[Hunhan] See You On The Other Side

Chapter Seven: [Untitled]

I was struck, unable to speak. But I knew what words were best fit to describe my feelings. When the time came, I would express myself using these words. These words served two purposes.

One? To give my answer on which story I believed.

Two? The purpose can be found in the words themselves.

"Stop bullshitting me."

I gave Luhan a punch on the arm, playful in my intention. In reply, Luhan just looked back at me with those deep brown oceans of his. No words to say, no things to think. Luhan just looked at me, all traces of mischief gone from his eyes. Instead, a new kind of trouble had materialised in its place. He looked close to tears, eyes reddening with the passing seconds.

Realising the impact of my actions, I just backpedalled. Removing my hand from his shoulder, I calmed my tone. "I'm sorry. Both stories were just so improbable." Without warning, tears started to roll down Luhan's cheeks. Raising a hand to wipe his eyes, droplets getting caught in his thick eyelashes. One tear in particular hit me on the wrist, and as my skin soaked up the saline liquid, I felt the feeling of sadness and melancholy soak into my heart.  Washing over me, I myself feel the impulse to cry.

I fought off this feeling, all too familiar.

I remembered all the times I had been hurt, I remembered the family. I remembered the events of the day leading to that family portrait we had taken. I remembered the emotional carnage of what happened after.

But the one thing I remembered most, was her.

I remembered her voice, her touch, her love.

Her betrayal stung more than Luhan's bitter tears ever could.

Feeling a slight pressure on my shoulder, I pulled away from the memories. The cause of the pressure  lay on my shoulder, Luhan's head. Although his eyes were closed, his mind was open; seemingly deep in thought.

The only indicator time was passing was the sky, fading from a soft blue to a washed out grey. Thunder rolled, and like lightning, Luhan's hand shot into mine. His soft curls moved just as quick, and his forehead was now buried in my shoulder.

In the next flash of lightning, the sky changed colour, a symbol of the passage of time. Where before it had been grey, it was now a dark, brooding black-blue.

After all, doesn't everything return to the dark?