något säger mig att du blir borta
en lång, lång tid

The trees had just blossomed into a sea of pink and green when Sehun fell in love with the new hire at the coffee shop downtown. It was the typical love story found usually in films, an assembly of clichés and god given coincidences. It was all he had ever gagged at as a teen when coerced by his friends into binge-watching dramas, but he didn't really mind it. He was one of the main characters, after all, one of those whose ending would be happy no matter how much hardship he would have to go through.

He loved the way Yixing’s eyes teared up whenever a coworker scolded him for dropping change or messing up some obnoxious order. He loved the way the barista’s gaze would travel across the room only to land on Sehun, and how he would blush uncontrollably when caught doing so. He loved his hair which was messy beyond saving, his heavy eyelids, his trembling fingers. He could dream for hours on end about how Yixing would always trip over nothing or how cold his fingers had felt against his own when they first held hands in some park near the shop, and he would in his mind replay memories of their spontaneous nights out over and over again until Yixing’s dimple had imprinted on his corneas, the image of that shy little smile showing clearly before him every morning when he woke up from dreams that had at first seemed unattainable.

“I like you. I wanna sit on your face,” had been slurred one time by Yixing who apparently couldn't handle his alcohol. Drinks had been gulped down in spite of his low tolerance, one confession leading to another until his every thought had been laid out bare to be read by anyone who happened to pass by.

Sehun had found his drunken state adorable, with a fuzzy feeling and knees all weak reaching out to poke that dimple. Not even the thought of vomit had scared him enough to stop what they were doing, for the secrets whispered in between the laughter had been just what he needed to swallow his own fear. They had, after all, only held hands, an innocent act not uncommon among friends.

Giggles had spilled in a passionate manner when Yixing’s straddled Sehun’s lap to hug him as though there was no one else around to judge them, mumbling something completely unintelligible before passing out right there and then. He had looked so pretty then, with his mouth hanging open and eyes half-lidded, as beautiful as if not more than when he cried over nothing.

Sehun had pecked his cheek then on a whim, for he, too, had been drunk and too in love to control his own actions.

The apologies stuttered the morning after when Yixing stood hungover by the counter were cute. He was hiding his puffy face from Sehun with lean fingers all covered in bandaid, his hair still tangled but smelling of coffee. The owner of the shop was nagging him to straighten up and to stop crying while in the presence of customers, but Yixing’s tears kept running in rivulets, his sobs loud, yet absolutely beautiful.

He was embarrassed without reason, afraid to get rejected in spite of Sehun having carried him home after those speeches that had been dramatic, at the least. He hadn’t yet realised that his feelings were reciprocated or that what Sehun saw in those shimmery eyes wasn’t the tears or the broken capillaries, but each and everyone of his own newborn dreams involving them two together, laughing instead of crying.

Sehun’s heart started fluttering like that of a child when Yixing looked up from behind that fringe, his face so pretty even when swollen. He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, that his stupid heart kept pounding against his ribs until it physically hurt to do