Hm Probably Bc Im Born During Then Too Haha - Tumblr Posts

"He refined his movements in a complex dance routine, because he could dissociate from his inner turbulence." this reminded me of my own old self, using forms like dancing as ways of coping, hiding yet healing.

"Love was assuaged grief when the soul was the bare branches of a cherry blossom" wow

"And for the first time, Seonghwa found his footsteps and his heart getting lighter, and the rain no longer provoked despondent rumination, leaving the cyclical, habitual aches that only time could heal." i got so happy for him here 🥺 this was a beautiful way of saying

"How he had traversed each city believing that he finally understood the meaning of utopia and paradise, only for the rose glasses that he had unknowingly been given to be shattered, leaving him experientially blind." my god ur words are give me life 😩 i drop tears

"As you’re healing, the sun shines brighter, the days get longer, and the world awakens. It would be a shame to miss the spring, don’t you think?” this was like a big fat hug to me, such comforting words im wow... speechless. thank u 🥺

"The same memories, but with each passing day, growing brighter and lighter, until they turned into white clouds floating across the skies of sweet daydreams, serving as nothing more than a signifier of a past that had paved the way towards a marvellous present. If this was what you envisioned, then, certainly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to learn to feel." words aren't enough for how amazing this is, this is what and how we should see things and feel. this gave me so much solace ❣

Love was spring

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💮 pairing: seonghwa x gn!reader 💮 genre: comfort, fluff, tid-bits of angst, strangers to lovers 💮 summary: following a serendipitous meeting with you, seonghwa blooms in love after heartbreak, and learns that "if you intend to love a single flower, you must love its generation and extinction, presence and absence." - Do Jonghwan 💮 wordcount: 2.6k 💮 warnings/tags: allusion to idol!hwa, heartbreak, recovering from heartbreak, flora, cherry blossom season, implied ideation of death, time, healing, overcoming hardships, rainy days, discussion of life and its meaning, reassurance, meaning of forever 💮 a/n: the sentimental mood, bittersweet reminiscence have not left me after listening to Seonghwa's cover of Angel Baby, so I hope you enjoy my expression of this <3 Thank you so much to Sky (@/legohwas) for reading and for helping with the name, forever grateful<33 Much love and any reblogs, comments, thoughts and notes welcome!

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Love was pernicious when the soul was a snow-covered, sleeping tree - a notion that Seonghwa had been unfortunate enough to explore, and a terror to experience. In the flickering embers of what used to be a blazing passion, Seonghwa had remained intentionally oblivious to himself, and to the troubles that constructed a suffocating enclosure around him until catastrophe was imminent. When he had been at his lowest and needed precious love and unconditional support the most, he had been left to perish in the lonely silence, accompanied solely by the drumming of a biting cold winter rain. That day, his heart had joined the millions of droplets by shattering into a myriad of miniscule white flowers, only for their pure luminescence to be extinguished in the blink of an eye and blend with the wet concrete as sickly grey sludge.

As he watched the sun leave his life, the back of the one who had all his adoration and had promised him a forever turning into that of a total stranger, he ceased to believe in the feeling. If it was something so easily disposed of, equivalent to the passivity one experienced when discarding a plastic wrapper or an old, useless and broken toy, then he did not want any part in this farce. Evidently, he had been mistaken in his romanticisms, in his dreams and in his vision of soulmates, and thus, in his future.

Nights blended into days, remaining colourless as Seonghwa drifted in a melancholic somnolence. A hollow shell of a human being, he did what he had to do to be deemed functional enough, competent enough, acceptable enough for the rotating cogs of the societal machine. Seonghwa smiled, because his muscles were trained to do so. He refined his movements in a complex dance routine, because he could dissociate from his inner turbulence. But, in the darkness of his room where he had long ceased to turn on the light out of fear that he would see the ghosts of his history, he let himself collapse onto his bed and study the vapid monotony of his ceiling, so intently that he saw a reflection of his own heartache and misery in the off-white paint.

Amidst his endless search for some form of relief, the dark-haired man had taken to visiting the same bridge every rainy evening. The very bridge on which he had parted with the one who he had called the love of his life, physically metamorphosing into nothing but a black dot with every confident step away from him, but still having the ability to transform into a festering wound in his cranium. Seonghwa had nothing left to give, and yet he kept on hoping that one day everything could turn around, and the sun would shine once more. Alas, the rain had only gotten stronger, until the unforgiving element was a loyal spirit hovering above his lowered head.

Pulling the heavy weight of fate behind him, Seonghwa trudged to the bridge once more, turning in the direction of the flowing river and regarding the way in which large droplets collided with the surface, disturbing an otherwise innocent, serene mirror of the sky. Collapsing onto the stone guardrail, he peered at the waters below absent-mindedly and toyed with the idea of becoming a leaf, be it an oak or a maple; exist to gather energy, give, give and give some more only to break away from familiar territories and succumb to eternal rest on the current’s bubbling surface. A long, tranquil holiday. Away from all of this. Away from judgement, misinterpretation, anxiety that gnawed at his insides like a voracious dog. If only Seonghwa had known that it would turn out like this; then he would have never given into the silly risk that was now poisoning his thoughts, his feelings, and was rapidly approaching his actions. 

And it was at that moment, in the desperate solitude, amidst a battle with himself that he met you, and the unforgiving downpour cowered in your radiance.

“Hey, you come here often?” The cheesy phrase pulled him out of his ruminations, and he spun his head around to register the source of sound, finally stumbling upon a figure wrapped up in a raincoat, face partially hidden by an umbrella. Out of politeness, he chose to respond to the mysterious passer-by, flabbergasted when the umbrella moved to reveal a megawatt grin and an adorable face. While you looked to be about his age, you possessed a fascinating contrast of wise eyes that gave the impression of having seen many lives, wonders and displeasures of the world, and the refreshed, youthful face with the faintest natural blush coating your cheeks. In his mind, you were the promise of spring after a detestable, incorrigibly brutal winter.

Love was assuaged grief when the soul was the bare branches of a cherry blossom tree, early buds only just beginning to peek out from their bundled cots, and revealing their youthful colours against the warm grey bark that was decorated with memories of past trials and tribulations; an ode to time itself. This was a notion which you had proposed to Seonghwa amidst your improvised performances - an attempt to elicit at least the ghost of a priceless smile. After the initial meeting, you had come to cross paths more and more often, until serendipitous grew into coincidental, grew into intentional. And for the first time, Seonghwa found his footsteps and his heart getting lighter, and the rain no longer provoked despondent rumination, leaving the cyclical, habitual aches that only time could heal.

The routine was simple. Every evening when the sleepless sky caressed the earth with millions of diamonds that connected to form thousands of threads, embellishing the heavens and tying the mortal and the timeless, you would meet. Same bridge. Same time. Same umbrella, decorated with ornate flowers. You had not asked Seonghwa for much, except to show up, and to bring you a story that brought him warmth. Even if the side effect of the otherwise happy and reassuring memory was a stray tear or two. Raindrops, condensation of the soul, you called them. Trickling reminders that he was able to feel and was capable of knowing when he was on cloud nine prior to entering his period of monsoons and thunderstorms.

Each rainy night, of which there were many, come early signs of the spring season, he recounted what love had meant for him before being subdued by a ruthless frost. How he had traversed each city believing that he finally understood the meaning of utopia and paradise, only for the rose glasses that he had unknowingly been given to be shattered, leaving him experientially blind. Suspended in his retrospections, Seonghwa ambled through his mind’s labyrinth as he divulged the stories of the many shops, cafes and quiet cobbled streets he had visited, with the memories now having transformed into bitter anguish.

The more he shared, the more despicable the prior fondness became. How dare this terror haunt him so? How dare the scenes appear before him in a warm sepia tone, when Seonghwa wanted nothing more but to let them go? He wanted to shed the dead leaves. Anything to submit to an unfeeling winter for a while, for the remnants of the prologue to his solitude to be frozen solid.

“You may wish to forget and say it never happened, it is only natural. But sooner or later, the ice and snow will melt and all that you had buried will be streaming down memory lane and back into your heart.”

“I suppose, but either way I will be thinking about it. So what does it matter if I think about it now, or later?”

“Acceptance, Seonghwa. Acceptance. With steady reflection and time dedicated to yourself rather than your demons comes acceptance. As you’re healing, the sun shines brighter, the days get longer, and the world awakens. It would be a shame to miss the spring, don’t you think?”

He lowered his head in silent musing, letting your words echo in his head before turning to survey the landscape. This was his first venture in the park near the bridge, despite him passing by it countless times. It had been a setting, a backdrop for his chilling thoughts, so deeply entrenched in periphery that he had never even considered stopping and admiring it. And now, with you, he felt that it was right that he did - without you walking by his side, finally having let him take a hold of your umbrella and hold it above your heads, he doubted he would find this collection of bare trees, murky ponds and meandering cement paths as miraculous as he did now. You pointed out the buds, so young they were a pale turquoise, and the fresh grass, thin lines of green among the wilted greys and browns. 

Perhaps this was what you envisioned when you talked of love. The nightfall turning into sunset as the clocks chimed the same hour. The same tree, adorned with the promise of a stunning canopy. The same memories, but with each passing day, growing brighter and lighter, until they turned into white clouds floating across the skies of sweet daydreams, serving as nothing more than a signifier of a past that had paved the way towards a marvellous present. If this was what you envisioned, then, certainly, this was what Seonghwa wanted to learn to feel.

Love was harmonious when the soul was the flurry of cherry blossom petals dancing in the wind, enveloping the beholder in the spring embrace and decorating the world in a snowlike carpet and in baby pink. While the tree did not bloom for long, reaching its most beautiful peak and burning out at times in a matter of days, the fleeting, divine glory that it achieved was what you and Seonghwa would consider an eternity. If anything, the growth, the blossoming, the fall were reflections of every living organism in the expanse of space and time; a slow inhale, and a level, measured out exhale all in the hopes of a next cycle. 

“You know, Seonghwa, I think that every single person is like a cherry blossom tree. Grand, ever-expanding, unique… bare. However, our identity, our interests, our friends and family… fans, they are all blossoms, leaves, the curvature in the bark that decorates the magnificent branches.”

Your musings were Seonghwa’s favourite pastime and focus, the words forming philosophical symphonies as he let himself be guided from one piece to the next. He had found comfort in sharing his troubles with you, and as soon as the weather had gotten warm enough for you to be able to do so, sitting side by side under the awakening flora to ponder their meaning into a fuzzy abstraction. The conversation had stemmed from your observation of the falling flowers, appearing to be shed as soon as they blossomed. Taking note of the lack of regal white robes on some of the branches, Seonghwa had pointed out that they might have been stolen away by the heavy rain last night, thus falling into a moment of melancholy as he recollected the circumstances of your first meeting.

Gently, you placed a hand over his in an expression of reassurance and a reminder that you, indeed, were here with him, and were not striving for impermanence. Turning his own hand so the palm was facing upwards, he intertwined your fingers together, comfortable with the sweet affection, since the throngs of observers hungry for photographs of the blossoms at their most splendid had long whittled down to lazy stragglers. They still retained a sliver of a chance to capture the grandeur of the remaining veterans before they too would join the fallen white raindrop, preferred to amble past, enraptured by their own routines, their own growth, their own blossoms.

“Flora has its life cycles. The same goes for everything in life. Some things and people appear and disappear in a single season, with only pictures or a passing thought to retain them in your psyche, whilst others, either on their own accord or by joining forces with like minded souls become a continuous presence. You see, even those who you had to say goodbye to were precious. Because they are irreversibly a part of you. Anything you do, anyone you meet is an addition to that beautiful blossoming tree, just like you are to theirs.”

Seonghwa shifted his gaze towards you, taking in your serenity as you basked in the April sun. Leaving behind the flowery umbrella and with it the rainy days, he was caught in a silent bliss, eagerly waiting for each tomorrow, all while living vicariously through every today. He found himself reconnecting with passion, with art. No longer was he functioning for the sake of appearances, but was well and truly living. After having assumed he had to love only beauty and solely seek perfection - the exact notion which had resulted in his near demise, it was a breath of fresh, resurrecting air to discover that to truly love, meant to love the silence, the obsoletion and the absence. Now, as one season changed into another, and as gorgeous blossoms fell to turn into colourful water streams he was able to sit back and quietly observe the metamorphosis instead of mourning it. Because he knew that this meant there would be a future, with new colours, new leaves, new blossoms.

“Life does not stand still…” he murmured, squeezing your hand ever so slightly, a warmth spreading in his chest as your eyes met his and your lips curled into a soft, adorable gleam. 

“And what do you think about that?” you held your breath, your heart swelling with pride as you urged Seonghwa to go on.

“I find it to be… like love itself. Even in the quietude of the branches left bare, the fondness and awareness of knowing they had once been home to thousands of petals makes it worth it. And, as such, they never leave, turning into a transformative forever.”

The heavens sighed, a strong breeze washing over the park, your two forms settled on the wooden bench, the shedding canopies of white. Blossoms erupted in a visual catharsis, and scattered across the earth as far as the eye could see. The final flickers of this beautiful season’s embers. And yet, it did not feel like a dismal, all-encompassing finale, but rather the end of the beginning. While Seonghwa did not know what this renaissance would bring, and what florescence shall be his future guide, he was confident that in his newfound tranquillity, you were the reason why loving was easy. Why love was like being brought back to life.

“It is easy to believe in ‘the end’. And takes an infinite, intrinsic love, transcending time and seasons to believe in ‘forever’.” you agreed, and gazed at the scene before you. The glimmering waters of a pond - the sky’s mirror, dotted with brilliant ethereal cotton, soothed by the wind’s caresses. You and Seonghwa watched on as the floral dancers cascaded down in their closing act, elegantly waving their farewells before settling on lapping foam. 

Slowly, he was learning the intricacies, the little things that formed a delicate equilibrium that was adoration, devotion, enamourment. Equanimous, Seonghwa wanted nothing more than to live in this ever-changing present, and, with you, love the beauty and the silence after it had fallen.