Swing Set
Title Swing Set
Paring Sekai
Rating PG
Summary: Sehun's existence, for Jongin, is solely like their swing set. A memory frozen in time and nothing more.
They always sit on the same swings at sunset. Sehun on the left, Jongin on the right. The sky is deep shade of pink and orange by the time Jongin arrives. Behind them it’s already turned into soft shades of purple and blue. Jongin is always late these days. He had things to do and people to see is what he says every time when he shows up and the sky is almost navy blue and dotted with stars, but he never says what things or which people.
All Sehun does is dig his toes a little deeper into the sand, coating them in the cold coarse grains of ground shells and rocks. Sometimes he wonders how many little creatures abandoned their homes to make the sand. Most of the time he wonders when Jongin will just stop showing up.
Other times, Jongin’s there early, waiting for Sehun’s silent arrival. Listening attentively for the quiet slide of his bare feet in the sand and the rustling of his jeans. The sound of Sehun’s approach is almost always drowned out by the hum of passing cars behind him and the rolling waves lapping up the ocean shore in front of him. The creaking of metal rusted links is the only true sign that Sehun has shown up as he sinks himself down into the curve of the rubber and curls his fingers around the chains that hold him up.
Jongin always starts the conversation.
Together, they talk about how they fall apart and how Jongin seemingly moves forward while Sehun moves backward, but in reality they’re both rooted to the same spot. Physically they grow, bodies getting lean or getting fat, fingernails that need clipping, hair that needs cutting, skin that seems to wrinkle a little more with each passing day. Mentally, they’re stuck on a moment ten years ago when everything seemed perfect and then suddenly was not.
They preserve these moments on the swing set. Sitting for hours in silence or in quiet undertones of chatter until the moon rises too high in the sky and Jongin’s watch keeps ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. And he has to go because there are still things he has to do and people are waiting for him even if Sehun has nothing to do but watch the shadows of the night as they suck Jongin in the further he walks away. Unlike Jongin, no one waiting for him.
He watches the outline of Jongin’s body as it dissipates into endless shades of blue and eventually city lights and the sound of footsteps becomes the swirl of the ocean breeze and the hungry waves.
Only then, when there’s nothing left but maybe the lingering trace of a kiss on his cheek and ruffled hair, does Sehun look out at the ocean, and wonder if maybe he should just let it wash him away because he will never be on that list of things to do and people to see. Sehun’s existence, for Jongin, is solely like their swing set. A memory frozen in time, and nothing more.
A/N: I don't even know what on earth I just wrote........
Paring Sekai
Rating PG
Summary: Sehun's existence, for Jongin, is solely like their swing set. A memory frozen in time and nothing more.
They always sit on the same swings at sunset. Sehun on the left, Jongin on the right. The sky is deep shade of pink and orange by the time Jongin arrives. Behind them it’s already turned into soft shades of purple and blue. Jongin is always late these days. He had things to do and people to see is what he says every time when he shows up and the sky is almost navy blue and dotted with stars, but he never says what things or which people.
All Sehun does is dig his toes a little deeper into the sand, coating them in the cold coarse grains of ground shells and rocks. Sometimes he wonders how many little creatures abandoned their homes to make the sand. Most of the time he wonders when Jongin will just stop showing up.
Other times, Jongin’s there early, waiting for Sehun’s silent arrival. Listening attentively for the quiet slide of his bare feet in the sand and the rustling of his jeans. The sound of Sehun’s approach is almost always drowned out by the hum of passing cars behind him and the rolling waves lapping up the ocean shore in front of him. The creaking of metal rusted links is the only true sign that Sehun has shown up as he sinks himself down into the curve of the rubber and curls his fingers around the chains that hold him up.
Jongin always starts the conversation.
Together, they talk about how they fall apart and how Jongin seemingly moves forward while Sehun moves backward, but in reality they’re both rooted to the same spot. Physically they grow, bodies getting lean or getting fat, fingernails that need clipping, hair that needs cutting, skin that seems to wrinkle a little more with each passing day. Mentally, they’re stuck on a moment ten years ago when everything seemed perfect and then suddenly was not.
They preserve these moments on the swing set. Sitting for hours in silence or in quiet undertones of chatter until the moon rises too high in the sky and Jongin’s watch keeps ticking. Tick. Tick. Tick. And he has to go because there are still things he has to do and people are waiting for him even if Sehun has nothing to do but watch the shadows of the night as they suck Jongin in the further he walks away. Unlike Jongin, no one waiting for him.
He watches the outline of Jongin’s body as it dissipates into endless shades of blue and eventually city lights and the sound of footsteps becomes the swirl of the ocean breeze and the hungry waves.
Only then, when there’s nothing left but maybe the lingering trace of a kiss on his cheek and ruffled hair, does Sehun look out at the ocean, and wonder if maybe he should just let it wash him away because he will never be on that list of things to do and people to see. Sehun’s existence, for Jongin, is solely like their swing set. A memory frozen in time, and nothing more.
A/N: I don't even know what on earth I just wrote........