I remember it was hot, and my shirt clung to my back while I played on the playground equipment. I was hanging on the monkey bars when I saw him, and my hands, already slick against the smooth metal, slipped, sending me tumbling unceremoniously to the ground.

Being the proud five year old I was, I didn’t cry, merely dusted off my shorts and marched to the head of shiny, honey coloured hair in the sandbox. I stood there on the edge of the sandbox in a brief moment of shyness, when the boy turned his head towards me.

His face was lined with wrinkles, with a narrow jaw, and his cheeks were sunken in, his high cheekbones looking as if they would poke through the fair skin; when he smiled at me, however, any judgement my young mind could come up with was forgotten and instead I smiled in return.

“Hi,” the other boy spoke, his voice high and reedy.

“Hi,” I answered back, stepping closer to the sandbox. “Can I play with you?”

His smile became impossibly wider as he nodded. I stepped into the sand, sitting down beside him. “Here.” He gave me a toy truck to play with; the almost reverent way he held it showed that it was dear to him, so I made sure to play with it gently so as not to break it.

We were quiet while we played in the sun, systematically building a castle in the sand. I used the truck to scoop it into a pile, while the other boy patted it smooth.

This continued for a long time until his mom came up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Luhan, it’s time to go.” She looked over at me, smiling kindly. “Are you Luhan’s friend?” she asked me.

I glanced quickly at Luhan, meeting his eyes. A sort of silent agreement passed between us and I took that as my cue to nod. “My name is Sehun,” I answered, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“Well, it’s very nice to meet you, Sehun.” She smiled once more before speaking to her son again, this time more urgently. “Luhan, we really have to go. It’s doctor day.”

Luhan sighed heavily, standing up on spindly legs. “Bye,” he said, grinning in my direction before leaving with his mother.

~

The next day, I went straight to the sandbox, dropping into the sand next to Luhan. We worked quietly for a few minutes before I decided to break the silence. “Do you want to play tag?”

He shook his head without looking up from his sand creation. “I can’t.”

My brow furrowed in confusion, because everybody could play tag, so I assumed he didn’t like it and tried something else. “Do you want to play on the swings?”

He sighed this time, shaking his head again. “I can’t do that either.”

“Don’t you want to? Or did your mom say you can’t?”

He set down his shovel, reaching instead for his leg, unfolding it with difficulty. “My legs don’t work all the time,” he explained softly, massaging his knee. “So I can’t make the swing move.”

I looked at his skinny limb, the knee swollen and crooked. “I’ll push you,” I stated assuredly, standing up and offering my hand to help him up.

He gazed quietly up at me before a certain resolve overtook his features and he clasped my outstretched palm. “Okay.”

That seemingly simple exchange changed the entire dynamic of our relationship, and we never looked back.

~

Our summer was spent almost exclusively together, broken only long enough to sleep.

One day, Luhan didn’t come to the playground, no matter how long I waited. He didn’t come the next day either.

When I finally saw him some days later, he didn’t look well. His knobbly little knees poked through the long pants he wore and his cheekbones were more prominent than usual. What haunted me, though, was when I sat down beside him in the sandbox and he looked up at me; those eyes normally lit up his entire face, lined as it was from unseen age, but instead they were flat and lifeless, as if all of their energy had been away.

He tried to smile, but the pleasant expression folded into itself, replaced instead with a frown as he tugged lightly on the tube which was threaded into his nose.

“Don’t,” I murmured, smoothing the piece of tape which secured the tube to his skin.

He sighed, much heavier than a five year old ever should, dropping his hand to his lap. “The doctor said I’m too skinny,” he mumbled, jabbing a finger into his protruding hipbones.

I winced, imagining a bruise blossoming on the afflicted area. “Let’s do something else,” I suggested, reaching for his hand before it could inflict further damage. I led him towards the swing set, watching his features change from an expression of discontent to excitement, helping him get seated before I began to push him.

Luhan loved to sing; my favourite part about pushing him on the swing was that the higher he swung, the louder he sang, the wind blowing through his wispy hair.

I smiled to myself as the joyous melody reached my ears, his happiness contagious. Even if it was for only a moment, I knew that I would do anything to make him smile.

~

The days that we played together stretched farther and farther apart. Two days here; five days there; ten days.

By the time our visits were ten days apart, Luhan looked frailer than ever, though his feeding tube was still in place. The hollows of his cheekbones were more pronounced, his face gaunt and shadowed. His knees were so swollen that it pained him to move, so instead of playing we sat in the shade.

I put an arm around his bony little shoulders, concerned that my normally bubbly friend was withdrawing into himself.

He pressed himself into my side, his head dropping to my shoulder, and let out a little sigh, barely a breath. “I’m tired, Sehunnie,” he rasped, closing his eyes.

“You can sleep, if you want,” I offered. I reached for his hand, squeezing it lightly. His returning squeeze was really only a clasping of fingers, bending and going limp.

“Thank you,” came the faint reply, before he all but collapsed into my lap.

I ran my fingers through his feathery, thinning hair, admiring his sleeping face. It was like having the baby brother I’d always wanted, I had thought, and abruptly pulled my hand away as some strands of hair fell away in my grasp.

Luhan awoke some time later, two spots of colour now visible on his cheeks, bright in contrast to his greyish complexion. He rubbed his eyes, his pale lips parting as he yawned. His breathing hitched as he exhaled, his face contorting into one of pain. “Sehun,” he gasped. “My mom.”

I laid him gently on the grass, racing away to find his mother, who immediately rushed over.

By the time the ambulance came he was nearly blue. It was the last time I ever saw him.

That summer before kindergarten, I learned so much more than I could have been taught in all of my years of schooling. I learned that a leap of faith can change an entire outlook on life; I learned how to pretend I was happy, even when all I wanted to do was cry.

Most of all, I learned the meaning of ‘forever in my thoughts.’ 

hello lovelies ^^

just a little kick-off to spring break

ok I don't know why but I think that kids with progeria are the cutest thing, and since I read about weird genetic disorders in my spare time I figured that Luhan would be a perfect candidate for this

he's just so cute and squishy and permanantly child like so there you go. there's my reasoning :P

comments are much appreciated as it helps me know what sorts of stories you're all interested in reading

and they make me smile like an idiot :3

thanks to everyone for reading!

much love<3