Winters Grow Cold- One shot
Joon/Mir

You simply stare into space as you feel his presence behind you. He stands there, not making any move to reach out to you at all.

No, you want to say, want to scream and shout and cover your ears. You don't mean it Cheolyong. The world seems to stop as the silence draws on. The common beating of hearts is gone, dead. Electrifying sparks don't fly between you two, dreadful cold just draws on and on.

(He shivers involuntarily, and suddenly thinks back to days where you were the one keeping him warm.)

You have your back to him; you don't want him to see the tears, don't want him to see you so weak. Nails dig hard into your palm, but you don't feel it as much as you feel the pang in your chest. Memories pass through like a whisper in the wind, sweet kisses, quiet nights, gentle touches, shy glances.

They rot and burn, consumed by a slow burning flame. How stupid I was to believe something like this could last, you think humorlessly to yourself. The odds were stacked against us anyway.

A shrug of the shoulders and you turn, fixing a smile in place despite the overwhelming urge to puke. The silent stare lasts for eternity, his eyes betraying hints of guilt. You notice the way he slightly shifts his weight and leans back on the balls of his feet for a moment, studying the ground beneath him intensely, refusing to meet your gaze.

(He finds this gaze uncomfortable, piercing and sharp, and hates the way you plaster that smile on your face.)

You wonder if those days meant anything at all. Wonder if they were real. You try to understand where you went wrong this time, why he was bringing up something like this all of a sudden. You're staring at him again, wondering if this was the person you had fallen in love with at all.

"If you want it so badly, why not?"

(He notices the way the corner of your lips quiver just that little bit as you say it.)

Ignoring how weak and pathetic you sound, you watch him for the last time, taking in his defined jaw-line and dark eyes, memorizing each contour of his face before he left for good. His eyes shift away uneasily as a sick sense of pride fills you. You turn away again.

"Changsu-"

"Don't," you hiss out. The way your name rolls off his tongue sounds different already.

"Just...go."

There is hope, flickering like a dying candle somewhere deep in your heart, that he'll grab your arm, spin you around and kiss you hard on the lips, tell you it's all right. You wait and wait, for that touch, a sign that what you had shared was real.

"Sorry."

Barely a whisper, and if it hadn't been so quiet, you would have missed it completely. The tears start once again as there is a soft squeal of shoes against damp grass and you hear his footsteps getting softer and softer behind you. You don't turn around, you refuse to.

(He doesn't look back either, but keeps on walking toward that darkened horizon with no destination in mind.)

Come back, it's all my fault, I'm sorry, I'll fix it so please come back...

But you don't say a word, instead your legs give way beneath you and you sink to the ground, hugging yourself tightly, sobs wracking your whole frame as you cry to the darkened sky.

(His own tears are falling rapidly and he wishes that you had begged him not to go.)