ᴛᴀsᴛᴇs ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ // Minsung ✔️

Spring

His tongue was the sweetest. Every word he uttered made Minho fall more and more in love than he was before.

A lifetime together and he still felt as if their time was cut short.

Every corner he turned was laced with their moments turned memories. They say that the strongest link to sparking a memory is through one of the 5 senses, Minho only knew the true meaning of this when he had a cigarette between his lips.

Times were different now, it wasn't an addiction, it was barely even a hobby. But every now and again, he craved his taste, and that was the closest he could ever come to the sensation again.

His steps became slower as he came to to his final destination. An oak tree, the thing that stood out the most in a field of sunflowers. Minho caressed it admiringly.

"It's been far too long." He mumbled.

Although, his words were not literal, he was here only yesterday, much like he was the day before and the day before that and for the last 9 years before that.

It was just something he said, he always liked to be dramatic.

"In loving memory of Han jisung" The golden plauque nailed into the trunk read.

Surrounding it was a few simple items. A packet of zappo's with a post it note reading ":)". That's how Minho knew Felix had already visited today. There were a few bouquets of flowers and more things specific to certain people.

Minho could tell that he had already missed everyone, but deep down that was his intention. He would call them later.

The 14th of September. A date so deeply engraved into his brain he would still be remembering it on his own death bed.

"I brought you something." He smiled, referring to the box in his hands. "I know it isn't much for a 90th birthday present but you haven't spoken to me in a while so I guess this is my payback." Minho joked. The two of them always loved to joke.

Minho didn't open the box. He didn't need to. He simply placed it in between two of the deeply imbedded roots and sat down with his back against the tree.

They say a man who lives fully is not afraid of death. Maybe that is why he left with a smile on his face. That's what Minho liked to think.

Why are we taught to fear it?

Why?

Some people think that we get sent to either heaven or hell. Others think we meet a skeleton holding a scythe who takes our souls for all eternity.

Minho however, didn't fear it. Rather, he longed for it. Not because he wanted to die. Not because he was in pain or because he didn't love his daughter or grandkids or all of his friends with every single piece of him. Rather because, a part of him was already gone and no amount of reminiscing would bring him back.

He wanted for nothing more than to be reunited with his lover and become a part of the stars. Nothing would make him feel more alive than that.

Minho wanted to put an end to this winter.

His aged eyes fell on the tiny, floating dust that the sun lit up like ethereal confetti, accompanied by snowflakes falling down.

He wondered how long he would have to wait, how many more sleepless nights did he have to spend, yet the answer was not many at all.

He didn't hate Jisung for leaving, but not a day went passed that he didn't think, why couldn't it of been himself instead?

In all honestly, It hurt less to blame himself. He would rather hate every inch of his being than taint the image of perfection in its finest form that was his lover.

Often, Minho found himself taking deep breaths instead of letting tears fall. He found it better to try and exhale the pain rather than transform it into something salty that just left you feeling worse.

Something was urging Minho to stay, just a little bit longer, just a few more nights.

Maybe the flowers would come to life once again, maybe he could learn to love spring on its own.

Maybe he would once again be able to feel the sun on his skin. He knew that no season was eternal, but after many summers and many springs, autumns and winters, there gets a point when you are tired of the change in temperature, and you wish for nothing other than eternity.

He was at the edge of his winter, he knew it.

They say that before you die, your life flashes before your eyes and Minho saw it all, Minho saw him.

He who was his brightest light, his best season, and
his favourite taste.

His time was up, but not a single part of him was upset.

He ached for the friends that he was going to "call later" and whatever person was going to stumble across him.

But this is where he wanted to be. Tangled up in the arms of the one who loved him like no one else ever did.

As his eyes fell shut and his lips grew dry, his hand slowly reached up to the branch just above him where his fingers traced the engraving jisung and himself and put there so many years ago and finally, he smiled.

His heart was happy. The hourglass he had been begging to end had came to a stop.

Together is what they always had been and together is how they would remain.

His heart was happy, and after far too long without each others warmth, Minho melted into his embrace and now, so were they.

[ end ]