Solstice | Sehun
Genre: Fantasy ; reallymild!Angst ; ahintof!Fluff
Description: Tied to the skies. In a constant persecution with time. More than five centuries ago had been their last time together. She remembered. He did not. He thought she resembled starlight. For her, he was time. There’s a beginning to every end and this was theirs. Their own little solstice.
Word Count: 3315
Author’s Note: Hello there °^° So I’ve been dying to do this for so long, I cri Y^Y But yay, I did it. Now, the thing is, for this specific oneshot I have not given any name to the OC/main character because..well that’s how it went so far lmao, so this can certainly be read as SehunXReader only that it’s in third person. I’m also planning on continuing it (well more like the prequel) so I really hope you e n j o y *^*
Her reflection, she realized. She had changed.
No longer was her hair that deep indigo velvet, delicately curled at the tips which at that time had appeared much more brighter under the light, as if set ablaze in incandescent blue fire. It now flowed in quite blinding waves of white or a yellow so light that seemed to not be there at all. It looked much shorter, too, as it used to reach down to her abdomen but now ended a quite some inches above her ribcage, where fiery blue ends met the pristine white of her uniform.
Style, she remembered Ha-Jun lecturing her so long ago she could barely recall, changed through the epochs, and so would she.
“So this is normal,” she mumbled in amusement, not only at her outlandish hair (not that she could get more outlandish) but also at the bizarre attire that seemed to barely cover her– she’d very much gotten used to the traditional hanbok.
Granted, she had had some not-so-very-enjoyable experiences regarding her appearance before, now she couldn’t help but be wary. It seemed to her almost being thrown into a dungeon to be studied for eternity for having the slightest hint of blue on her seemingly mundane black hair hadn’t been enough, for she now carried, in a way, her personal neon sign that simply screamed ‘look, I’m not normal’.
Though as she stepped away from the mirror, startled by the restroom door being suddenly oppened, her jaw gave away her utter amusement as it slacked wide open.
Stars, it actually is normal! She thought upon seeing the approaching girl’s bright pink hair. She couldn’t hide her shock. Oh, how times had changed!
Pinky looked at her from the corner of her eye, applying some lip tint as she did so, and she forced her mouth shut and rushed out from the stall.
Everything looked so very much different it pained her. She didn’t know why, it just did. Perhaps she’d been expecting things to be the same. Perhaps, over it all, she expected him to be the same.
With a sharp intake of air, she returned to what she’d been doing the last hours. Hopes crumbling ever so slightly every step she took, realizing there couldn’t possibly be a way he’d stayed the same. Perhaps if it’d been a century. But more than five hundred years undoubtedly would have to change a person.
She frowned at the thought. No, he hadn’t changed. He’d died and been reborn, as every creature on Earth had done so at least once. Not that she had much knowledge about that, only what Ha-Jun had told her the times they’d met. That every human was bound to die; their body’s to perish, but their soul to remain. That there was someone to decide upon them, to assign a waiting period for, what should be right to call, reincarnation. And that every hundred years or so they’d be able to return down to the earth that saw them grow and then not.
Only that she had had to wait more than a century for that to happen.
She’d lost count after the fifth.
But now she stood there under that very same sky and that’s all that mattered. Perhaps it was the only thing that hadn’t changed, the sky, with its gorgeous hues of blues and greys and whites. And with the astonishing shades of everything and all that could graze its ever flowing canvas.
Indeed, the sky appeared to be the only that hadn’t changed after all those years. Yes, she had spent five centuries with her mind and heart wired to the ground yet it hadn’t been long enough for her to realize the way her, as she called it, ‘second home’ was transformed.
People walked upright (no longer were their heads lowered as symbol of reverence), she noticed, no one seemed to hold any sort of superior power as to be treated with due respect– although surely there seemed to be some that weren’t taken so lightly, she assumed they were higher scholars of some sort. There was no one to call “Majesty” either, or “Empress”– they called themselves bizarre names she’d never heard before. Certainly, their clothing wasn’t like anything she remembered, nothing she could imagine. And the buildings, ever eccentric, seemed out of that world– well, at least the world she had come to know– rigid and impecable as she crossed something she’d heard being called ‘campus’.
Judging from the number of youth that strode through the area, she could only help but assume she was walking through some form of educational institution.
She smiled in realization. His dreams had seemed to follow through all those centuries. His undying wish for learning was still there. Maybe he hadn’t changed much.
And so she carried out her route, hoping to see the one she’d been waiting for the longest. It often felt as if she’d been waiting for him her whole life. Part of her realized she shouldn’t be too naive and reprimanded herself for it. He had left her once– well, she had but that didn’t change the situation the slightest bit. She knew she had to leave, she must. She was bound to it, either way. But the opportunity had been given to her and she had not let it pass. Knowing the pain that will cause her to eventually leave, she had not let it pass.
But now she stood there in the very earth she once met more than five centuries ago and realized that there was the unbearable possibility of him not recognizing her. Of course, he wouldn’t. She silently cursed at herself, stopping by a big pannel of recently polished glass that held her reflection. She looked different. Not quite, but different. She’d grown a couple of inches taller and appeared the slightest bit slimmer. Her facial features, in a way, portrayed innocence. Puffy cheeks remained from those years ago, still dusted by a light shade of pink. Her lips seemed just a tad bit fuller, however, and the skin under her bottom line lash had become more noticeable, as if to accentuate purity. Her eyes had changed a bit, too, though for her it made the biggest difference– apart from her hair, that is. They had become less sharper, much wider. Light brown irises with green accents now replaced deep browns that once leant towards black.
But no, her appearance was not the only reason he could have forgotten her. Indeed it wasn’t, for it was as if he’d never known her in the first place. He’d been reborn and that’s all there was to it. He wasn’t born with memories from his previous live, he couldn’t have, he shouldn’t. And she knew that for a fact.
Yet it didn’t matter. She’d been waiting for him for more than five hundred years and she wouldn’t back down now that she could feel him so close by. Those years she’d waited, days broken into hours, hours broken into minutes, minutes into seconds, had all been worth it. It’s as if all that time had only been leading to this moment, to him. As if the only force on the earth and the sky and the stars had had as its sole purpose to run the hands of the ever ticking clock of her life that would carry her to him.
She saw it as so sickeningly sweet, her longing for him. And she hurt, too. She had loved him, with all that she was and would be, she had. For as long as the stars above could live, she had. But the sacrifice she’d made for him had been too much. She wondered what it would have been like if she had been more greedy. If she’d let herself have her way for once. If she hadn’t had to follow the rules that tied her up to the sky.
Perhaps she would have regretted it. And as much as she sometimes felt that she’d been the only one to sacrifice something– to sacrifice him, she knew that was in no way the truth. She had sacrificed herself for him, gone as far as to risk her life but she knew if she had the chance she would have done it again, over and over. And it gave her a sense of pride, too, because she knew it hadn’t entirely been for him but for her too.
And her. She hadn’t forgotten her either, she still remembered. How could she have not, when it was her who had began all of it. Who had granted her, instead of the other way around, one of her uttermost wishes. Who had allowed her to meet him. And who had also, in a way, taken him away from her. It had never bred any kind of rencor, however. She had loved her– she still did, and known she could make him happy. And she had. And that had only made her feel she’d made the right choice.
But now, she realized. Now that there wasn’t anyone whom she’d have to serve, now that she wasn’t– not literally, although she still, in a way, was– tied to the heavens, could she be a bit more greedy?
A moving blur on the mirror suddenly caught her attention. For a moment she thought she saw someone similar to him. What had she got to lose? She followed that person– well, followed his traces. Her eyes couldn’t see clearly. The ever growing crowd. The blazing sun. The anticipation that traveled through her veins as she took each step.
One. Now, she’d begun to count. Two. Like all those years of waiting. Three. Her steps toward him. Four. It seemed as if she’d only done that, count the timeless distance, measure the ticking clock, for the day they meet again. Five. How long could it take, she didn’t know. Six. Perhaps as long as those centuries. Seven. It appeared her life was long to be dictated and thorned by time as she tried to escape it. Eight. Or was it reach for it?
Whichever it was, she was now running. Fifty. Maybe it was not about time. A hundred. Neither was she fleeing nor pursuing. Two hundred. She knew it’d take thousands of centuries to reach her end. Three hundred. Perhaps… Five hundred. It was all about hi–
She almost fell into place as a thight grip tugged at her wrist and pulled her off into wherever.
“Who are you and why are you following me?”
She looked up, startled, a current of searing fire, hotter than any star, scorching her ever so lightly from the inside out. Her face paled notably and despite the burning sensation that had become of her, her skin remained cold to her except the part that connected to his.
Oh Sehun. Have you been waiting too?
He hadn’t chaged much, she realized, as he held her– knowing, too, that even if he had she would have been able to recognize him either way. Sehun was like the kind of people you’ll never forget. The kind of people you’ll never want to forget. He was light, he was air. He could be darkness, too; she’d found so about him and it had been frightening the way his eyes reflected what laid in the very depths of him. He was time.
Time. Centuries. That he was. He was each and every second it took for the heavens to bring him back to her, for her to find her way to him. He was everything that was worth to be there that very moment. He was the gentle grip he kept on her wrist that managed to wake her up after centuries of numbness and cold. Because at the end, he was still, him.
“So?” He demanded a response. And her heart swelled content because he hadn’t changed much. He appeared to be of the same height, however, his skin seemed to glow the lightest shade of golden, no longer was it a pearly white. Raven black hair had been replaced with a warm yellow, much like gold, and she realized it had been those wild black locks of his that had made his skin look much paler. His eyes seemed brighter, too, like clear tides from the ocean and though it seemed a bit artificial (causing her to wonder which type of artifact could transform the color of your eyes), she couldn’t help but gawk in adoration at how breathtakingly beautiful he was.
“Wait, why are you crying?”
Because I found you.
The rigidness behind his voice seemed to vanish as concern occupied it, only causing her to silently sob on the back of her hand.
“Look, you were the one who was following me, I don’t understand why you find yourself the victim here,” he reasoned, though he looked as guilty as he felt for making a girl he’d never met before cry. He didn’t notice, but his thumb began to unconsciously rub faint circles on the back of her wrist– which he had yet to release– as to sooth her.
Feeling it, she drew her hand back, a bit too harshly, causing an apologetic expression to reach his features. She couldn’t get too comfortable, too close. She knew she’d have to leave eventually. It’d happened before. But what if it doesn’t now? What if you’re a bit greedy?
She shook the thoughts away and inhaled deeply, later to smile as radiantly as she could. “I’m not crying, see?”
It’d just been a few words and Sehun could not understand why his pulse, though just the slightest, had picked up so suddenly. He cracked a smile, “Well, it didn’t much look like that just now.”
“That has already passed, you can forget now” she said. The words weighed down on her, there was something obscure about them, perhaps reality dripping from them like venom, causing a sour taste at the back of her throat.
He frowned, but chuckled. Stars, how she’d missed that. “How can you forget something that just began?”
She shaked her head, white locks flowing from side to side. “You can’t, that’s true. But it didn’t begin. It ended. That’s why you must forget.”
In a way, she did want him to forget what had just happened. He’d only seen her cry once in her life; he’d said how much it had hurt, that he’d rather put himself under any kind of physical pain than see her cry again. And she would never want that.
“But isn’t there always a beginning to an end?”
“You think so?” She could hardly keep her voice from wavering. This could be the beginning to our end. The beginning that comes after our end.
He hummed knowingly, despite sounding a bit conceited he was honest, even more so as he smiled afterwards.
“Then,” she proceeded with a nod, not too big strides evaluating the waters as she tested him. Have you been waiting like I have? “You’re saying we shouldn’t forget what’s happened, even after it has come to an end, because something will follow–” Sehun nodded confidently, a smile tugged at her lips at how he seemed to not have changed much– ever so poised and stubborn, a tad bit cheeky. Even as he now glimmered gold under the sky, as he now seemed to not know her, he was still him. And perchance he was different in some ways too, but that’s what she wanted to see. She wanted to learn each detail of him, every little element that made him him, from the new ones to the certainly not so new ones; the ones that had remained she wanted to memorize and engrave in the stars, in her heart and her soul for eternity and beyond; those she hadn’t had the chance to behold all those years ago she wanted to embrace and cherish and never let go, for they were the remnats of what they had once been; and the ones that made him different from his past self, though she doubted they really made him in any way much different, those she wanted to encounter in this life, the lives to come, even, for she knew her time could no longer run out. For she knew he had become her time.
And so, with the lightest of hearts, a feeling of pure bliss in her chest resonating against her ribcage, she decided to tease him. “–Or, you don’t want to forget I cried because you feel terribly bad for being the one who caused it.”
He ceased to nod (his head had been following the same up and down since she had turned) and his features turned like the one’s of an innocent culprit. “I did no– It wasn’t me!” He whined. Then, his eyes widened and he pointed his finger in accusation, “You were the one following me!”
She heard him mutter something about “having admirers but that being a bit too much” and she felt like crying from both gratefulness and exasperation. Stars, he really hadn’t changed.
She looked at his both shocked and shockingly beautiful expression and turned on her heel. Maybe you, too, have been waiting for me.
“W-Wait, are you just leaving?” His eyes wide as he watched her walk away, unbearably slowly. “You, uh, whatever your name is–” Sehun caught himself reaching for the girl he’d never seen before, stopping promptly. Yes, he hadn’t seen her before, that was for sure. But why did it feel otherwise? As if, in a way, she’d been there all along and just now had he realized how it was to see her leave. He felt a bit cold and that frightened him the slightest but he remained composed. Han Sehun never lost composure.
“What if I told you,“ she’d come to a halt, a few feet away, and he suppressed that little feeling that prickled at him to move in some sort of way and reach for her. “That a beginning to an end could not come but after centuries. Countless of them,” she said, and it came more like a whisper than anything. “Would you say it’s still worth remembering?“
He did not understand what she exactly meant by that, and, to be completely honest, Sehun found the girl rather strange, out of that world. Or any world, for that matter. She glowed in her own personal kind of way though it was something he’d never seen before. And something, he realized, he knew he’d want to see again. And the air that surrounded her, it seemed to be embedded with that kind of surrealism that she was. And an unearthly light radiated off from her very self, he concluded, much like that of starlight.
And though he hadn’t understood, he found a one and only answer. A mere three-syllable cluster of naught he felt he’d been meaning to say centuries back, as if it all had come to that and only that.