the back of this seat to rest, his eyes shoot open again.
“The train's slowing down,” he says.
It takes Ten a moment to feel it, but after so many miles traveling at the same constant velocity, any change becomes noticeable.
“You're right, it is,” Ten says, looking out the window. He tries to spot any light source, anything that could identify a station or a town. For a few seconds, everything's as dark as it had been. Then, the train turns right, following the path of the railway. “There!”
Even from afar, the city shines. The silver domes reflect the light of the multi-colored fireworks, blossoming in the sky, and the streets are bathed in warm light. Dozens of buildings, with thick yellow walls, to fight off the heat of the desert, draw intricate paths and streets, defining the shape of the town. Another round of fireworks lights up the dark sky once again, and now they see how the calm sea mirrors the explosion of red and orange, and Ten believes the small, illuminated dots on the ocean are boats, celebrating like the city also seems to be. Only a few hundred meters away, a lonely train station approaches, greeting them with its yellow glow, and the vehicle slows down with every inch it crosses.
“Wow…” Renjun whispers. The beauty of the fireworks reflects in his dark eyes, and Ten's smiling before he even notices.
“C'mon, get your stuff,” Ten hurries him, leaving his seat and grabbing the handle of one of their bags. “This is our stop.”
🌃
The tension is palpable at the platform. As the train slows down, their excitement grows and the minutes seem to multiply. They're gathered at the end of the platform, right near the closest edge, all piled up, trying to be the first ones to see what's coming. An eternity later, the train stops with a hissing sound, and the doors open tauntingly slowly. For a moment, Yuta barely breathes, the excitement that has swallowed him whole preventing him from losing hope. There are several doors across the at least six carriages, and knowing they have no idea which one the passengers will use to get out (because they will, he's now certain), makes his eyes scan the entirety of the train, desperately trying to find any signs of life.
Then, a pair of heads peek out from one of the open doors.
A long pause follows, in which no one even dares to move, only broken by Yangyang loudly slapping Donghyuck's arm.
“You absolute madman, you did it!” he shouts. “You were right!”
Donghyuck laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Yuta has heard that day. His friends rejoice, there are pats in the back, high-fives and a dozen ‘I never doubted you’s. He can barely believe what he's seeing; his heart pounds inside his chest. He wasn't even alive the last time the city welcomed a visitor. They're so wrapped up in congratulating Donghyuck, they almost forget about the two pairs of confused eyes that stared wide open at them, still standing inside the carriage.
The beeping announcing the doors are about to close and that the train is leaving in seconds rings in their ears, and they barely have time to react. Moving like a singular organism, the group runs to the door the strangers still haven't crossed, waving at them, telling them to come closer.
“C'mon, c'mon!” Yuta shouts. “The train's about to leave again, get out!”
That does the trick. The two boys share a quick look and grab their bags in a flash, their movements fast and shaky with nervousness. A mere second before the doors close and after their brave Jeno steps in to help them with the last backpack, the two boys finally stand in front of them.
They can't speak for a while, as the loud thunder of the train's heavy wheels echoes through the air around them, keeping them from hearing each other's voices and messing up their hair with the wind it creates. In those moments, Yuta has time to contemplate the two boys.
None of them is particularly tall by any means, but they're both young and elegant. Their eyes reflect the tiredness from their certainly long and exhausting journey, but they both sport a confused, yet hopeful smile on their lips. Their hands are locked, and Yuta doesn't have to hear them say anything to instinctively know they're brothers. The youngest one has blond hair, messy and wild around his delicate features, and the lenses of his glasses are supported by wire frames. The hint of fear in his look contrasts with his brother's expression.
And, wow. His brother. Yuta feels goosebumps on his skin.
He's just as pretty as the blond boy, but his hair is as dark as the night sky. The fierceness in his feline eyes doesn't intimidate Yuta. Quite the opposite, they mesmerize him. He holds his brother close to him, ready to attack like a careful cat if he needs to, but still keeping his head up high.
When his eyes meet Yuta's, he smiles, and Yuta can't help but reply the same way. Right then, he knows he's never seen such a bright smile before.
The spell is broken when the train's finally far away enough for them to talk.
“Well… welcome, I guess!” Yangyang greets, his huge grin on full display. The blond boy half-smiles back, blinking rapidly as if he can't quite believe his eyes, but is willing to go with the flow.
“Were you expecting us?” his brother asks, one eyebrow raised. “Why are you here?” Sicheng rolls his eyes.
“What a polite greeting.”
To that, the older brother blushes, and Yuta can't even be mad.
“Sorry,” the boy says, “I'm just surprised.”
“It's okay,” Donghyuck quickly says, even though his gaze doesn't leave the younger brother's face. “I'm a witch,” he proudly states, his voice dripping with confidence. One day ago, his friends would've laughed; now, no one even dares to open their mouth. “I had a vision in which I saw you arriving–”
“So he dragged us here,” Jeno completes the sentence, eyes turning into crescent moons. “And here you are!”
Once again, the siblings exchange a careful look, before the blond boy turns back to face them.
“You're joking… right?” he asks slowly. His voice sounds as delicate as he looks, and Yuta swears he sees Yangyang shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants when the boy speaks.
“We thought he was, too,” Jisung says. “But the truth is you're here, and it's been years since anyone travels by this train. It must mean something.”
The older brother laughs.
“That almost sounds like a prophecy,” he says. His shoulders are more relaxed now.
“Not a prophecy, just an old city forgotten by everyone, I'd say,” Yuta offers. With that, he decides to take his chance. It's the best night of the year, after all, and they'd just witnessed the closest thing to a miracle they'd even seen. What could go wrong? He steps forward, with one hand reaching out to the stunning dark-haired boy and his best smile on full display. “Anyway, I'm Yuta.”
Behind him, his friends receive that with a chorus of squeals and ‘woahs’; someone even whistles, but he barely notices. All he sees is how the boy's surprised smile lights up his face, how that creates amused wrinkles around his eyes, how his eyebrows rise, how he can't contain a giggle.
“Well, I'm Ten,” he says. Yuta can swear he sees him biting his bottom lip, as his crystalline gaze doesn't leave Yuta's. Ten accepts the handshake. “And this is my younger brother, Renjun.”
Yangyang and Donghyuck both almost jump forward, each one reaching out their right hand to greet Renjun, their eyes sparking.
“Hi, I'm Yangyang.”
“Donghyuck. Nice to meet you.”
Unlike his brother, Renjun almost steps back, eyebrows also raised but in a different kind of surprise. Ten laughs, and Yuta can hear Jeno chuckling too, but Renjun's protective brother is quick to wrap an arm around Renjun's shoulders.
“Take it easy, boys,” he says, shining brighter than all the lights in the station.
“Copycats.” Yuta rolls his eyes, his smirk still directed at Ten and Ten only. Just because he never wants to leave the town, that doesn't mean he doesn't have his arms wide open to receive any visitors. Especially when they are as stunning as Ten.
“They learn from the best, I assume,” Ten teases.
“You know it,” Yuta says. He doesn’t even abstain from winking, he's not the kind of guy who likes to lose time.
“Oh my God, enough you two,” Sicheng laughs, “you just met a minute ago, do we already have to tell you to get a room?” Ten laughs too, and the sound is sweeter than vanilla to Yuta. Next to his brother, Renjun blushes, and Yuta's not sure whether it's because of what Sicheng said, or because Donghyuck and Yangyang are still looking at him like their breaths have been stolen.
“We can wait,” Yuta answers. It's hard to take his gaze away from Ten's. “So, should we show you around?” he looks around at everyone. “If we go now, we can still enjoy the rest of the night.”
“Is there a party going on tonight?” Ten asks. His eyes glisten. “We saw fireworks from the train.”
“C'mon,” Yangyang says instead of answering directly. “It's the best night of the year, after all.”
A new round of fireworks explode on the horizon, above the calm sea, and Yuta's heart gets lost on how the dazzling blues and greens reflect on the darkness of Ten's eyes.
🌃
The night is still young when they return to the city; thankfully the train didn't arrive too late. They chat while they walk, pointing at every little detail they pass by. The colours never fade to grey there, but showing them to someone who had never seen them before only makes them more vibrant. Ten asks about the silver domes of the buildings that they’d seen from the train, Renjun smiles when Jeno explains how the bronze statues that flank the avenue they follow represent all the gods, and the brothers' mouths hang open in awe when they reach the crystal columns of the theater. Their shoes leave behind a path of sand as they walk, and they all help Ten and Renjun carry their luggage. Yuta notices how little it actually is, considering they don't seem to be wanting to leave any time soon.
I wonder how much of a rushed decision it was.
When they reach the main plaza, the flames of the bonfire burn so high they could reach the sky. Around it, people dance, alone or in pairs, their hair flowing behind them like waves as their bodies move, hypnotized by the music the band plays. It's rhythmic, loud and vibrating, the kind of sound that makes Yuta's feet want to run to the center of the square, grab Ten by the hand, close his eyes and dance with him until the sun rises, feeling the heat of the fire and of Ten's body, clashing with the fresh oceanic breeze. He wonders if Ten's a good dancer.
From a nearby balcony, a woman laughs, and a group of children run past the group, chasing a small dog. Uniting both sides of the plaza, ropes supporting lines of triangular multi-colored paper flags connect the buildings. They dance too, their hues matching the strings of rainbow lights that decorate the food stalls. Yuta smiles. Food first, dancing second. He'd need energy, after all, and the group of eight boys had easily destroyed most of the snacks they'd carried to the station on the way back. He turns to his friends.
“Hungry?” he asks, “We need to show Ten and Renjun our local delicacies.”
“Shouldn't we put this somewhere, first?” Jisung asks, his eyes scanning the suitcases behind the curtain of hair that insists on covering them.
“We have money, is there like a pension or a hotel where we can stay?” Ten asks, while Renjun nods along to his words. The wind blows again, and Ten wastes no time in pulling a jacket out of the bag he carries, and laying it on his brother's shoulders.
“There used to be,” Donghyuck starts, glancing at Renjun, with a tone his friends know too well: like he's telling an old story and he's not a beginner witch but rather an ancient wizard, wise beyond his years, “but then people stopped coming. There was no need to keep it, the owner closed doors and became a potter. Rather talented one, they say. Made one of my mum's vases.”
“Then…?” there's a palpable worry in Renjun's voice.
“Yangyang has a huge house,” Sicheng suggests, pointing at the boy in question with his fingers, who'd been too distracted staring at Renjun. “His parents won't mind.” Yangyang seemed to wake up only when he heard his name.
“Oh yeah, sure, these guys pretend they live there like, all the time.” he shrugs. “I don't mind. You'll be alright there, I promise, Renjun.”
“But… we can't just…! You don't know us! Are you sure your parents are okay with us just walking in and stealing the couch?” Ten asks, one of his eyebrows raised.
“Well, stay in my backyard then,” Sicheng says. “Yuta has a tent you can borrow.”
“Do you think I'd let them sleep in a tent?” Yuta crosses his arms in a fake offense.
“We've done that,” Jeno points out. “Several times.”
“Yes, but they're city boys,” Donghyuck says.
“Hey, c'mon!”
“Have you ever slept in a tent?”
“...”
“I thought so,” Donghyuck lays one hand on Renjun's shoulder, fixing the jacket Ten had given him. “So it's decided, right? Let's take these to Yang's home fast so we can come back here, c'mon.”
Ten's about to protest again, but Yuta softly grabs his arm before his mouth opens again.
“Don't worry,” he whispers, “we're welcoming people. Opening our doors is part of our nature.”
Ten offers him another heart-melting smile. The light of the bonfire brings out his golden skin.
“Thank you.” he keeps his voice low too, and Yuta has to admit it feels good to hear him say something meant for his ears and his ears only, for the first time.
“Thank Yangyang, it's his house, not mine,” he says instead of asking him to whisper something even sweeter.
“What do you think will happen if I ask Renjun to be the one who thanks him?” Ten asks, something mischievous shaping his grin.
“I think he'll immediately collapse.”
“What a thank you, hmm?”
“Believe me, he won't mind.”
Yangyang turns into a blushing mess, as predicted, when Renjun's shy voice sincerely murmurs his and Ten's appreciation, after his older brother winks to pass the message. He blurts out a ‘no problem’ before he drops his keys, barely looking into anyone's eyes as he grabs them from the ground and stumbles to open his front door. Yuta swears he sees Donghyuck side-eyeing Yangyang and mumbling something about how he should have been the one offering his house. He giggles. His heart beats a little faster than usual tonight.
They quickly drop off the luggage, not bothering to take them further than the entrance before they hurriedly leave the house again and run back to the plaza. Yangyang's parents aren't home, no one is, that night, so this time there's no one yelling at them for leaving the place a mess. When they arrive, Yuta grabs Ten's hand.
“There's something you need to taste,” he says, guiding him to one of the food stalls. As they approach the wooden structures, the intense smell of fried fish fills up their nostrils, and Yuta tells him about how it's the freshest it gets, captured by the colourful boats near the beach, mere hours ago. However, as much as he plans to buy Ten some of it, he walks him to another stall, hand in hand and delighted by the way he looks around at everything new.
“Renjun…”
“My friends will take care of him, don't worry,” Yuta reassures him, lightly squeezing his hand. “Sicheng, Jeno and Jisung are there, in case those two get a little ahead of themselves.”
“I think someone has a little crush,” Ten chuckles.
“Yep.” Yuta nods, keeping his eyes on Ten's. “I think someone does. Here we are.”
The cold that exudes from the stall they'd arrived at contrasts with the burning heat of the bonfire behind them. On the other side of the glass barrier, the seller, an old lady, scoops spoonfuls of red ice-cream and places them in ceramic bowls of all sizes, greeting every customer with a smile on her wrinkled face. It's contagious.
“She's so sweet!” Ten says.
“Tell her that, she'll give you a discount.”
Yuta wishes he'd been counting the times he hears Ten laughing since he'd left the train.
Minutes later, they return with an orange bowl of ice-cream (a big one, with two spoons; they can share) and a discount Ten tried to refuse.
“I don't think she noticed you're an outsider, she doesn't see very well anymore,” Yuta says, holding the bowl while Ten has the wooden spoons. “But people will start to notice soon, it's not like you two can hide.”
“ Should we hide?” That faint worry makes its way to Ten's eyes again, and Yuta notices how he quickly scans the street in search of Renjun. He finds him not far away, Donghyuck and Yangyang standing next to him, both trying to convince him to taste the fried fish they bought him. Sicheng ends up patting Donghyuck on his shoulder, and he blushes.
“No, not at all, no one will mind,” Yuta says, “if anything, they'll be happy to see two new faces. Trust me.”
When Ten turns to look at him again, he manages to break a smile.
“I just worry about him all the time, you know,” he murmurs. “If you have a sibling, you'll know.”
“I don't, but I'm the oldest of the bunch, it's pretty much the same thing.” that pulls another grin out of the newcomer. “C'mon, let's eat this before it melts, you'll like it.”
Ten's face lights up. By then, the irregular spheres of ice-cream have already started to melt at the edges. They step a little further to the fire.
“What is it made of? It looks so good.”
“Watermelon. Have you ever tried?”
“Nope,” Ten says, scooping a bit of ice-cream with his spoon, after he gives the other one to Yuta. Their fingers brush together for a split second, and even though they've held hands already, that moment of ephemeral contact makes a chill run down Yuta's spine. “But I love ice-cream, like, a ridiculous amount.”
Yuta tries not to look at how his pretty lips part to let the spoon enter, but it's useless. Ten's eyes automatically close when the flavour touches his tongue.
“Woah.”
“I know, right.” Yuta has tasted it hundreds, maybe thousands of times, and yet the explosion of fresh taste always makes his head go a little dizzy with how refreshing it feels.
“It's so good…” Ten goes for another bite.
“Do you want the rest?”
“What?” he lifts his head, with his eyebrows shooting up. “Of course not, you bought this for us to share!”
“Alright, alright, let's share.”
The ridiculous desire to feed Ten a spoonful of ice-cream while he stares into his eyes is almost too strong for Yuta to resist, but he stops himself. The night's still young after all.
It turns out that Ten is a brilliant dancer. It's him who grabs Yuta by the hand when the bowl is empty and drags him to the circle of people dancing. Yuta doesn't even consider denying. His heart beats in sync with the pulsing sound of the drums, his limbs move accompanying the strum of the guitars, Ten giggles while he spins around and something inside Yuta's chest explodes like the fireworks in the sky. Ten squeaks in surprise, letting his head fall back to admire the spectacle, his hands still holding Yuta's. Every moment simultaneously flies by in a heartbeat and lasts an eternity, the fire never dies down in their eyes, and everyone around them blurs into a single entity while they dance. Yuta's cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he doesn't mind, not when his smile matches Ten's.
🌃
The sun's about to rise when they find themselves at the beach. The music had faded away, the bonfire is now not much more than a pile of burning amber. The younger children have all went to sleep, but the older teens and the adults still walk around, either slowly tidying up things a little while they talk with tired but satisfied voices, or letting the night carry them until its end and simply finishing their drinks and watermelon ice-creams without a care in the world. Life can wait until the morning.
The soft waves make the wood of the boats creak as they float near the beach, anchored down, their strings of triangular flags still stirring with the salty breeze, but with the lights all off, now. The crew sleeps now, tired after partying, and so should the boys, but they sit on the sand, much finer and gentle than the one from the desert. The thick layer of dark grey clouds still hovers above them, obscuring the faint rays of sunlight that should be emerging from behind the waters by now. Yuta takes his shoes off and enjoys burying his feet in the sand, with Ten by his side, munching on a serving of the famous fried fish. His head is laying on Yuta's shoulder. Next to them, Renjun seemed to have opened up to Donghyuck and Yangyang's crush, and he sports a smile on his lips, sitting with his legs crossed with Yangyang laying his head on his lap and Donghyuck wrapping an arm around his waist. A few meters away, the other three boys talk slowly, in whispers, like they fear any louder words would disturb the repetitive but relaxing sound of the waves crashing near their feet and covering them in white foam, like they sat on a cloud, miles above the world.
Next to Yuta, Ten sighs.
“Everything alright?” Yuta asks.
“More than alright,” Ten says, after he swallows the last bite. He crumples up the piece of paper that they'd used to hold the food, now ruined by greasy stains, and lays it on the sand next to his leg, close enough for him to remember to take it with them when they leave. “Everything's so peaceful here. It's different. I almost feel like there's something I should be worrying about right now.”
“It's not always like this, you know,” Yuta explains, drawing a flower with his fingertip on the wet sand between them, “the night of the festival is when we dance and forget about all our problems for a while, but we have them too. This city is not perfect, no place on Earth is. But we try to take life a little slower here. We try to help each other. That's the basis.”
“Are you going to help us?”
Yuta looks up from the petals he's drawing, meeting Ten's gaze. He finds tiredness in his eyes, after having spent the entire night dancing and laughing and talking, but also hope, like he'd noticed the first time they'd met each other. Less than twelve hours had passed like twelve years. He lays his hand on Ten's, caressing his skin with his thumb. His arms are covered in goosebumps, but Yuta doesn't know if they're only the response to the breeze.
“Of course we are,” he promises him. “We'll find a place for both of you, something you can and like to do. There's space for you here.” Before Ten has the chance to say anything, he continues. “There's space here in our little group too. You're part of us now,” he laughs.
Ten smiles back but it quickly fades away behind a hint of doubt on his face.
“Thank you,” he says. He looks back at the sea, at how the waves welcome their arrival, “I was worried we wouldn't find a place to stay. Finding this place after so long was just… I still can't believe it.”
“But…?” Yuta pushes a little, which makes Ten's unsure smile return.
“You guys have known each other for your entire life,” he confesses, “I can't help but feel that we're stepping in, showing up unannounced and just… invading.”
Yuta softly squeezes his hand, inching a little closer to the boy's body.
“You're not.” his voice is firm and he searches Ten's eyes. “Donghyuck saw you arriving–”
“I still can't believe that actually happened!”
“Me neither, and I was there.” Instead of drawing the flower on the sand, Yuta draws it on Ten's skin. “But the point is, we're not letting you go. Yang and Hyuck are already head over heels for your brother, and the others like you guys too. We like you, Ten. I like you. I want you to stay and I hope you can be a little happier here with us.”
Ten takes a deep breath, and by the way it comes out shaky and scratchy, Yuta knows his words touched him. He brings himself even closer.
“Thank you,” he repeats, “really.”
“My pleasure.” Yuta wants to kiss the tip of his nose, wants to hold him in his arms, wants it to be more than a summer crush, a summer fling, a summer love. Instead he pushes a strand of Ten's inky hair and tucks it behind his ear, decorated with even more piercings than Yuta's. It feels nice to find another thing they have in common.
A lightning bolt illuminates the sky and Ten almost jumps when the first thunder makes the world tremble. Before they have time to say anything, there's a curtain of rain pouring down.
For a second, the boys all stare at each other. Then, they stumble to get up, grabbing their stuff in between curses and fits of laughter (the greasy paper isn't forgotten – Ten shoves it in his pocket for lack of a better option). Running on sand isn't easy, so they grab each other's hands, pulling along whoever's struggling as their clothes grow heavy with all the rain water they're soaking.
“I told you it was gonna rain!” Jeno shouts, shaking his hair and splashing them with even more water droplets. They can barely see his eyes with how much he's smiling.
“How is it raining? We're in a desert!” Renjun asks, one hand holding Ten's and the other being disputed by Donghyuck and Yangyang.
“It's the gods,” Jisung says, the arm he's holding up doing little to shield his face from the storm. He stumbles and almost falls down on his face when the second thunder crashes down on them. “They're welcoming you!”
If Ten and Renjun are non-believers, they don't show it.
The few people still on the streets rush to bring inside anything that can be damaged by the rain, abandoning everything else to its luck. The colourful paper flags are beyond saving now, as they hang heavy and fragile above their heads while they run across the streets trying to find shelter. The air smells light and fresh, and the boys are saved from slipping on the wet stones of the street by the hands of their friends. Yuta's long hair is glued to his neck, but he barely feels it. He just wants to smile, to greet the warm summer raindrops that roll down his face. A third thunder, the loudest one so far, makes Donghyuck squeak.
It's too late when they finally find a porch big enough to protect all of them, their clothes hang heavy on their bodies, sticking to their skin as they move, and their hair looks darker, dripping onto their face and shoulders. They don't even care if no one knows the owner of the house they're using as shelter.
“Oh man,” Yangyang displays one of his huge smiles, one of those that show all his teeth, while he leans on one of the poles, “I don't even care if I get a cold. This was so fun.”
“How long do you think we'll have to wait?” Jisung asks as he sits down on the stairs that lead to the street.
“It doesn't look like it's gonna stop any time soon…”
Sicheng's words make Yuta yawn all of the sudden, and only then he realizes how tired he is now. The euphoria that kept him awake all night by Ten's side fades away, slowly being replaced by tiredness, now that they're being forced to sit down and wait. He glances at his watch and through the raindrops on his eyelashes, sees the hands approaching the number six. It's harder to keep his eyes open every minute that passes.
“Do we run again, if it just doesn't stop?” Jeno asks, running a hand through his soaked hair. He's always been the one to accept any challenge, Yuta knows he wouldn't mind.
“Probably–”
“I think we should,” Ten interrupts. When Yuta turns back to look at him, he finds him sitting on the wooden floor of the porch, staring right back at him with a look on his face that's just as new as it is indecipherable. “Yangyang's house is not that far, right?”
“It's kinda far, actually…” Yangyang says, but Yuta doesn't let him finish the sentence.
“I say we run,” he firmly states. “If it rains until noon, are we going to stay here until then?”
“You know what?” Donghyuck gets up. “You're right. Let's run, screw it. C'mon Renjun.” Yangyang nearly jumps from his seat when he hears that.
Sicheng shrugs, a smirk twisting up the corner of his lips.
“We can't get any more soaked, so…”
Ten nods enthusiastically.
“Let's go then.”
After a deep breath to gather up all the courage they need to face the storm again, they run. Somewhere along the way, Ten's hand finds Yuta's again, and he notices there's a force pulling him by the arm, keeping him from running as fast as he'd been. The boys in front of them don't stop, and they find themselves alone in the street when Renjun, each hand taken by a different boy, turns around the corner. Yuta stops and looks back, only to find Ten standing still as well. The yellow lights of the street lamps mixed with the first rays of morning sunlight that sneak through the clouds cast all kinds of mysterious shadows on his handsome face.
“Are you alright?” Yuta asks, approaching him. “Did you get hurt?”
Ten doesn't answer, at least not with words. Yuta only has time to smile when he realizes what Ten had been planning, before the boy grabs him by the collar of his shirt and, in tiptoes, kisses him like he's been waiting to do so his entire life. The rain becomes the least of Yuta's concerns as he wraps his arms around Ten's waist and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss.
It tastes like summer. Tastes like rainwater, like the watermelon ice-cream they'd shared, like hope and like something new, undiscovered, exciting, sweet. Yuta wants to jump, to take him in his arms and spin him around, but he stops himself when one of Ten's hands leaves his collar and finds its way to his jawline, holding his face while he tilts his head. Had they really met that night? Could it be?
“A kiss in the rain,” Yuta says when they part, a million years later. The rain calms down. “Just like in every movie.”
“Let me have my cheesy cliché moment, God dammit,” Ten nags, pulling him closer.
“Am I your cheesy cliché co-protagonist?”
The wrinkles around Ten's eyes, the ones that surface when he smiles, are deeper than they'd even been.
“I think you could be,” he says, in a voice so low Yuta wouldn't be able to hear it over the sound of the rain hitting the roofs if he didn't stand so close to Ten.
“Then let me try,” he says, almost distracted by how Ten has to keep his eyes in a squint to protect himself from the rain, as he needs to look up to face Yuta. He feels himself being invaded by a strong desire to take him home and tuck him in bed with a warm cup of tea before he gets sick, a desire he doesn't fight to keep away. “It won't be like a movie, it never is, but we can try.”
Ten shakes his head. Yuta brushes away the few strands of hair that stick to his forehead.
“I don't want a movie, anyway,” he says, “I came here to find something real.”
Yuta lays a kiss on Ten's forehead, slowly so it will last forever, staying there untouched, not washed away by the rain. Their hands seem to be just as drawn to each other as their young hearts already are, and Yuta tightens the grip on Ten's fingers.
“I hope I can give you that. I promise I'll try.”
“That's more than enough for me.”
Their friends don't even try to pretend they don't know what happened, but Yuta doesn't mind, and he knows Ten doesn't either. They find spare clothes, turn the entire living room into a clothesline when they use every piece of furniture they find to hang their wet clothes, someone manages to save the bottle of black tea with cinnamon from the bag where it'd been forgotten and shares it around. They whisper as they introduce Leon to the brothers, trying to keep their giggles low as Yangyang's parents are asleep upstairs, and Yuta feels warm inside, even if his skin is still cold from the rain. On the other side of the living room, Ten dries Renjun's hair with a white towel.
It feels real.