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mysticmikalla · 5 years

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Time’s Tracing

I’m so, SO excited to share with you guys my full piece for @saeranzine !! Being part of this project was such an honor, I met so many great people and learned so many things. I’ll never forget how close we got, all the inside jokes, Fluff’s riddles, Paulina’s brothers, Saeyonic, Shrekran and, of course, SO much budget elixir! Honestly, thank you mods for organizing this amazing project and thank you to all the contributors who helped make it a big family!

But anyway, without further ado, here’s the actual fic😅I hope you like it!

***

Saeran had always tried to pay attention to people’s eyes. It was an old saying he had heard once, that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and he always made sure to observe them when someone spoke. Those glassy surfaces could unravel intentions, contradicting lying lips and baring themselves true. They told stories better than words ever could.

But as he held your hand in his, tracing all the lines and details he’d come to know so well, he couldn’t help but think the saying to be untrue. Your eyes were closed now, but he could still read you through the palm of your hand as if it were his favorite book. A thousand times he had done this, and a thousand different details and buried memories he’d discovered.

“We’ll find him.” You sat beside him as his fingers furiously typed, eyes glued to the screen as if afraid that even a blink might make him miss a crucial detail. “I can see how worried you are.”

He stopped typing, leaning back against his chair and closing his eyes, his mind barely being able to keep up with itself. The familiar black and green of the screen now had critical roles in not only his life, but yours and that of his own brother’s. He couldn’t recall the last time his twin occupied his mind with worried thoughts instead of venomous ones.

“It feels strange,” He admitted after a long moment of trying to string his thoughts together. “Not even a day ago I could barely even say his name, and now…” He looked down at his hands, remembering how much smaller they were last time they held Saeyoung’s, “Now he’s all I can think about.”

“We’ll find him.” You repeated, attempting to give him a warm smile even though his eyes were fixated on his hands.

“I couldn’t find him before.” He pointed out, a frown shadowing his features.

Reaching for his hands, you admired how much larger and slender they were compared to yours as you cupped them, “But you’re not alone now. You’ve got me, you’ve got us.”

His eyes darted from your joined hands to your eyes. He wondered if Ray had felt the same rising warmth and almost childlike wonder as you ran your thumb over his knuckle. He wondered if anyone had ever felt the way he was feeling right now, something too great for flower breeds or syllables to ever convey.

“You are not alone, Saeran.”

It had quite possibly been one of the most stressful nights of Saeran’s life up until then. Not the hellish nights he spent with his mother nor the painful hours the elixir spent destroying his body from the inside even came close to how he felt trying to protect you and locate his missing brother. But, he realized, it would have truly been a nightmare without you there, constantly by his side and reminding him time and time again of those five words.

He ran his hand along your wrist, softly as if not trying to wake you up. He stopped at the base of your thumb, where black ink contrasted against your pale skin in the shape of a small sun. His lips tugged upwards as he remembered how hard you squeezed his hand as the needle met your skin, your eyes screwed shut.

The pain erupting from the base of your thumb meant that it was now too late to back out. You had never really wanted a tattoo before, fear of regretting it later being greater than your desire to get one. But something about having a reminder of this day, the first trip you took together, made you doubt any sort of future regrets. The memory of how his eyes lit up when he saw the waves gently bathing the shore, his toes wiggling and burying themselves in the sand was something you wanted imprinted on your skin forever.

“It feels so permanent.” You commented, bringing your newly inked skin closer to your eyes so you could examine it. Saeran glanced at it as well, getting used to yet another new detail of you.

Permanent. It had been a word so foreign to him, he often wondered what it meant. It had been thrown around a lot in his life, but nothing had been, nothing had ever felt eternal. Nothing had actually felt like forever to him. He knew that the world was an ever-changing place, promises of forever meaning nothing since nobody could predict the future. The Sun would eventually swallow the Earth and the Universe would collapse in itself, so nothing was truly everlasting. Not the company of his brother, not the Paradise he once believed to be eternal and not the tattoo that once poisoned his skin as a cruel reminder of his past mistakes. Hell, not even his own hair color stayed the same.

But looking at you lying next to him, specks of sand dotting your chocolate hair and eyes now amber with the rays of sunset, he began to understand.

“That’s why they call it a permanent tattoo.” He remarked with a grin on his lips.

You gave him a soft chuckle, nudging his side with your elbow, “I know that.”

You turned to lie on your side, facing him. Bringing up your hand to caress his arms, you wondered out loud whether he had felt the same about his own tattoo. The laser had gotten rid of most of the black swirls and lines on his skin, but you could still tell it had once been there. To him, the marks that were just a tone lighter than the rest of him were nothing but a bitter reminder of his mistakes, of the painful past he tried daily to forget.

But to you, it was a sign of progression, how far he had gotten and how much he was able to overcome.

“I don’t think I gave it much thought,” he admitted, brushing a few strands of hair from your eyes, then resting his hand on your cheek, “Nothing felt real back then… it was as if there was no consequence to what I did.”

Your fingers continued to trace the white lines, all the way up to his shoulder, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt under the pads of your thumb, despite everything he had been through.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it?” He murmured, gaze falling from your eyes to the sandy ground you two were lying upon.

Frowning, you gave his arm a slight squeeze, “Nothing about you is ugly, Sae.”

The scar was barely visible now, but his eyes still darted straight over to it whenever he stood in front of a mirror. The phantom feeling of your hands caressing it from the sudden memory made him squeeze your palm tighter.

He wasn’t the only one with a scar.

There was a small patch of skin along the palm of your hand which contrasted with the rest. He couldn’t recall what the fight had been about, but the harsh words exchanged and spilt tears were imprinted on his mind.

“You know what, just forget it,” You huffed, turning away from him to make your way towards the door, “Just forget it.”

He grabbed your wrist, a frantic attempt to keep you from getting further away, “I can’t just forget it, MC. Tell me what you meant by that. Tell me what you meant by ‘taking a break’.”

“I meant exactly what it sounds like.” You spat, forcefully removing your wrist from his touch. It had been the first time you two had ever shared such barbed words, and your rejection stung him more than he could have imagined.

Desperation overcame him, his vision blurring as he watched you pick up a small bag and head towards the door. You couldn’t leave him, not you. Not when everyone is his life had already done so. The contracting of his chest was painfully familiar, although he hadn’t felt it ever since meeting you. Was he cursed to live with a heavy heart whenever you weren’t around?

It was all so sudden. One moment he wordlessly watched you walk away, and the next you were crouching down beside him, the shards of glass he had apparently broken seconds before looking uncannily like how his heart felt.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” despite the anger you previously felt towards your boyfriend, you managed to smile, “It was an accident, it’s fine. I’ll clean this up, okay?”

He remembered the oozing of red from your hand as if it had happened just yesterday. Saeran blamed himself harshly for the deep cut in your hand, the scar that remained across your skin even years later screamed at him that it was his fault. Your soothing words helped him realize that it was an accident, that it could have happened with anyone, but he couldn’t get over the fact that it was him who lost control and knocked over the vase in a fit of rage. Had you been with anyone else, this would never have happened, and it was a mystery to Saeran how you had agreed to spend the rest of your life with someone who couldn’t even keep his temper under control.

Although, by your wedding day, Saeran hardly had any traces of his malicious past left in him. He played with the ring on your finger, turning it until the words engraved on it faced him, Hey, there.

He was beyond nervous as he stared at his reflection, fiddling with his tie while trying to get it straight. Despite the reassuring words from his friends, the cramped knot in his stomach made him doubt he’d ever eat again. Were you going to notice how sweaty his hands were? What if he said the wrong thing? He wondered, was there even a right thing to say?

But upon taking in the sight of you at the end of the aisle, his feet subconsciously taking him towards the girl in the dazzling white gown, Saeran forgot all his worries and even his own damn name. For the first time, the many eyes of the spectators didn’t matter to him.

The walk to you felt eternal but all the same, he forgot himself and when he came to, he was already standing in front of you. You gazed at him up and down, taking in how breathtakingly beautiful he was. You couldn’t tell how long it had been until one of you broke the silence, and unsure of what to say, Saeran breathed, “Hey, there’.

A smile stretched on your lips, “Hey, there.”

While he cursed himself for weeks after saying such ridiculous and meaningless first words as your husband, you thought it was endearing.

“Don’t worry,” You assured him, “First words don’t really matter. Last words, though...I wonder what mine will be.”

“I don’t ever want to think about that.” He shuttered off the thought, thinking of how long you two had and how many words were still left to be shared.

Had you known back then?

Saeran wondered if your words back then were some sort of omen, a dark prediction of the painfully near future.

Had you known that you were sick when you spoke those words?

He had forgotten to pay attention to your last words, always hoping that there would be more to leave your lips. But as your heartbeat staled and your pulse weakened, his hoping came to an agonizing end, the doctors had said as much. The skin of your hand he adored so much was now impaled with tubes, and when he squeezed your hand, you didn’t squeeze back.

“Hey, there.” He mumbled, hopelessly hoping that your eyes would flutter open, at least just once more so he could say goodbye. Just once more so his heart could be at ease, even for just a few moments before it was completely torn apart. But when the last sigh escaped your lips, your hand going limp in his and the beeping of the machine stilling, the memories you two shared would now only be remembered by him, the feeling of mutual love now solely felt by him.

He had never believed in souls, but now it felt as if half of his was ripped away, and Saeran had never felt pain greater than this.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger fanfic #saeran choi #saeran choi fanfic #mysme saeran #why am i so nervous to share this? its already in a zine skjdfsdkfjh idk #BUT ANYWAY i hope you guys like it!#im trying hard to write these days and get more content out for yall!!#winter break is coming up so i will have a month to catch on e v e r y t h i n g i need to #<3 #cant wait to start posting again

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