He woke up to another cough, his hand covering his mouth. Slowly lifting the hand away slowly, his eyes landed on the familiar red that filled it, clenching it as if to own this burden – as to own this melodramatic role he was given. When did this ailment began? Was it the day on the roof, the red rose resembling to the red on his fingers? Or was it even before, from the moment they met his tragedy was already sedimented in stone.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder; however this longing isn't sadness. It couldn't be. Nothing could allude to sadness when it came to her. Because she shines so bright, because she was the reason there was still hope left in the world, because of the way she smiles – head slightly tilted, eyes filled with wonder – she represented nothing but happiness. So even when his lungs are collapsing under the crushing weight of what's growing inside, so much so he might as well die on spot, there not even a drop of sadness seeping through the cracks.
Back then when his love called her, there was never an answer. Even if they became louder the response was the same. Was there something wrong with him, despite her becoming further the closer he tried to get, he still wished to approach her with all his might. They were parallel lines, going to the same point but never meeting. Could they ever meet, will they ever meet?
Out of the thousand faces that passed him, she was the one that stood out. Out of everyone he's met, out of every he will meet, and out of everyone he'll never see, love has chosen her. His finger still felt the phantom weight of the ring that use to reside there. Parallel lines can never intersect, they can never be. Whether he will ever truly understand the extent as to why it has to be so doesn't change facts. At the end of the day all he has is the memories that he's piled up beside him. He won't ever see her again.
He could have these feelings removed, but he won't. He can't. He doesn't think he could let go of these feelings.
Love only chose her and had all reason to do so.
Back when, when they would part and he would lie in his bed, his thoughts of her that filled his every day would seep into his dreams. Where all his unfamiliarities would shape into the comforting sound of her laughter. The warmness of it all, the way it's light enough to be carried with the wind and fill the empty spaces in him.
In these dreams, his heart pounded hard enough to fall out of his chest and right before the hand that was reaching out to him. Anticipating too much, his feet make a move before he can actually think, his heart racing to face hers. If he could grasp the tips of those fingers for a split second, that would be enough. But all he is met is air that pierces in between his empty fingers. But his heart won't stop, not even for a second. He's slipping, he's losing her once again. Even in his dreams it's not possible.
On this particular night, the moon is unusually brighter, as he takes in the bittersweet scenery. The wind blows past him, the stars in the dark sky matching the sparkle that is painfully stuck in the crevice of his heart. In this world, where things change, where all he knows abandons him, he stays the same. This world which is leaving him day by day, his longing only grows inside him.
He knew her answer, he knew what she feels inside, and he knows she's gone. And he accepts it. Still, even if this love is done alone, it still fills every precious space in his heart. Even if all his love is for naught; it won't wither, it'll only bloom.
This love will be eternal, he is certain of it.
Pining, he tries to hold the hand that's not there, but he can't reach it. Maybe that's what love really is. Maybe love really is like trying to look for a place that doesn't exist. If so, maybe this love is like the wind, a wind you try to catch but can't have.
He coughed again, this time only petals dancing out of his mouth and on to the floor. He wonders how much time he has, his hand slowly placing on top of his chest. He can feel it growing, he can feel it suffocating him, this love. But this love won't wither, no matter if it fills his lungs. This love will be eternal.
It will only bloom.
A/N: Will I write a song not based on an IU song? Yeah but today's not the day. In actuality this was in my WIPS all the way back when season 2 just finished, so I just polished it up before publishing it.
