[drabble] all of the lights
All Of The Lights | PG-13 | Angst
donghae is consumed by darkness, henry is his light.
There are times in your life when a lot of significant sadness takes over your mind for a period of time, when a gray whole within you seems to dull even the brightest of lights that are brought upon you. Sadness and grief intoxicates your mind, particularly during those flickers of light.
It’s said that silence can ease away pain and sorrow. For Donghae it does nothing but soothing him temporarily though, as he gazes out from his balcony, city lights illuminating the dark night sky. Donghae looks up, towards the stars hidden and outshined by the bright lights from below.
Sometimes Donghae pretends he’s a star.
Henry is Donghae’s light. Ever since Donghae met the younger man, Henry has done nothing but make Donghae feel at ease, temporarily forgetting everything called memories and pain. A smile that speaks thousand words, a smile that lit up the surroundings in ways nothing else can.
Every time Henry smiles, Donghae feels this warmth in his chest, lives the warmth for the treasured moments it lasts, soon to be replaced with a severe headache and clogged breath. Watery eyes, losing balance, Henry’s strong arms pulling him up from the ground.
Every time Henry asks him if he’s okay, and every time Donghae says yes.
Alcohol is not a good way to deal with sadness, but sometimes you’re just not strong enough to even stand on your feet, so alcohol seems like a good option. The anti-depressives don’t work, and a bottle of vodka numbs him until he passes out, so of course Donghae chooses the easy way out.
Henry enters his apartment after his night shift at work, only to find Donghae sprawled at the floor, vomit on his sides and empty vodka bottles ungracefully scattered around. Henry sighs to himself before cleaning up the vomit. He struggles with getting Donghae over his shoulders so he can carry him to bed, but he manages eventually, panting heavily as he carefully, gently, manages to lie Donghae down on the satin sheets. He kisses Donghae’s forehead softly and proceeds to put a glass of water and painkillers on the bedside table before going home.
Every night is the same.
Henry is Donghae’s light. Whenever Henry appears at the doorstep with takeaway Chinese, Donghae feels something similar to happiness, dimmed by the thundering headache in the back of his head. Henry enters without knocking, being so familiar in Donghae’s own home now, and sets a table for two.
They eat mostly in silence, Henry occasionally blurting out something about work or a TV show he’s watching. Donghae listens, watches, and wonders if Henry knows how much he means for him.
Henry’s smile falters after the eighth joke.
One merciless night, Donghae hurt his legs to the point that he could never dance again. Ever since that night, Donghae has never smiled. Just briefly when Henry cracks a joke or smiles extra brightly at him, or just is. Dancing meant everything for Donghae, still means everything; he just can’t indulge in it. He has to watch from the sideline, so close but still so far away.
Everything he has lived for was taken away from him that one night, as well as the only thing he ever loved, the only person he has ever loved.
Donghae thought he would never be able to love again, even after two years.
Henry is Donghae’s light. A cold December night, Henry doesn’t show up. Donghae waits for hours, listening. Waiting for two feet jogging up to his apartment door, waiting for the odour of Chinese takeout. Waiting.
Seems like even the brightest lights dims, eventually.
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a/n: this was supposed to go somewhere.