Can we pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars?
 

Sehun asks himself often if he could pretend that airplanes are really shooting stars, a kind of intangible hope that can bring him something, just something. Maybe it can even bring him back the pleasure of dancing, the pleasure of rapping, the pleasure of being an idol that sold his freedom for the sake of being famous. Maybe, if he could just pretend, he could get back to the days when he would smile upon managing a difficult dance move, would laugh childishly when he got to drink bubble tea with his friends, would feel happy when the dream was still his main goal in life. Now he had somehow reached, not yet but still did, and it made him empty, for what has become of his dream was nothing more than a past, because a dream can never be reached, only focused on. It was hauntingly similar to a rainbow: You see it, you can clearly see it, but the closer you move to it, the fainter it gets and when you are finally there, it has vanished long ago. Sehun thinks, just thinks, that maybe, if he pretends that airplanes are like shooting stars, he could get some of his dream back, or maybe even be granted a new dream. As Sehun looks at the airplane taking its leave in front of his eyes, he wished he could pretend, pretend that the airplane is a shooting star, pretend that the person inside of it is the dream that he can long for a lifetime. Because without joking, certain things are more beautiful as a dream, more brilliant as something never to be grasped, and makes you feel alive again.

"Sehun-ah, take care."

A small bitter smile appeared on his lips as he thought how childish his heart really is, how breakable it really is, yet nobody ever saw that, except for him. Nobody ever saw the color slipping, the transparant blood dripping, except for him. Maybe Sehun did lie when he told the other that he would do just fine, because he only did fine by pretending. Yet, pretending only ever brought him real happiness. Yet, this person understood why he was pretending, because reality was suffocating and it kills him. Pretense may not bring true happiness, but it spares him the broken glass and hollow heart. Because pretending could bring him back to the days when he danced because of the passion he had, rapped about being the best and more, dreamed like a child that would live a life worth living. But most important...

Pretense allowed him to hold onto the dream inside the airplane, kissing him tenderly on the lips while whispering sweet nothings.
 

I wish I could pretend... I really do.
Really vague piece of writing as always.