「 love someone back to life ↠ seo changbin 」
“Hey,” Changbin smiles sheepishly. “I got you flowers.”
He knows flowers and surprises weren’t your thing but still brings a small bouquet of white chrysanthemums. It’s a special occasion, after all, you wouldn’t mind.
“And if you still absolutely hate me for this,” Changbin gets down on one knee and chuckles, the grass underneath still wet from the rain earlier. “It’s Minho’s idea, actually. You would love to see us being civil again.”
Sunlight cuts through the morning clouds, giving them almost a sepia tone, casting the gravestone before his eyes in that nostalgic hue. It’s not one that belongs to the rich, hunks made of marble with fancy gold lettering.
The cold concrete ages slowly, unlike the bones that most likely have turned into nothing but sheer dust. In this place, Changbin can feel you’re so close yet so far away at the same time. His eyes stinge at the immediate thought.
“I did it, Y/N. I forgave the bastard.”
Raw tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down his face and drenching the collar of his shirt. Changbin can feel the muscles of his chin tremble like a child, dropping the bouquet in his hand, knees growing weak. A tiny lapse lets him pull away, blinking lashes heavy with salty droplets before he collapses again as agony rips through his body.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his voice trembles “I should have saved you, I should have told you to stay back when we went to the dungeon but I- I..”
Waves of pain cut off his words right there, making him shake unceasingly. Changbin sobs loudly in complete dead silence, feeling his spine go numb. He can never seem to stop this constant bitterness and urge to mourn whenever he kneels in front of your grave. And even one of the astutest warriors to graze this kingdom, he still feels more helpless than ever.
But how can he not when you’re everywhere he goes, in everyone he sees? How can he escape the past when nightmares keep gnawing at his soul, creeping up inside to remind him that he can never bring you back?
“I’ve become such a big crybaby,” Changbin mumbles.
A whistle of wind passes by, drying the streaks of tears on his face. He clenches his eyes shut and gives in to the gentle touch of the breeze; it feels as though you’re caressing his face with a small “it’s fine this way” because knowing the person he is, he’d blame everything on himself. So Changbin smiles at your name being engraved on the concrete one last time, wipes his cheekbones with the back of his hand and stands up.
“You know, I was going to offer you dinner but you’re looking pretty miserable already.”
“Shut up, Minho,” Changbin laughs a little at his friend’s remark, sniffling. “You’d be nibbling on stale bread every day without your girlfriend’s cooking.”
Minho corrects him with a raised eyebrow, “You mean my wife?”
“You guys act like an old married couple either way,” Changbin scoffs. “Married or not, same thing. And I don’t know about you but I’m going home.”
They say home is where your heart is but what if Changbin’s heart is buried six feet under the ground… with you?
