⤷ ❛ ❅ rooftop a

@☾ taemin l｡ There was an allure to Taemin — in his mysterious presence and guarded emotions. His heart so full of love and affection, demeanour genuine when he reminisced upon times of yore. Yet, deep in his soul lay a tarnish of melancholy and sorrow, essence beaten by centuries of abuse and manipulation.

The bags beneath his gaze deepened with regret even as dark eyes twinkled with adoration. Nostalgia tugged blood red lips that twitched with sadness and guilt. Though his countenance showed no proof of aging beyond twenty, invisible lines of maturity and exhaustion carved the creases below his eyes and corners of his lips.

Taemin was akin to a forlorn knight, weathering the storms and seas for their one true love, only to reach a happy ending that never existed. A tale without sunshines and rainbows wove from his very existence, entwining a tapestry of tragedy worthy for the comedies of the gods. Ten was sure Ancient Greece would swoon over Taemin’s ventures — a life of devastation with no oasis in sight, truly a remarkable fable to pass the time with.

Unfortunately, Ten was no storyteller from that era. They were a regular witch living in the modern century. Life was grey with dullness, coloured by the gloomy skyscrapers and bland anonymous.

Their heart squeezed for Taemin, mourning over his story of misery. Their soul cried for Taemin, cradling the fragmented sentiments strewn across the ground. Their body sought for Taemin, wishing to provide warmth and comfort to soothe him.

Their fingers twitched and, mindlessly, they reached out, tucking away the curtain of ebony strands to reveal the night sky beyond the windows of his eyes.

“I can imagine why,” mused Ten, voice above a whisper. “It’s a beautiful meeting that anyone can wish for.”

Their hand froze, hovering beside Taemin’s face. Ten widened their eyes, realising what they had been subconsciously doing. They quickly retracted their hand, clearing their throat as embarrassment coloured their cheeks — they hoped the rain could wash away the blush like it was makeup.

The offer brought their attention back to Taemin, eyes immediately settling on the outstretched hand. The silent invitation to continue their conversation hung heavy in the air, accompanied by the implications of bringing one’s presence to another’s private chambers. It was an intimate proposal, spreading bare one’s secrets by showing them their most secluded area — a place where the offerer could be themselves.

The magnitude of the proposition settled within Ten like the chill of the rain, causing a shiver to wrack their body. Though they hesitated, the promise of cosiness poked at their resolve. It took another shiver to seize their body before they made up their mind.

“If you don’t mind having me,” remarked Ten, smiling gently. “Then I’d love to.”

They rested their hand in Taemin’s extended one, fingers gently curled around the limb. Warmth immediately seeped through their contact, flushing their neck and face. They ducked their head, hiding their bashfulness and giddy expression.

“Please lead the way.”

@★ ten l｡ The memories slip forth easily, like a well-worn song playing in the background of Taemin's mind. Each word he shares becomes a brushstroke, crafting a picture of their shared past beneath the torrential downpour—an intimate narrative, as familiar and comforting as a cherished tune.

In the midst of storytelling, Taemin momentarily immerses himself in the sea of reminiscence. Details of their first encounter, the spontaneous coffee date beneath the rain's relentless embrace, spill out effortlessly—a testament to the quiet beauty that once defined them. His eyes, reflecting the muted glow of city lights and the unyielding downpour, shimmer with a warmth that transcends the years.

Yet, beneath that warmth lingers a poignant ache—a bittersweet symphony of longing and bitter nostalgia. The rain, once a gentle backdrop to their love story, now serves as a relentless reminder of time's inexorable passage.

As Taemin delves into the tale, he finds solace in the image of Ten standing in the rain. Dark hair adorned with glistening droplets, starlit eyes a perfect image reflecting the night sky, and rosy lips and cheeks touched by the unrelenting chill of the storm—a living portrait echoing the loveliness of their shared history.

Ten's observation about their meeting being akin to a fairytale draws a genuine smile from Taemin, tinged with the warmth of remembered joy but shadowed by the haunting echoes of a time long gone. Leaning against the railing, he agrees with a soft chuckle, "Yeah, it does feel like we stumbled straight out of some old storybook, doesn't it? Even so, it’s a kind of story I wouldn’t mind getting lost in once again.” It's a fleeting acknowledgment of the joy found in the simplicity of remembering, yet the sweetness is tinged with the sour aftertaste of nostalgia.

Their interaction follows the rhythm of the rain, shared glances and exchanged words seamlessly woven into the fabric of their intertwined history. Each uttered word carries the weight of unspoken emotions, a complex dance of love and loss, warmth and longing.

When Ten, with practiced ease, mentions not minding the rain, Taemin's gaze sharpens with an understanding that transcends spoken words. "Some things never change with you," he remarks, laughter underscoring the quiet declaration. As he gazes through the raindrops at Ten, he's transported back to their initial meeting, a deja vu of shared glances and playful banter. The resilience in Ten's demeanor, the easy grace with which they weather the storm—it's a familiar dance that echoes the very essence of who they were when they first met. Despite the years and the gaps in memory, Taemin recognizes the unchanged spirit beneath the surface, a comforting constant in the ever-shifting tide of their history.

In the midst of it all, the offer to seek shelter and continue their journey materializes like a soft refrain, a bridge between reminiscence and the unfolding present. “Well, you may not mind the rain, but I really don’t want you to get sick. And besides, I’m feeling a bit chilly myself. Why don’t we go inside, Ten?” Taemin suggests, his voice carrying the gentle cadence of raindrops, laced with the rich tapestry of emotions. “We can go up to my room. You can dry off there, and maybe I can mix up a little drink for you—a touch of warmth to chase away the chill." The offer lingers like a whispered promise, a continuation of their shared narrative—a testament to the seamless dance of memories and the wistful allure of the present.

With a tender gaze, Taemin extends a hand, an unspoken reassurance that the echoes of the past are not yet entirely lost, merely waiting to be rediscovered in the quiet spaces between moments. The emotion in his eyes speaks of a love that has weathered storms, a love that persists with an unwavering warmth even in the face of forgotten memories, and the bitter nostalgia for a time that still echoes in the rain.

@☾ taemin l｡ The words of a bygone tale left Taemin’s lips like a river, flowing down a stream of reminiscence and sentimentality. The droplets of rain hugged Ten like a rushing current, submerging them in a moment in time. The consistent pitter-patters turned into an indolent lull, singing a white noise that drowned the activities of the rest of the world.

In this sphere of tranquility, there was only them and Taemin.

The fable of remembrance painted a scene of warmth and comfort, a first meeting that led to a turn in history. The momentous pivot in their shared past which started their adventure of love and devotion, of repose and solace. The beginning of a romantic anecdote, filled with the hopes of future encounters and eventual bonding.

Ten listened intently as Taemin recounted the day, gaze captured and attention seized.

The sky sulked miserably above their heads, making its gloom every mortal’s business. Even so, a light emitted from Taemin, full of fondness and adoration. The dark clouds could not shroud the illumination, and the harsh pour could not douse the passionate spark.

Against the depressing backdrop, Taemin was a beacon — a buoy guiding lost sailors through a thunderstorm.

Ten wondered if this exact imagery was what their past self had seen that day, all those years ago under the relentless pelts of the Gods. They wondered if, much like they were at this instant, the brilliance surrounding Taemin had drawn them in like a moth to a flame. They wondered if their past self saw the descent of the Heavens with every second their gaze lingered on Taemin, enlightened by the grace of the vampire.

Ten wondered if Taemin’s radiance made their past self fall in love like right now.

Ten blinked, realising the direction of their train of thought. They closed their eyes, mentally shaking their head. They opened their eyes again, focusing once more on Taemin with a clearer mind.

The question prompted a hum to rumble in their throat, dark eyes connecting with a similar pair. The concern meeting their gaze brought an instinctual smile to their face, warmth spreading in their chest at the knowledge that they were being cared for. The worry directed at them was so natural and genuine, it sent another shiver down their spine, only slightly amplified by the chill of the rain.

“I’m okay,” assured Ten, rubbing their arms in a futile attempt to warm themselves. “I don’t mind the rain.”

It was the truth. Standing under the tears of Mother Nature was cleansing, all sins and crimes washed away with the sobs of a forgiving parent. It felt liberating, as if becoming one with the environment and returning to the roots of the Earth.

Ten glanced at the glinting city lights below, enjoying the fake night sky before them. Headlights were switched on to brighten the foggy roads, lamp poles lit up to provide additional glow. One could mistake the time to be night if the sun was not beating directly from above just minutes ago.

“Our first meeting,” murmured Ten, chuckling in amusement. “It sounds like a fairy tale.”

Yet, there was no doubt in their tone. The account sounded like it was ripped out of a regular romance book, but Ten believed every word spilling from Taemin’s lips.

Deep in their heart, Ten knew this was what happened, even if there was no memory on their end to confirm the validity of Taemin’s claims.

@★ ten l｡ The rooftop morphs into a sanctuary, memories blooming amidst the relentless downpour. Taemin's laughter rings out, a melody sweet that blends almost seamlessly with the rhythmic drumming of the raindrops.

“The day we met, hm? I still remember it like it was yesterday,” Taemin says, his voice carrying the warmth of nostalgia and cherished moments. His cheek rests against his hand, the playfulness in his eyes reflecting the timeless joy of the memory. “Looking back, it feels like a scene from some of those romantic comedies we used to binge-watch together. Quite amusing, don’t you think?”

He takes a moment, watching the raindrops trace delicate patterns on the rooftop, before continuing with the tale. "It was a day much like this one, the skies opening up in a blessing of rain. There you stood, caught in the middle of the downpour, defenseless without an umbrella to shield you,” he muses. “Now, I couldn’t just stroll past that, could I? So, I walked over and sheltered you under my umbrella. Those wide, surprised eyes gazed up at me, and that's when I truly saw how enchanting you were. The raindrops on your lashes looked like celestial jewels. It was as if you carried a piece of the sky with you.”

A pause, the tender smile on Taemin's lips deepening as he delves into the details of the recollection. "You were shivering, and I couldn’t just leave you there like that. I’d offered to take you to the nearby coffee shop, but you tried to decline my offer—told me that you didn’t want to trouble me and that you didn’t mind the rain,” he recalls, a mixture of laughter and gentle fondness dancing in his eyes. “But how could I just let you stand out there, cold and drenched like that? So I insisted that we go. I even picked up the tab for the both of us. Looking back, though, you probably agreed then just to escape the cold.”

Another pause. Fingers gently trace the contours of the cold railing, grounding him in the present yet tethered to the past. The memories continue to unfurl like delicate petals, and Taemin, leaning against the cold metal railing, allows the recollection to paint his features with a soft, fond glow. “We sat there for a while, both drenched yet warm, savoring hot drinks. We didn’t share too many words then. It was one of those hesitant conversations, you know? Not necessarily awkward, but filled with a kind of sweet uncertainty. It felt like happiness quite literally decided to walk into my life at that moment.”

Taemin's gaze turns to Ten, the gentle fondness giving way to a touch of quiet concern. “Are you feeling alright? We can go inside if the cold is getting to you. I wouldn’t want you to fall ill.”

@☾ taemin l｡ Taemin might be a weather wizard, Ten was sure of it.

His answer worked like an incantation, bringing forth the first drops of rain. As the seconds stretched into a minute, the tears of the Heavens fell faster, harder. In no time, the Gods went from crying to full blown heavy sobbing.

The natural shower crashed mercilessly upon the two, drenching them in a matter of seconds. The biting cold of the raindrops surpassed woollen fabric to prick the skin underneath, assaulting the body with chilly needles. The sensation prompted a shudder down their spine, though Ten did not complain.

Under the relentless pour of Mother Nature’s wails, their clothes turned into a second layer of dermis. The initial impression of wet clothing against dry skin quickly dissipated as their body grew accustomed to the clinging material, welcoming the icy temperature and soaking attire.

Somehow, the unforgiving pelts of the Heavens turned into the comforting embrace of a parent.

Taemin’s voice was smooth, calm and soothing. It drew their focus back on him. Dark eyes settled upon the figure, taking in his appearance.

Ten watched, enraptured, as the rain bathed Taemin. His normally fluffy hair now hung over his eyes, heavy with water. The dark strands plastered against his forehead, stringy and long.

Even as droplets permeated his being, Taemin looked stunning. His dark eyes, full of woe and yearning, carried a glittering light. An abyss that reflected the starry sky, capturing and immortalising a beauty upon its depressing existence.

Drops of rain glided along fair skin, passing the terrains of cheekbones and jawline before reaching the peak of his chin. They dangled for a moment, cheering at the top of their lungs for their successful trek across treacherous territories, before leaping to higher grounds.

It took Ten a moment to remember the question Taemin asked.

“Let’s start from the beginning,” decided Ten, inhaling sharply as their attention returned. “How did we meet?”

@★ ten l｡ The rooftop cradles Taemin in a sanctuary, a moment ensnared by the hushed promises of impending rain. The city below hums, an echo of their shared whispers lingering in the urban twilight.

A soft, melancholic smile graces Taemin's lips as he chuckles, gently dismissing Ten's suggestion to seek refuge. "I don't get sick that easily," he reassures, the faint smile lingering. "I'd like to stay a bit longer if you don’t mind.”

As if responding to his words, the first drops of rain fall, a tender lover's touch on his skin that holds the allure of cleansing and rebirth. Taemin's gaze remains affixed to the city lights, each flicker a silent witness to the passage of time and the unspoken complexities between him and Ten.

The wind pirouettes through the strands of his hair, a gentle caress that sends a shiver down his spine. The steady raindrops, like liquid stardust, cascade from the heavens, tracing ephemeral paths down his cheeks. As his eyes slip to a close, Taemin allows the rain to baptize him, a silent communion with the heavens.

The unspoken weight of their shared history hangs in the air, intermingling with the scent of rain-soaked concrete. Taemin disrupts the contemplative silence, his voice a subtle addition to the rain’s soothing cadence. "Where do you want to start?” he asks, his words carrying the gravity of countless untold stories. "What would you like to know first?”

The rain crescendos, a harmonious background to the unspoken verses suspended between them. Each droplet, a delicate note, reclaims moments lost, offering glimpses into the forgotten fragments of their shared narrative.

The city below holds its breath in solidarity. A distant thunder reverberates, the vibrations mirroring the storm constantly raging within Taemin's heart.

He opens his eyes, seeking answers in the city lights, a dance with uncertainty under the rain's gentle guidance. The rooftop, transformed into a canvas painted by rain, witnesses the delicate choreography of Taemin navigating the intricacies of a love story scattered by the winds of forgetfulness.

In the ensuing silence, the rain persists in its gentle descent, an unbroken serenade weaving through the city.

@☾ taemin l｡ ‘Let’s meet on the rooftop.’

The distant rumbling of an approaching storm served as the bass to the choir of the hallway hubbub. Hurried footsteps and excited chatters composed a cacophonous symphony, forming harmony through chaos. The steady resonant of the changing weather provided a steady consistence to the sporadic corridor clamour, threading a tune of white noise to the average auditory organ.

Light feet carried rushing students past Ten, following wind sweeping their clothes and hair. A turn in the hallway revealed two flights of stairs, one ascending and another descending. Ten took the flight leading upwards, climbing to the top.

A gateway leading to the rooftop came into view. Through the square window, Ten espied a figure. Even with their limited encounters, Ten recognised the silhouette, a sense of familiarity washing over them.

As the door swung open, the chilly brick wall of an oncoming downpour crashed into them. A shudder seized their physique, goosebumps pebbling their skin. One deep breath later, Ten passed the threshold between indoor and outdoor, leaving the safety of a shelter to greet the rolling thunder.

Gentle footfalls accompanied Ten’s presence, stopping beside the lone habitant on the rooftop. Elbows rested upon the metal railing encircling the edges, balancing their body weight against the barrier. Through the thin fabric of their cardigan, the cool surface seeped past, soaking Ten with a light cold.

Silence blanketed the two occupants, the faraway call of a tempest being their sole background music.

It was Ten who broke the silence. “It looks like it’ll rain soon.”

Shadow loomed overhead, stealing sunlight from the earth. As Ten lifted their gaze, they watched as murky clouds veiled the shining orb, creeping inch by inch. They tore their eyes away, settling instead upon the distant cityscape.

Dark clouds already hovered above the megalopolis, prompting city lights to switch on and illuminate the impending darkness. Even with the day being afternoon, the advancing storm had greedily eaten most of the sunlight.

“Don’t you want to go back inside?”

Tilting their head, Ten glanced at Taemin from the corner of their eyes. They nodded to the doorway, smiling kindly.

“You might get sick if you stay under the rain.”

@★ ten l｡ Inside the lecture hall, the weight of Ten's words lingers in the air like a heavy fog. Taemin has to take a moment to steel himself as the ache in his chest worsens. "I understand,” he whispers, voice wavering. “But even so, that’s not enough to ever make me stop loving you."

The words, a delicate blend of quiet acceptance and enduring affection, linger in the room like the bittersweet notes of an unplayed piano. The silence that follows is deafening, each passing moment echoing the perpetual ache in his chest. The tension between them is palpable, a fragile connection strained by the weight of unspoken emotions and fractured memories.

As Taemin finishes, the air around him shimmers and he disappears into a cloud of black smoke. Purple spectral butterflies emerge, fluttering for a moment before fading into the surrounding darkness. The spot where he stood now lies empty, leaving the lecture hall with an eerie stillness.



The school rooftop stretches before Taemin, a secluded spot above the bustling corridors, hidden from curious eyes. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows as he seeks solace, the brisk air signaling the imminent arrival of clouds that promise rain. Distant city lights shimmer like stars, a backdrop to the turmoil brewing within him.

Leaning against the cold metal railing on the school rooftop, Taemin's fingers trace its contours absentmindedly, grounding him to the present but unable to dispel the echoes of his conversation with Ten just a few days ago.

The words exchanged in the lecture hall replay in his mind, each syllable etched with the ache of unrequited love. “I understand… But even so, that’s not enough to ever make me stop loving you,” he had confessed, the vulnerability laid bare in the quiet admission. The memory tugs at the edges of his consciousness, a persistent presence in the solitude of the rooftop.

As the thunderheads gather overhead, Taemin's gaze remains fixed, not on the impending rain but on the complex tapestry of emotions woven through his heart. The chill in the air seeps through his skin, a physical manifestation of the emotional coldness that clings to him. He exhales a shaky breath, trying to dispel the heaviness that has settled in his chest.

The door to the rooftop access creaks open, and Taemin's breath catches for a moment. Ten isn't there yet, but the specter of their lost love lingers in the air. The tension is palpable as Taemin faces the city below, his heart echoing the rhythm of the approaching clouds.

The air grows more electric, charged with the weight of unspoken history. Taemin's heart holds the ache of a past love, the longing for a connection severed by amnesia. The hope lingers, a fragile beacon in the storm, that perhaps Ten's forgotten memories can somehow be rediscovered.

As the clouds intensify, Taemin clenches his fists, struggling to contain the whirlwind of emotions threatening to consume him. The rooftop becomes a stage, the impending raindrops a testament to the tears that can't be shed—that he will not allow himself to shed.

In this moment, as the clouds darken his surroundings, Taemin's gaze lingers on the city lights below. The chill persists, but a warmth emanates from within—a tiny flicker of hope that refuses to be extinguished.