"Even when a star dies, it gives birth to another one. It's mere existence is life and growth. One day I wish to be as infinite as the stars. To exist forever, if at least in their hearts."
When you left, you were not looking for a savior.
When he...
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They leave you behind.
As you watch them go, you can't help but be reminded of that which you have lost. The sight of their hand linked together shocks you with a pain deep in your heart. Ignoring the lump turning in your throat, you bat away your memories, and try to rise and wave goodbye.
Keyword....TRIED.
"Oh, no you don't," Taehyung says as he pushes on your shoulders, sitting you back down.
You plump down on the wall, tilting your head up to glare at him. He meets it with a look of his own, before slowly bringing the ice up to his face, and grinning almost manically. You roll your eyes, leaning back, and he chuckles, positioning himself on the ground with the ice.
"So, what were you telling those kids anyway?"
You sigh, taking out your sketchbook once more as he tries his hardest to open the bag. You only need one pencil at the moment to finish the drawing, so as you bring it out, you smother your smile at his struggle, resisting the urge to mutter karma underneath your breath.
"Nothing much....just a story they asked me to tell." You explain, not wanting to draw attention to your drawing or have him looking at it any closer than he has to. There's something about him looking into it, about him seeing what you can see that scares you.
"Are you okay?" His voice breaks you out of your thoughts and you blink, looking up at him, and finding his eyes mere inches from yours. His hand rests on your knee as he pushes himself up to meet your gaze, his long dark eyelashes fluttering as he blinks. As you slowly nod, he pulls away, chuckling. "For a moment there, I thought I lost you. Where did you go?"
"Nowhere. I was just...spacing out I guess." You say, shrugging it off, and resuming your preparation. You twirl your pencil in your hand, smirking as Tae finally opens the bag, the contents inside spraying out in an explosion. He lets out a surprised splutter, and you release a small laugh before turning away and starting your lazy task of filling in the last minute details of your work.
He brings some of the ice out of the massive bag and places it inside one of the many plastic Ziploc bags he had hidden in his backpack. Why he has Ziploc bags in there, you don't know, but who are you to judge when you have "emergency towels" in yours? Once he closes the bag, he turns to your foot, which you have delicately placed over your right leg to rest it. He reaches for it, but hesitates, looking up at you.
"Ummm...may I? That is to say, is it okay if I....ummm..." he asks a bit uncomfortably, and you raise your eyebrow at him over your sketchbook, smirking a bit just to tease him. He doesn't move, his hand held in an awkward hovering position over your foot, and you try to resist the urge to laugh at the uncomfortable look on his face.
"I suppose. That is if you don't mind the stink." You remark, and he wrinkles his nose at you. You chuckle as he turns away, preparing to pull off your shoe.
