“I’m not in it.”

I moved my arm to the right.

“You’re really gonna do me like that? I say I’m not in it and you move it further away from me?”

“What can I say? Time’s not been all too kind to you.”

Jongin swiped his hand through my hair, disheveling it beyond repair. 

“Really?”

“Looks like Time doesn’t pick favorites.”

“Well now that we’re even in the looks department, I’m taking it on three.” I held my hand high, performing a balancing act with my phone in the middle of the crowded airport. “1. 2.” 

I snapped the photo, only to receive immediate protests from my too-vain-for-his-own-good cousin, Kim Jongin. At the age of twenty-five, he had yet to shed his childish ways. 

“You know, I’ve got quite a few candid snapshots of you both mid-sneeze and mid-yawn. So you’ve got two choices at this point. One, take the photo again. Two, suffer utter humiliation at the ripe, old age of twenty-six.” 

Not that I’d ever want him to.

I held my hand up again, carefully readjusting it before asking, “Ready?”

“You know I’m still not in it.” He deadpanned, showing me a look that could kill.

And I laughed as the baggage claim roared to life, spinning round at long last.

I’ve been laughing a lot over the past 4 years. 

Not just for the sake of it either. 

“Tip your chair one more time—“

“And you’ll what?” Pastry Chef Shin Sara challenged Byun Baekhyun, her husband of almost a year now. Her natural inclination to anything even slightly dangerous meant he had to keep his eyes on her at all seconds of the day.

Something he didn’t mind doing in the least.

“And you’ll end up sitting on my lap instead.”

“Slow your roll there my architect in shining armor, people are watching.” She cooed, pearly whites peaking out from between heart-shaped lips. 

Turning back towards me, Baekhyun was smiling as well, her infectious smile never failing to make him fall over himself, lovesick for her sweet ways until the end.

“The key is distracting her.” Baekhyun said while gesturing downwards towards her chair, all four legs safely on the ground. “Something I can’t help but boast about being the best at.”

“That you are.” I laughed. 

I’ve been happy these past 4 years.

I can’t really explain why. 

And I’m okay with that. 

I’ve realized I’m not good at solving mysteries anyway. Life’s greater questions? The metaphorical reasons behind everyday actions and gestures? The implied connotations versus the static denotations of a set of words?

Stars. Beautiful. Hands. Comfort. Laughter. Love. 

I’ve stopped trying to figure out the sole relationship between such ideas and concepts. 

I don’t know anything for sure.

“I’m hungry.”

“You’re always ing hungry.” 

“Do I or do I not always live and breath? Do I or do I not need to eat in order to do so?” Sehun argued with Kyungsoo, the object of his affection, in an animated fashion — over-exaggerating just for him.

Do Kyungsoo spared a glance around where Oh Sehun the animator, Kim Suho the newly-promoted police officer, and I the aspiring university English professor stood after just finishing a viewing at the movie theater of the most recent super hero movie: Spiderman 5: Revengeance. 

“There’s nachos at the concession stand.” He pointed out, eyes lighting up. Sehun was making a face that showed he had absolutely no intention of eating any, as easy to read as ever. “Well I’m getting some.”

Walking off towards the line before us, he didn’t look back once.

“He could try to be a little pushier, don’t you think?” Sehun complained, crossing his arms stiffly against his chest.

“If you wanted some, you should have said so.” Suho lectured, too used to doing so on a daily basis to break the habit.

“I don’t! But I want him to, you know,” Sehun mumbled, “cater to me anyway.”

Suho hung an arm around his shoulders, bringing him down to his level before uttering out a motherly, “If you don’t stop being so adorable, I’ll have to be even more vigilant against potential Sehun-nappers.”

Sehun faked a laugh that became genuine as Kyungsoo made his way back towards us. It was only when we were outside, a handful of steps from the entrance to the theater, that he halted all conversation and said, “You can have these,” while handing his freshly purchased nachos to Sehun.

Before Sehun could even ask why, Kyungsoo spoke up first.

“It’s too delicious not to share.” He explained as though nothing made more sense. “Blame whatever addictive ingredients the guy who makes it sprinkled on it,” he pointed behind himself with his thumb before jogging off to buy another.

And Oh Sehun took a moment to stare on at the male’s disappearing figure before turning towards me. 

“How do you make someone fall in love with you?” He asked, wide eyes displaying inexperience, yet his tight frown a testament to his sincerity.

“Who knows?” I shrugged while Suho laughed, lips blooming a light shade of purple as we — as Sehun — waited for Kyungsoo on this cold night.

I don’t know anything for sure, and there’s something relieving about that. 

It’s made life interesting, to say the least. 

I’ve been more open to impractical opportunities — such as parachuting from an airplane high above the ground or vacationing in Switzerland because why not? Seemingly meaningless experiences that couldn’t be more meaningful. And I have all the time in the world to piece it together. 

Just as the two sitting in front of me in this small coffee shop were working to piece everything together, together, the snow outside on this winter morning fogging up glass; soft cackles of ice background noise to our conversation.

Park Chanyeol sighed out loud, frustrated with the news I had just reported when I, appropriately, could not, “A going away breakfast get-together with everyone? You just got back a week ago! Why didn’t you tell us you’d be leaving so quickly?”

“And I’ll be leaving that night. Not the longest holiday in the world, but I can’t complain. I didn’t want to ruin a nice vacation by throwing a tantrum over it.”

“I understand your sentiments completely,” she, my college love, joked, raising her cup of tea to my words, “Wasted time is the worst kind.”

“I don’t have a photo-shoot scheduled that weekend, but aren’t rehearsals for your's and Jongin's dance recital scheduled for that Saturday morning?” Chanyeol directed towards her, his fiancé of two months, at his side worriedly.

“If you can’t make it—”

“Of course we’ll both be there, Taemin.” She interrupted me, eyes smiling naively as she once more pushed everything and anything back for the sake of someone she cared about — a bad habit I hope she never breaks.

“It’ll be early in the morning. Around 9am.” I informed her. 

“I’ve woken up earlier more than enough to actually find your insinuation insulting.” She scoffed, bringing up the past with a kind of ease only she could manage.

“Don’t remind me.” Chanyeol groaned, feigning sudden zombie-like behavior as he flailed his arms before her. 

Pinching down onto his right earlobe, she laughed as she said, “I’ll even drag this lazy Elf Boy out of bed with me.”

Chanyeol grinned her way, ears as pink as a blushing bride’s cheeks, fonder of the nickname than she’d ever know. And she glanced back, lips curving to mirror his own, eyes disappearing beneath a thick mesh of lashes and high-flying cheeks.

I’m still trying to pick apart the year-long puzzle I created 4 years ago that Fall. But it’s hard. Of all things, I had to mimic the image of that patch of grass that spread on into the horizon, on into forever — infinitely more difficult than a thousand-piece puzzle of clouds. 

But the more difficult it is, the better. 

The more I try to understand who and why I love, the more I find myself laughing in the end.

Smiling, for the sake of smiling. 

The world’s too bright a place to warrant anything less.

My life’s too colorful to view through monochrome glasses.

The taste of warm milk settles pleasantly in my stomach again today as I smile and say, “Thank you.”

A/N: Truly and sincerely, thank you. For this. For that. For everything, thank you. click.