Why i can not hear you'r voice anumore?

Life - is strange thing, occasionaly happy, occasionaly no. It plays with people, manipulates them. Give a chance when there is no need, but takes it away when nothing else remains. Life is a disgusting, if don't hide a truth.

Sehun never likes to hide a truth. Straightforward, cold, strict. He knows, his life is a waste of time, hopeless existence. At least everything became so a few months ago.

Sitting down on the wet asphalt under lighr of neon signboeard, Sehun looks at the night sky and let himself does not thinking anymore. Turns off scintillating thoughts, throws them in far coner of his mind, and wait. Does not let awkwardness and fear brighten up his loneliness anymore, listens how anjoyable rhythms of favoutire R&B fill up body through earphones. Viscous, sweet, remissiv tracks makes something incredible with Oh, makes him leightweight and airy. 

Sehun feels of each part of his body. Return them to faceless passersby, counting every minute spent in the pending and easy coolness of the night sky. When he took out from ears his earphones, someone's disruptive laugh around the corner, a rare creak of tires on the road and knocking heels nearby. Night in big sity, never let to rest, it looks like wild dance, stupefying and bewitching. But Sekhun does not love it, never loved it and is unlikely ever to be able to.

Turning of the phone, ignoring few missing calls and unread SMS messeges Sehun leans back against the wall of small building made of red brick. Once a beloved and native place, always ready to embrace. Now Oh barely recognizes it. There are no previous signboard and no previous memories. A simple building to which he regulary comes every Sunday has been for several months in a row. Sitting in front of on the bench, reading a book or listening to same songs. Sits for an hour and leaves home, where he doesn't want to go.

Sehun thought for a long time why exactly today he destroyed his way of life. Why exactly today he could to make a step across the street, lean back against the wall and then slip on it sitting on the ground and waiting.

He thought and as a result decided to forget. He got Richmond out of his pocket which was hided there for a long time, took first cigarette, lighter which kept last warm touches and crooked face, painted with a marker on the hull. Fire became the only warmth at this dark street. Cigarette's smoldering tip which killing lungs was the only rescue.

Sehun feel nausea becouse of he smoke on an empty stomach and it seems he likes it wildly. He rests his head against the cold wall and cover one's eyes, hidding frozen hands under ed leather jacket. 

Life - is a disgusting thing, according to Sehun.

He hears how bell rings when door opening and feels fear, which covering with the head, because steps stopped next to him. Hands slightly shake and in a moment the cold envelops the whole body.

- I thought that you can only watch from afar, - a hoarse deep voice beats against the head, tearing the ground from under his feet and forcing the whole creature to shrink.

Sehun opens his eyes and see how in darkness stand Chanyeol and look at him. Clarified gray hair protruding from under the cap, dark eyes indifferently permeate inside, and pale skin with little rows of bruises on the neck and arms make regret. Chanyeol takes off his cap, passes fingers through his hair throwing his bag on the ground sits down with Sehun next to him, just like him, rests his head against the wall.

- Give me a coggy, - stretches out his hand Pak.

- I do not smoke.

- Don't lie to me.

Sehun obediently climbs his hand into his pocket, takes out a shabby pack and holding it out to Chanyeol with his eyes lowered to the floor. The noise of the night goes somewhere to the background, when Oh hears the click of a black lighter in the elder's hands, his hoarse laughter after the first puff and vibration of his phone. They are touching their shoulders when seated on the cold ground, looking into the emptiness.

Feelings of warmth haven't arise, but for some reason Sehun becomes a little easier to stand cold  when he is handed a small drop of earphone, and new song starts playing from dynamic. In the same style and all about the same. About eternal freedom, which was waiting for the two of them, and about broken dishes at the empty kitchen in the darkness. About cold feet under the blanket and warm pattern on the skin with soft pads of fingers.

    Sehun like it.

- I've been in the studio recently, recorded and processed.

Chanyeol last time inhale acrid smoke, throwing a cigarette into a puddle near to himself . He rubs his hair, putting on his cap again and, having pressed knees to himself and puts his hands on them, inhales whitish steam in the air. 

- How long have you been here?

Chanyeol doesn't turn his head - is he afraid, or can't, or doesn't know what will happen than. He listens Sehun's measured breathing, ready to swear that he bites the already crooked lips. He pulls his bag towards him, takes out a notebook from it, puts it on his knees, and begins to write something with a sharp, abrupt handwriting. Takes another cigarette, snorts and again writes something on paper.

And Sehun thinks that there is too much gray smoke on them for these half an hour. He closes his eyes. He presses memories in himself, stangles feelings, kills himself with nicotine and taken soda from hands og elder.  Half an hour of life is all he could dream about. It's all and even more.

- Come more often, Sehun. It's easier for me to think and write in your company, you know.

Chanyeol removes the notebook to his bag, for the younger, who lies his hear on his shoulder, stands up, shakes himself off, and for several long seconds looking at Sehun, who looks down, take off his bomb several sizes bigger and throws him Oh . First of all he sees caramel eyes and smiles, with a quiet "you are frozen" climbs to the same bag, pulling out a sweater and putting it on. 

A car drives past with loud music from open windows, and Sekhun thinks that this song is awful. Awful because it does not belong to Park. He gets up from his seat, stretches his stiff muscles, straightens his clothes and shakes it off, throwing on his shoulders, to the horror, a big Chanyeol's jacket. That one, which gave him on Birthday, before fairytail in which Sehun likes to belive didn't become a reality, which one sometimes doesn't even want to think.

Sehun looks into the dark Park's eyes, sees fatigue, little scrape on the cheek, smiling lips, the first one makes a step. Goes knowing, Chanyeol will follow him. Oh still have 20 minutes. Twenty minutes. three turns to the right and one to the left, before all will return to the beginning. 

Black streets are rarely torn by dim lanterns, Sehun sometimes feels how the shoulder of the elder touches his shoulder, goes slow inhaling native smell. Silence can be pleasant, is belive Sehun.

In general, if you believe Sehun, you can go crazy. If you trust him and let him tell the tale, you can get burned. You can physically feel the tip of the words he says, you can see a small thin scratch somewhere on the hand without touching.

Chanyeol knows it better than anyone.

He burned, he felt, he was scratched. But I still made a decision to let this happen again.

Our life was a tale, which you tell me. It's a pity, we destroyed all, Sehun.

Growing in front of the skyscraper makes the heart of one crash down, and the other shrink. Chanyeol goes, don't stop, turns the phone in his hand, feels in another one thin Sehun's fingers. Eighteen minutes.

Oh approaches the porch, dying beside it. He feels in his back a little evil, sad, tired elder's look. Lamp irritatingly humming under ear and somewhere inside the trill rings a heartbeat. Twelve minutes. 

Sehun throws his life and his rules to the big boiling cauldron of detachment and indifference, turn back and pulling Chanyeol to his arm. He touches the lips of his elder, so habitually wraps his arms around his neck, feels big hand on the waist under a bunch of clothes. Butterflies somewhere inside slightly hurt the organs, titillates and tearing out. Exhausted and broken, they try to break forth, but Sehun screams inside of himself, tears and swears, kills them, tramples and wants to cry.

Twenty minutes and all comes back to the begin. Chanyeol takes a step backward, looks with black eyes into the stiff caramel of the sehun's eyes. Takes from outstretched arms his jacket. Losts in the dark, dissolving with easy burning on the lips and almost huge hole inside, new burn and scratch on the neck.

Sehun comes inside,climbs up the stairs. Stands in front of the door to the flat, but doesn't want to come inside. Turns on phone, noticing new name among pile of unread and mised. Oh sits on the fifth stage, which used to listen to night talk and feel nicotine smoke, and opens a text message. Bitter " Bye, sorry" settles inside the lungs, heart, conscious.

After all, i could hear your voice one more time.

It was parting. Parting, until Sehun again breaks his way of life, crossing the road and crouching on the cold asphalt. Maybe parting until tomorrow, with counter sad eyes and spiked with things. Parting to the tale, the bitterness left in consciousness, and the greeting of reality, which finally wants to wish.

 

Maybe our happiness is waiting for us with you around the corner.