A Moment In Time | Stray Kids x Reader | Oneshots

⚡Lee Minho - Orange

TW: Mentions of prescription drugs, hospital

Orange. Like the colour of his cat's fur as your delicate fingers stroke through them, gentle purring following. The first time, you had stared at him in awe at how immediate, how positive their response was; the ones he treasured the most, next to someone he learned to treasure.

Orange. Like the flavour of juice he casually passed to you that hot summer day. Flapping your beach heat for some breeze, because the weather offered no such relief with the scorching sand under your toes. At watching you take a sip, his eyes softened. The bittersweet taste tingled on his tongue.

Orange. Like the shimmers of light cast from the sun setting in the horizon. You were gazing at the purple sky dappled with orange, but his eyes were fixed on what they thought was most worth admiring at that moment.

Orange. A dozen different shades floating around you. The pumpkins, the falling leaves, the burning aroma of spiced candle autumn carried every year. He walked with you hand-in-hand, down the cracked stone road riddled with roots and marching ants. Laughter bubbled in the chilly air. Smiles wider than those of the watching jack-o-lanterns.

Orange. The flickering shadows of streetlights reflected off the ambulance's lights. He waited frantically, tapping his foot to a ghost rhythm as the limp figure of your body was carried inside. Someone told him you were breathing, then he stopped, a fog cloud materializing from his sigh. Not long after, he got in his car and followed.

Orange. Everywhere, prescription bottles towered, toppling over the shelves and tables. The bathroom sink, the bedside tables. The contents of which you chugged down, first thing every morning, last thing every night. He could only watch you, from his position in bed, as your face paled with each pill.

Orange. Shrivelled up bouquets of dahlias surrounded your hospital room, once burning red, now a burnt, crinkled orange. Wherein he sat beside your bed. "Not too close" you had tried to warn him, in feeble a state as you may be, but he didn't care. His eyes were glued to your face. He remembered it radiant like the rising sun, not starched and pasty as it was now. And yet, you still tried to smile.

Here in this stiff, sterile room, the only sounds audible were the beeping of the cardio monitors and the pounding of his own heart, so he didn't notice when the beeping pitched, then ceased, causing an alarm to go off and at a moment's notice, the room flooded with nurses again.

He didn't notice, the last rays of sunlight filtering through the hospital window. He didn't notice, when your chest stopped heaving, when your eyes struggling to flutter open.

And he didn't notice, the singular, wilted petal drifting off its bud the same time a tear slipped down his sorrow-stricken scowl.

.....

*A/N: This is different from how I usually write as I was trying out a different structure. I hope I was able to convey it the same way I wanted to.