Word Count: 929~
Summary: Ink runs smooth against lined pages. But life doesn't really go as such.
A/N: one of the drabbles from the everyday drabble challenge mikoster and I crazily put ourselves through. :F This is technically drabble four with the challenge being -> Neverending story, Sehun, fluff/angst. And here is what it became :F uhm... enjoy?
And it goes on and on and on and on and Sehun tries to find an ending but it never really does find him.
It’s a bit like traveling through time, going back to everything you’ve once remembered, reliving the things of the moment, and seeing what’s in store in the unseen.
It’s a bit like traveling through time, yet it isn’t.
He’s stuck, so much so that he almost tears his hair off his scalp, feigning to use his inky black pen to gouge out his eyes, stopping himself from slamming the door on his fingers, pausing from his step to fall to the face of the earth.
It goes on and on just like this.
About unmeasured love, of characters towing away secret letters, of the immeasurable loss of friends, he writes these things but they never find an ending.
He continues to write, not knowing when to stop or if he is capable of doing such an act.
He breathes, he sighs, he contemplates, he fights, but in the end he still writes.
“Sehun-ah. You should rest, you’ve been writing longer today.” A deep murmuring fills his ears. The hair at the back of his neck stand up automatically, goosebumps rising, traveling down his visible spine.
He almost lets go of his pen.
“Come… hold me.” Soft hands wrap around calloused fingers.
“Sehun… I’m here, look at me.” The voice travels from the boy’s neck towards his cheek, and soon enough Sehun was faced with brown eyes and plump lips.
“Jongin… I need to finish…” He hadn’t realized how long he’s been keeping his voice, it scratches and burns his throat as the words escape his lips.
Jongin sighs, eyes showing sorrow but lips moving, yearningly craving for the boy.
“Sehun… you’ve been saying that.” He breathes, steadying himself fearing that all of the feelings he’s bottled up would just spill out before the fragile boy in front of him.
“I need to finish.” Sehun says again, eyes locking, holding Jongin in place.
Jongin shivers under Sehun’s tired eyes. He sighs, moving away from the boy, muttering a soft ‘I miss you’ before completely leaving him be.
He writes of broken hearts, mended and wounded time and again from so many years of battle. He writes of soft words whispered at night, turning into silent gestures eventually disappearing into the past.
He writes of open skies and he stops.
The ink splatters around the word and Sehun almost screams as it spreads like virus to the rest of the page.
Jongin rushes to his side but he already knows he can’t do anything.
Sehun cries, smashing his hands on his desk, creating more scars for his body to show.
“Sehun! Stop! It’s okay!” Jongin tries to hold the boy but he only thrashes about.
Papers fly, tears roll down bronzed cheeks, the smell of copper fills the air, and black ink covers the last of Sehun’s memory.
It goes on and on and on just like this.
Sehun continues to write.
Of love stories, of broken hearts.
Of immeasurable loss, of years of battle.
Sehun writes until the black ink runs dry.
But yet, his stories never do find an ending.
Jongin cries, Sehun continues to fight.
He doesn't want to hurt; he doesn't want to cause hurt.
He just wants it all to be finished, but an ending never does find him.
Fists pounding against wooden floors, blood running and spilling over.
“Sehun! Please stop!” Jongin begs, kneeling down next to the frail figure battling a vicious battle of the mind.
“Sehun… please…” Jongin wraps strong arms against skin and bones.
“I need to finish.” Sehun repeats, and repeats, and repeats.
Jongin knows, he’s always known but deep in his heart he hides this fact.
Sehun started writing at the age of 18, when both of his parents passed away, when his memory was lost and he became a new person.
He started writing to remember, to form a new identity, to change a past he can’t remember but can feel scratching at the back of his mind, to feed a present that’s been starved for so many years, to preserve a future that has no light of hope.
Jongin knows how Sehun wants to finish this story, his story. To create a better life for the Sehun of the now, but he’s been stuck and time has forsaken them both.
Sehun fights, and Jongin watches.
Tears roll down sunken white cheeks.
“Jongin… I can’t do this anymore…” Sehun gasps in between sobs.
Tight arms hug even tighter as the flooding of emotion is released from a box that’s been closed shut.
Jongin rocks the boy against his arms, shushing and lulling him back to sanity.
“You don’t need to finish… just be here… with me.” Jongin whispers against the nook of Sehun’s neck.
“Just be here with me.” Jongin says again.
“I need to finish.” Sehun chokes out, pushing Jongin out of his way as he tries to find his book and pen.
“I need to finish.” He repeats, placing himself firm against the wooden chair, hunching his back over the small desk and Jongin tears himself from the inside.
It goes on and on and on.
There is no ending.
Just as the ink travels through paper, it continues to spread until it finds the edges and surrenders itself, falling over as it leaves behind trails but never being able to return.
This is Sehun’s story, a story that never ends.
a/n: thank you for reading.... :S