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

“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

      { 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