23
sekai, drabble. it's almost five a.m. wooop.
"Just because something is beautiful doesn't mean it's good.", taken from here.
perhaps it's the hollow colour of his eyes that attract him first. he sees someone real in him; uncontrolled and raw and pure, something he's never seen before. he sees the way his eyes never seem to stay focused for too long and how he drifts off to distant places in his mind; places that are far more interesting than lecture hall. perhaps it's the way his lips curve up at the slightest, yet it means nothing to anyone. it means nothing, really, because kai does things but never really means them in the first place. it means nothing to anyone because no one means anything to kai.
yet through the layers of pretenses and lies and nonchalance, sehun notices how tired of everything he is. how broken he might be. yet he doesn't seem to care himself, he just walks and eats and breathes like he's not leaving pieces of himself scattered everywhere.
he's so beautiful. he's simply too real; doesn't even bother to pretend he's interested in his future and doesn't give half a shit about what people may or may not think of him. he just goes on with life as he sees it. sehun sees beauty in that wicked way of smiling he has, or the flicker of annoyance his eyes often carry around. he sees beauty in the way he carries himself, dark circles around his eyes and the occasional bruise on his neck, or even, the limping across hallways.
he's beautifully tragic and sehun loves him for that. kai sometimes loves him back. presses him against a locker, kisses his mouth raw and swollen. leaves him breathless, heartbeat a mess. kai loves him back and tells him his deepest secrets, his darkest fears. then kai continues on living and sehun steps aside. neither of them make an effort to talk, but they always, somehow, end up drifting back together.
he sees damage and beauty in him. sometimes in the way kai stretches his back and yawns, rudely loud for anyone, and then grins to himself. sometimes in the way kai seems to wander off his mind and never truly comeback. then it's just his tired bones and warm skin. he sees beauty in the fact that kai is rugged and undefined and volatile as smoke is. unclean as smoke is. free as wind is.
"Just because something is beautiful doesn't mean it's good.", taken from here.
perhaps it's the hollow colour of his eyes that attract him first. he sees someone real in him; uncontrolled and raw and pure, something he's never seen before. he sees the way his eyes never seem to stay focused for too long and how he drifts off to distant places in his mind; places that are far more interesting than lecture hall. perhaps it's the way his lips curve up at the slightest, yet it means nothing to anyone. it means nothing, really, because kai does things but never really means them in the first place. it means nothing to anyone because no one means anything to kai.
yet through the layers of pretenses and lies and nonchalance, sehun notices how tired of everything he is. how broken he might be. yet he doesn't seem to care himself, he just walks and eats and breathes like he's not leaving pieces of himself scattered everywhere.
he's so beautiful. he's simply too real; doesn't even bother to pretend he's interested in his future and doesn't give half a shit about what people may or may not think of him. he just goes on with life as he sees it. sehun sees beauty in that wicked way of smiling he has, or the flicker of annoyance his eyes often carry around. he sees beauty in the way he carries himself, dark circles around his eyes and the occasional bruise on his neck, or even, the limping across hallways.
he's beautifully tragic and sehun loves him for that. kai sometimes loves him back. presses him against a locker, kisses his mouth raw and swollen. leaves him breathless, heartbeat a mess. kai loves him back and tells him his deepest secrets, his darkest fears. then kai continues on living and sehun steps aside. neither of them make an effort to talk, but they always, somehow, end up drifting back together.
he sees damage and beauty in him. sometimes in the way kai stretches his back and yawns, rudely loud for anyone, and then grins to himself. sometimes in the way kai seems to wander off his mind and never truly comeback. then it's just his tired bones and warm skin. he sees beauty in the fact that kai is rugged and undefined and volatile as smoke is. unclean as smoke is. free as wind is.