*WARNING shortest drabble ever and implied character death

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Butterflies whisper and clouds fly in to Jongin’s mind, transforming his thoughts in to a mix of spellbound love and misery.

When he opened his eyes all he felt was peace. It calmed his core and kept his eyelids closed for just a little longer. And when he finally did open them he sees nothing but a long expanse of white. White walls that are crisp and cold. He’s laying in a large lonely bed with cotton white sheets. The glare from the sun comes in as a blinding white light. Jongin is at peace for a moment and his breath is even.

But he slowly turns over and stares at the tiled floor. It’s gleam is white but the rose gold color has faded with time. It was meant to be there vintage home. Everything in this house has a fade to it, the color escaping in to unknown moments through time.

He turns over and stares at the tiled floor and sees the white tulip. It lays alone just like him, white gentle petals begging to be caressed. Jongin feels the misery slowly creeping up to blow away his peace. He’s left the sliding door open again after crying in the backyard. A wind blows the thin white curtains and Jongin’s breath hitches.

With weak knees he rises in his white sweater and faded pajama pants. Everything has faded away since he left. Because time kept turning even though Jongin stayed still.

He steps over the tulip, because he knows if he touches it the misery will win. Peace must remain. He must try and stay calm with the white of morning. His feet drag him to the other end of the room to sit against a wall, right in front of the open sliding door. Of course he’d left it open for a reason. 

Because Jongin remembers watching him, sitting against this same wall with a notebook and pen, with a small radio singing a soft melody. Because the one that left used to leave the sliding door open and let the air of spring blow in. He used to smile with so much sunlight it overpowered every bad thought Jongin could ever have. And then he’d stroll outside to the backyard and lay down to watch the butterflies whisper and the clouds fly.

So Jongin does the same. Over and over again everyday in hopes that time would stay for a little while longer and let him quietly mourn and remember. He sits against the same wall and recalls the melodies that would come from the small radio, the radio that Jongin smashed when he heard the news. He keeps the sliding glass open so he can smell spring. And when his heart has had enough he collapses on to the floor with a gentle cry.

And on the faded gold rose floor he tries to calm the misery in his heart that trembles his mind. Sometimes he pretends that it never happened. Sometimes he wipes away the stray tears that warm his cold cheeks.

A lot of times he stares at the silver band on his ring finger and wishes with all his might.

Jongin usually wakes with peace because in his dreams none of it ever happens. The one he loves is still beside him alive and well.

But after the white light of morning fades and the butterflies land to tell him his love is no more, Jongin is left with nothing but misery and pain.