p/s: Another chapter! I would love to see comments and opinions this chapter and I love reading comments so do not be silent, bunnies! Haha :* 

WARNING: Un-beta

“How are you doing, son?” The voice of Draco Malfoy, though soft, it sent chills down Sehun’s spine; making Sehun stare at his father in disbelief but he managed to keep a straight face, eyes were looking down at his feet.

Earlier this morning he bumped into Professor Snape on his way to the Defense against the Dark Arts class, and he was stopped by Severus from entering the classroom. He noticed that the said Professor was holding nothing but a note from his father. It was given to him before Severus dragged him to his room. The reason of him being dragged to see his father was unpredictable. It could be about him being the heir of the death eater, it could be about Astoria, his mother who was falling ill in these past few weeks and in the midst of recovery or it might be about something he could not predict.

And it was surely unpredictable when those words slipped from Draco’s mouth. Draco Malfoy never concerned about his well-being. Never cared about his health but only focused on how Sehun should brush up his skill in being a wizard.

Sehun sighed in defeat; he knew he could not stay silent when it came to his father who was waiting for him to answer. “I’m doing fine and I guess I’m good.” The blonde boy shrugged nonchalantly, as if to show the father that he was still the bad boy Hyperion Malfoy.

“I come to see you,” Draco paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. Sehun noticed there was something behind his father’s shaky voice and he quickly looked up only to be greeted by his father’s sad gaze. The fierce in the elder’s eyes were replaced by the crestfallen. There was fear laced in his stare and Sehun prayed to the high heaven that it would not be another bad news his father was trying to bring up.

“Because of your mother,” And now a single tear slipped from Draco Malfoy’s eyes. This was it, another thing he did not want to listen and Sehun was quick to place his palms to his ears. He did not want to listen to anything bad about his dearly mother.

“I don’t want to know,” Sehun trembled and got up from his seat. “I don’t want to listen to any of your lies!” And the porcelain skinned boy was now screaming at his father whilst letting the crystal clear liquid trickling down his face. Sehun did not care about him crying in front of Draco because he found that the pains were too unbearable now and it was taking everything, anything and everyone away from his life.

“Sehun, listen. I am sorry, I know it’s too late to tell you but I don’t want to disturb you. You need to focus on your studies and-,”

“All you know is forcing me to focus on this whole bull wizards’ things! You never once tried to see through me, father!  I want to see my mother and you should give me a space to at least see my dearly mom! You tortured my life as if I’m just a piece of meat to be chopped off, not as the one whom you should dearly care and love!” He cut the elder off, refused to hear any of Draco’s fake concerns. Anything the elder had told him was deceitful and he had enough of listening to his father’s lies.

“But your mother’s now gone Sehun.” There was the lump in his throat when Draco breathed it out but widened his eyes in shock as he watched Sehun collapsed to the floor, blackened out a second after he the news hit him hard in the chest.

Sehun’s heart thumped loudly under his chest, kicking his ribcage and the news that reached his ears was like a gush of wind, forcing him to stumble back and the agony soon emerged from under his skin—giving him a forceful of tortures to be running in his vein; ceasing every cell in his body from working. The sadness, the sorrow, the pain, the lies everyone was holding were like thorns—unstoppably pricking his skin with so much force and he virtually bled, feeling all the energy draining out from his body.

Why would everything come to him, hitting him hard all at once? Like he was a wall that everybody would throw their anger and disappointment onto by throwing rocks, painting lies, drawing suffers and stabbing torment into him.

And he was like a foe to the joy, a devil to the world, a scar to a beautiful face; a wound to the beating heart and a scratch to a beautiful skin. What is the meaning of living when he had to be the one who endures all the pain?

He was not a butterfly to be a symbolism of endurance. To be a living thing that carried the chromatic benignity with it to treasure the land and se