Jackson, as was his custom when he was particularly disappointed, was frowning.

“You’re mad,” he said as he tapped his fingers furiously against the teacher’s desk in their classroom. Youngjae was huddled around Jackson’s side of the table, while Jinyoung was grudgingly planted at the opposite end like a prisoner being interrogated.

“I’m not,” said Jinyoung. It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t angry or offended that Mark had been refusing to see him because deep down, he believed that there had to be a reason. Of the days they had interacted at the hospital, Jinyoung knew that the elder was sensible enough and would not be so cruel to dismiss their rapport without warning.

Mark’s only cruelty was in his absence.

“I’m not saying you’re mad as in angry. I’m saying you’re mad as in crazy. Insane, kooky! You ing demented fruitcake!”

“That’s not very nice, Jackson,” said Youngjae, finally chipping into the conversation after staying silent and seemingly in thought throughout Jinyoung’s verbose rant. “But I agree, you are not normal. You know, not like the usual Jinyoung we know.”

“Why thank you for your support, I feel absolutelysound and rational after you guys convinced me of my insanity,” Jinyoung said acidly.

Day 13, he scribbled on the desk, lead screeching in distress against the battered oak. Professor Kim, their history and homeroom teacher, would send his imaginary French army to capture Jinyoung if he saw this act of vandalism. Jinyoung would then meet his demise under the blade of the guillotine and have his blood pollute the French rivers (bon voyage, decapitated head). Not that he was any close to living now that it had been thirteen whole days since he had last seen Mark, hence his disinterest in maintaining his status as a model student.

“It’s been thirteen days,” he began, already sounding deflated before he got to his point. “Almost two weeks since I heard from him. I don’t even know if he’s doing okay or” – he choked at the horrifying thought that fleeted through his mind – “I-I’d rather not think about it.”

“It’s also been thirteen days since you’ve gone completely bonkers,” Jackson said callously, earning a glare from Youngjae, to which he shrugged nonchalantly.

Youngjae reached out for Jinyoung’s shoulder in attempt to comfort him, but the latter was stiff, unresponsive. “Maybe today will be different,” he added hopefully. “When you go the hospital today, maybe he will agree to see you.”

“I doubt it,” muttered Jackson.

“Jackson!”

“What? Haven’t you heard him? It’s the thirteenth day! I don’t think that sounds very lucky,” said Jackson. The two friends were staring each other down, and Jinyoung merely sighed. He simply did not have the energy to deal with his friends’ antics.

“You need to be more positive, Mr. Wang. What Jinyoung needs right now is positivity, and hope!” Youngjae nagged, reminding Jinyoung of his late grandmother.

“Fine, but he needs to stop moping around and do something. You know, infuse his life with action?” Jackson said before turning to Jinyoung, locking eyes and holding his shoulders in a crushing grip. “Don't wait for it to happen, make it happen! Make your own future, your own hope, your own love!”

He finished in a thunderous roar, eyebrows trembling in utmost fervour as if he’d just finished his grand speech for his presidential campaign. There was an awkward silence as the whole classroom gawked at Jackson, and then everyone went back to whatever they were doing just as if they were accustomed to this daily absurdity.

“Wow,” said Youngjae. “That’s some motivational speech. You should write fortune cookies.”

“Sure, but only if they pay well.” Jackson flipped his imaginary long hair with gusto, receiving only a scoff of disbelief from Youngjae.

“Though I hate to agree with Jackson, he’s kinda right this time. Acting like it’s the end of the world will hardly help in this situation. And may I add, if he continues to ignore you, he’s just an absolute and you should stop associating yourself with him.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened at the derogatory term. “Mark is not an ,” he sneered.

“And Mark is not your boyfriend. He is just a crush. If it doesn’t work out, get over him before it takes a toll on you, Jinyoung.”

Now, that was highly offensive. Jinyoung’s usually thin patience was stretched to a limit, but he couldn’t flare up at the innocent, genuinely concerned faces before him. It wasn’t their fault; he had not told them about the events that transpired between him and Mark. To be fair, it all happened – as it ended – so quickly. It was also not their fault that this tragedy had befallen him.

To make things worse, Youngjae wasn’t entirely wrong either. Mark never said anything about becoming boyfriends. Actually, Jinyoung couldn’t remember an instance where he expressed his liking for him, at least not explicitly. There were smiles and kind words and touches, but nothing could make clear of their relationship.

He’d like to believe he knew Mark well enough. It wasn’t a one night stand, he would assure himself. That wouldn’t be the Mark he knew; the Mark he had grown to love so much.

“Mark’s not like that,” he said softly.

Youngjae looked at him solemnly, and then at Jackson, who sighed helplessly. “We hope so too.”

Despite Jinyoung’s countless rejections, Jackson and Youngjae insisted to tag along to the hospital. While the white-washed walls of the maze-like corridors threw off his friends’ bearings, Jinyoung could navigate his way even with his eyes closed. It was all thanks to the past two weeks of taking the same arduous, gruelling route.

“You promised, Jinyoung, that this will be the last time,” reminded Jackson as they shuffled along the hallway. People were rushing everywhere: doctors tending to emergencies, nurses doing their rounds, families pacing urgently; yet they were moving sluggishly, following Jinyoung’s pace that reflected his strong aversion to Jackson’s suggestion.

Jinyoung did not reply. If he did, he would have been lying through his teeth.

Standing before the ward, when they finally arrived, was not easier because of practice either. Each time Jinyoung prepared to knock on the door, blood pounded nightmarishly at his temples and he would feel sick with self-loathing. Today wasn’t any different; in fact, with the pressure of “last time” imposed on him, all negative feelings were amplified.

The door slid open at the first knock, which was unusual and caught all of them off guard. But of course, it was only Nayeon. Her lips morphed into an ugly grimace as her eyes met Jinyoung’s. “You’re here again,” she said.

Jinyoung nodded carefully as he bit his lip. His question replayed in his mind continuously: “how’s Mark today?” Yet he was reluctant to say it, because he’d already memorised the answer to that.

“Is he accepting visitors today?” Youngjae asked on behalf instead.

“Mr. Tuan is no longer in this ward,” replied Nayeon. And Jinyoung’s ears perked up. What?

As if she could read Jinyoung’s mind, she continued. “He was moved to another ward this morning. And no, I’m not allowed to say anything else. Yes, because of the confidentiality act. I hope I don’t have to explain this again.”

Jackson appeared to be torn between choosing to flirt with Nayeon or to fight her into disclosing Mark’s whereabouts. Before either happened and chaos ensued, Jinyoung jumped in to say something.

“I understand completely, but is there really nothing you can tell me? Is his health alright? If not, why was he moved? I really need to know. Please, anything will be helpful.” He was almost begging at this point. Honestly, he would already have been on his knees grovelling if not for Youngjae’s comforting hold on his arm.

Nayeon’s eyes shifted uncomfortably, but her lips remained sealed, and Jinyoung understood immediately. He did not blame her, for he knew it was against the law if she gave in and she could lose her job in the worst circumstance. His efforts – visiting persistently and even bribing staff with food to deliver his letters to Mark (whether they reached him or not was still a mystery) – proved to be futile.

“When there is a will, there is a way.” Whoever said this had not taken Jinyoung’s situation into account. Perhaps fate held precedence over will and his fate with Mark was meant to end here.

Like a miscalculated circling; a sad, partnerless dance.

In his new anguish, he could hardly tune in to the conversations around him. But when another nurse came running for Nayeon, he just could not miss the words exchanged between them, especially with the apparent sense of urgency.

“Nayeon, ICU 4 just called in for you. They need extra help with Tuan. Rejection of daunorubicin, seems severe with vomiting and shortness of breath. Yugyeom’s working on the air support but they need someone to check on the IV.”

Colour leaked from Jinyoung’s face. Surely, there was only one “Tuan” in this hospital. Nayeon glanced at him apologetically and said, “I didn’t say anything, but you heard it. He didn’t want you to know.”

And then Jinyoung felt it, creeping up the side of his calves and into his gut, the onslaught, the grief coming, the tears like a small relentless army approaching the front lines of his eyes. The impetus to see Mark escalated from curiosity and concern to a fierce desperation and fear. He could feel his legs giving in, his body yanking towards the ground like a strong magnet was pulling him. It was as if he had to see Mark breathing, as a whole, right in front of him before he could function properly again.

Not now, he told himself. If he collapsed right there and then, he wouldn’t know what would happen to Mark, who must be in a critical state for him to be put in the intensive care unit and for the nurses to freak out like ants in a boiling pot of water. So full of fear and tension he was – a riptide of blood to swim through – but Jinyoung was determined to overcome them.

Anything to see Mark.

Unsurprisingly, ICU 4 was out of bounds. There were very limited visiting hours for the intensive care units. More importantly, the last thing Jinyoung wanted was to distract the doctors and nurses from tending to Mark when he needed them the most. As much as he resented the idea, the most he could do now was to wait.

Instead of going to the hospital cafeteria with Jackson and Youngjae, where the bright lights made him think only of all the futile efforts that hospitals contained to keep people awake for more bad news – the weak diluted coffee, rock-hard chairs, the elevators that stopped on every floor – he headed to the patch with the tree they used to be able to see from their ward.

The tree was still bare without many leaves despite summer’s arrival. Jinyoung took one hand and leant against the ancient oak, his fingertips gripping into the crevices that ran through the bark. He then looked up, watching the clear sky through the lifted branches.

Nothing much had changed, except the tree appeared much taller from his current position compared to when he looked down at it from the window of the ward. It was enormous, immensely overpowering, causing him to feel small like a mouse but at the same time enlightening him of its true strength.

If only he could just take an ounce of its tenacity and fortitude. Stand strong for himself and for Mark.

A tree that looks at God all day

And lifts her leafy arms to pray

Jinyoung stepped back to experience its force of beauty. Being one with nature calmed him a little from his inner turmoil. It was just something about the fresh air that breathed life into his lungs, the gentle breeze that caressed and comforted his tired skin. Ironically, the dead tree emanated more life than the hundreds of humans in the hospital.

Then, at the corner of his eye, against the sky, he spotted a silhouette. Above him, a bird flew on invisible strings, eventually landing on the tree to what was now certainly a nest. From so far away he could hardly make out which species it belonged to, but from its minute size and the soft, chestnut specks against its white feathers, it was likely a rufous-tailed robin.

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair

For the first time in two weeks, warmth seeped into his heart. The tree was no longer lone, as was Mark. Now that Jinyoung knew about Mark’s situation, he would be there for him. He saw a glimmer of hope from the sunlight filtering through the branches of the bird’s nest; if he could connect this string of hope from his hand to Mark’s, then they would juggernaut, hand in hand, towards their time to come.

Almost five hours had passed, and Jinyoung was forced back into the hospital against his will by a very angry Jackson who snapped at him for not having any water or food. “If you can’t take care of yourself, who’s going to take care of Mark?” he had said while pulling Jinyoung by his ear, dragging him along like he was a limp dog on a leash. And now he sat by Jackson’s side at the dismal cafeteria, sipping mindlessly on the bitter coffee grounds floating in the leftover water in his cup.

“Youngjae went to ask about him,” informed Jackson. His eyes averted Jinyoung’s conflicted gaze at the mention of “him”, clearly afraid of any possible outburst from his glum friend. Instead, Jinyoung let out a soulless laugh. It was one without much emotion, only with a hint of disbelieving amusement, that Mark’s name had somehow become a taboo word.

“Mhmm,” Jinyoung mumbled his acknowledgement, just seconds before Youngjae walked towards them with a familiar face. “Speak of the devil.”

Jackson leapt up from his chair in utmost joy at the sight of Youngjae (Jinyoung’s sullen mood must have tormented him so). “Look who’s here! If it isn’t our sunshine Youngjae and” – he paused as he squinted at the white figure hovering suspiciously at the back – “Jaebum? What the are you doing here?”

“Good lord, Jackson! Manners!” chided Youngjae as he pulled a chair out for Jaebum to sit, which Jinyoung thought was highly unnecessary given the doctor had perfectly working arms (or maybe he was jealous because not even Mark did that for him when he had a broken arm).

“Fine, Mr. Choi,” Jackson rolled his eyes, then continued loftily. “Dearest Mr. Im Jaebum, may I please know what ery brought you here?”

Jinyoung sighed. His dear friend apparently dropped out of his mother’s womb with a bump and a scream of vile utterance. He then gave Jaebum a half-hearted greeting, nodding his head at him without bothering to make eye contact, still somewhat upset at him for shooing him away from Mark every time he tried to visit.

“Keep rolling your eyes, Wang. Maybe you’ll find a brain back there,” Youngjae plainly insulted.

“Now, now, let’s not start fighting,” interrupted Jinyoung. Usually he would join in the banter and let the jokes take him to a faraway land where worries did not exist, but the uneasiness of losing touch of reality held him back, now that he was so close to making sense of the whole situation. As much as he hated to be a killjoy, he was now the sour, dissonant note that ruined their unique harmony.

His friends were sharp enough to notice his wish, and hurriedly stopped their bickering. For a moment, they listened to the light clinking of cutlery in the background, maintaining a reticence in the light of news to come.

It was Youngjae who cleared his throat first. “Jaebum here has something to say.”

It certainly did not look like it, for the person in discussion was staring straight into nothing, seemingly upset with his lips sealed tight. His silence resulted in Youngjae poking at his arm to urge him to speak, an action that did not go unnoticed by both Jinyoung and Jackson as they both caught each other raising a questioning eyebrow.

“Jaebum, you promised me that you would tell Jinyoung. You think it’s ridiculous that Mark is keeping this from Jinyoung too, don’t you? You said he ought to know, I heard it crisp and clear,” probed Youngjae.

“You know that I might lose my license if this gets out. You should say it instead,” Jaebum finally spoke.

“Nonsense! Neither Jinyoung or Mark would do that to you, you know that.”

At this moment, Jinyoung’s mind could not quite catch up. He was perplexed at several things: the unexplained closeness of Youngjae and Jaebum; the lifethat Jaebum’s voice exuded (he’d never heard him speak in any tone except well, monotone); and last but not least, the fact that they were talking in circles about him and Mark, in front of him, as if he weren’t there.

“Would you please just tell me what it is about Mark and me that you guys know and I don’t?” said Jinyoung, exasperation through the roof. He was curious to know, but also nervous, because considering how they were pushing the responsibility of revealing the news to each other, it could not be positive.

“Exactly,” Jackson concurred. “Before Jinyoung dies of anxiety right before the eyes of a doctor. I think that’s worse for your career, Jaebum.”

“Fine, but I’m only saying it once, so listen carefully,” said Jaebum. “And prepare your heart.”

Uh-oh. This can’t be good. Jinyoung felt a strong sense of foreboding. The usual Jaebum would break any bad news without even blinking; for him to warn Jinyoung to control his emotions only meant that whatever he was about to say was lethally painful.

“G-go ahead.” His voice was quivering, as was his clammy hands under the table.

“Considering Mark’s reluctance in letting you know about his predicament, I assume he cares about you a lot,” began Jaebum. All eyes were on Jinyoung now, awaiting a response. He nodded.

“And so I assume you heard about his sister being his stem cell donor?”

Jinyoung nodded again. “How did that go?” he asked.

“Not so well, as you would’ve guessed by now,” said Jaebum. He watched the glint of hope that was once in Jinyoung’s dark eyes disappear without a trace. Now facing a black sea of despair, he seemed to regret his decision of sharing this piece of information with Jinyoung, but Youngjae touched him lightly on his knee, encouraging him to continue.

“What do you mean by that? Did the operation not go well?” asked Jinyoung.

Taking a deep breath, Jaebum replied, “it never happened. The operation, I mean. His sister never called back. And when we tried to contact her again, the number was no longer in use. She was the last line of contact Mark had with any of his family.”

“They abandoned him,” concluded Jinyoung. He could feel the beginnings of a raging volcano bubbling at the pit of his stomach.

“Yes, a pity, but in essence, you’re right. They abandoned him.”

“Again,” Jinyoung said tartly. This was uncalled for; it was utterly unfair to Mark, to lead him on with that promise and then cut him off mercilessly. Not once, not twice, but again and again in his life.

“That’s not all,” Jaebum added, to Jinyoung’s horror.“The problem with Mark’s condition is that he found out too late. If he’d come to us a month earlier, we could have used TKI therapy to target his chronic myeloid leukaemia (CML). Unfortunately, that’s only efficient for the earlier stages of CML. When he came, he was already at the blast phase and we could only try to kill off the cancer cells using chemotherapy.”

“I know that already, but Mark said he was well in progress with the chemotherapy sessions. Why is he in the ICU now then?”

Jaebum lifted a finger to push up his glasses. “The thing about CML’s blast phase is that it can escalate really quickly without warning. Chemotherapy sometimes kills the healthy bone marrow cells. That, coupled with Mark’s increased resistance against the chemotherapy drugs after multiple usage, causes the leukaemia cells to grow much more rapidly. It just so happened that the day you left was the day everything went downhill for Mark.”

“What? Can you make it simpler to understand?” said Jackson. It wasn’t just Jinyoung who was invested in this conversation, and other than Youngjae who appeared to already be informed, Jackson was also in a state of shock.

“If Mark can’t find a stem cell donor,” Jaebum glanced at Jinyoung hesitantly, “then his days are numbered.”

Jinyoung’s flesh crawled. His words came out barely as a whisper, as though he had lost all his energy upon the revelation. “How many days?”

“It depends. If he hangs on, a month. If a happens, any time…”

“Any…time?Like, p-possibly n-n-now?”

The look of affirmation that ghosted across Jaebum’s face said it all. And Jinyoung wanted so badly to scream at him for confirming Mark’s inevitable departure, break down into tears, and then wail so loudly that the heavens would just pick him up and solve all his problems for him. Instead, he crunched his teeth over his lip harder than he ever had, holding it all in.

This was why Mark didn’t want to see him. He didn’t want Jinyoung to see him in his weakest state; he didn’t want to share the pain of suffering, and consequent loss. But Jinyoung was determined to let him know he was wrong. It wasn’t purely a consideration for Mark’s feelings. On a solely selfish position, it hurt him more to not be by Mark’s side. And all he yearned for at that moment was not for a miracle cure, but simply to see Mark, embrace him, and let him know that no matter what would happen, he would be right by his side.

“Jinyoung, listen to me,” began Youngjae.

Jinyoung bit his lip even harder as fire attacked his eyes in the form of water. Salty blood filled his mouth and he willed his tears not to fall.

“I want you to keep calm, and take your time to take this all in, okay?”

If he found himself in this same situation in a different context, he would be guffawing his head off at the ridiculousness of it all: Youngjae speaking like his mum and not a child, Jackson shutting his mouth for once and Jaebum expressing sympathy. But none of that was more unbelievable than what he had just heard about Mark. His friends expecting him to keep calm was like asking him to boil the ocean – impossible.

Slowly, his brain picked up his feet in an unbalanced gait, carelessly dropping the lead weights to the ground with each harrowing step.

“Where are you going, Jinyoung?” Someone shouted at his direction – he wasn’t sure who, his mind was too overloaded to perceive. More callings of his name, with rising pitches, increasing volumes, but he continued walking. Reality tried to tap its way into his marching brain's rhythm. Mark was dying. He was helpless. That was all.

And then Jackson seized his arm, putting his defiant steps to a halt. “Where are you going?” he repeated the same question that was hurled at Jinyoung for the umpteenth time. Youngjae and Jaebum followed shortly, blocking Jinyoung’s path so that he had nowhere to run.

“To do something! There must be something I can do, right? Test my stem cells? What if they’re a match? Then I can save Mark, right? I can save him!” Jinyoung rambled on, taking his volatile emotions on a rollercoaster ride as he skidded through determination, hope, delirium. All in one breath.

“It’s no use, Jinyoung,” said Jaebum.

“What do you mean ‘it’s no use’? I know, the chances are low, but that doesn’t mean it’s impossible,” Jinyoung snarled back, outraged.

“You’re right, it’s not impossible, but you–”

“–okay,” Youngjae jumped in, motioning for Jaebum to stop. “We’ll take the stem cell test, okay? We all will, all four of us. And then we’ll talk about what to do when the results come out. Fine?”

Jinyoung felt like he could finally breathe normally again. At least he was doing something to help. Perhaps they would be blessed by a miracle, and all would be fine in no time at all.

“Fine.”

The waiting game was no fun, yet Jinyoung had no choice but to play it. After an agonisingly long wait to get their stem cells tested, they were told to wait for the results yet again. At this point, Jinyoung was already considering switching majors to medicine to put a leg into this inefficient system.

Jaebum had left for his duties, and Jackson just stormed off a while ago, pounding the cement in his livid boots, looking like he’d been cheated on.

“Why is he so mad?” Jinyoung asked Youngjae, who was unusually silent even for the sombre atmosphere.

“Who?” He was obviously out of it, apparently preoccupied in his own abstract concerns.

“Who else? Jackson. Why did he leave stomping away like King Kong?”

“Oh,” Youngjae scratched the back of his head, a thin, sheepish smile creeping up his pink face. “I told him I was seeing Jaebum.”

Jinyoung stared at him unblinking.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that. He’s not that old! He’s only five years older. Besides, it’s nothing too serious, yet.”

“Yet?”

“What? You don’t approve?” Youngjae frowned, dropping his gaze disappointedly.

“No. I mean, as much as I disagree with your taste, I’d be more pissed if you’re dating around just for fun,” said Jinyoung. The liberty to love someone was much more precious to him than to anyone else at this moment, and such sentiment was so prominent that Youngjae instantly empathised with him.

“I’m sorry, for keeping this from you and for what you’re going through. And for all the insensitive things I said to you about you and Mark. I didn’t know you two were already, you know, at that stage.”

Jinyoung’s eyes widened like saucers, not so much because he was surprised Youngjae knew about him and Mark, but mostly because he wasn’t sure what Youngjae meant by “at that stage”. As much as he’d like to think of himself as open-minded, he was still not comfortable with exposing his ual endeavours (not that they were appallingly adventurous in any way but he had always been a private individual).

“I heard from Jaebum,” said Youngjae. “That Mark was completely gushing over you and almost flooded the ward with his tears when he heard of you visiting daily. He said Mark’s request to keep you from knowing his condition was so corny – worse than the soap opera his mum’s currently watching.”

Jinyoung knew it wasn’t exactly a time to fall deeper in love, but his heart fluttered anyway, doing a somersault and a half.

“Well, anyway, I’m really sorry, Jinyoung.”

Jinyoung shook his head. “I guess, I’m sorry too, for not telling you about Mark.”

“Good, see, there’s a nugget.”

“A nugget?”

“Yeah. Something that’s coming out of all this. You and me. A nugget of truth between us. I’m your best friend, Jinyoung. I’m always here for you and I’m always looking out for your best interests. You can trust me with your worries. And even though Jackson doesn’t express it very well, you know he cares about you more than anything.”

Good friends do not come falling from the sky for free like rain or snow, Jinyoung knew that. He was incredibly grateful he had the support of his friends, and it was just that split second of realisation that spurred him to pour his deep thoughts out.

“I... I really love him,” he confessed, voice soft like the beating of his heart. “But I don’t know what to do.”

Youngjae laid his hand lightly on Jinyoung’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said.

“He’s been such good company when I was in the hospital. We could talk about anything and everything, he understands me completely and–”

“Made you very happy, by the sound of it.”

“Yes. Yes, he has.”

“Well, that’s something to cling on to and to use as a starting point for your thoughts on this too, isn’t it?”

“What?” Jinyoung glanced upward, his mouth pursed but slightly open and loose.

“I mean, that maybe you shouldn’t think of what to do and what your future with him will be like, good or bad. Maybe you should concentrate on the present, the love.”

Then, out of the blue, Jackson barged into their vicinity like a tornado, panting heavily. “It’s a miracle, Jinyoung! It happened! They couldn’t believe it either!”

Jinyoung sat up, his face tense. “What?”

He wasn’t expecting it, but Jackson pulled him into a bear hug impassionedly. Still out of breath, Jackson heaved, “your stem cells, Jinyoung. They’re a match!”

The smile that spread across Jinyoung’s face gave away his thoughts. Perhaps soulmates exist after all.

“that dreams become reality

with magic made by two”

Jinyoung’s mother always said that happiness is like a soda. It's sweet, fizzy, and doesn't last very long. Of course he was too ecstatic to remind himself of this pessimistic aphorism, so when he went into the consultation room to have a talk with Jaebum, who gave him a slap of reality, his mood took a free fall.

“No, no way,” Jaebum said firmly, his arms crossed so tightly it would take at least three people to pull them apart.

“Why? Why not, when we’re this close to helping Mark? I don’t care about any risks, I’ll take the chances,” he argued heatedly.

“You’re diabetic, Jinyoung. And you’re insulin dependent. A bone marrow transplant means an operation, and although it’s not a major operation for the average healthy person, it is for you. Any operation is dangerous to you. You should know that by now.”

“I don’t care. I’d happily die for him.” Such passionate words made him seem younger than he was – they sounded almost like the protestations of an unknowing child.

Jaebum frowned. “This isn’t just about you. The risks are high for Mark too, especially since you’re an unrelated donor. Even though your stem cells match, the chances of him rejecting your stem cells are still high. At this stage, Mark’s body isn’t strong enough to combat GVHD (graft-versus-host disease). We would usually recommend a peripheral blood stem cell donation, but to lower the risk of GVHD, a bone marrow transplant is our only option.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’ll be doing. A bone marrow transplant.”

Jaebum shut his eyes temporarily, gathering all his patience to deflect Jinyoung’s stubbornness. “Fine, let’s say you’re willing to put your health in danger for Mark. Let’s say it’s a chance both of you are willing to take, even if it means Mark has to fight GVHD. Even if he fights through it all, there’s still a chance that your type one diabetes will be transmitted to him.”

Jinyoung’s eyes followed Jaebum with a troubling intensity. It was one hindrance after another, as though God called upon all extant energy to prevent the realisation of his only wish. Like modern-day Romeo and Juliet, but a billion times worse.

He’d never thought his life-long condition would stab back at him like that, to think he’d learnt to live with it with peace throughout the years. Just the thought of his own inadequacy made him choke on what was a flood of rising tears.

“For some people, ‘the point of no return’ begins at the very moment their souls become aware of each other’s’ existence.”It was clear now that soulmates exist. And fate is real.

Ill fate, that was. Heart-wrenching, cold-blooded fate.

“Let me see him,” he croaked. “Please.”

It took two days for Mark’s condition to stabilise enough for visitors to be allowed. There were no objections this time, and Jinyoung just assumed that Jaebum had kept Mark updated and the latter understood his intentions.

He had thought he would feel immense joy to see Mark after so long, yet the prospect of them meeting made him more edgy than anything else. On one hand, he was nervous of simply being near him again, a feeling very much like one would feel on a second date. On the other hand, he was torn about what to say to him, because neither discussing the bone marrow transplant nor whining about Mark’s absence seemed appropriate for the occasion.

However, it was proven yet again to Jinyoung that overthinking was useless when it came to Mark. As soon as he laid eyes on the elder, his brain completely shut down and his heart took over, gravitating towards the elder without missing a beat.

What felt like a bloody, pitiful muscle pulsating lifelessly against his rib was now surging with emotion.

Mark never looked more exhausted. His already pale face was drained of whatever little colour was there before, his bloodshot eyes sitting on heavy bags of skin, and most evidently, his blonde hair was sparse as a winter field.

It didn’t make him any less attractive to Jinyoung; he was still beautiful, just in a way that less excited his senses than tore at his very heart.

Seconds pass, his brain taking Mark in, struggling to comprehend that the person before him wasn’t one of the fragmented illusions in his dreams, that he was real. How the space between them was erased Jinyoung would never recall, but one moment they were apart and the next, they were morphed into a single being, without any regard of the medical equipment in the way.

One of Mark’s hands clasped around Jinyoung’s lower back, and the other his hair. With each soft touch more tears fell, tears neither of them wiped away. After so much delay, they finally had the chance to be together again, and wasting time wasn’t on the agenda.

Mark was first to speak. “I’m so sorry, Jinyoung. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice was fragile; whether it was because of his illness or misery Jinyoung could not tell, but he felt the pain all the same.

“Don’t be, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I understand, I really do,” said Jinyoung.

“I’m sorry,” the elder repeated, seemingly at a loss of words. But even so, they were in the same emotional zone – their heartache poured into one another like water from cup to cup.

“Now, stop apologising and stop crying. Or I’m going to be angry!”

That coaxed a soft laugh from the depths of Mark’s parched throat. He reached out for Jinyoung’s face, running a thumb across his cheek. “Alright, princess. I won’t.”

“I’m so glad to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“I missed you.”

“Me too, Jinyoung. I missed you too.”

8808506. words contained the weight of past time, the time they had missed each other’s presence. Jinyoung frowned slightly, his lips puckering into a cute pout, which Mark took full advantage of. When he kissed Jinyoung it was sweet, gentle, and it tasted of their tears.

“I’m not angry but, would you just tell me something?” Jinyoung asked when they pulled apart. “Why did you not tell me? You know, about your worsening condition and…” he paused, apprehensive to mention any details of Mark’s misfortune.

“My sister?”

Jinyoung nodded carefully, then cuddled straight into Mark’s arms.

“Well,” the elder began. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. You said you would wait for me no matter what, remember? I loved that, but that was when I knew there was hope for me. But when death seemed nearer I hated the idea of you waiting, Jinyoung. I didn’t want you to wait for me, a hopelesscase. I didn’t want to have you and then leave you alone suddenly. It would break your heart, and that’s the last thing I want to do.”

The sombreness that this evoked brought them to rather more quiet places in their minds.

“But there is hope,” Jinyoung whispered into Mark’s chest. “You know that. I know Jaebum told you. There’s no way he wouldn’t.”

That triggered Mark to sit up, pulling Jinyoung up with him to look him right at his eye. “About that, Jinyoung, I don’t want–”

“–me to go for the operation?” Jinyoung completed the sentence. He saw this coming, a thousand – no, million times, in all the different conceptions he had of this day they’d meet again. “Because I have diabetes. I know, I’m sorry. I can’t be any more useless, can I?”

Mark’s furrowed eyebrows indicated his confusion, until he realised what Jinyoung was talking about. “No, silly! I don’t care if I contract diabetes, sweetheart. No offense, but, I’m pretty sure having diabetes for the rest of my life is better than dying of leukaemia. I’m just worried about you.”

“What’s there to worry about when you’re the one suffering so much more?” Jinyoung countered, a bitter taste spreading in his mouth as he took in the physical signs of Mark’s distress again. Mark looked so worn and sapped that his heart hurt tremendously.

“Weren’t you listening when I said I didn’t want you to get hurt? I mean it, not just emotionally but of course, without a doubt, physically too. I will never forgive myself if you get hurt because of me.”

“But I don’t care if I get hurt, if there’s a chance of saving you.”

“You might die, Jinyoung,” snapped Mark. And as if he regretted his outburst immediately, he sighed. Jinyoung stared at Mark. He could see it in his eyes. The anger was nothing but a shield for his pain, like a cornered soldier randomly throwing out grenades, scared for his life. Lonely, desperate.

“And you too,” said Jinyoung. He reached out for Mark’s pale face, cupping his sunken cheeks. “You might go too, Mark. And then the chances of my actually being with you would be zero. So even if I were to die, the resulting loss would also be zero.”

“Jinyoung...”

“At the end of the day, it’s all down to strength of feeling and risk. If I love you, I’ll take a risk for you and if I don’t, I won’t. And I loveyou, Mark.”

Ah, the magical three words. Never in Jinyoung’s sweetest reveries were these words proclaimed with such excruciating pain. And neither did he imagine himself to be so calm when he would confess, yet he was sitting still, radiating a sense of tranquillity. Because at that moment his feelings for Mark became so dizzyingly clear, he could say those three words without hesitation, despite how much it wounded him.

Mark’s jaw dropped, startled at the sudden confession. “Jinyoung, I…”

“Do you love me?” Jinyoung asked bravely. It was the adrenaline speaking; he could feel it in his fingers.

“I do. I love you too,” Mark said gently.

“Then, you would do the same.”

Fate loves the fearless. They were both, fated and fearless.

From the little details like the symbolism of birds making a home in that tree to the crazy journey through Jinyoung’s quick-changing emotions upon knowing of Mark’s situation, I took so much time trying to make sense of everything, which is why this took so long. (Also because I had a gig, but mostly because writer’s block got in the way…) I really hope you guys could relate to the ups and downs of this chapter and feel these emotions through Jinyoung’s perspective in this AU (also surprise 2jae!). For those who are still here, thank you so much for waiting and for your everlasting support. I also apologise once again for any wrong information regarding the medical technicalities. There’s a reason why I’m studying music and not medicine. 

This fic will be completed with another chapter + epilogue. Updates soon! xx