𝐇𝐢 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐚! ❣︎ 𝐉𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐚𝐨 ❣︎

Echoes of Heartbreak

Minghao's room was dimly lit, the gentle glow of a single lamp casting soft shadows that danced across the walls. The room was a sanctuary of tranquility, filled with the scent of roses and the lingering warmth of memories. The floor was polished to a mirror-like shine, reflecting Minghao's every graceful movement as he lost himself in the music. His body moved fluidly, every step a silent conversation with the haunting melody that filled the air.

The song was an emotional elegy, a piece that spoke of longing and sorrow with every note. It was as if the music itself was a reflection of Minghao's heartache, each crescendo a reminder of the love he once knew. As he glided and spun in his ballet routine, the fluidity of his movements seemed to echo the tenderness and pain of his memories with Alpha Junhui.

He remembered their first meeting, how Junhui had looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and warmth that had instantly drawn him in. They had spent hours exploring the city's hidden corners, their laughter mingling with the sounds of bustling streets. The joy of those moments was palpable, as vivid now as it had been then.

One memory stood out among the rest: the evening they had spent under the cherry blossoms. The petals had fallen like delicate confetti around them, creating a magical, ephemeral world just for the two of them. Junhui had taken Minghao's hand and whispered promises of forever as they watched the sunset together, the sky a canvas of pinks and oranges.

But time, as it often does, had a way of changing everything. The memories that had once filled him with joy now felt like a cruel reminder of what he had lost. The song reached a heart-wrenching crescendo, its notes soaring with a melancholy that seemed to pierce Minghao's very soul. He could no longer keep up with the dance. His movements became erratic, and then, as if the strength had been drained from his very bones, he collapsed onto the floor.

The music faded, leaving an oppressive silence that seemed to press down on him. Minghao's tears flowed freely, tracing hot trails down his cheeks. They mingled with the dust on the floor, a physical manifestation of his grief. He was unmoved by the mess he made, lost in the pain of a broken heart.

He sat there, enveloped in the hollow quiet, unable to muster the will to rise or even to wipe the tears from his face. The memories of Junhui, once a source of such profound happiness, now weighed heavily on him, a relentless reminder of love that was no more. The music had stopped, but its echo lingered, filling the room with a silent lament for what could never be again.

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