There is this kind of sadness that you can get addicted to.
And there is this kind of happiness that you can get obsessed with.

Three drabbles. Each consisting of 100 words. Are somehow related to each other

A certain kind of sadness

There it was, again. Sehun never understood why it would take over him, but it did. Every single time. It was a soft kind of emptiness, a comfortable kind of pain, a happy kind of parting. He may be addicted to it. To this sadness given to him whenever Luhan decided to allow himself in Sehun’s bubble, leaving imprinted footsteps in his forever bruised heart. It was bittersweet, paradoxical – this kind of sadness that he longed to feel so much. It felt so good though! An addiction it was for Sehun, and he had thrown away the remedy long ago.


Half of his heart

“Do you love me?”

Sehun asked with trembling voice, eyes shifting nervously, even though there was a door separating them. He knew Luhan would not answer.  Luhan could not. Not when half of his heart barely had grip of the situation, and the other part was a man who had never loved before. Sehun had crashed into this colorless world, desperately trying to paint it with bright colors. It was futile, though, since Luhan was colorblind.

“Does it matter?” Luhan asked coldly.

Sehun glanced at the picture in his shaking hands, sweet, painful nostalgia filling him.

“No, maybe it doesn’t.”


Death lives the most

Luhan was the death; Sehun was the life. Luhan was dusted with infinity; Sehun was coated with repeated endings and hopeful beginnings. Luhan was there to witness the endless cycles while his own time had stopped ticking. He would fall in love with life again and again, love and hate him like a child, because while Sehun lost and found, Luhan was stuck in stagnation. Sehun would never understand eternity, would never know why Luhan would never love him wholeheartedly, because only those who were cursed with immortality would understand what it meant to love a person timelessly. It destructs.