letters to the wind
LETTERS TO THE WIND
⇾ exo | sehun/luhan [luhan centric]
⇾ 1,663 words
⇾ tragedy
⇾ PG-13
⇾ warning: suicide
Listen to this while reading for added effect~
Cherry blossoms flutter, the tiny petals spinning and dancing with the tight little breeze that moves the town in a wake of cold bodies and prickly skin.
It's early April, and the chimney tops have lost their icing of snow for a while now, the bricks bare and dirt brown from the greeting of spring.
The grass is a pretty green; the green that you read about in children's fairy books, it's never a precise description but it's there, vivid, and oh so greeting with the rays of sunlight bouncing off it's skin.
Luhan likes this time of year. It's his favourite. He likes it because everything is natural, no form is trying to be more elegant and beautiful then the next like they do in summer; but they're not depressed and enclosed, hearts cold and eyes shut like they are in winter.
He sits on the hill in Rosemary Park in the peak of spring; watching and absorbing the pinks, yellows, blues, greens. Little daises poke through the gaps between his fingers tips, snuggling into the soft skin of his hands.
His fingers are careful to touch and play with them, but not to pluck, for beauty isn't meant to be destroyed by selfish hands and Luhan isn't about to commit against it.
His kneecaps poke tightly against his skin, his summer-but-spring trousers are rolled up to mid-thigh, the flimsy fabric allowing so. He relishes between the grass strands as he lays back, the grass poking and playing with the nape of his neck and his elf-like ears. He laughs to himself - the wonders of spring are quit magnificent to him. His eye smile crinkles into symmetrical pattern to tree roots; sprouting from the corner of his lids and wiggling heir way to the tips of his rosy cheeks.
The pale skin on his his elbows is sensitive; every shuffle of movement or gust of the wind sends his arms out to a dance, popping and clicking as his nerves send the signals.
Exhaling, Luhan feels the content feeling of the season wash over his body like high tide waves, his heart beat swaying to a steady beat of eighty four. Saliva makes it's way down past his chapped lips; and he licks it back up, washing back into the lining of skin and away with all his thoughts.
His peace is at a high point, the clouds covering him up as if in need of protection.
He likes that - he always has.
Before long, the Cherry blossoms matched the sky; the patch of atmosphere was princess pink, mixed together with sutton apricot and rashes of lemon yellow.
Luhan sits up straight, his back bones clicking together again after lying idle for a day of his life he'd never get back.
He never spoke today, and that's the way that he liked it. He's a funny one - always liking peculiar things and times, always remembering dates on the calendar and food packaging.
Strange was good and good was strange.
Sehun liked just that though - strange. Although Sehun was a summer boy he never faltered in bringing the crystal grin onto Luhan's face once in a while.
He was a flower boy, his mother a gardener and his father a landscape designer, he grew up with the sprouts and seeds.
The Pilosella's and Crocosmia's that he brought to Luhan's home after three missed calls was why Luhan loved him, without words spoken or eyes locked Sehun knew just how to settle the angry heart acquired by the tiny man.
But Sehun had left a while ago, taking all the Pilosella's and Crocosmia's with him too. Luhan's heart was another robbed victim.
Empty, like the vase that was stood on the window sill against a single pane panel and fraying lace curtains. Luhan couldn't remember how long ago it was that Sehun had left, all he remembered was that the half eaten bagel and the crumb filled cold coffee that belonged to Sehun was still placed on the dining table as he left it those days, maybe weeks ago.
The prettiness of spring masked the winter inside Luhan, as he thought that Sehun had been just like the forms of summer that he predicted - trying to out beat the best. Maybe Luhan wasn't the best Sehun could find.
All the tears, plea's and clawing against the wall were locked in the back of Luhan's head, in the back of his body too, and he just wanted to scream and thrash his fists and throw all the bouquets of dead flowers out his front door and into the scrap yard.
But if he scrapped them he'd scrap all that he had left of Sehun.
The beautiful, bark eyes of Sehun were logged in the mind of him, he couldn't get the stare, the love out of his head but god at so many times does he wish he could.He wished that the eyes of his past boyfriend would be erased, be gone, he wished that although the memories were a way for him to think that Sehun was still here, he wished that they memories would just go. Vanish. Ka-poof.
He opened the door to the flat, a few loose cherry blossom petals sleeping on his shoulders. He let his shoes fall off, as he walked to the kitchen, his sombre face was a contrast to the spring boy he was a few hours ago.
Draws lined the cabinets and wood works in the kitchen, filled with various types of culinar equipment nd cleaning tools. Luhan fumbled; his mind was leaving him as he turned his thoughts to one thing in particular.
Death.
Glistening in his mind and glistening in the second draw down from the left, laid a pristine sparkling carving knife. It was new and made for special kinds of tough meat - able to cut through bits of bone if it had to.
Luhan needed that knife. He knew exactly what he needed it to do and once he was done he could simply wash it and put it back, safe and sound.
He was going to cut out his heart.
Hearts are what connect people, and connecting to Sehun was what his was doing and it was something he needed to stop. His heart wasn't going to stop any time soon and all he could think about was taking it out and throwing it out the window so it's far away as it would roll as far as it could go in the soot and dirt that lined the pathways.
He found it, and with no care he flung it out, twisting and turning it in front of his eyes, the meta hypnotizing im into a deadly trance of suicide
Poke. The blade cut into the soft skin of his palm, the blood slowly weeping its way out from behind they layers that protected hi existence. The cut was neat and a little painful, but Luhan mastered the thought that if he did it quick enough the pain would be a bare minimum.
Knees falling to the floor, he sat down on the cold tiles steadying imself against the fridge so he could accurate performance the final blow.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Metal and flesh do not mix. The blade forcefully pushed it's way through the layers of Luhan, a heavy grown emitting from the young boy as his hands just weren't fast enough. The incision stung like savlon in a fresh cut, his body wriggling trying to move to take the thought away from the damn pain. It didn't work.
Letting go of the knife, Luhan let his hands fall idle to his side, the knife sticking out wonky from his chest. Blood ran live a river on his skin, the liquid was thin and almost looked as sugary as chocolate from a fountain, and a sick feeling from inside made Luhan want to take a finger and taste a part of himself. He never did mind licking cuts.
He hissed. Air whooshed through the gap, he could feel the air entering near his lungs when he exhaled, and he could feel it dance out when he exhaled. It was all too much.
Sehun was still the only thought in his mind.
After a while of just lying there, his eyes cast to the baby blue sky that painted the window, he started to feel week and drowsy. Movement in his lower body was first to go, he couldn't move his legs to hug close to his chest or to stagger to the phone to call 999.
Then his upper half went. His arms flapped down like a let-down bouncy castle, all the air escaped and he felt empty. Shell-like.
And with that he closed his eyes; he let his last sight be the cherry blossoms from his shoulders swimming away in the river of red. He imagined what he would be doing now if he hadn't of decided to take his life when he woke up this morning.
Maybe he would be taking a walk, maybe he would still be at Rosemary Hill - maybe he would still be thinking of Sehun.
His breathing slowed to the bare minimum of life, his throat dry an every time he swallowed his throat felt littered with thorns.
But he heard a noise before his life stopped. He couldn't open his eyes to see for he couldn't even handle the strength it took up. He just breathed, hoping that it would be enough to stay just that little bit longer so he could figure out what the hell the noise was.
But soon enough it was clear. Soon enough it made Luhan regret finding the knife and carving his heart. Because there was no need, because when he heard the sound again he knew just what it was - just who it was.
Because the sound was a simple, broken;
"Luhan..."