Sehun glanced down at his watch. Almost 8pm.

He still wasn't there.

Sighing softly, Sehun glanced upwards at the gently falling snow. The fountain behind him sat frozen and decorated with lights, providing no relief from the silence of the desolate square. He was able to bear it any other day, but not this day. Not now. His hands softly wrung the bouquet of colorful flowers in his hands as he continued waiting.

==

Another soft sigh left Sehun's chilled lips.

Just past 9pm.

He knew his body wasn't going to be able to take it much longer. He couldn't get sick. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before staring up into the sky as a few stray tears fell. Maybe next year he'd stop. But he had said the same thing the year before.

And the year before that.

But he couldn't stop hoping he'd come back. Even for just one more hug... just one more kiss.

==

On his way home, he stopped by a small food vendor on the street.

"Something special tonight?" The middle aged vendor woman asked with a kind smile, noticing the flowers.

Sehun smiled softly, "My anniversary," he glanced down at the ring on his left hand, "six years today." The woman gasped happily and her smile broadened, "Congratulations! Here," she said, handing Sehun an extra portion of food, "it's on me! Send her my congratulations!" Sehun froze for a second before nodding.

"T-Thank you," he replied quietly, "I'll make sure to... pass it on..." He bowed in thanks before quickly turning away, not wanting the kind woman to see the stinging tears making new trails down his face.

==

Sehun pushed his apartment door open and hurried in, cutting off the bitterly cold air as the door clicked shut. He hung up his coat, placing his keys quietly on the small table by the door, and slowly made his way to the kitchen. Carefully setting the food in the counter, he started rummaging through his cupboards.

Locating a tall glass vase, a small smile graced his face as he dusted it off carefully and placed the bouquet inside. He gently arranged the flowers before walking into the living room, setting them under his favorite thing in the world.

Whether its meaning was up for debate or not, it didn't matter to him; on the wall was his husband's final gift to him.

A blank white canvas.