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| SOS : WHERE ARE THOSE HAPPY DAYS? THEY SEEM SO HARD TO FIND
Guilt gripped you like a vice. If you had only done this or not said that maybe the outcome would’ve been different.
Everyday you went to visit him, hoping that by some miracle he would be awake and you wouldn’t have to whisper out your apology to his unconscious form. Another reminder of the fact.
Chair position next to him, hands gripping his. You mumble out your words, tears welling in your waterline. At any given second they would fall.
“Suho, I’d do anything, please just wake up.”
The grip upon his hand tightened as the tears fell, leaving streak marks across your face. Your head dropping, no longer being able to look at the one you loved. Praying for a miracle, a squeeze of the hand, a breath of air or even better the sound of his voice which used to fill your ears where silence filled that void except for the occasional beep of the machine.
“Remember when you used to take me for rides on your scooter around the city, and that one day we found this secluded park to sit and watch the sunset?”
Beep!
Was all you got in return.
You got up from the chair no longer being able to stand the sight and silence even after so many weeks.
Maybe next time would be different.
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| ANGEL EYES : ONE LOOK AND YOUR HYPNOTIZED
The only sound that could be heard was the sound of one’s breathing. The air around the pair was filled with a comfortable silence. Your hand brushing over his bottom lip with a wet towel, staining it the colour crimson.
Another battle scar to add to his growing collection. The other hand was tucked under his chin keeping his face steady. Thumb rhythmically caressing the apple of his cheek. Those movements gave you both comfort, it grounded you and gave him acknowledgement that someone else really cares for him.
You hoped that after the incident maybe the precarious situation he’d gotten himself into would be one of the past but he somehow kept finding himself in the midst of things. Which would usually end with him having more bruises that could be counted and numerous wounds that you gladly cleaned up.
His own hand reached up and encased yours in his. Sieun wasn’t a man of physical affection but when certain situations called for it, he was willing to give it. Those eyes of his, gazing at you conveyed a message that his mouth could not. Never leaving yours as you patched him up, blinking slowly. You cleaned up his wounds both inwardly and outwardly.
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