#𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄: thr.

[taexmi-blog]

heart palpitation.

sehunxmi:

being a doctor isn’t as glamorous as those on the outside make it out to be. television stills and stock photos of doctors with their shiny white coats and smiles painted permanently on their face could not be further from the picture that is oh sehun as he wearily places his head on the wheel just as he kills the engine, fatigue coating his bones in irrefutable ways. loss was always difficult for someone who worked to fight against death itself, and that of a child was always hard to stomach.

even more so when it was partially his fault.

eventually — he doesn’t know how long he’s been listlessly sitting there — glassy eyes open again, and the tiredness that coats his body lifts for a brief moment, enough for him to pull himself together and out of the car, briefcase in hand. heart heavy, he trudges up and towards his home, only to see a shadowy figure leaning against the brick outside. he can tell who it is simply from the slender silhouette, and while sehun would have been happy to see the other on any other occasion, nothing was really sitting well with him at the moment.

“taeyong,” the name comes out as a hoarse whisper, evident of the day’s struggles. “what are you doing here.” it’s a statement, not a question; he doesn’t want to know the answer. he was tired, and he needed to be alone. but taeyong knows him well enough to step forward when sehun is the one taking two steps back, and the next words that come out of his mouth comfort him slightly, but not enough. swallowing against the lump in his throat, he simply tightens the fist around the handle of his bag as he blinks against the heat welting in his eyes, not wanting to say anything he would regret at the moment.

“please leave.”  he chokes out instead – he doesn’t even know if taeyong could hear him past the grating rasp in his voice, but hopefully, hopefully he understands.

there’s a crevasse within him that speaks of how he should not get attached to a man that has never had full attention fixated on taeyong. yet, he chooses to not listen to this voice of reason, knowing fully well that he’s going to get his ankle ensnared in a mess one day. this is how much he comprehends about sehun: an adult, somehow functional in his own ways, all synthetic heart with pulse beating languidly. and it doesn’t even beat for taeyong. but this is how much he comprehends about himself: stubborn to a fault, wearing his heart on his sleeve to the point where it’s almost risible.

so, here he is, waiting for the man to come home even when it’s nothing if not irregular. the thoughts of sehun have pervaded too much for him to settle. all his mights pointed him here, to the spot where he can simply seat himself on the paved sidewalk, waiting for the doctor to return home. it’s getting late. on his defense, he doesn’t have classes tomorrow. and he misses sehun it aches. how does a man, a boy, know fully well that he’s going to fling himself deep into an abyss, still follow his guts like this? he’s irrational, he understands this, yet he’s still there clinging to the solid hopes that sehun would be... at least neutral about his presence. sure, he doesn’t want to be a nuisance, so if sehun asks him to leave—

well, that’d be hurtful. he doesn’t have more time to ruminate about it, nevertheless, as the car stops on the curb. there’s no sehun exiting it, regardless of how certain taeyong is that it is sehun’s car. perhaps it’s been rough for sehun — perks of being a pessimist, inevitably thinking of the worse. being a doctor is not easy, especially when sehun happens to be a surgeon. to have people’s lives at stake under his care, that’s something that taeyong doesn’t want to afford himself growing up; one of the reasons why he stepped out of nis, really. and he waits, still. he’s not moving until the sound of sehun coming closer invades his focus.

there’s no smile, as expected. sehun looks worn, and there’s almost blatant lethargy written all over his face, stature. for that, taeyong wants to step away. he knows he will be asked to step away, too, when sehun’s question sounds more like a statement. he opens his mouth, about to apologize, when sehun croaks out the request. it takes him two seconds to remain stunned, before swallowing his words. “it wasn’t your fault,” he says, hoping he’s right. “but i will. just... let me know if you need anything — if i can help with anything. i’m... i’m sorry, hyung.”   ( @sehunxmi )