Sehun still waits. He waits until oblivion dissipates, until you look back at him with the same emotions. Neither feigned, nor constricted.   

In which Luhan thinks the pinks overpower the yellows, but he sees through it anyway.

He wants to repeat all those selfish and knowing touches of hands and brushing of fingers because it’s the most

“I. Like. You. _________. You, no other, okay?” He emphasizes each word and enunciates them precisely.

  Luhan watches the sand seep out of the hourglass with an array of kaleidoscopic events flashing before his eyes. While Luhan waits the life of him to drain, he makes out a smile when he lets go of your hands the last time – “Don’t let go of her hand, Sehun.”

It was like choosing between the asleep and the awake, between life and death, between true love and feigned emotions – between reality a

“Sehun?” You touch lest the figure would dissipate into ashes, onto nothingness, into an unbelievable obscurity. He grasps your hand in his, and nod, eyes closing. He nods countless of times, as if it’s all finally happened and everything is just a replay. “Finally, you remember me.” He holds onto everything of you left and so do you. Like a haven, you escape everything and he willingly catches. 

You were really too selfish, and for a year you had kept the truth with you. That Christmas, you had to let tears fall rather snowflakes. When the first snow falls this season, will you have been the first one to say Merry Christmas? It’s been an hour and you wonder whether or not you should be reading the book in your hands right now, but the first statemen

After for what seems forever, you finally learn to forget the remnants that persist to scratch the profoundity of what you call a glassed heart.  But just as the past dies down, the  darkest adversity now lies in your hands.   Will you leave the scars behind, or will you stay?  

"I love you, and Jongin."

  A depth within depths of arduous climb, a love-filled horizons of passionate cadence of mellifluous musicality, the never-ending fight for glassy gazes- only to be cast under a beatific smile, the pristine whites that had hidden dreary blacks;    it was white against black.   

I Do [ s e r e n d i p i t y ]

      { Where There Is

Feet flat on the ground, beads of water fell right on your cheek, moist and sticky, your hair lazed around your neck. You looked around, gravity doubling its effect on you; so you stumbled down, your knees glued on your rugged and tattered rag. March 15, 2010, you s

  The frosted heart that once blazed like fireworks belongs to me. Beneath the unraveled story lie something else; will I still know? It’s a vague truth, a confession that has always lingered in my mind more than forever.

  S P E C T R U M : The Art Of Dance   

He left Korea for New York; for a supposed dream. Dream to what? Cure him, bring the life back in his hands. A machine only gives him hope, for now. He ONLY loved this girl back then, but what if a machine changes his heart? Cures his condition? Completes his life? What would happen?    ~*~*~ I may have left what has been undone; but my being knows the tru

~4 seasons which held him uptight and callous, though, he never gave up. Indeed, "It would hurt to know the truth, but love won’t be worth it unless you risk it for the purpose of an unknown answer, though perhaps, it might be a mutual feeling."    In the midst of a slight rainfall, heavy dreamy clouds enveloped the heavens