Renjun reminds Jaemin of butterfly metamorphosis, except that after the fourth stage, it turns into an angel. Jaemin doesn’t think the Chinese suits to be a caterpillar, because he resembles a butterfly already. But a caterpillar will have to digest itself to transform into a more beautiful version of itself.

In other words, it requires suffering for one to truly transform into a better shape.

With the chemotherapy and all, Renjun is now too weak for the world. His tiny build seems even smaller. He looks barely alive, except for his dreamy eyes. They hold a thousand messages Renjun wishes to tell Jaemin, but too bad they will be buried together with him.

Jaemin can see it coming. From the weaken grip of cold bony hand he’s holding to the forced heavy breathing that’s getting slower at rate, he can see it coming clearly. The end is near, he can sense it. “It’s okay…” He whispers under his breath. “It’s okay…” For some unknown reasons, only the two words are able to roll off his tongue. Perhaps those are the words Renjun needs the most at times like this. Perhaps he needs to know that it’s okay for him to leave Jaemin now, that the brown-haired man will be doing fine after a few days, weeks, months, or years. Perhaps it’s just Jaemin who’s running out of words because his mind can’t process what’s about to happen. He can see it coming, but he can’t see it happening so… slow.

The death he imagines is quick and easy – the kind of death that happens in a blink of an eye and before you know it, he’s gone. He never imagines he will be able to witness the pain Renjun has to bear when his soul is leaving his body. He never imagines he will get to listen to the wheezes of the forced air into Renjun’s failing lungs.

“It’s okay…” he says again, with a small smile masking his fear. “Don’t worry.”

The look in Renjun’s eyes softens as they fall onto Jaemin’s worried face. The older man gathers all his strength to reply the smile before his eyelids shut on their own. His breathing shags. His fingers, however, search for Jaemin's. The Korean intertwines their fingers at the cue as a wave of sorrow hits him at how their fingers are of the perfect fit for each other.

“I’ll be fine…” Jaemin speaks through the lump in his throat. The rawness of his voice is apparent. “I’ll hold the exhibition. I’ll tell the world your story.” he exhales. “I won’t let you die.” The hot crystals welling in his eyes fall like a stream, each drop hits their intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry,” Jaemin wipes the tears away with the back of his other hand, “I don’t mean to cry. I don’t mean to make you worried. I’m sorry.”

The grip tightens a little, as if Renjun is telling him that it’s okay.

“I know,” Jaemin creeps a smile, “We’ll be fine.” The man leans forward and presses his lips gently on Renjun’s forehead. “You can go now,” he whispers with a heavy heart. “Go to a beautiful place where you’ll re-join the troop of angels, the place where you truly belong.” Another peck is left on his nose. “I love you, butterfly.” And finally, he places the softest last peck on Renjun’s chapped lips. “Till we meet again, my dancing angel. I love you.”

As if it’s a cue, Renjun takes a sharp breath with a sudden jolt.

On 30^th May 2020, 3.14 in the morning, an angel spreads its wings to make its most-awaited way towards heaven.