A Mending Morning
Title: A Mending Morning
Author: Sasha
Pairing: SeJun
Rating: PG-15
A part of "Upon Which Kaisoo is the Voice of Reasons (and Actually Being Sensible)"
From where he’s perched on the armrest by the window, he can see thin garlands of faint morning light streaming into the quiet bedroom. Particles of dust dance under their scrutiny, floating up, and down, then up again, moving to an unheard rhythm, controlled by an unseen force. With a small leap, he steps off the chair to move closer to the covered window, his bare feet barely making any sound at all. The bottom of his slightly too long pajama drags across the swept floor as he moves. His pale fingers reach for the edge of the curtains, and with a sharp wrench, he tugs it sideways to let in more light.
The sky isn’t as bright as he expected it to be, the chirping of the birds not as loud. It’s early in the morning. Too early, yet the other bed in the room is already empty, its occupant nowhere to be seen. He stands still, his face slowly getting warmed by the little sunshine there is, looking out as he waits patiently.
There. Those footsteps.
There was a time where the sound of every unseen footstep had him wishing for the face he got used to for so long. It had become a habit, waiting for him to step into the room, and nuzzle his face into the bed he loved so much, and grumble somewhat inaudibly, whether his day was good, or bad. He had gotten used to it, and at one point, started to crave for it, waiting with jittery fingers until he could hear his steps, then the creak of a door.
There. The creak of a door.
Normally, he would make a beeline for his bed once he entered the shared room, and go mess with Sehun’s hair only after his silly little rendezvous with the bed. Sehun had always thought that he loved that bed of his more than he ever loved him. If he did ever love Sehun at all. Sehun couldn’t tell, and maybe will never be able to tell. Luhan has always been quite cryptic. With him, at least. He doesn’t seem to be very cryptic nowadays, and Sehun can only guess why.
Sehun let out a soft sigh at the thought.
He can almost hear the brows furrowing in concern behind him, and the small noise of plastic rustling as the person holding it shifted a bit in his place by the doorway. When he turns around, he knows he’s not going to see a mass of blonde hair, and a smile that makes those eyes crinkle until deep lines seem to embed themselves on his face. When he turns around, he’s not going to hear a sentence in a slightly accented Korean, or the occasional curse words in Chinese. When he turns around, his heart’s not going to feel like it was going to jump out of his chest and fall onto the floor for him to pick up.
No. Instead, when he turns around, his heart is going to fill up with warmth, and he’ll for some reason he doesn’t know himself, let out an automatic laughter that will always leave the other man in utter confusion.
When he does turn around, his hand still clutching the curtains, the other man looks up tentatively at him, then at the plastic bag marked with a minimarket logo in his hold.
“Um, I got you something from the store,” he said softly, his feet shuffling in uncertainty.
And as always, Sehun lets out his giggle of a laughter that will always leave Junmyeon looking puzzled and bewildered. He releases his grip on the thick material and takes a step closer to his roommate for now.
“Thank you.”
His mind is in order. His heart is warm. He feels content.
He’ll be okay.
Author: Sasha
Pairing: SeJun
Rating: PG-15
A part of "Upon Which Kaisoo is the Voice of Reasons (and Actually Being Sensible)"
From where he’s perched on the armrest by the window, he can see thin garlands of faint morning light streaming into the quiet bedroom. Particles of dust dance under their scrutiny, floating up, and down, then up again, moving to an unheard rhythm, controlled by an unseen force. With a small leap, he steps off the chair to move closer to the covered window, his bare feet barely making any sound at all. The bottom of his slightly too long pajama drags across the swept floor as he moves. His pale fingers reach for the edge of the curtains, and with a sharp wrench, he tugs it sideways to let in more light.
The sky isn’t as bright as he expected it to be, the chirping of the birds not as loud. It’s early in the morning. Too early, yet the other bed in the room is already empty, its occupant nowhere to be seen. He stands still, his face slowly getting warmed by the little sunshine there is, looking out as he waits patiently.
There. Those footsteps.
There was a time where the sound of every unseen footstep had him wishing for the face he got used to for so long. It had become a habit, waiting for him to step into the room, and nuzzle his face into the bed he loved so much, and grumble somewhat inaudibly, whether his day was good, or bad. He had gotten used to it, and at one point, started to crave for it, waiting with jittery fingers until he could hear his steps, then the creak of a door.
There. The creak of a door.
Normally, he would make a beeline for his bed once he entered the shared room, and go mess with Sehun’s hair only after his silly little rendezvous with the bed. Sehun had always thought that he loved that bed of his more than he ever loved him. If he did ever love Sehun at all. Sehun couldn’t tell, and maybe will never be able to tell. Luhan has always been quite cryptic. With him, at least. He doesn’t seem to be very cryptic nowadays, and Sehun can only guess why.
Sehun let out a soft sigh at the thought.
He can almost hear the brows furrowing in concern behind him, and the small noise of plastic rustling as the person holding it shifted a bit in his place by the doorway. When he turns around, he knows he’s not going to see a mass of blonde hair, and a smile that makes those eyes crinkle until deep lines seem to embed themselves on his face. When he turns around, he’s not going to hear a sentence in a slightly accented Korean, or the occasional curse words in Chinese. When he turns around, his heart’s not going to feel like it was going to jump out of his chest and fall onto the floor for him to pick up.
No. Instead, when he turns around, his heart is going to fill up with warmth, and he’ll for some reason he doesn’t know himself, let out an automatic laughter that will always leave the other man in utter confusion.
When he does turn around, his hand still clutching the curtains, the other man looks up tentatively at him, then at the plastic bag marked with a minimarket logo in his hold.
“Um, I got you something from the store,” he said softly, his feet shuffling in uncertainty.
And as always, Sehun lets out his giggle of a laughter that will always leave Junmyeon looking puzzled and bewildered. He releases his grip on the thick material and takes a step closer to his roommate for now.
“Thank you.”
His mind is in order. His heart is warm. He feels content.
He’ll be okay.