I alway want to protect you So that even the small things won’t tire you out, I’m eternally in love As your guardian, I will block the stiff wind Even though people turn their backs to you If I could become the person Who can wipe your tears on a tiring day It will be paradise.
It was raining when Sehun first met a boy with twinkling brown eyes that rendered vibrant rays of exhilaration with hints of mischief scattering around; he on the other hand looked far less exultant, mouth set in a grim line and a scowl evident on his face. Luhan only laughed whilst the younger continued to frown even when the older offered his paper bird that he made.
A white paper bird folded neatly and precisely, the lines aligning the narrow ends of its wings and its beak protruding at the end.
Sehun wasn’t going to admit it but he quite liked it; the way the bird appeared so tantalizing and graceful, just like the hands it was made from, Luhan’s hand; soft, insipid and gentle.
They were six when Luhan and Oh Sehun first met each other.
Maybe it was Luhan’s cheerfulness that seemed to concave even the calamitous person into fits of giggles and laughter or maybe it was that smile that radiated a thousand suns; Sehun didn’t really know but he grew fond of his hyung, the way the older was the only one that could make him laugh, the one that made his obscure stormy days illuminate with flickers of hope.
They were thirteen when they shared their first kiss.
Every reverie had to end though, a dream was merely just a dream, weaved into lies and deceit, cascading the tangible veracity entwined into it. Sehun’s tears were hot and prickly under his pale skin, grim line set in his mouth just like the first time he met Luhan yet this time; there was no Luhan. There was never going to be a Luhan anymore. Bitter laced uncannily in Sehun’s mind and it seemed peculiar how the ferocious howls of the wind accompanied his mourning soul.
He placed the paper bird albeit a bit rough and scruffy on the grave stone, smiling with despondency at no one in particular and Sehun laughed humourlessly at the harsh irony because he used to have Luhan; used to have someone who cared but now; now he lost him and now he had no one.
He never felt so alone.
They were twenty when Sehun lost Luhan.
.
