He looked at the picture frames that almost covered the entire wall. Junmyeon remembered each moment of the photos he had taken. The one he had taken of Yixing sleeping in their hotel bed during their honeymoon. The one in which they had visited the Eiffel Tower, doing one of those embarrassing tourist poses (although this one was Sehun’s work). The one of Yixing and his niece taking a nap when she was a baby. The one of Yixing posing with his engagement ring, just minutes after Junmyeon had proposed to him. Or the one of Yixing drinking a cocktail at Baekhyun’s wedding reception. Many of the pictures were of Yixing, a smiling Yixing, a sleeping Yixing, or a caught off guard Yixing, either way, they were lovely. He had loved to take pictures of his husband. Loved, because by now, Junmyeon couldn’t do it anymore, holding the DSLR camera was impossible.

Still, Junmyeon liked to watch these walls on their house. It brought him a remembrance of simpler times. Each photograph had a story, a story Junmyeon probably had recorded in his journals. That was another thing he could no longer do since long ago: writing, not even typing on a keyboard. He was too weak. Yixing had suggested him to record his entries on his phone instead. Junmyeon had done it, mostly to remember the sound of the voice he used to have.

For a while, the symptom progression had ‘stopped.’ There were no significant changes after ending in a wheelchair and losing strength in his arms. However, recently, he had met a speech therapist right after he noted a change in his voice. Sometimes he mispronounced his words, he knew that was a sign of slurred speech, a few times he choked while eating. So, they started a plan, and nowadays he wasn’t only recording journal entries, but also message banking. He recorded meaningful expressions and phrases, things like, ‘I love you, Yixing.’ Junmyeon did that so his own voice could be used in a speech generating device. This way whenever he wanted to say that to Yixing when he could no longer speak, a robotic voice wouldn’t be the one saying it. Soon, he would longer be able to talk or to swallow. Those symptoms were finally arriving, and Junmyeon felt so helpless to know that, just like he had felt when he had lost all his other abilities.

Daily life sitting in a wheelchair was monotonous, tiring, and limited. He had always hated not being able to move a muscle, not being able to do anything, and only sitting there, watching as everyone lived their lives as he died. It was and had always been distressing. But being with Yixing made things bearable. Even in the painful situation, he was in, Junmyeon was happy to have Yixing by his side. He thanked each day that Yixing had never left him, that Yixing had, and was fulfilling his promise. Although, Junmyeon knew Yixing loved him, and Yixing had always said he’ll be there, but he still felt grateful. Having Yixing by his side gave him strength. He fought each day for him, for them to love each a bit more before he had to go. Amid his misery, he had some happiness.

“Would you like to go for a walk?”

That voice brought Junmyeon back from his thoughts. He turned around his wheelchair. Yixing stood under the door frame of their room. “Yes,” he said, smiling. He was tired of being inside the whole day.

In the entrance, Yixing clad Junmyeon with his shoes, jacket, gloves, and a beanie. It was December, so it was cold, colder than before. Yixing always made sure to dress him warmly to avoid possible colds, he always looked out for him. After Yixing had dressed, they made their way out.

Junmyeon breathed in the cold air once he was outside. As they walk, not many people were there, after all, it was night time. The moon accompanied them during their wander.

Now that the new restaurant Yixing and Kyungsoo had just opened, Yixing worked from the mornings until the afternoon. So, Junmyeon spent the mornings with Sicheng and one of the other two caregivers, unless when Yixing was free. There were days in which he missed him, just like today, but it was silly. Yixing would always be there, he always came back from work. Sometimes, Junmyeon felt he over thought things.

They strode together, talking about their day, discussing serious or trivial topics, if Junmyeon had other discomforts, about Luhan and Minseok’s four-year-old son’s antics, or anything else like their own family.

“Sehun said their flight leaves on the nineteen.”

Yixing nodded. “Do you wanna go pick him up at the airport? What time do they arrive the next day?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. He said around ten in the morning.”

“Okay, I’ll plan everything then.” Yixing smiled at him. Junmyeon knew it was because he had said he’ll go out. There were periods in which Junmyeon rarely went to the city unless it was to visit the restaurants, to his regular hospital appointments, or to visit his friends. Even if life was boring in the house, Junmyeon felt it was too burdensome to go to the city. It was not like he could do much besides watching. But for Yixing’s sake, he tried to.

“And uncle too, we talked today, and he said he’ll come too. He’ll be here the next day, though.”

“That’s nice! It’ll be a family dinner… How about I ask my parents to come? I think they can take off for one or two days.”

 “Yes, of course. It’ll be fun to see them all.”

“I’ll give them a call later,” Yixing said, pleased.

Junmyeon nodded. “But do you know what uncle also told me?”

“What?”

“He’s in Seoul right now, and he ran into my parents again.”

Yixing huffed and then frowned.

“My ‘dad’ is completely fine, can you believe it?” Junmyeon laughed bitterly. “He hasn’t gotten affected. I’m starting to think he’s one of those who will never experience the symptoms. And even up till now, they keep saying I deserve this for being gay. They still don’t give a that I’m sick.”

Yixing put his hand on top of Junmyeon’s hand that laid on the armrest. Junmyeon stopped moving his wheelchair. “All they say is bull. Junmyeon, you don’t need them or their concern. You have me, Sehun, your uncle, and our friends, my parents who also love you as their son, and so many other people. We’re all here for you.”

Junmyeon smiled. “Yeah, I know I have all of you. And I don’t really care about them. I didn’t bring it up because of that, but I just can’t help feeling how unfair this whole thing is… That awful man is living… And I’m… dying. Why me and not him? Am I terrible for thinking like this, Xing?” Some dark part of him wished things were the other way around. Was he an awful human being for wishing that it had been his progenitor who got sick and not him? Junmyeon didn’t hate them, he couldn’t care less about them, he didn't wish his father ill because he hated him. But he did wonder why he was getting punished and not him? What in the world had Junmyeon done to deserve this fate? He had always wondered that to no avail.

“I don’t know, Jun. This world is messed up. But I don’t think you’re awful, and you’re definitely not the only one thinking that.”

Junmyeon shook his head. How bittersweet. How unfair. Why was it like that? He sighed deciding to let go of the topic, wasting time thinking about those things would only distress him more. It was then he realized there were adhesive bandages around two of Yixing’s fingers. “Hey, what happened to your hand?”

“I was a bit clumsy today at work. And I cut myself two times.”

Instantly Junmyeon felt worried. “Please be careful. I don’t like to see you hurt.”

Yixing smiled as he squeezed Junmyeon’s hand. “This is nothing compared to your pain, Jun. Don’t worry about me.” He cupped Junmyeon’s cheek and leaned in, giving him a kiss.

Once Yixing withdrew, Junmyeon nodded. Yixing was probably right, it was only two minor cuts, but he couldn’t help worrying.

“So, with the whole family reunited, I think we should host a Christmas dinner. I’ll invite the guys too. How about this?” Yixing said.

“That sounds great.”

Yixing kept his hand on top of Junmyeon’s when they retook their walk. Yixing spoke eagerly about their Christmas dinner. And Junmyeon listened, enjoying the way Yixing’s voice sounded, but also giving a bit of input when Yixing asked him something. It was in moments like this he and Yixing could forget about the sickness that was killing him slowly. And instead, they spoke excitedly about Christmas dinner, presents, New Year’s eve, or any other celebration that involved family and friends as if they were just another regular married couple.

The next day, Junmyeon was surprised to see Yixing coming back home. It was midday, and Yixing usually returned from work in the afternoon. Junmyeon moved his wheelchair to meet him, and again, instantly, he got worried. “Xing? What happened? Is something wrong?”

Yixing was tired, shivering a bit, and his expression was of pain. But he still smiled and said, “Jun. I started feeling sick this morning at work. I stopped by the health care center, and they said I might be getting the flu My throat hurts and I have some fever. I-I came here to rest for a few days. Don’t worry, it’ll pass! I bought the prescript medicine on the way here.” He held up the bag from the pharmacy. “I’m gonna be in the guest room, so you don’t get sick.”

Junmyeon nodded. Yixing had said he shouldn’t get worried, but how could he ignore it? Whenever Yixing became ill, he felt more helpless, more miserable, more useless, and incompetent. He couldn’t be an ordinary husband who hugged Yixing, brought him inside, tuck him into bed, put a towel on his forehead to cool him down, bring him food and water to drink his medicine. No, he was completely immobile and had to watch as Yixing, or Sicheng did all that. He cursed because he could never repay the same care Yixing had towards him. During these situations, Junmyeon felt like some useless sitting lump.

Yixing slept until the late afternoon. Junmyeon had never left the room, even if Yixing had told him not to be in there. Junmyeon was vulnerable, and getting sick wouldn’t be wise, but his lungs were healthy for now. Even if he got sick and the pain worse, he didn’t want to leave Yixing. So, he stayed there, watching as his husband slept. When Yixing woke up, Sicheng brought them some food. Yixing was worried and kept telling Junmyeon to not be near him, but he was too weak to throw him out. So, Junmyeon stayed there. As he watched Yixing eat, he noted how weak and tired Yixing was. He had barely touched the food. This flu was really taken a toll on him. Junmyeon hoped it would pass soon, he couldn’t stand seeing Yixing in pain.

However, two days later, Yixing’s fever hadn’t passed, it came and go in intervals. It seemed his flu was getting worse. Today Yixing vomited for the first time, he was tired and felt sleepy, sometimes he was freezing. For three days Junmyeon couldn’t be at ease. He had almost never left Yixing’s side, only when he had to sleep on his special bed in their bedroom. And after seeing Yixing, so debilitated, and Yixing himself said he was in pain, they took him to the hospital in the afternoon. When the examination finished, the doctor told them it was what Yixing had heard before, just the flu. In a couple of days it would pass, and Yixing would feel better again. They sent him back home to keep drinking fluids and take stronger antivirals. It was just the flu.

When they returned home, Yixing went straight back to bed, saying he wanted to take a nap. Junmyeon asked Sicheng to lay him next to the sleeping Yixing on the bed. Sicheng had been reluctant, Junmyeon needed a particular mattress, and find comfortable positions to sleep and lie in bed, that was why they no longer shared beds. Otherwise, Junmyeon would have muscle pain. But Junmyeon still didn’t listen and ordered him to do it, he didn’t mind the pain, he always took his muscle relaxants and pain relievers. He just wanted to lie next to his husband for a while. Was that too much to ask? He hated it when he wanted to do something, but it was up to other people to make it happen. He felt useless. After Junmyeon had please asked Sicheng to do it, Sicheng helped him.

So, Junmyeon spent around an hour lying next to Yixing, watching him sleep. He was worried, so worried about him. Something told him this wasn’t just the flu. Junmyeon had had the flu before, and it was never like this. This morning, he had noted Yixing was having some difficulty breathing, sometimes he breathed too fast as if one breathing wasn’t enough to fill his lungs. Something wasn’t right.

Yixing turned around on his side, he opened his eyes. He blinked, trying to adapt his eyes to the light. Then, he said, “Jun, what are you doing here? Your muscles are gonna hurt.”

Junmyeon turned his head to meet Yixing. “Sicheng comes in frequently and repositions me. I wanna be near you, Xing.”

“You still might catch this awful flu, Jun. I don’t want you to get sick too.”

With pleading eyes, Junmyeon said, “Please just let me lie next to you for a little longer. I feel terrible I can’t do anything to help you with Xing. I’m so worthless.”

Yixing smiled. He raised one hand to caress Junmyeon’s. “You’re doing more than enough, Jun.”

Junmyeon knew that wasn’t true, he was completely useless. But he figured this is the same impotence Yixing must feel daily because of his ALS. He told Yixing the same thing when he was in pain and Yixing only accompanied him, cursing for not being able to do much. There was nothing both of them could do to help, the only thing they could was to love each other. His neck was starting to hurt, but Junmyeon kept staring at Yixing. “I would kiss you if I could.”

“You’re gonna catch my flu.”

“I’d still kiss you.”

Yixing smiled, that smile that showed his deep dimples. And Junmyeon wished he could move closer, grab his cheeks and envelop his lips in a kiss. But he couldn’t. He could only wish. Then, Yixing carefully leaned in to do it instead.

“I love you,” Yixing whispered to Junmyeon, he remained near, his breath hitting Junmyeon’s lips.

“I love you too.”

They smiled at each other, there was nothing but affection on their faces, even if inwards they were both anxious about one another.

“Do you want me to reposition you?”

Junmyeon shook his head. “I’ll call Sicheng.”

Instantly, Yixing sat up straight. “Look, I’m already feeling a bit better. I don’t have a fever. Those antivirals seem to work. I’ll help you.”

He was relieved to hear that, although Yixing still seemed exhausted, maybe it was due to lying in bed these past days. He nodded and asked Yixing to please move his arms a little.

Even if Yixing had felt good and his fever subsided, the next day he got worse. During the night Sicheng said Yixing had shivers, was very cold, and vomited much more, he had also felt some stomach ache, he still was in pain. In the morning, Yixing said his flu was just getting worse. And after eating only a toast for breakfast, he went back to sleep. Junmyeon decided that if by midday Yixing kept being tired and in pain, they’ll go back to the hospital. Something wasn’t right.

And something was definitely not right. It hadn’t even an hour since Yixing had gone to sleep. Junmyeon was in the kitchen, he went to ask Sicheng to bring another bottle of water for Yixing. Suddenly, he heard Yixing calling him from the living room. And Junmyeon moved his wheelchair over there.

“Jun? Oh my god! What happened to you? Why are you in a wheelchair?” Yixing asked worriedly. He was shivering, could barely stand up by himself because he supported himself on the piano. Yixing was breathing rapidly, and he looked very pale. He also seemed to be confused and dizzy. Why had he asked why Junmyeon was in a wheelchair?

“And why have you lost so much weight? Are you okay, Jun?” Yixing wanted to move, but he almost stumbled and decided to keep holding the piano.

Junmyeon didn’t know what to say. What was going on with Yixing? Had he hit his head on the way here? Was he suffering retrograde amnesia?

“Please, Jun, say something!” Yixing was crying now, more fatigued. His rapid and loud breathing could be heard in the entire room. And Junmyeon placed his wheelchair in front of Yixing.

“Xing, love, calm down, please. Don’t you remember? I have ALS. I-I can’t walk anymore, that’s why I’m in a wheelchair.”

“You can’t walk?”

“No.”

“Are you going to die?”

“Ye-yes. Are you okay, Xing? Did you hurt yourself on the way here? Did you hit your head somewhere?”

Yixing shook his head like a child. “No! No! I don’t want you to die. You can’t leave me, Junmyeon.”

Junmyeon gulped. What the hell was going on? What had happened to Yixing? “Yixing, calm down. We’re going to fix this, okay? Let’s go put on your shoes and jacket, and we’ll go out for a while.” They needed to get to the hospital as soon as possible.

“Yes, Jun. We can fix this,” Yixing smiled as he kept shedding tears. “I…I’ll sing you a song! Mommy always sang me a song when I got sick, and it helped me. I-I’ll play the piano for you.”

Yixing strode slowly, still holding himself on the piano to sit on the stool. Junmyeon hated himself because he wanted to stand up and carry Yixing to the emergency room. Instead, he shouted after Sicheng.

“Listen to this song, Jun,” Yixing said. Slowly he started playing, his hands moved leisurely, but Junmyeon distinguished it was Curtain. Amid his confused and tired state, he could still play that song.

Sicheng walked into the room, and Junmyeon began explaining everything to Sicheng, telling him to get them ready to go to the hospital. When the piano went out of tune, stopping, he saw Yixing fainting on top of the keyboard.

“Yixing! Yixing!” Junmyeon screamed.

Sicheng rushed to help Yixing.

Yixing had been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance. And Junmyeon had called Yixing’s family to inform them about Yixing’s state. Although he wasn’t helpful at all when Yixing’s mother worriedly asked what was wrong. Junmyeon himself didn’t now. By now the only he knew was that Yixing had gotten IV fluids and he had to use noninvasive ventilation to deliver oxygen via a venturi mask.

For the first hours, Junmyeon hadn’t heard much from the doctors or nurses, only that they were evaluating Yixing’s state, trying to figure out what was going on, running some tests. The waiting hours were hell.

Junmyeon couldn’t even eat lunch that day. He didn’t dare to leave Yixing’s side. Sicheng had nagged at him to eat something, he couldn’t take his medicines on an empty stomach. Junmyeon didn’t care. But when Luhan and Kyungsoo appeared in Yixing’s room, they convinced Junmyeon to eat a bit. Luhan followed him and Sicheng to the cafeteria while Kyungsoo stayed behind.

“How are you holding up?” Luhan asked as Sicheng fed Junmyeon.

“How do you think? I’m worried sick. They said it was just the flu, but then what’s all this? I have so many questions. And these doctors still don’t know what’s wrong with him. They are as useless as me. I’m starting to believe they have no idea what they’re doing.”

Luhan reached to cup Junmyeon’s hand. His touch felt warm, but not as recomforting as Yixing’s.

“They’ll figure it out soon. He’ll be all right, Junmyeon. Yixing is strong, he’ll get through this.”

Junmyeon didn’t say anything.

However, Luhan hadn’t been right. Moments after they returned to Yixing’s room, Yixing was rushed into the ICU. And a doctor finally approached Junmyeon to tell him what the hell was going on.

“Mr. Kim, when your husband arrived here, he had difficulty breathing, a high heart rate, low blood pressure, and now based on the other symptoms you’ve told us, and the tests' results, we’ve reached a diagnosis. Your husband has sepsis, but I’m afraid it has escalated quickly, and it has gotten worse.”

“Sepsis? What’s that? Worse? How’s Yixing?!” Junmyeon asked.

“Sepsis is a life-threatening condition and complication of an infection.” In the time that passed, it worsened, and now Yixing’s blood pressure was dropping to alarmingly low levels. If things didn’t change, he’d go into a septic shock, a severe form of sepsis that can lead to multiple organ failures. They had immediately given him intravenous antibiotics to treat the sepsis and the source of infection, they also moved him to the ICU. They’ll keep giving him fluids to raise his blood pressure and medicine. He’ll also need to continue being on oxygen therapy. “We are doing, and we’ll do, everything we can to treat his condition, Mr. Kim.”

No. No. No. Yixing couldn’t be dying. This wasn’t true. Junmyeon shook his head. “They said it was the flu! How the hell is this a life-threatening condition?!”

The doctor tried to explain to Junmyeon what was happening, what sepsis was, who and why it affected someone, and everything else. But Junmyeon didn’t listen. His sole focus was on the fact Yixing might enter the verge of life and death. And it was all so wrong, Junmyeon didn’t know what else to do.

The hours kept passing. Junmyeon was still there, in that room filled with machines and cables connected to Yixing’s body. He had asked Sicheng to put one of his hands, on top of Yixing’s hand. Luhan, Kyungsoo, Sicheng and now Minseok and Jongdae were there too. After hearing Yixing’s state, his parents had bought tickets to Guangzhou, they would arrive in the evening. And Yixing, he was still there, fighting for his life.

Junmyeon cried. That was the only thing he could do. He wanted to have hope Yixing would be okay. But Yixing didn’t seem to get better, especially when they connected him to a dialysis machine. He was still pale, cold, and whenever someone came to check on him, they didn’t seem hopeful with the results.

The worst sentence Junmyeon had ever heard in his life was when the doctors spoke to him a third time. They explained the situation and how Yixing’s body wasn’t responding to the treatment. His extremely low blood pressure didn’t adequately respond to the fluid replacement, not even to the drugs that increased blood pressure helped. So, his kidneys had started to fail due to the low blood pressure and the blood that was clotting within his blood vessels, which was why had been put on dialysis. His heart rate was higher. Now his lungs were failing, blood vessels in the lungs were leaking fluid, and they had to put him on a mechanical ventilator to help him breathe. Yixing was getting worse; he had entered a septic shock, and if he still didn’t respond to the treatment, within a few hours, he’d die. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kim, there’s nothing more we can do,” they said. That was the worst sentence Junmyeon had heard in his whole life.

And Junmyeon blinked in confusion. He laughed. It was just the flu, they had said it was just the flu. They said he’ll get better in a few days. But now Yixing was dying? And they could no longer help him? No, no, this couldn’t be it! It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Junmyeon wanted to stand up, to leave his stupid wheelchair, and go punch that doctor for saying that nonsense. But he couldn’t. He could never do it. “They said it was the ing flu! And now you’re saying he’s going to die in a few hours?! Are you ing kidding me?! Why don’t you save him?! Why?! Why?!” he shouted at everyone. “Liars! You said you’ll do everything to save him! Liars!” Junmyeon screamed as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Nobody in the room could believe Yixing’s fate. People started crying, praying inwards that things would get better. But as time passed, nothing happened. His organs were shutting down, and there was nothing anyone could do. Yixing will die soon, either tonight or by dawn. The doctors had recommended them to say their goodbyes.

“Yixing,” Junmyeon said. He hadn’t wanted to leave Yixing’s side for one second, so he had listened to all their friends, and Yixing’s family, say their goodbyes. Then, Junmyeon had asked everyone in the room to leave him alone with his husband.

He still had one hand on top of Yixing’s. It felt still cold, almost as cold as the silver ring that Yixing was wearing. Junmyeon couldn’t accept this. It couldn’t be. Yixing couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. He was supposed to stay. But as he saw him attached to the mechanical ventilator, to the tubes, everything seemed hopeless. Junmyeon heard the machines’ ruckus, the continuous beep of the heart rate monitor, and his own cries. This was all so wrong. This was supposed to be Junmyeon if he had decided to have that tracheotomy surgery. It was him who had to die, not Yixing.

“Wake up. Please wake up.”

Could Yixing be listening to him? He wanted to believe Yixing did.

“I love you so much. You’re the only one I’ll ever love. Please, you can’t leave me alone. I can’t do this without you, Yixing. Please wake up.”

Was this real? Was this actually happening? Was he saying goodbye to Yixing like this?

“You promised to stay. You promised it! Please don’t leave me, you’re everything I’ve got. You’re everything I’ve got, Xing.”

A couple of days ago, Yixing was fine, he was alive, he was happily telling Junmyeon about something he did on his day. He was alive, helping Junmyeon to survive. And now?

“Why are you stealing my thunder? Why? You were supposed to live, you are supposed to live Yixing!”

Even after the amounts of tears he had shed, they kept falling and falling. Junmyeon wished he could be able to stand up. To walk forward and hug Yixing’s cold body. To convey him all the warmness within him, to embrace him, to somehow bring him back. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything.

“I-I’m not ready for this.”

He wasn’t, and he would never be. Was this how Yixing had felt daily while seeing him die? Was this how it would have felt to see him die? How will Junmyeon move on from here? Yixing was everything to him, the sole reason he could wake up in the mornings, to go on with his illness. What would he without Yixing?

“I’m not ready for a life without you, Xing.”

Life wasn’t fair, though, it seemed to never be for him.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t leave me.”

“Please, come back.”

Who was he begging to?

“Please.”

He didn’t know, but he still did it.

“Please, Xing. I love you. I can’t do this without you. Please come back to me. Please! Please!”

No matter how much he begged, he pleaded and wished, nothing happened and nothing would.

Junmyeon held Yixing’s cold hand, the whole time, ignoring his own pains and hunger. Yixing was surrounded by his friends, family, and husband.

And later that night, Yixing’s heart took one last beat. The heart rate monitor’s beeps increased, beeping and beeping until it changed into a flat piercing sound, a prolonged beep, no pauses in between and a flatline on the monitor. Junmyeon’s screams echoed in the room.

Yixing died of a septic shock. And it was all because of those harmless cuts in his fingers. Usually, the area around the injury swelled, becoming hot and red, due to the immune system acting. The body gathered white blood cells and platelets into the tissues surrounding the cut, in order to fight the infection and form a blood clot to stop bleeding. This process was done through inflammation, managed by the immune system. To allow more blood to flow, the blood vessels swelled and became leaky. This way the infection-fighting cells and clotting factors could get out of the blood vessels and into the tissues that needed them. That was why one saw that hot, red swelling. However, sometimes the body did this process in overdrive. If the infection wasn’t taken cared of quickly enough, the immune system could kick this process into overdrive, and the body begins to injure itself to get rid of invaders. Then, the inflammation was no longer localized to the cut, but widespread and affected all the body’s organs and tissues. This was sepsis. And it never discriminated against anyone, it could just happen to anyone, even the healthiest of persons, just like Yixing had been. All those symptoms he had felt, weren’t the flu, but the sepsis developing. The sooner he would have gotten proper treatment, the higher the chances he would have had to survive. But things hadn’t gone that way. Sepsis mimicked other conditions, and it wasn’t easy to diagnose it early on if the health care workers and physicians weren’t properly educated about sepsis. So, instead, Yixing had gotten worse, and he died of a septic shock, the life-threatening form of sepsis, marked by extensive tissue damage and organ failure. A minor cut, and a few days later, Yixing was dead.

What were the chances? What were the odds? Why was fate this cruel?

It wasn’t until after Yixing’s death that Junmyeon had paid attention to what sepsis was. At first, he had blamed everyone in the hospital for being useless and not noticing Yixing’s condition. He was infuriated that they could have had the chance to save him, they could have done so much more, but they hadn’t. And no matter how angry he felt, they couldn’t bring Yixing back either. Nobody could. Then, he blamed himself for not doing anything. He always felt something wasn’t right, but he didn’t much for Yixing. He hadn’t taken Yixing to the hospital much sooner. He should have done it. He blamed himself. But at the same time, he felt bereft, completely, and utterly bereft.

Yixing was dead. He had been thirty-six. He died on the 19th of December, one hour and ten minutes past midnight. Junmyeon had been there, he had seen it, he had heard it. But it all felt so surreal as if Junmyeon was trapped in the worst nightmare of his life. How could this have happened?

And even now, eleven days later, he couldn’t believe it. Everything had occurred so quickly, far too fast. While Junmyeon’s death was happening slowly, one step a time, Yixing’s death had been in the blink of an eye, in a matter of days and hours. One day Yixing was all right, smiling and telling Junmyeon he loved him. The next day, he was lying in a coffin, clad in his best suit, with closed eyes and pale skin. How could this have happened?

After the funeral, held two days after Yixing’s death, Junmyeon had secluded himself in their bedroom. He refused to leave, to get up from his bed. The only thing he did was to listen over and over again to the voice messages Yixing had sent him. They were trivial things, but he loved to hear the sound of Yixing’s voice. He would ask Sicheng to dress him in one of Yixing’s sweaters or shirts, they still had his familiar scent. It helped him to fall asleep. Sometimes during the nights he’d wake up and stared at Yixing’s bed, hoping the nightmare would be over, but he wasn’t there. Yixing wasn’t there to wake him up anymore. To love and support him. Yixing wasn’t there. And in his absence, Junmyeon cried. He felt he would never be happy again.

How the hell would he move on? How much time did he have left now? Yixing was his everything, his strength, the man he loved, and his main support to cope with his ALS. Without him, Junmyeon felt nothing mattered anymore. He wished he could just die too, he was scared. Junmyeon didn’t want to face the upcoming symptoms all alone, he didn’t want that slow death by himself. He needed Yixing. But Yixing wasn’t there anymore.

During the ten days that had passed, Junmyeon didn’t do anything. He hated that he couldn’t mourn in peace, on his own, but he had to depend on other people. Sicheng, another one of his caregivers, his family or his friends, both the ones in Guangzhou and the ones who flew from Seoul, was there to help him, to keep him company. The family Christmas dinner Yixing had planned never happened. Instead, they ate something together in Junmyeon’s room. He was thankful for them and everything they did, but he also wanted to be alone.

However, the morning of the eleventh day, Junmyeon decided to finally get up from his bed. He had dreamed about Yixing. It was a weird mixture of memories from when they had met in the hospital after the car accident, the first Christmas they spent together, and the times they’d stared together at the forget-me-nots this past summer.

Sehun, his family, and his uncle had gone to the airport. They drove Yixing’s parents to the airport, they were returning to Changsha. But Sehun and the others would stay for a couple more days. Sehun had offered Junmyeon to move with them to Paris. He’ll take care of him now, he had space, and he could arrange everything to make him comfortable. When Sehun returned, Junmyeon would decline the offer. He didn’t want to leave the one place that connected him to Yixing and the life they used to have. He would die here too, and he would be buried next to his husband. Anywhere he went, Junmyeon felt he’ll be alone because he didn’t have his soulmate by his side anymore. So, he would thank Sehun for the offer but decline.

Junmyeon held the snow globe of him and Yixing near the Pearl River as he made his way out. Of course, he wasn’t actually holding it. He asked Sicheng to bring it down from one of the shelves, and encircle his right hand around it. Junmyeon had dreamed about that day, and he wanted to feel the artifact in his hands. In his dream, Yixing had been smiling, the way his dimples showed, as he shook the sphere. Junmyeon went outside to the garden, Yixing’s blanket covering him from the cold. It was colder than any other winter Junmyeon had lived before. Was it because he no longer felt Yixing by his side?

He stopped the wheelchair in front of where the forget-me-nots used to be. He stared at the empty and dry spot. He’ll ask Sicheng to replant them next year too. Whenever they would go to visit Yixing at the cemetery, Junmyeon wanted to bring him those flowers. They meant everything Junmyeon wanted to convey.

As Junmyeon kept staring at that spot, remembering Yixing, he felt something cold land on his cheek. Later more kept falling. And he realized snowflakes were falling. As soon as they touched his skin, they melted, but they were falling. He looked up at the sky. After ninety-three years it was finally snowing in Guangzhou. The wish had come true, but Yixing wasn’t there to see it. It was snowing, and Junmyeon started crying in despair. He felt constant pain in his body due to his sickness, yet it was the throbbing, agonizing, ache in his heart that hurt the most now.

“Yi-Yixing, why?”

He kept asking, but no one answered.