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mise-en-scène

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it was on the brink of childhood when byun baekhyun first encountered the likes of a puppy love. he was nine, all cascading innocence and humor, dubbed a “starfish” by bullies when he’d dream of being a “star” – ‘you’re brainless, baekhyun-ah', ‘you won’t even make it past kindergarten!’ and it was enough to make him cry on his knees, always the target victim.





‘why don’t you run away?’

one day, “love” walks on the sandbox, with baekhyun poking away at broken sand castles, but looks up willingly, nonetheless. ‘doesn’t always mean you’ve lost, you know,’ it speaks.

he squints through the glaring rays of the sun, making out a rather vivid image of femininity, baekhyun felt his face burn. he thinks he should keep his mouth shut, count to three, and expect the stranger to walk away or disappear, but the said person wouldn’t, as if he couldn’t. instinctively, he reaches out to shake the stranger’s welcoming hand.

‘i’m thehun—oh thehun,’ he says, squeezing baekhyun’s hand for emphasis, and baekhyun blinks through his bangs because his manner of speaking was rather odd and out-of-place. ‘thehun?’ he asks.

‘mm-hmm. it’th thpelled with an ‘eth’.’

baekhyun giggles in his hands, earning himself a confused smile and a tilted gaze from the latter. ‘i’m baekhyun!’ he exclaims, and he decides right then and there that he’s found himself someone worth keeping.





(‘hey, sehun.’

sehun looks up from his calculus notes, eyebrows raised in anticipation as his eyes meet baekhyun’s in the first of morn, thinking aloud how handsomely the early rays of the rising sun bathes the smaller man in a soft morning glow.

‘nothing,’ baekhyun flops down beside him, head resting comfortably on the crook of sehun’s neck, whispering, ‘i’m glad me met—you saved me.’

sehun needs not say anything at all, but he is smiling so hard, so blindingly beautiful, that he holds baekhyun’s hand in his own, firm and secure, and hey, it says, i’ll follow you to the moon—

—and back.)