#Suzume’s Door-Locking | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

azumasoroshi · 2 years ago

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suzume no tojimari spoilers ! hi guys im Insane

literature analysis brain is going haywire so here’s a bunch of incoherent ramblings some themes motifs and symbolism i love in this movie because AAAAAAA

Love and Sacrifice.

Obviously, but like the different kinds of love and devotion and how they’re never perfect and sometimes self-destructive but they’re so powerful and just waughhh. It was so important to me how after exploding at her Tamaki (suzume’s aunt, ik im not the only one who forgets names) was like “you know I don’t feel that way all the time, right?” like not denying that yes, she has felt exhausted of taking care of Suzume and sometimes wished she didn’t have to take care of her, trying to be the parental figure she needs while also trying to not encroach on her sister’s memory. It means so much to me that she didn’t deny those feelings but instead told Suzume that it’s not how she always feels, because loving someone means sacrifice and ewughghgghfgfh im not putting this into words well but htrggfhgf.

and ALSO the reciprocation of kindness with daijin - as thanks for the taste of freedom at last, and wanting to be with someone whom you love but not really comprehending that what they want (that “suzume doesn’t love me” killed me) and how by the end daijin helped her pull souta out and sacrificed himself for suzume because he really loved her ggrgfggfhfnfnch

And just. everyday love. This is kind of a mix of themes and motifs but every time we flashed back to the memories of whatever abandoned place they were in - the simple “good morning”s and “be back soon” and “it’s so hot”s made me choke up. the mundane love of Chika and Suzume in their newly found friendship, Rumi’s kindness in picking Suzume up off the street and her love for her children, Serizawa’s platonic love for Souta letting him drive these two crazy women with crazy beef for 7 hours across Japan, there’s just so much expression of love and the hardships people go through because of it and rhgrjgrjhgdhgjhb

Mourning and Closure.

Makoto Shinkai himseld said that he wanted to write a story about “mourning deserted places” (at least according to Wikipedia) so this one is all but textual but like yeah. the motif of opening/closing/locking doors and locking the bike and things like that? AaAAaAaa

To close the gates, you need to imagine the emotions of people who once lived there - i can only imagine what Souta was thinking in the abandoned bathhouse area, but hrhggejghw the school and the amusement park and the shots we got of normal life in tokyo before the worm revealed itself in the climax, it just. really speaks to the beauty of everyday life. im a sucker for that kind of stuff as both a psychology major and just a weird person who thinks “man i wonder what happened to this person for the past 22 years of their life that led them to be here with me in this moment” whenever i pass someone in the grocery store. Hodaka could let japan be flooded in weathering with you because of his love for hina, but suzume’s whole arc was learning about the common people and living their lives and embracing all the kindness they had to offer to herself and others and it really hits that like. of course she can’t just let tokyo get destroyed to save Souta, every person in all of tokyo is just like Rumi and Chika and Serizawa and they’re all people who love and are loved. She finds herself in Souta’s place as one who stretches himself thin between being a gate closer and studying to be a teacher because he loves life as well, and-

oops i forgot i was talking about mourning and closure

anyway the doors keep getting reopened because the grief never fully goes away and the worm of “calamity” is letting yourself be consumed by the grief and destroying the people around you and not being able to move on, and it comes from the Ever-after becomes ever-after is a place where time doesn’t exist and you wish you could be there forever because it’s where you can relive the events of your past, it’s where you can live in denial that time moves forward and you have to move with it, it’s where Suzume goes after her mother dies because she wants people to stop giving her condolences and just give her her mom back. “Ever-after” in itself is a “happily ever after” - a place where mortals aren’t meant to go, no matter how beautiful it looks. Souta goes there too because he is the catalyst Suzume needs to go back and face Ever-after - and it’s no longer beautiful, but it’s torn apart by grief and everything is in flames. The idea of a keystone as well, locking the memories and hurt away, is one that Suzume removes to relive her memories and puts back in place when she’s ready to move on. htrhgfhgfghfghf. she won’t let souta be the keystone because she refuses to move on without him.

Also both Souta and his grandfather tell Suzume to just forget everything she’s seen, but it’s too late for that because connections aren’t so easily forgotten. Even when Tamaki couldn’t remember telling Suzume she’d be her new mother, that doesn’t change that she cared for her for the next 12 years anyway. Suzume visits Chika and Rumi by the end, and obviously she’s never forgotten her mother, both because her chair was still in her room by the start of the movie and because she looks like her by the end. Even though relationships change, they’re never forgotten in the movie, and I think that’s beautiful, really.

(also cool detail: 12 years ago is when the tsunami that killed suzume’s mother struck. the movie came out in 2023, and the touhoku earthquake/tsunami that inspired this film was in 2011. nice)

Reality vs Fantasy

The scenes where Suzume goes out into public again following stopping the worm from destroying Tokyo were especially poignant to me. This girl’s been going on a fantastical adventure with her talking chair and talking cat, meeting nice people and making friends, excited at the idea that she’s doing something important, but after Souta’s gone she shuts down. Her feet are bloodied, her clothes are destroyed, and people keep giving her strange looks and calling her homeless because she may have stopped the worm but even without being consumed by grief, it still isn’t pretty or picturesque. Standing out in Japanese society is discouraged, as most of us are well aware, but she’s been doing nothing but that with all the running around and talking to chairs and flying through the sky she’s been doing. Without a concrete goal in mind, without Souta as company, she’s alone in the world of adulthood and has no one to tell her what she should do, no Souta to guide her through Tokyo. And without that confidence or charm, people don’t come to her aid like they did before. It’s only once she finds her resolve to save Souta, quite literally walking in his shoes/footsteps, that the next helpful stranger (Serizawa) comes in.

She could imagine those abandoned places as alive, but the truth is that they were abandoned and will stay that way - none of them miraculously revived by the end, unless something happened in the credits that I couldn’t see through all my tears. Reality will not bring those places back, but what really matters is how we carry the memories of those places with us? I think. man maybe it’d be easier to write this post if i had actually seen the end credits

this post is really fucking long so im calling it here 😭 makoto shinkai has done it again. goddammit

#suzume no tojimari #suzume no tojimari spoilers #suzume spoilers #suzume #SCREAMSSSSSSSSS #IM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS MOVIE

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hwaightme · 2 years ago

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Sangshine

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🌅 pairing: sun god!yeosang x gn!baker!reader 🌅 genre: fluff, fantasy, soulmates, studio ghibli-coded 🌅 summary: when yeosang opens the door to your bakery, and a new chapter of your life begins, you cannot help but feel as though you had met before; yeosang is elated to relive every sunrise and sunset, and fall in love with you again. 🌅 wordcount: 5.4k 🌅 warnings/tags: solo edit, food/eating/making food, destiny talk, discussion of time, discussion of deities/olympus, kiki's delivery service-inspired setting, multiple lives, mortal/immortal, summer fantasy, seaside town, baker's assistant yeosang, his precious self, (not quite) strangers to lovers, falling in love again... and again, waiting for love, sun magic, mention of lacking sleep 🌅 a/n: when i say i listened to the playlist on loop, i mean it. this yeosang is dear to me, as is time, the sun, and the cusp of spring and summer, bringing transformation. this fic is also an early celebration of yeosang, our beautiful, talented malberman~ I hope you enjoy, love you, any and all reblogs, comments, asks and notes appreciated!

🌅 playlist: Suzume - RADWIMPS, Toaka ; Time for two - RADWIMPS ; A Town with an Ocean View, The Baker's Assistant, You're in Love - Joe Hisaishi, Path of the Wind (Piano Version) - URE Relaxing, Summer - Joe Hisaishi, Pekka Toivonen

🌅 perma-taglist: @doom-fics @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @honey-lemon-goose @byuntrash101 @shakalakaboomboo @starillusion13 @hongthoven @cqndiedcherries @uwuheeseungie @cheollipop @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @mingigoo @michel-angelhoe @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @ssaboala @jaehunnyy @kitten4sannie @maddkitt @pyeonghongrie-main @cosmic-w0lf

🌅can't be tagged: @yunbug @hjoymyluv @memoriesofwoo @mystar1024 @ate-ez

Once upon a time, on a day when the weather forecast had promised, and the grim steely clouds delivered ceaseless downpours, and you were stuck inside watching rain turn window views into a hazy blur and scare away any potential customers with its ferocity, the sun, cautiously, with a bashful grin on his face, apple cheeks and a boundless kindhearted disposition hinted in every gesture, entered your store.

Raven locks, slightly curled and framing his heaven-sculpted face, inquisitive eyes that were a complex painting, an entrancing shade of grey - one which, much to your surprise, you were fond of, unlike the endless expanse of rain summoners hanging above your shop. You attempted to regard him like you would any other customer, but stopped on your tracks, barely finding the counter with your hands as his form became the sole focus of your vision. It was as though the rain had purposefully passed him by, left an avenue just for him to enter the bakery and keep his leather dress shoes and black outfit pristine, the man crowned by a lucky spotlight. As the young man fumbled for a way to proceed, you wondered if he was a ray of sun himself and that was how he stayed dry in that torrential catastrophe. Forcing your mouth into a more amiable shape than blatant gaping, you returned his shy smile and inquired whether there was anything in particular that he was looking for - after all, if the man was in your store, and managed to expertly dodge what had to be the worst rainfall in a decade, he had to be determined to buy something, anything. Silently, you were hoping that even if he were a passing face, that he could keep your business, and you, afloat.

You left him a moment to ponder and watched him amble towards the counter. This allowed you to study his features at proximity, with bated breath as he leaned towards the glass display and looked at some of the pastries. The drifting of a couple of unruly strands as he lowered his head revealed the hints of a birthmark, a rosy pink blossom on the left side of the beautiful man’s face. Delicate, elegant. You looked away in an effort to appear more professional than usual for the sake of first impressions - you were not sure why this particular man had inspired the urge within you, seeing as you were so used to serving only locals and speaking in an array of neighbourhood inside jokes that you would think any newcomer would instead inspire callousness and aloof behaviour. But the unmistakable warmth emanating from him, the soothing balm of a brighter day that he appeared to carry made you want to grow closer, aim higher, beam instead of scowling.

He caught you as you were smoothing your apron, your break in attentiveness allowing his gaze to travel over you the same way that yours had done when he had crossed the barrier into the delicious safe haven from the atrocious weather that he had to schedule - unbeknownst to the residents of the town, he had actually negotiated to carve a few more sunny days, more days for him to search. It was rare, for someone like him, to stumble across little paradises. After all, for the most part the planet was a blur for him, a daily task and a routine roaming that he had to carry out and maintain. The last thing that the young god needed and had to want was the experience of mortal pleasures - the responsibilities that the deity, in the form of a young man, had were drilled into him again and again, and none of them involved doing what he was doing right this second. But the calls had grown too persistent as he passed by this town, too strong to dismiss, and the sky was curtained by clouds, much to his fortune. It was not that anyone would notice if a blip in the sunlight ever happened. He knew what he needed, and he knew that it was time to achieve it.

“Um, sorry. Do you have melon pan?” the young man addressed you, his deep, dulcet tone like music to your ears. The tilt of his head as the question permeated the air, subconsciously mirrored as you broke into a series of nods, setting off to the bread rack that was located behind the counter, off to the right. Seems it was good to give into your own cravings sometimes and impulsively introduce new items to the menu.

“With cream or without?”

One thing that you would have never expected was that a sun god would make it a habit to visit you in his free time, and be it for a sweet treat or for reasons known only to him, would put on an apron and fall into your beloved routine. What the deity never expected, and remained pleasantly surprised about, was just how readily you had accepted him, and instead of obviously falsified reverence that he had grown accustomed to from mortals who were graced with knowledge of his existence, you treated him as ‘Yeo’. That was the nickname you had given him after he had introduced himself with a human name - Kang Yeosang; a key which, upon turning, made him your new friend, and he would be lying if he said he did not feel elated when you happily shouted out his name from the back of the store, instructing him to move some trays around, or asking him to help you with some bags or dishes.

If there was another heaven, it would be in the rhythm that he had rediscovered with you. In the cosy space of your bakery, Yeosang was at ease, in a tranquillity that he previously thought existed only in books and in mortal movies, in myths about eternal bliss, a paradise in the palm of one’s hand. Something that belonged to other lifetimes, other avenues that he had traversed. He thought that he was the one to have the better cards, the advantages, but it was you who had him figured out, despite his abilities, immortality and near-invincibility. After a particularly scalding hot day, the first words that you had spoken to Yeosang once he made the chimes that were hanging right above the door ring exactly at sundown, were: “you made the sun shine brilliantly today, Yeo,” leaving him awestruck. To you, it was only a matter of putting two and two together, making the man, or not quite exactly a man, into the legend that he truly was. After that, you simply delivered him a melon pan with cream, and pointed at the little table you had put out at the front of the shop, asking if you could enjoy the last of the rays together. He had happily obliged, stars in his eyes as you guided him out, balancing a jug of freshly made lemonade and a couple of glasses on a board resting

As the days grew impossibly long with the climb of the spring into the summer season, so did the opening hours of the bakery, right up until you were stretched so thin over the day that you introduced a midday closing time with a break for a few hours, much to the surprise of the locals. At the same time, it turned out to be a welcome one, seeing as with the arrival of Yeosang, the number of people coming through the green-painted door increased considerably. Of course they would never say it, but you could detect a curiosity and admiration in them as they spotted the beauty strolling around in the kitchens, and the dreamy sighs when Yeosang would peek out, and even interact with some of the customers were far too obvious to ignore. If you knew any less, you would probably find yourself jealous, but at the same time, how many people walked under the sun, day in, day out? That was what you tried to tell yourself when the crowds of students would blast past, buying up the stock on one occasion and simply loitering around on another after their gruelling hours of cram school, and the odd brave youngster would try their luck to flirt with the god. His responsive stoicism, however, dispelled any of your itching doubts, and with a couple of polite nods and a step in a direction farther and farther from whoever was his unwanted interlocutor, Yeosang returned to the rhythm.

He did not mind the visitors of the shop, nor the delivery men who brought you fresh produce and ingredients. In fact, he had made some new friends in this way. But it was when he could catch your grin, listen to your melodic laugh and feel a light playful tap on his shoulder that the light was truly brighter. Aside from the laborious maintenance of the glowing orb, patrolling his part of the world before he needed to pass it on, he was now a baker. Technically an assistant at best, but you proudly called him ��the real deal’ when you applauded him for helping you with the brioche loaves. The coolness of the morning before dawn never felt warmer as his heart swelled with your encouragement, as if the sun really did set and rise in this bakery, home to nature’s magic and the adoration that he held for the world, reflected in your eyes that caught the hints of the rising sun. Nothing could be more beautiful.

“Good luck for today!” you chirped with excitement evident in your voice, adjusting his shirt absent-mindedly, a habit that he had allowed you to form, the few precious seconds where he could let himself imagine a timelessness with you.

“Good luck to you too, and see you this evening. We have the Summer Solstice event opening!” Yeosang answered, matching your joy. While you adjusted his collar and clapped your hands a couple of times, satisfied with the neat look, Yeosang remained more still than the verdant green trees that cast calming shadows over to the side of the shop in the early hours.

“That’s right, so you better be prepared to work the till until you become the till,” you should have known that your attempt to move the blackboard sign would be intercepted, and the deity’s arms were already guiding themselves between yours to grasp onto the wooden frame. Whispering out an apology, a light blush coating his cheeks when your fingers barely brushed as you detangled yourself from the kind intervention, Yeosang moved the elaborate logographic art onto the street in its rightful place, continuing with his encouraging ponderings:

“First day sales are about to beat all records for this beauty.”

“They better, or the seasonal specials will-”

“I can always call my friends if you’re worried.”

“So I can have Olympus in my shop?”

“Why not? Your treats are heavenly…” he trailed off, partially in disbelief at his own choice of words. Rubbing the back of his neck with his hand, Yeosang decided to let the moment carry itself forward, listening to the trickling of time.

Again, the gentlest touch of your hand on his chest as a laugh escaped you, and what had struck fear in his heart dispelled to reveal a brilliant sunrise. It was always you behind those sun rays, wasn’t it? The question crept out of a deep slumber, having lied dormant for what had to have been decades, now crawling up the walls of his consciousness, melting away doubts that came with every first meeting.

“You really are too sweet. Now go, can't keep your colleagues and the world waiting.”

As you peered into his eyes, clear, bright, hopeful, you felt as though you were looking at the sky itself, admiring its infinite expanse and omniscience. An odd sensation hinted at its existence as you did not dare look away, letting yourself sink further into ever-changing blues and greys, highlighted with flickers of a mahogany flame right by the pupils. Almost as if you had seen these very eyes before, gazed into the summer sky and caressed the sun itself as though it was an ornate glass marble. Perhaps this was another one of the peculiarities that came with interacting with the divine, you concluded and brushed it off, simply glad that in the now, in the early dawn on what was to be a hot summer day, you could look forward to more than ever before.

Yeosang bit the corner of his lower lip, in nervous contemplation, before tentatively reaching for your hand which had been resting by your side, and giving it a soft squeeze, barely there until you responded, fingers intertwining, answering to his unsaid hopes. Gaze not leaving the unity, thumb running over the edge of your palm repeatedly in an attempt to memorise the presence, he whispered out, half to himself, half to the divinity above and around him in sacred promise:

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

Even as he departed, and you watched his figure evaporate into the morning mist as he approached the reddening horizon, the feeling of his hand in yours remained as vivid as that feeling that you must have known Yeosang before, or at least the irreplaceable, unique warmth that he shared with you was something akin to the idea of home itself. Supported, quietly cheered on as you continued your daily duties and finalised preparations to open the store for the first half of the day, Yeosang was there in your every thought and movement.

The glints of sun as the trees, having been ushered awake by the earliest hints of warmth that the red tiled roof of the bakery caught, commenced their serene rustling, were ciphers, music to your vision that danced over the concrete of the street outside. The way in which the colours changed as the sun grew more prominent and energetic was a masterpiece in the making, white paint turning into a glowing fantasy. When you closed for the day break, setting off on a daily walk around the neighbourhood in your favourite linen dress and wide-brimmed straw hat, you were embraced by the luminance that ambled across the ultramarine heavens, Yeosang matching your stride.

Running your hand over the top of the stone fencing that lined the hill on which your bakery found its home, you let your gaze rest over the breathtaking scenery of your beloved town, the terracotta roofs, the cream walls that were highlighted with wooden planks that stood the test of decades, the cobbled streets and hustle and bustle of squares and markets, and the glistening ocean that was always the first to wave to Yeosang, all shining thanks to the summer sun. It was fascinating, how with the marvel of the seasons, the town transformed into a fantastical land that you could only hope to spend all your years in. It had always been your home, your calling, and even in the times when you had gone outside of the town’s boundaries, your heart remained right here, come rain or shine. Perhaps this was the true reason why you were so drawn to Yeosang - in his eyes, you saw the same place, the same time, the understanding of a home that was so personal you were convinced he was taking the threads from your very soul, and singing the melodies right back to you. Your own, only sun that you could not believe returned your daring, unwavering gaze. You waved at the midday orb, chuckling to yourself as a flock of birds dashed past, hoping that your cheers would be delivered.

As you turned to give the bakery a once-over before turning the corner to head down the stone stairs that would lead you to a busier part of the neighbourhood, you gasped as the sign, a dainty metal pretzel right above the entrance rocked back and forth on the rod, as if waving back to you, and caught a sudden sun ray, reflecting the warmth for it to fall at your feet like a thousand stars, decorating the cobble to turn to an illuminated path of glowing marble. Unable to contain your beam, you bowed your head in gratitude and curtsied, wondering just what your neighbours would think if they were to poke their heads out from their bedrooms and shops. But you did not pay it too much mind, instead twirling around, and with a newfound lightness, found yourself on a mission to surprise the precious sunshine.

The longest day of the year, marking the moment when the sun would begin its slow journey to a hibernation for the northern hemisphere, and Yeosang would find himself growing that little bit less busy as a god, busier as your loyal assistant. He rushed down the streets as soon as his feet hit the concrete in a secluded spot that he liked to use for his returns, counting every second that passed and matching it to the start of the event. Seeing the small crowd that gathered by the bakery, waiting for their much adored pastries and cheerfully chatting away, pride swelled within him as he thought back to the wishes you had made, what you had been working towards and what you had now achieved. He glided into the store in efforts to find you, picking up the apron that you left for him behind the counter. You were in the middle of carrying a new tray of buns and motioned for him to take his position by the till - back to his favourite rhythm.

Customers came and went, the event turning into a hit, and by the second hour, your specially decorated melon pan was officially sold out; all except one for a certain someone, tucked away, kept safe. You almost felt guilty for keeping this tiny secret from the god, taking notice of his momentary confusion and barely restrained pout as he caught sight of the empty basket, and his disheartened stance as he picked it up and removed it from the display. You swore you saw what was already the night hour darken, and stifled a giggle, instead tapping Yeosang on the shoulder to give him a thumbs up for his hard work and mouth the words promising a gift. With a re-discovered vigour, the deity hurried off to assist an elderly customer who was trying with all her might to contain a loaf of sourdough and make it past a busy line - your store being the only one in this part of town to sport one in such late evening. As the chimes rang out again, you thought back to the little present you had acquired during your afternoon walk, barely containing yourself, bursting at the seams as you imagined what you wanted Yeosang’s reaction to be over and over again.

With the last of the customers came the quietude, a lulling blanket of deep navy decorated with stars that had been lying in wait outside of the bakery, a moment of rest for the sun god, a cooling serenity that you could share with him as you closed up, cleaned up, and ushered him to the little table outside - previously folded away and hidden behind an antique delivery scooter bike out at the front of the shop, so as to not attract attention, nor occupy the space that had always been set out for idle chatter of the visiting locals. As you let Yeosang finalise the furnishing of your makeshift lounge, you recalled his curiosity of the wheeled machine, and your suggestion that one of these days, he could use it as a chariot, much to his child-like excitement. You turned and made a beeline for the store, almost running into Yeosang in the process, your balance restored only by a pair of strong hands on your upper arms.

“What’s the hurry?” as though electrified by the contact, his hands flew away from you just as suddenly as they had caressed your skin, though, much like the heavenly reassurance of his presence on your wrist, the ghost of him remained around you, seeking an embrace. Retraining your focus on the man before you, you huffed and continued past him repeating “just you wait”, over, over like a mantra, a spell that you wanted to use to keep him in place.

Thankfully, he did not follow, instead stepping closer to the window that was now exposed to the moonlight since he folded the ruby red awning, faded with the years of sunlight and rain storms. Yeosang folded his toned arms, smiling to himself as he watched you throw one item, another onto a wooden tray, and shuffle back outside, not once breaking focus from balancing what had to be priceless treasure, considering how carefully you set it down in front of him.

“Sit.”

“But you’re standing.”

“Yeo, come on, sit down, I am just energetic!”

“After that shift? Are you sure you are not a god or demi-god yourself?” he countered, tilting his head.

“I- hm. Okay so we are standing then?”

“I want to be energetic with you!” the innocent comment made your chest ache, and what had previously been utter conviction that what you were doing was casual, customary for colleagues, friends, passing faces who had grown familiar, shattered into a vulnerable confession.

You stilled, the nervous rocking on the balls of your feet ceasing to bring you comfort, the erratic motions and gesticulations as you struggled for a response disappearing into the night and leaving an entrancing clarity. There was no other way to present this, and you had accidentally pushed yourself over the edge, a stance, a dare that you were no longer able to back out of. Facing the sun, you stepped closer and closer to it, and reached for the first item on the tray.

“Here is a little… thing I kept for you.”

“No… no way, is that melon pan!” he exclaimed, taking the small paper bag from your hands and peering inside, amazed to find his, and your favourite sweet bun. The crisp cookie dough layer solidifying the neat, recogniseable hatching, containing a custard cream inside, another homemade specialty.

“You know, I recently found out that melon pan has another name,” dropping the bun back into the bag to give you full attention, Yeosang glanced back at you and pushed a stray strand of black hair behind his ear, preventing it from blocking his view. Gesturing for you to continue, he nearly squeezed the custard out of the bread upon hearing your elaboration: “a friend of mine, she works at a bakery in a city down south, and there, they call this sunrise bread. Funny, isn’t it?”

“So you bake suns in your oven?”

“Guess you could say that.”

How was it that you managed to leave him breathless regardless of the time you met was forever going to remain a mystery, but one Yeosang never wanted to solve. Instead, he was waiting with a fluttering heart for the moment you were going to say the words that had imprinted themselves in his eternal being, and travelled across from heaven to earth, from the east to the west, echoing in his mind as he searched for you over and over again until finally, your dawn could greet him. He remained silent, glancing at you and at the last hidden object on the tray, a box leaning against the glass jug, this time filled to the brim with a peach ice tea.

“I… was at this antique store today. Don’t really know what brought me there but as soon as I saw this, I knew I wanted you to have it. I-... well, I don’t know if gods have birthdays but since it is the Summer Solstice, and you are basically the sun itself, I wanted this to be a little celebration of… you?”

“Of me? But-” never, not a single time could the divine being find rationality in your kindness, only the crossing of stars that tugged the fragile lonely hearts together into an intricate waltz woven in the skies.

“Check it out!”

Yeosang counted the seconds that passed once more, this night, this fateful night being so cruelly short, but so full of promise. His hands, trembling ever so slightly as he attempted to remove the lid, a trepidation taking a hold of him. Your infinite pools hurried him on with their anxious darting, and inhaling the sweet scent of the sea and his earthly home, he opened the box to reveal just what he had been anticipating, a relic, centuries-old masterpiece passed on from one you to another. Forever yours, finding its place in the same antique shop to return to him and to you, making another beginning.

He searched for the ring at the top of the sun chimes, stained glass beauties attached by sturdy strings to a hook that, the next dawn would find purchase at the base of the bakery sign above the light grassy green door, there to remain for a measure of time. Lifting it out of the box, Yeosang admired the stars, the crescent moon, the sun that had been crafted and immortalised just like himself, ready to attract and dissipate every ray that would grace them. A miniature galaxy contained in impossibly intricate artwork, with every sparkle appearing to house a memory and still hold space for the near and far future. Your future, his future. Lost in the relief of meeting the object as though it was a good friend, he barely registered your diffident approach.

“So… what do you-”

“I love it, Y/N.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I think I know just where to hang it. If you do not mind, of course,” upon seeing your nod of approval, he lifted his arm to turn and point at the pretzel, gleeful when he saw your face light up brighter than the sun he was tasked to carry. “Let’s do it now, before it is too late to sleep and before the sun rises. So that I can visit you more while the days are still too long.”

Insisting on saying your morning goodbyes to him, even though barely a few hours had passed between the hanging of the chimes and the palette of the skies gaining lighter blue, lilac and pastel pink hues, you stood under them, huddled in a wool blanket to minimise the contrast of the cosiness of your bed and the breeze travelling down the still, somnolent streets, alive only thanks to the the scattering of lamps and the world surrounding them, watching over them. One blink, another as you tried to rid yourself of sleep to convince Yeosang that you were perfectly fine and ready to start the day. In reality, you simply wanted to catch the first glints on the chimes and follow his journey across the sky, dreaming of his sunset back in your bakery.

Hands concealed by the thick material and unable to smooth his shirt, you could only take a step towards the divinity, the action turning symbolic. What you did not anticipate, however, was that this dawn, he was more than happy to take over your duties and instead of him melting under your softness, your ears were turning red as he pulled the blanket tighter around you, taking its edges that were close to your face, adjusting the ticklish fabric like it was a one of a kind ball gown - unbeknownst to you, that was was exactly how Yeosang saw it, and when he saw you trying to nuzzle into it and away from his amused expression, he could not resist any longer, and with one final pull rested his forehead against yours, noses colliding briefly causing you to let out a feeble yelp.

“I’ll see you in the chimes later, yeah?” he whispered against your skin, the proximity proving intoxicating as you could only just register and make sense of his words, initial shock wearing off to lay down the path for the return of the same feeling from the earlier night, only this time more real, more certain fully reciprocated.

“And later. I’ll make more sunrise bread for you.”

“I think I know something even sweeter. If you will let me indulge, of course.” the last moment before the break of your dawn, a question by which the world was hanging in intimate suspense.

The past, present and future collided as, in response to Yeosang’s careful request, you boldly closed the already practically nonexistent space between you, finally understanding the true meaning of being sunkissed. It did not take any time at all for the god to return the revealed fondness that you had kept guarded until it only felt natural to bring to light. Like the balmy immersion of the elements, suspended on the cusp of spring becoming summer, Yeosang leaned in with immeasurable affection as if he had been carrying it for all his eternity and kissed you like a long-lost lover who wanted to, through every movement, recollect the memories made, the days spent together, retrace the unity of two beings colliding into one entity, set alight like the brightest star in the universe.

As he tried to remain more level, gentle in an effort to not expose you to the early dawn’s winds, you grew frustrated from the lack of true warmth, wanting to fly closer to the sun, into it, be consumed by it. Gliding your hands out from under the blanket, you reached for Yeosang’s shirt and pulled him towards you, dragging him impatiently to the open door where you promptly shrugged off the material. Perplexed and worried, Yeosang momentarily broke away from the kiss to ask you whether the action was comfortable.

“Aren’t you going to get cold?”

“Are you saying the sun god cannot keep me warm?” chuckling at the fluttering of his eyelashes, abashedness at your ambiguous choice of words evident on every part of his face, you let your arms rest on his broad shoulders, gleaming back when his own found your waist, playing with the material of your top.

Touching your nose with his own, he was shy in his advances, seeing every wrong turn and prospective hurt unfold in accompaniment to the tragically perfect duet of a mortal and an immortal soul. Knowledge of the lives you had lived, while it was a blessing, at the same time was a series of unbearable lessons that decorated Yeosang's heart like untreatable scars. The mark on the side of his face, your first ever caress, a peppering of butterfly-like kisses on his face, celestial stardust, which has manifested itself as a symbol joyously tying you to him, now emitted that familiar dull burning, having re-encountered its creator. This was an ache that he would give up the sun to experience again and again, the pizzicato thrill warmer than the coming heatwaves, than the surface of the galaxy's centre.

"I don't want you to ever burn, Y/n." He murmured, understanding that the words would not hold as much weight in your interpretation. You took another step towards him, pressing yourself close, surrounding yourself with his solar flare.

"I trust you. Do you trust me too?"

"More than the skies above us, always."

"Then I know that we will be a beautiful sunrise."

He peered into your gorgeous eyes, looking for anything to stop him, convince him that he needed to step away, knowing full well that he would find nothing except his love returned, amplified by your own. Such was the merry-go-round of life that had been set out for you and Yeosang, an unstoppable turning of the gears that were set in motion by destiny. Now, the light began, soon there will be darkness, and in the future, foreseeable by the god, there will be more light. The sun will peek out from the edge of the planet, crawling across the foaming waters to call the residents of this town awake again and again, whether there was to be a town here, or not. The sun remained, and so did Yeosang's eternal wait for the next turn of the divine clock's hands. As he shut his eyes and kissed you once more, feeling heaven and earth collide, his musings reduced to a simple melody. He was happy that in this lifetime too, the sunshine found you.

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