The crunch of gravel beneath his sneakers and rhythmic breathing, matching every other swing of his arms, drives Minseok forward.

Overhead, the sky wears romantic hues of pink and orange. Birds in flight are black, silhouettes stamped on the painted canvas. A breeze follows him, urging him to keep running with sweet kisses over his arms and nape of his neck. Cool fingers run through his sweaty hair, and goosebumps ripple across his heated skin.

His watch monitors his heart rate but doesn’t show the time. The sky had been blue and partly hidden by fleecy clouds when he left earlier. He doesn’t recall nighttime, so it’s probably the same day, but maybe running all night would grant him peace from his own head and heart.

Memories, real and imagined, play on the back of his mind like an old, worn tape. The tracking is off, and the sound cuts in and out, but he knows his own face and the one always nearby.

A hopeful voice, forced into the furthest corners where the only option is punishment, suggests that maybe he should tell them his feelings; things could go well.

Or maybe he’ll be laughed at and dismissed by not only the object of his affections also his friends, family, and colleagues. Maybe he’ll be so humiliated that he moves, takes a new job. Maybe the rejection will destroy him.

Oh well.

It’s best to not say anything stupid. Not do anything stupid. There are better things to do.

Just keep running. Inhale—through the nose. Exhale—out the mouth. Swing the arms, bent with loose fists. Pick up the feet, land on the heel, rock to the ball of the foot, push forward.

Maybe if he runs fast enough—far enough—he can find something worthwhile.

Or find someone.

But is it even worth it? He's been fine so far. A little lonely, maybe, but that's not such a bad thing. He likes being by himself. He hangs out with friends every so often. There's a little twinge of something in his chest when they talk about their partners, but it passes.

Stopping in the shade of a tree, he shivers and watches a pair of birds hop across the grass in search of nesting material. A squirrel runs headfirst down another tree, joining a second squirrel with an acorn in its paws.

Everyone has someone.

A surge of determination fills Minseok's mind. What's the worst that could really happen if he just admitted his feelings? He's going to do it.

A bike rolls past, and the birds take off in opposite directions while the squirrels dash up nearby trees. Minseok pushes his hair off his forehead and curls over his knees. One of his shoes is untied.

Maybe tomorrow will be a better day for confessions. It doesn't seem to matter either way.

He ties his shoelace and sets off again at a brisk jog.

a/n: Written for tiny__sparks Challenge #16 — Seven Deadly Sins.

Sloth/acedia is not necessarily physical laziness but emotional and/or spiritual listlessness, a lack of drive or commitment in love. Rather on acting, they did nothing. (A connection has been made between sloth and depression.) The opposite virtue of sloth is zeal; in Dante's Inferno, the people in this area are running continuously and shouting famous examples of sloth and zeal.