Stain
Stain | Luhan/Yixing | 1.1k~ | PG-13 | (summary below)
when the first snow comes
civilians gather 'round,
but they tire fast.
snow is falling down.
how can gravity control
things this beautiful?
You said it was business, so why did you not come home until the early hours of the morning? You said the meeting went long, but why couldn't you look me in the eye? Your lies were more obvious than you thought they were, precious, but I was too blinded by the love I thought was true to take notice. But tell me, darling, behind your pretty mask, under your calloused fingers and effortless voice, did you ever truly love me? or was it all just a game to you?
When you sat across from me at the coffee shop, when you were wearing your beige knit sweater and light blue jeans, when you taught me how hot chocolate with marshmallows should really be enjoyed, was it all a set up? Did you really care when you asked for my phone number because you thought we would have a good time together at coffee dates, when we were compatible in every way; did you really want to hold my hand, or was that a trick too?
How much were you paid, sweet pea? It must have been lots, because you were really convincing. On our first official date, I was really happy when you held my hand under the table while talking to your friends who just hopped into the car with us. I was ecstatic when you kissed my cold nose as the snow fell around your shoulders and made your cheeks so rosy you looked like a little tomato. I got inside my house and smiled until my mouth hurt and didn't sleep due to excitement. Why did you do this to me, when it made me so happy?
is it only me
who sees the snow shift sideways?
it clings to the wind.
It didn't matter to you when my mother died, did it? When I cried myself hoarse so many weeks, you just passively stroked your guitar. You gave me the space I didn't need because my friend told you to. Why did you trust him? He was never with me when a relative died, he had no experience. Why didn't you listen to me call for your comfort? Why didn't you wrap your arm around me when I curled into your side?
If you cared, you would have seen the signs as they crept in. In fact, you should have been the first to notice; you were the one closest to me. We'd been together for two years then, and you still didn't know me at all. Was it odd when I talked to my reflection for a whole hour? or did you even notice?
You looked at me with fear, why? Were you afraid of my love, were you afraid of me finding out what you are? A liar? By the time we were done, you had much more to fear than that, sweetie.
Your name meant craft and interest, didn't it? I spent all of those years thinking your craft was composing and your interest was me; oh, how I was wrong! Yixing. Your name is such a lie, no wonder your friends all called you Lay; they knew calling you your name was false hopes. I didn't want to call you Lay because I thought Yixing was so much prettier. Now I understand why you shook your head when I uttered the one word I thought would be my savior.
the snow is so white,
it is stained too easily;
small things affect it.
I asked people about you, and they said you were the purest person they had ever met. They said if your soul was a color, it would be white, clean. No colors would every seep into it because your good nature would fend it off. But around me, it seems it was slowly being soaked in black. Like it was being submerged under black water and letting it discolor the fabric; when you left me, it seemed to clean itself right back up like magic.
Maybe that wasn't the situation, maybe you were the the purest but you weren't really pure. You were just the best of them. Was that what really happened? Was I fooled into thinking someone could care, was I so naïve I couldn't tell that there's bad in everyone, that no one is ever “good?”
If that is the case, then I'm sorry I took your clean pallet and splattered it with red.
When I wrapped my arms around your throat, why did you insist on gagging? I know you're a liar, and you know you are so why did you keep looking so afriad? You weren't really losing any air, you were faking. Or when the blood seeped through your fingers and onto the white snow? You weren't really hurt!
snow angels indent,
new snow covers up the old;
mistakes are hidden.
Because of you I am locked in a white room, where nothing but white walls stare at me each morning. But I have figured out a game; you would be proud of the rules! They are so crystal clear, just like your soul. Here's how it goes: If I stare at the walls hard enough, a memory of you pops into my head. I see it on the wall, it plays out like a movie. When the movie is finished, I do the special part.
Just before I met you, my friend taught me a new kind of writing. It's called a Haiku. Five seven five, five seven five. And get this, darling: it doesn't need to rhyme! So here's what I do, keep in mind, it's all for you! I scratch the Haikus into the wall. They are never the same, no! And they are all about pure things, my favorite: snow. They are a short version of the movie, but in a special code only I can understand.
Our whole story is written here, yes it is so pretty. The walls are still white, but they are ruined; no longer pristine. The nurse came in and saw it, she saw the red splotches on the walls and my bloody hands, my missing fingernails, and she told everyone. I am now wrapped up in a long shirt with the sleeves tied around my back! I cannot scratch anything else, for I have nothing to do it with! But, sweetheart, I'll find a way. I still have one more to write! I won't leave our story unfinished, because there is one major detail missing from the picture.
but like all pure things,
an ending has to appear.
snow melts in the spring.
a/n: wooohooooo i really like this one a lot omg (luhan killed lay oops)
when the first snow comes
civilians gather 'round,
but they tire fast.
snow is falling down.
how can gravity control
things this beautiful?
You said it was business, so why did you not come home until the early hours of the morning? You said the meeting went long, but why couldn't you look me in the eye? Your lies were more obvious than you thought they were, precious, but I was too blinded by the love I thought was true to take notice. But tell me, darling, behind your pretty mask, under your calloused fingers and effortless voice, did you ever truly love me? or was it all just a game to you?
When you sat across from me at the coffee shop, when you were wearing your beige knit sweater and light blue jeans, when you taught me how hot chocolate with marshmallows should really be enjoyed, was it all a set up? Did you really care when you asked for my phone number because you thought we would have a good time together at coffee dates, when we were compatible in every way; did you really want to hold my hand, or was that a trick too?
How much were you paid, sweet pea? It must have been lots, because you were really convincing. On our first official date, I was really happy when you held my hand under the table while talking to your friends who just hopped into the car with us. I was ecstatic when you kissed my cold nose as the snow fell around your shoulders and made your cheeks so rosy you looked like a little tomato. I got inside my house and smiled until my mouth hurt and didn't sleep due to excitement. Why did you do this to me, when it made me so happy?
is it only me
who sees the snow shift sideways?
it clings to the wind.
It didn't matter to you when my mother died, did it? When I cried myself hoarse so many weeks, you just passively stroked your guitar. You gave me the space I didn't need because my friend told you to. Why did you trust him? He was never with me when a relative died, he had no experience. Why didn't you listen to me call for your comfort? Why didn't you wrap your arm around me when I curled into your side?
If you cared, you would have seen the signs as they crept in. In fact, you should have been the first to notice; you were the one closest to me. We'd been together for two years then, and you still didn't know me at all. Was it odd when I talked to my reflection for a whole hour? or did you even notice?
You looked at me with fear, why? Were you afraid of my love, were you afraid of me finding out what you are? A liar? By the time we were done, you had much more to fear than that, sweetie.
Your name meant craft and interest, didn't it? I spent all of those years thinking your craft was composing and your interest was me; oh, how I was wrong! Yixing. Your name is such a lie, no wonder your friends all called you Lay; they knew calling you your name was false hopes. I didn't want to call you Lay because I thought Yixing was so much prettier. Now I understand why you shook your head when I uttered the one word I thought would be my savior.
the snow is so white,
it is stained too easily;
small things affect it.
I asked people about you, and they said you were the purest person they had ever met. They said if your soul was a color, it would be white, clean. No colors would every seep into it because your good nature would fend it off. But around me, it seems it was slowly being soaked in black. Like it was being submerged under black water and letting it discolor the fabric; when you left me, it seemed to clean itself right back up like magic.
Maybe that wasn't the situation, maybe you were the the purest but you weren't really pure. You were just the best of them. Was that what really happened? Was I fooled into thinking someone could care, was I so naïve I couldn't tell that there's bad in everyone, that no one is ever “good?”
If that is the case, then I'm sorry I took your clean pallet and splattered it with red.
When I wrapped my arms around your throat, why did you insist on gagging? I know you're a liar, and you know you are so why did you keep looking so afriad? You weren't really losing any air, you were faking. Or when the blood seeped through your fingers and onto the white snow? You weren't really hurt!
snow angels indent,
new snow covers up the old;
mistakes are hidden.
Because of you I am locked in a white room, where nothing but white walls stare at me each morning. But I have figured out a game; you would be proud of the rules! They are so crystal clear, just like your soul. Here's how it goes: If I stare at the walls hard enough, a memory of you pops into my head. I see it on the wall, it plays out like a movie. When the movie is finished, I do the special part.
Just before I met you, my friend taught me a new kind of writing. It's called a Haiku. Five seven five, five seven five. And get this, darling: it doesn't need to rhyme! So here's what I do, keep in mind, it's all for you! I scratch the Haikus into the wall. They are never the same, no! And they are all about pure things, my favorite: snow. They are a short version of the movie, but in a special code only I can understand.
Our whole story is written here, yes it is so pretty. The walls are still white, but they are ruined; no longer pristine. The nurse came in and saw it, she saw the red splotches on the walls and my bloody hands, my missing fingernails, and she told everyone. I am now wrapped up in a long shirt with the sleeves tied around my back! I cannot scratch anything else, for I have nothing to do it with! But, sweetheart, I'll find a way. I still have one more to write! I won't leave our story unfinished, because there is one major detail missing from the picture.
but like all pure things,
an ending has to appear.
snow melts in the spring.
a/n: wooohooooo i really like this one a lot omg (luhan killed lay oops)