Play with Fire

Hello, the name is Oh Sehun. Some have heard of me since I have been here before, wandering around the earth. Now I’m back, wandering once again, but not as a human and with a purpose: to find the love I lost. His name is Kim Jongin and probably in the same state as me: dead. 

Please help me find him and if you can’t, then just make sure you’re interesting enough so I want to keep you around for a while. I’m not really looking for friends, just people to waste time with.

Reblog/like/follow if you’re interested, but approach at your own risk.

❀AU/OC ❀TRIGGERING CONTENT ❀INDIE

My mother would rub her thumb over the back in my hand in those tiny circles people etch into your skin when they’re trying to comfort you. She’d also push the hair out of my eyes but brush it back just as quickly. because the revealed bruises scared her a little too much. And two weeks later, when my face became as cold as my white hands– something she told me (while I slept soundly to the lullaby of IV drips and the nurses changing the dead flowers at my beside) terrified her more than anything else in this world –she stopped touching me altogether.

It turns out that June 21st, 1998 was the day I was supposed to die; the day that my mother had to start deciding what dress I would be buried in– and how.

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                      But the Gods work in funny ways,