Dripping Meadows
DRIPPING MEADOWS;; PG
It's hard to see. His eyes are unfocused, the greenery in front of him blurs, an incandescent light obstructs his view of anything. There's a momentary second of pitch black. He tries to willingly force his eyes open, blinking his lashes furiously. It's getting worse and he knows it's not much longer before he will see black again. He takes another step, then another, then another. A growl from deep within emerges, consuming his body and it works. Suddenly he can see the patchy grass he's stepping on, he can see the beautiful lights twinkling from the rooftops of the prowling city, he can see the stars above, twinkling like they are sending messages to one another, S.O.S.-es in the night sky asking for help. He's not the kind to ask for help, but he's envious of the stars that moment - for being free, for being able to stand on their own, for having each other.
He's a mad man.
He tries to take advantage of the uplifting energy around him, tries to take another step to the inviting stars but it turns pitch black again. His legs buckle out and he collapses half-way to the ground, wheezing and puffing and unable to take another breath. He yearns to see the stars again; he's angry at himself for not making a wish on one of them when he had the chance. He can't open his eyes. The caved darkness stays longer around this time. It's not getting any brighter. He forgets how to open his eyes, how pupils are meant to function.
"Kyuhyun-ah," that familiar voice cries ever so worried, pulling his collapsed weight into their side, firm arms latching on to his weak, fragile ones, holding him back up to reality. His eyes are still closed as tightly as ever. How does one willingly change the view from black to worldly again? The scent of the night is different now. It goes from smelling like week old chicken stew to the smell of salty breeze, perched sandalwood and Aqua Di'gio. Donghae's trademarke scent. Only a person who is afraid of change could have a distinguishable smell to them.
"Kyuhyun-ah," Donghae says again a little more softly this time. Kyuhyun winces his eyes shut even more, feeling like Donghae's voice is going to falter any second, that he's going to crack while lecturing Kyuhyun to go back inside, back inside to his square, confined hospital room. Where it's safe. But the faltering voice never comes, and instead Donghae's grip on Kyuhyun is tighter as they push together forward, taking one step, then another, then another.
He's able to open his eyes after five minutes pass. He's able to look up and see the stars again, he's able to make a wish on that one stubborn star, the one that refuses to wilt its light to match the others surrounding it, the one that's shining so brightly even though its tiny in size compared to the others. He finally makes a wish on the star, praying with every fragile bone in his body that it comes true. He wants to make another wish, but it goes pitch black again, and somehow the front of his hospital gown turns into an encroaching color of venom, almost purple. He realizes that he's spurting out blood from his mouth.
---
"Kyuhyun-ah," Donghae calls his name one day, hesitation overtaking his voice. Kyuhyun wants to turn around, he wants to see Donghae's face when he talks, he wants to see the infliction of pain in his eyes when he hears the concern. But Donghae has the control over his wheelchair and he's forced Kyuhyun to stare at the river, counting the endless strokes one wave makes before it hits the barricades going to nowhere.
"Hmm," he replies back shortly, because it's all that he wants to say and that all he can.
"What did you wish for that night on that star?"
He wonders if he should answer, wonders if it's true that a wish doesn't come true the moment you utter the words on your lips. It could be a curse for eternity, playing out slowly watching as his one wish never comes true and he only would have himself to blame. But this is Donghae - who is sweet and innocent and naive and all the things he was never able to be.
"I wished that I could catch a firefly."
"Well," another hesitation and he can hear Donghae choking up, for real this time, "I will catch you that firefly, Kyuhyun."
---
Three weeks later, Donghae leaves a barely legible paper on the casket, sloppy handwriting mangled by his remnants of tearing up; 'I'm sorry.'
He never catches the firefly.
---
END! I don't really know what sickness Kyu has tbh...=/
It's hard to see. His eyes are unfocused, the greenery in front of him blurs, an incandescent light obstructs his view of anything. There's a momentary second of pitch black. He tries to willingly force his eyes open, blinking his lashes furiously. It's getting worse and he knows it's not much longer before he will see black again. He takes another step, then another, then another. A growl from deep within emerges, consuming his body and it works. Suddenly he can see the patchy grass he's stepping on, he can see the beautiful lights twinkling from the rooftops of the prowling city, he can see the stars above, twinkling like they are sending messages to one another, S.O.S.-es in the night sky asking for help. He's not the kind to ask for help, but he's envious of the stars that moment - for being free, for being able to stand on their own, for having each other.
He's a mad man.
He tries to take advantage of the uplifting energy around him, tries to take another step to the inviting stars but it turns pitch black again. His legs buckle out and he collapses half-way to the ground, wheezing and puffing and unable to take another breath. He yearns to see the stars again; he's angry at himself for not making a wish on one of them when he had the chance. He can't open his eyes. The caved darkness stays longer around this time. It's not getting any brighter. He forgets how to open his eyes, how pupils are meant to function.
"Kyuhyun-ah," that familiar voice cries ever so worried, pulling his collapsed weight into their side, firm arms latching on to his weak, fragile ones, holding him back up to reality. His eyes are still closed as tightly as ever. How does one willingly change the view from black to worldly again? The scent of the night is different now. It goes from smelling like week old chicken stew to the smell of salty breeze, perched sandalwood and Aqua Di'gio. Donghae's trademarke scent. Only a person who is afraid of change could have a distinguishable smell to them.
"Kyuhyun-ah," Donghae says again a little more softly this time. Kyuhyun winces his eyes shut even more, feeling like Donghae's voice is going to falter any second, that he's going to crack while lecturing Kyuhyun to go back inside, back inside to his square, confined hospital room. Where it's safe. But the faltering voice never comes, and instead Donghae's grip on Kyuhyun is tighter as they push together forward, taking one step, then another, then another.
He's able to open his eyes after five minutes pass. He's able to look up and see the stars again, he's able to make a wish on that one stubborn star, the one that refuses to wilt its light to match the others surrounding it, the one that's shining so brightly even though its tiny in size compared to the others. He finally makes a wish on the star, praying with every fragile bone in his body that it comes true. He wants to make another wish, but it goes pitch black again, and somehow the front of his hospital gown turns into an encroaching color of venom, almost purple. He realizes that he's spurting out blood from his mouth.
---
"Kyuhyun-ah," Donghae calls his name one day, hesitation overtaking his voice. Kyuhyun wants to turn around, he wants to see Donghae's face when he talks, he wants to see the infliction of pain in his eyes when he hears the concern. But Donghae has the control over his wheelchair and he's forced Kyuhyun to stare at the river, counting the endless strokes one wave makes before it hits the barricades going to nowhere.
"Hmm," he replies back shortly, because it's all that he wants to say and that all he can.
"What did you wish for that night on that star?"
He wonders if he should answer, wonders if it's true that a wish doesn't come true the moment you utter the words on your lips. It could be a curse for eternity, playing out slowly watching as his one wish never comes true and he only would have himself to blame. But this is Donghae - who is sweet and innocent and naive and all the things he was never able to be.
"I wished that I could catch a firefly."
"Well," another hesitation and he can hear Donghae choking up, for real this time, "I will catch you that firefly, Kyuhyun."
---
Three weeks later, Donghae leaves a barely legible paper on the casket, sloppy handwriting mangled by his remnants of tearing up; 'I'm sorry.'
He never catches the firefly.
---
END! I don't really know what sickness Kyu has tbh...=/