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He’s beautiful in autumn.
The trees turn red in homage to his tousled hair, and the slight chill of the autumn air contrasts the warmth of his fingers when he jumps behind her, jolting her by the shoulders.
You scared me! You blend in with the trees! She would giggle, a big smile plastered on her face.
That’s kind of the point, meow! He would pull her into a bear hug, letting her hear his laughter right by her ear and through her chest.
She would drag him into various cafés just to try their chai teas and their pumpkin spice lattes and all their fall-themed treats, much to his dismay.
You know, ‘chai’ tea is just tea tea? How ridiculous! How can you drink something like that when you know what it really means!
Sure, honey. Just drink your pumpkin spice latte with extra whipped cream and swirly straw.
Okay… maybe he dragged her into those cafés. She never complained, though.
She would go out to rake the leaves, enjoying some of her peace and quiet. That is, until he comes through with a diesel-powered leaf blower. Where did he even get that?
Woah, is it windy out here? ‘Cause you just blew me away! She would wink at him, realizing her rake is now a lost cause.
Ugh, get a room. His other red-haired brother, however, was not as impressed.
He would enjoy his last few days of good weather by taking one of his convertible babies out for a drive, usually letting her pick it.
She always sat in awe whenever she was driving with him. How can one be so beautiful in the autumn sun? How can one be so cool when changing the gear? How can one not be bothered by the leaves getting in the car? No, seriously.
She would pick a nice radio station and they would let the air blow through their hair, and sometimes, the leaves, too. Sometimes they would jam out to the radio, and sometimes they would be silent. Sometimes they would be silent because there was no need for words, instead taking comfort in each other’s presence.
Sometimes she would scream.
Slow down! I’m too young to die! He would just laugh at her, speeding up just a little bit to tease her. She would try pinching his arm, and he would oblige and slow down. Who could say no to that face?
He’s beautiful in the winter.
He bundles up in the covers of the bed, or shuts himself up in the room, working until she would be forced to bust in and get him to eat something more than chips and soda.
She would bake cookies and frost them, getting both red-haired twins to come out from their hibernation. Then, she ropes them into decorating the tree with her.
Well, I have a lot of work ya know, hehe…
No, you don’t.
And… I have sleep to… sleep on…
Sure, you do… You guys are decorating this tree with me if it’s the last thing I do! And she would drag them by the ear and make them watch her decorate the tree until one of them felt bad enough to start helping.
Sometimes, however, she wonders why she even asked. With the two somehow being wrapped in tinsel and string lights, and almost five Christmas ornaments suddenly becoming a hazard on the floor, maybe it would be better for them to sit this out.
But she knows they enjoy this. They enjoy this time they can spend with each other, laughing, getting trapped by Christmas decorations, eating the cookies she baked just for them, and getting to fight over who puts the star on the tree (although the elder usually lets his younger brother do it without much complaint).
She stealthily creeps around in the snow, ensuring no one is near her before bending to roll a small snowball. But it’s too late, he already has her in his sights, and she is left defenseless to his onslaught of
They all sit by the TV, watching classic Christmas movies and cheesy Hallmark movies, sipping on their decadent hot chocolate. They laugh at the cheesy and cringey moments and someone tears up whenever the ending rolls along.
They wrap their longest blanket around them, becoming a three-headed blob of warmth.
She would wrap her fingers around his, and give his hand a squeeze. She doesn’t know why she does that, but perhaps when he starts crying at the end of the cheesy movies, she thinks it makes him feel better. She thinks it reminds him he has a home and somewhere he can return to whenever he wants.
He would lay his head on her shoulder and drift off to sleep, and she would lift his glasses off his face, lean back, and let themselves sleep right on the sofa.
And when he returns to his room in the morning, ready to go back into his bear hole of hibernation, she finds him. He knows she finds him, because she always has. She has always known what goes on in his mind, his heart. She has always known what to say, how to tell him that yes, he is worthy of happiness, and yes, she would still love him if he were a worm. She would take his hand in hers, kiss his knuckles softly, and tell him, Merry Christmas, two words that somehow, when coming out from her lips, holds more weight for him than it ever has.
And when she turns to leave the room, finding a mistletoe taped on top of the doorframe, and that he has somehow found himself next to her from the bed to the door in a split second, she can only throw her head back and laugh.
He’s beautiful in the spring.
The snow slowly melts and the temperatures slowly rise until the weather is in the absolute, perfect condition to take his convertible babies out again.
She would drag him out to have a picnic, just to enjoy the warmth and slight breeze. His slightly messy hair would go all over the place from the wind, and she would brush it back down, just a little.
Then, she would see his eyes. Those golden yellow eyes that have always captivated her, shown her his true feelings, shown her his love for her, and his dreams, they captivate her still. She can’t help but look away, flustered. He brings her face back up by his fingers, however, and he utters some ridiculous joke about being so handsome that she cannot stop herself from rolling her eyes.
The trees grow their flowers and their leaves, painting the green grass with whites, pinks, reds, and even yellows.
They would go on walk together and she would sneak in a quick picture of him from afar, walking alongside the beautiful, blooming trees. The trees may be blooming, but she knows, deep inside, he blossoms inside, and one day, he will be ready to show himself to everyone. She would also secretly make the photo her phone wallpaper.
They would go to a large farm and wander around to pick the best strawberries. The big, firm, red, and juicy strawberries were perfect for the picking, and the two quickly realized they may need another basket.
At some point, he just gave up and started eating the strawberries. She would have yelled at him, maybe about paying, maybe about the juice spilling out, but it all flees her mind when she sees his eyes light up. The childlike joy and amazement that fills his eyes are just too precious to yell at.
Have you tried one? They’re so, so, so, so, so, so, so good! He would hold a strawberry to her mouth.
It is really good. She would reach up and wipe the juice from the sides of his lips while giggling. It’s really sweet.
She joins the younger brother in the garden and can smell the beautiful flowers he’s cultivated, see the butterflies and hummingbirds and bees all coming to take a sip of the same flowers.
One such butterfly happens to land on her hair, and she tries to find a good angle to take a picture of it. The moment, however, is short-lived, as the elder brother walks through the garden, scaring the butterfly away in the process.
To make up for it, though, he does help water all the plants, including her dying tomato plant that she hopelessly tries to save.
She enjoys the spring cleaning. Clear home, clear mind, right? She packs up all her extra and likely-never-to-be-worn-again clothes in a box and throws out all the useless bottles that she thought she could have had a use for. She dusts every surface, wipes down the counters, sweeps and vacuums the floors, and throws out all the cans and chip bags on the floor.
It starts becoming a mindless and easy task, that is until, he insists on helping.
It’s impossible to mess up cleaning, right? If one has a broom, they can’t somehow make a mess, right?
Wishful thinking.
Somehow, he is able to get the feather duster stuck in the ceiling fan, the cleaning solution all over the floor, the broom stuck under the sofa, stuck in the vacuum wires, and more cans and chip bags suddenly appear. This has to be some sort of superpower.
Nevertheless, she just shoos him away, letting him leave with a little pout on his face.
She giggles to herself, he is just too cute.
He is beautiful in the summer.
The flowers bloom into fruits and the trees fill their leaves in.
They would go to the beach to cool off in the water, a safe haven from the sweltering heat of the summer.
She would let her feet rest in the warm sand, looking on at the water. Then, she would hear quick footsteps from behind her, and suddenly, she is completely lifted up from the ground.
When she looks to see the culprit, who would’ve guessed, it’s him.
Put me down! She screeched, wiggling and trying to escape his grasp as she realized he was going toward the water.
As he jumped with her and the chill of the water touched her skin, she felt all the anger and fear melt off of her bones. All that was left was the joy and happiness she felt being with him.
And when they dried off, well, he does look good with his glistening skin.
They would go to the amusement park, riding all the rollercoasters and drop rides and playing all the rigged games.
Whenever she opened her eyes on the rides, she always found him howling, a big smile reaching his eyes. And when she gets off the ride, kissing the ground for its mercy, he would drag her to the very next.
He would play all the games, the shooting range, the ring toss, the prize fishing, and even the archery. She guesses it’s just his expertise in random activities and all the time he spent procrastinating, but somehow he won her every grand prize, leaving both her and the booth worker in awe. Safe to say, some of his winnings would not be able to fit in his foreign, luxurious trunk.
The kitchen would fill with the sweet smell of cake and frosting and the two brothers would come in like bees attracted to honey.
Hey, get out! You can’t see it yet! She would have flung some of the icing if they hadn’t dodged in time.
On the big cake she baked just for them, she would write, in her best handwriting, ‘Happy Birthday!’
She would place candles around the cake, although the amount was most likely inaccurate on account of how old they really were.
The RFA would crowd around the dining table, getting ready to sing the birthday song once she places the cake on the table.
They sing, and it’s a quaint gathering. Just the brothers and their most cherished friends.
Thank you, he whispered, and she could have sworn his eyes were becoming wet and glassy.
A tear dared to escape his eye, but she swooped in and wiped it away, giving him a sweet smile before resuming the rest of the song.
They blew out the candles and the room went dark, life still evident, however, as the cheer and applause from their friends filled the empty space.
She captured his hand while his other was busy shoveling the cake into his mouth. It was a sight, but she couldn’t imagine one she’d rather have than this one.
They really could have their cake and eat it too.
One day, he would take her to a grassy hill above the city, lay out a big blanket for them to sit on, and gaze at the stars. He would point out constellations and stars that are actually planets, and show her the constellations that definitely did not really exist. She would snuggle in closer to him, scrunching her body away from the chill air, and he would wrap his arms around her tighter, as if he never wanted to let go.
And that, right there, is the Zen constellation! He exclaimed, pointing to a random cluster of stars.
That looks nothing like Zen. She deadpanned.
She couldn’t keep up the act for long, however, and had to burst into laughter, joining him in his mischievous giggles. There was no way she could keep this dork all to herself, could she? She can only dream.
At some point, he would have exhausted the amount of stars he could possibly tell her about, and the strain in his pockets kept getting larger and larger. They would instead talk, and talk they did for what seemed like hours.
She would stare into his eyes, those golden eyes she had always been captivated by, run her hands through his red hair, the hair that would blend with the autumn trees, match his smile, the smile that brought her whole world joy, and laugh along with him, the laugh that made her love him in the first place.
And when they would run out of things to talk about, he would force them to stretch.
And when the stretching just made his pockets heavier and heavier, he knew there was no other way to stall it.
So when he drops down on one knee, she knows all she can say is:
Yes, Saeyoung. Take me to the space station.