A Wish That Might Not Come True
Children of the Night
I had no clue as to where Luhan was guiding us both, if it was to escape or not. Of course, I hadn't questioned his silence or the quickening in his pace but he motioned me to trail closely to him.
Once we passed the wooded portion near the house, the scenery opened up into a clear division of grassland and hills. It was beautiful, the afternoon's light grazing the blades of green in a golden powder, the flowers thriving within each cavity of the ground. Birds their wings against the dewy air, flying overhead and squawking to emit their signals.
Luhan seated himself just before the hill we were currently standing on dipped and rose again; I perched on the pass of grass next to him. He sighed once, twice, then pivoted his head in my direction. His eyes were on the ground- outlining the structure of my sneakers- his eyebrows were meshed in what appeared to be frustration while his lips were a taught line.
"What's wrong?" I asked, retaining a soft voice.
He leaned his back straighter, the restriction of his plain tee doing him no good of being loose-fitted. I could strictly note the curves of his arms, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his chest rose and fell.
"I've never imagined my life to be like this."
My eyes raced to his face, to detect his emotions, once he spoke. His teeth grazed over his lip, as if in deep thought while shortly after his hands clutched at his hair. I have never seen him this discomforted or displaying any feeling besides today.
"I wanted to be a normal kid, in a normal school, with normal parents. I wanted that so badly but now, after everything that's been happening lately, I don't know what to want anymore. I don't know what to believe or expect or what to hope for."
I didn't say anything, I couldn't with the lump of cotton wedged in my throat. I wanted to say something encouraging, like he could still have hope as if he could purchase it at a store and retain it in a pristine condition. I also wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how. So I zipped my mouth shut, until I could find my voice again.
"Nobody knows what it's like living like I do. Everyone is selfish and spoiled and lives comfortably while I'm running away all the time. My life is always being risked a-and I don't see why I can't deserve a break for once. While people are out dancing at clubs and having the times of their lives, I have to sharpen my knifes just to get through the night," he murmured, his breath visible in clouds dispersing through the air.
"Being normal is boring anyways," I tried to loosen him up.
He laughed, not wholeheartedly but a saddened, truly hopeless laugh that didn't compliment his features. This guy's life was filled with no affection, no human emotions and he suffered through it for eighteen years. Eighteen years of training, prepping, fighting versus an average life of love, family and friends, simple things like hanging out at the beach. And this makes me wonder about the others in the pack, if they reciprocated his feelings and dreamed and desired to become someone different.
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