enhypen imagines.

[8:27 pm]

The sky has darkened with the arrival of eve, and in the absence of the sun the streetlights dotting the sides of your neighborhood's lanes flickers on softly, casting slanted triangles of light over the streets and illuminating the softer edges of Jay's face as you exit the hive of activity that is—or, was—your home.

With the scent of homemade cooking trailing after your figures, you and your childhood friend drift towards the oak tree that stood solitarily on the empty lot in front of your residence, its new leaves swaying in the late breeze. You crane your head to look at its branches. It always looked so tall when you were younger, towering over your tiny frames as it shielded you from the world's sharp, jilted shards as you and Jay pieced together memories beneath its leaves on humid afternoons after school; animated conversations with the shadows on the grass, pretending they were another person, stifled laughter when you snickered at Jay's crumpled love letter that he failed to deliver to his crush, crystal tears when you both shared goodbyes the summer before middle school started.

Now it leans slightly towards the side, as if to scrutinize you both in the limited light, and its leaves ruffle again in delight, you've both grown up so well. I'm glad. I'm so proud of you.

"It's been forever, hasn't it?" You rest your palm on its trunk, nostalgia surging in high waves and resurfacing lost moments of simple joys.

Jay hums from the other side of the tree, tracing the faded scribbles on a rock he'd hidden in the tree hollow: Y/N & Jay were here. Two kids just wanting to change the world, so much so that they left their mark, albeit a small one, on the place where they know would always have a little part of them. You chuckle as you stoop beside him, knees brushing. "I can't believe this still exists."

"I know," you beam, and you both sit back against the bark, just as you did at eleven years old, stealing glances in the dark. "We were so... weird back then, huh?"

Jay snickers. "You more than me. But..." you know he's smiling, and he moves closer, "we were happy. I think nothing else matters more than that."

Sighs meld with the sky, and quiet ensues again. Your arms touch when you lean against each other, and the light glints off the handmade bracelets you both never took off.

Nothing else matters more than that.