Seungcheol laughs in his head. He was strong in both physical and mental aspects; predominately physical. He would rise out of bed before the sun was even barely awake just to go for a morning jog. He would train at the gym whenever he was given a chance. Seungcheol would scroll through his twitter feed, smiling and chuckling at the constant praise of his glorious biceps. The leader would console crying or stressed members the best he could, giving advice; whispering sweet words. The leader would have the patience of calming down his screaming members, whether they were joking around or having an argument that got out of hand. However, Seungcheol had to deny his strength.

He had watched the flower bloom so beautifully from when it was just a closed yet growing bud. Seungcheol watched the flower’s colour become more vibrant when it sang and danced. But he had to be careful; Seungcheol had to watch his step. A flower so small could be crushed. When things got busy, the taller male tried his best to accompany the flower to his greatest efforts; pouring water on the flower as much he could, but not to the point that it would drown.

Depending on the type of plant, it would depend on how much water it needed.

Seungcheol’s flower didn’t need too much. The flower always made it seem like it didn’t need water. Seungcheol, however, tried his best to make the flower display its brightest colour.

Red. The flower was of a bright, gazing red. It was a red Seungcheol could never look away from; his eyes seemed like they only knew the colour red. Its petals were soft on his fingertips and as light as air. He was careful to just admire; careful not to accidentally pull off its petals. With all of the complexity and intricate blossoming of the flower’s petals came its strong and firm stem. It stood tall and proud, supporting all of its beauty. The stem had petite leaves, but it wasn’t noticeable; only the colours of its body were really ever recognised – but Seungcheol noticed. Seungcheol acknowledged all of it, from what everyone else saw to what the flower wasn’t seen for.

 Everyone complimented and stared at the flower for its vibrant colour and beautiful shape in petals. Seungcheol loved its capable stem that seemed to not mind the heavy weight weighing it down, and loved the petite leaves that really made up what the flower was. What scared Seungcheol the most was the flower's roots. He didn't know what it looked like, how they grew. The curious male was tempted to figure out what was looming underneath the dark soil. If Seungcheol wanted to find out, he might hurt the flower if he forcefully ripped it out of the ground. Seungcheol thinks it's better to just let the flower be. He trusted his flower was fine.

The issue was the hourglass that was standing in between them. Hourglasses, hence its name, only ever lasted for an hour before it was to be turned over to start again. However, their hourglass was different. They were both afraid of it. When their time together first started, everything was fine. Each passing grain of sand was just them. Seungcheol and the flower were together all the time, spending their enjoyment of doing as they wished. When they fell asleep, the falling sand was no longer heard, only each other’s quiet snores intertwined with the knocks of their hearts against their ribcages. When they woke, they both turned the hourglass over, letting the grains from the top fall to the bottom of the glass again.

At some point, they became tired. The turning of the hour glass suddenly needed a lot more effort than they did before. Before, it was nothing they needed to think twice about. Somehow, it came to the point where they were both reluctant to turn the hourglass, their hands stagnant on top of the item. Then, they weren’t even bothering to turn it anymore. The cheap material of the wood of the hourglasses’ structure was chipping away. The glass fogged up from the cold, dirtying its transparent interior.

The hourglass was always waiting. Sitting and watching Seungcheol and the flower from a distance. The hourglass gazed longingly at Seungcheol. The taller looked away. The hourglass gazed longingly at the flower. The flower stared back.

The spotlight was on the hourglass; it was something so obvious. Seungcheol still turned away. The flower kept staring. Seungcheol had stopped giving the flower water at some point, and the flower didn't ask. It wanted to, but it didn't. The heat was flaring on the item from the glaring spotlight. Seungcheol kept sweating, and the flower was slowly getting weaker and weaker from the heat. The taller male kept his eyes shut from the blinding light. The flower just kept staring.

He wondered when they stopped turning the hourglass over. He wondered when he stopped hearing the grains of sand falling. He wondered how long it had been since the last time he even looked at the hourglass. Seungcheol kept looking away.

The hourglass no longer seemed to hold any significance that it did before. It was the recording of the flower’s growth, the love that Seungcheol had. Had. The hourglass was there, it was still in between them. It was haunting them, as if desperate to get one of them to turn it over and let its sand fall gently to the bottom again. Nothing. Nothing seemed to allow either of them to turn it over. The flower had no strength, and Seungcheol had no hope. They only had one option left. They had to break it. The problem was, neither of them were willing to do it.

Seungcheol laughs in his head. He was so weak. To think that he was praised for his strengths, he could only shake his head at the falseness of the description. Seungcheol was nowhere near strong. He was as weak as a dead leaf. He was selfish. He was a coward. Seungcheol knew – he knew that hourglass wasn’t being turned anymore. Seungcheol wasn’t oblivious. He knew that his flower wasn’t either. Seungcheol’s mouth seemed to just zip shut, unable to announce a single word about it. He was cruel. Something was screaming inside his head to say something, but another part of him screamed back saying he would rather leave it for the flower to do something instead. That he would rather stay away from the spotlight, and let the flower take action on its own. All alone. What a selfish coward Seungcheol really was.

He knew he could have done something about it before the hourglass could diminish. He knew he could have done something before time dragged on for so long to the point the hourglass could no longer keep record of the time. The seconds of the minutes of the hours of the day of each passing month of the years that they had that were just them – the hourglass’ grains of sand no longer knew. The tall male didn’t know how to push the hourglass over. Seungcheol could only shake his head in shame. He was always the strongest between himself and the flower – now, it was different.

Seungcheol laughs in his head. He knew the hourglass was at its tipping point, and he told himself was to push it over for the both their sake. Seungcheol, however, was proven how wrong he was.

Jihoon stood in front of him, his eyes rained with tears. The smaller’s voice was stuttering, sentences with incomplete words poured. But the words he said were enough for Seungcheol to understand. They both knew it was bound to happen, and Jihoon was doing the final push. Seungcheol tries to be strong. He tries to be understanding. Apart of him wants to turn over the hourglass again, just to hear the sand grains fall again, but Jihoon’s flood of apologies make his stance clear. Seungcheol reassures Jihoon that “it’s okay”, bringing him in for a close hug. It was a hug filled with empty warmth. The hug was a filling of what was never there, and it wasn't nearly enough. Seungcheol feels his shirt gradually become wet, sniffling of Jihoon's nose was constant. The smaller male eventually stopped his sobbing, looking up at Seungcheol with a small smile.

Seungcheol cries in his head. They both knew the hourglass was waiting for someone to do something before it died off on its own with no action. Jihoon pushed the hourglass off the edge - for the both of them. The glass shattered, the grains of sand spilling across the floor. The hourglasses' wooden exterior laid on top, surrounded by its insides. Seungcheol regrets. He goes to pick up the glass, a pathetic attempt to try to fix it again. Crimson. Dark crimson runs down his hand and onto the floor along with the hourglass' guts and body. Silence dances with the darkness, Seungcheol's blood tapping on the floor as their music. It was as if the silence and darkness were celebrating its death. The hourglass died. The flower died along with it.