sigh lives in a land of floating heads in a warm white abyss

Mysteries are Not to be Solved

He plucks the cigarette from your hand, twirls it between his lithe fingers and brings it to his mouth. A long drawn out breath, his vacancy begs for fulfillment. You watch his ribs open like flower petals. 

“You should stop smoking,” he tells you and smiles ironically at the withered cig still dangling off the ridge of his knee. “It’s bad for you.”

“Why do you do it?”

Sehun holds the stick between his teeth, leans over, ruffling your hair, laughing when you scowl. “Little girls shouldn’t be asking questions.”

“Stop treating me like I’m ten. I’m only two years younger than you.”

“Which makes you practically a fetus.”

“Please,” you reach over and pull it from his teeth, extracting an impatient sigh. “I’m not going to listen to you.”

He turns toward you and—

click 

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