A/N: Are you guys still alive coz my mood went downhill from the breakout of news. But hey, let's support him like true fans and move on. Does it sound like a lie ? But you know, I brainwashed myself that it's the truth. Belated April's Fool and pardon me for any errors. This is unedited. Bye for now. ❤❤💓

      a  d a i s y ' s  d r e a m 

 

Remember the way you made me feel,
Such young love, but

 

Kyungsoo

People notice. They see how our hands no longer find each other to interlace the spaces between our knuckles. And how I no longer find myself landing in his warm embraces. Not that he offers them either.

Subtle inches between us turn into conspicuous miles; I can't help but take note how everything, that we have, slowly slips away from our loosening grips. It's wistful. A pity. Wishful thinking of mine.

Fans throng around with hushed whispers on our ceased interactions. Gossips linger in cold mornings where I find myself no longer looking into his eyes.

Those burnt sienna orbs have begun to slice my heart with guilt. And the telepathy we share becomes nothing but a burden.

As much I love those dedicated ones, I wish they will stop giving me false hopes. They will never know how those little wishes shatter my heart when reality storms in. Stop it. Please stop feeding me lies. Just stop. Stop your childish acts.

 

Something in me knew that it was real,
Frozen in my head

 

"Kyung, whatcha thinking?" It's Chanyeol. I expect him. Somehow, he can smell what is going on behind the curtains, closed doors and off the stage.

It's his deep baritone that drags me out of my little reverie and lets me get slapped by reality. "Nothing much, and I think you'd better go away. I can feel Baekhyun staring holes into me."

Exo'luxion. Our concert arena is filled with deafening roars of cheer. The atmosphere is stupendous and loud, just enough to distract me from my whirling thoughts.

Nowadays, I find myself losing it. I'm always stuck in a daze. There have been instances where I begin to forget who I am.

Sometimes, I just wish I could be left alone. Without the fans, without the lights shining down on me and without this thing called fame.

I want to be normal. So ordinary that I can fall in love without being afraid. Without getting rejected.

"Here, take this." Chanyeol motions me to a sack of paper confetti. I throw him a side glance; he probably senses how hard I am judging him. "Seriously? What are you? A five-year-old?"

The fans go incoherent and incessant in their own circles of talk at our interaction; some begin to snap pictures of us while others just start to flash the banners on their mobile device.

Chansoo.

They, too, have witnessed the close proximity between me and this giant tree.

And they're going to blame me for ignoring him. I might not be active on social media but behind the cameras, I make a habit of surfing the net once in a while.

The most painful thing is, the fans only hear his heart shattering.

How about mine? Have I always been the bad guy?

They comment on how I have turned my attention towards Joonmyun, Chanyeol and Baekhyun.

Why are you leaving him alone? I hardly catch you guys on fancams. Stop spending time with the beagles! Stop harassing Chanbaek! Focus on him!

Do they know how my heart is aching? How it's being torn to shreds? And what it's capable of feeling? All the agony of mine is the one being neglected and locked away.

It's okay. I always say. But when it does hurt, do I have to keep denying? Even to the point where I have to lie my way through to heal the pain?

Park nudges me with his elbow, which means he's waiting and is becoming kind of impatient at it. "Fine, after this, you're going to get punished by yourself."

I shoot him a sarcastic grin; Baekhyun is probably stabbing me in his head and the thought of it is pretty bone-chilling. "I'm just an innocent third party of your lovers' quarrels, clear?"

I reach my hands out to grasp a mouthful of strips before throwing them high up in the air. I watch them fall, pelting down in the directions the wind is leading them-towards the floor and onto my very face.

"Hold this," I gesture my band-mate; Chanyeol willingly takes the microphone from my hold and stares at me with his eyebrows raised. "Really?" He mouths. "Now who's the real kid?"

I laugh it off as I bring out my fists. Punching the confetti is like striking air. It seems puerile and callow but I remain insouciant.

Somewhere along the fake bludgeoning, I gander back, hoping to see his face. Dressed in an onyx windbreaker and a black snap back, he still appears handsome as ever with a white towel clung around his neck.

In just a fleeting glance, I can't help but admire how the intangible contrast of sun-kissed skin with the glaring stage lights paints him into an Adonis of perfection. Perhaps, I'm still thriving in limerence. Foolish one-sided feeling.

He doesn't look towards my direction for he is animatedly engrossed in exchanging a conversation with Joonmyun and Yixing.

I can't see his graphic features for they're hidden under the bill of the hat. And maybe, if I have peered in closely, I would realise missing his puckered lips stretching down into a pout. A frown.

We don't get to see each other after the concerts. The tours are wearing me out with hectic schedule brimmed with photo-shoots and Pure Love press conferences.

He seems fine on his own; sometimes, I will catch him sneaking out with Sehun by the back door-both covered in masks and burying their identities under thick turtleneck sweaters.

But I know. We aren't as close as before. The cracks are emerging. Lines are being drawn in our sleep. And the walls are soon to come building up. Both of us have been so caught up in our jobs that we gradually trace back into steps of becoming strangers.

 

 

Pictures I'm living through right now,
Trying to remember all the good times

 

"Happy birthday to you." The concert in Singapore is probably the only time I've ever smiled so wide and carefree. The entire stadium is engulfed in the heated moment of the most beloved song in the world. And the message conveyed through the lyrics, I know they're not all centered on me only.

I gaze fondly at the hysterical audience-screaming teenage girls and boys alike-who are singing with such vigor and anticipation. I wait for their well wishes with bated breath, for them to to address the song to me. To us. To him.

And they do. Albeit the jumbled words and phrases, I manage to find the harmony midst the maundering voices joined to bind into one complete wholeness. "Happy birthday to dear Kaisoo," my cheeks turn flushed red-tinted with a layer of pink with greater depth- and eventually, my eyes crinkle into crescents. My jaws almost hurt from beaming too much.

And when I turn to look to my left, I spot him. His shy steps close the gaps between us and the next minute I know, my hands are wrapped around his sturdy shoulders and his own ones-they find their way to press against my slender waist. Our bodies are flushed together intimately as if to eradicate any spaces between us.

Amid the ear-penetrating squeals of delighted shippers, I allow myself to be trapped in his warm secure hold. My heart is thumping incredibly loud against my rib-cage when he whips me around to face him. And there goes the loudest hurrah of the beaming fans as they fumble their pockets and bags to shimmy out their cameras and phones.

After what seem like an eternity, I finally find myself melting in his embrace. His arms envelope my torso with his playful fingers tracing patterns on my back to calm me down. But it isn't helping as the sensual touches only evoke erratically palpitating heartbeats within me.

I rest my chin on his shoulder as my hands make their way to curl around his neck. And from my vision, I see Chanyeol giving me a thumbs up though his smile doesn't quite reach his ears. There seems to be a mix of pity and hurt. But nothing else is evident to deem it as jealousy. He has the Byun brat after all.

"Happy born day, hyung." The brunette whispers into my ears. His voice sounds earnest and sincere, making my stomach do the little back flips. I could've sworn there are butterflies in my tummy.

On cloud nine, I feel as if I am floating among the chiffon clouds. His words are like honey-saccharine and soothing to my mind-letting me ease back into ecstasy. "You too, idiot," I susurrate back in hushed tone, barely audible. "Happy birthday to us."

 

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