Johnny comes over that Tuesday, and he spends a lot of the time just going around Taeyong’s room. “I can’t believe I still haven’t been up here for a sleepover or something since I got back,” he says.

“It’s because I have other people in this house, and your place is empty after hours,” Taeyong replies. “So it’s better.”

“Still, I forgot how nice your room is. I love the weird slopes from the roof,” Johnny says. “It makes me feel like I’m living in a cozy little cabin.”

Taeyong giggles. “Me too,” he admits. “That’s why I wanted it.”

Once Johnny’s satisfied that he’s gotten reacquainted with Taeyong’s bedroom, Taeyong takes him back down to the kitchen so they can cook together. It’s comfortable, and reminds Taeyong of coming home after school to make snacks before they had to start on their homework. It was only like five or six years ago, but already it feels like a lifetime away. It’s a shocking comparison to where they are now.

“Did you tell your parents?” Johnny asks softly as they eat. His tone tells Taeyong that he knows he hasn’t.

“No,” Taeyong says heavily. “I was going to do it that night, but then when I came in, everyone just seemed so happy, and I didn’t want to spoil the evening, so I didn’t. And then they’ve been busy, so…”

“I meant what I said about Jaemin’s birthday,” Johnny said, pointing at Taeyong with his chopsticks. “I’ll tell ‘em for you.”

“No, I know, I know,” Taeyong replies. “I just don’t know how to say, like, ‘Hey, guess what! I’m dying and there’s nothing anybody can do about it!’ You know?”

“Well,” Johnny says. “You could get the surgery.”

Taeyong drops his chopsticks down onto the plate and leans back in his chair. “I can’t do that,” he says. “You know I can’t do that. I wouldn’t ask you to do it, so why are you asking me?”

“I’m different,” Johnny says softly. “Besides, I really might get it. But that’s neither here nor there—you’re so important, Taeyong. So many people love you. Whoever this guy is, he’s not worth dying over.”

“That argument can be made for either of us,” Taeyong points out with a short, angry huff of breath. “So both of us taking the chance and getting the surgery together might make sense, but not only one.”

“Why are you getting mad? I’m just trying to save your life.” Johnny sounds a little exasperated. 

“Because you’re not being fair!” Taeyong replies. He’s raised his voice. He’s always the first to raise his voice. “I don’t need you to try and save my life. This disease, it’s not another school bully you get to play hero against, okay? It’s just life! We both have to deal with it. It’s just that sometimes ty things happen, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do. And it , and I’m sorry, but that’s my final decision.”

“Then at least tell people, so it doesn’t come as a shock!” Johnny says.

“You haven’t told anybody either,” Taeyong shoots back. He doesn’t understand why they’re arguing. But Johnny’s being so unreasonable, and it’s getting on his nerves. “You don’t get to tell me when I have to tell people about my life. Just like I wouldn’t tell you what to do about yours. Why are you being so pushy?”

“I’m sorry, but you and I are not in the same boat right now. Look in the mirror, Taeyong!” Johnny is looking at him like he can’t believe he doesn’t understand. “You are a skeleton with a thin layer of skin stretched over. You’re almost dead, you’re almost out of time. I can afford to wait a little longer. You can’t.”

“You don’t have to tell me how I look!” Taeyong exclaims. “I know I look gaunt, I know I look like a ghost. I know I’m dying. Would you just let me do it on my own terms?”

“Yeah? And what about everyone else? What about everybody else’s terms?” Johnny challenges. “Once you die, you’re dead, Taeyong, and you don’t have to deal with the aftermath. The rest of us will.”

“That’s not fair,” Taeyong repeats, voice small now. “I’m not like you. I can’t—I can’t give this love up just because it’s more convenient for other people.”

“I don’t see how I can either, but I’m trying to,” Johnny says. “C’mon. Get the surgery with me. I’ll do it if you do.”

“That’s not fair, either,” Taeyong says, feeling tears threaten behind his eyes.

“Why not? Did you just say a minute ago it would only make sense if we both did it together?” Johnny asks. “I don’t want to survive this if you won’t do it with me.”

Normally, Taeyong would be touched, but right now he just feels manipulated. “Johnny, stop it. I can’t, and you can’t ing hold your life over my head like that. I don’t want to get the surgery. If you do, get it. Don’t not get it, and then say it’s because I wouldn’t get it with you. That’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Johnny argues. “Please, Yong. I want us to grow old together, running our families’ businesses. I want to see you happy. I don’t want this to be my last—my last memories of you.”

“You sound like you’ve made up your mind,” Taeyong says. “So I don’t know why we’re still talking about it.”

“Because I hate that you’ve made up yours,” Johnny says.

“Then hate it! It’s not your decision.” Taeyong stands sharply, disturbing the bowls on the table. “I don’t understand what’s gotten into you. You’re normally so kind. Why are you pressuring me to do something I don’t want to do?”

“When did you get so selfish?” Johnny asks.

“ you, you’re the one that’s being selfish!” Taeyong can’t stop himself from shouting. “You’re acting like this will only be hard for you. This is what life has given us. Now we each make a choice, and learn to bear that choice. I chose from the beginning. I’ve been staring death in the face for two months. You think I’m not scared? You think that makes me selfish? You have no idea what it’s been like.”

“It’s not like you bothered to tell me, so how could I?”

Taeyong wants to scream. He wants to hit Johnny, or throw a bowl, or storm up to his room. How can Johnny be so dense? He didn’t tell him for him, so he wouldn’t worry, so he could focus on his life and his studies in peace. “Get out,” he says softly. “Clearly we’re not going to solve this right now, so get out.”

Johnny stares for a second, and then just stands, nodding. “Okay, sure,” he says. Without another word, he sweeps up his things and is out the front door, closing it with a sharp click.

Taeyong collapses on the floor, heaving out sobs. What the was that about? He doesn’t even know. It was just that suddenly Johnny was saying all kinds of terrible things, and Taeyong was saying horrible things back, too. When did we get like this ? he wonders. Why did he want me to get the surgery so bad? He knows how I feel about it. Why would he bring it up at all? Why would he keep pressing it?

Taeyong feels a familiar obstruction in his throat, and he resigns himself to coughing up flowers on the kitchen floor. They come up in groups, multiple flowers joined only at the base by their roots, thick, rigid stems painful as they twist around each other. Taeyong thinks his throat might crack and explode from the pressure.

And then there’s the blood, coming up thick and dark and sticky, the smell filling Taeyong’s head and making him nauseous. He slumps against the cool tile of the floor, weakly examining a flower through one open eye. Red spider lilies, beautiful and delicate, for abandonment. Never to meet again. 

It’s a horrifying thought, but Taeyong is too exhausted to feel his grief. In the back of his mind, he knows he needs to clean up, because finding her son passed out in a pool of his own blood is probably the worst way for his mother to be told the news, but he’s so comfortable, and so tired. Still, he tries to at least push himself up into a sitting position. The exertion is proven to be too much for him. His vision goes black.

He wakes up staring at the kitchen ceiling. He sits up slowly, and checks the clock. Only a few minutes have passed. Luckily, the floor of the kitchen is easy to clean, and he’s already by the fridge, so grabbing some kind of energy drink won’t be a chore. He scoots over to the fridge, gingerly avoiding the pool of blood and flowers, not trusting his legs to stand. He reaches up for whatever bright blue, off-brand drink his dad is buying these days and drinks slowly, back against the closed refrigerator door, eyes only half open.

His breath and his strength come back to him slowly, but eventually he feels well enough to peel himself up off the floor. He’s trembling as he goes to throw the empty bottle in the recycling. He sighs, surveying the mess, and then goes and scoops up the flowers with a paper towel before setting to work at scrubbing the blood away before it stains. He’s shaking still, and he starts crying again as he swipes at the puddle. He’s alone now; Johnny is angry with him and he has to tell his parents soon. With all the blood he’s coughing up every day, he probably has a couple weeks at best. 

He doesn’t let himself wallow until the floor is clean, and then he curls up on the couch, dirty dishes with half-eaten food now cold on the table. He can’t be bothered with it, though. He’s so tired.

He doesn’t realize how long he’s been sitting there, dozing in and out, until he hears the door open, and the voices of his parents and his sister fill the house. He sits up, fiddling with his hands. They don’t come into the living room, instead going to the kitchen.

“Taeyong? Are you here?” his mom calls.

“In the living room,” he calls back. “Can you guys—can you guys come in here a second? All of you. We need to talk.”

“O-okay,” his mom replies. They come around the corner, all three of them, Eunyong arm in arm with their mother, their father trailing behind. He locks eyes with Eunyong and she gives him a sad look.

“Please, sit,” he says softly. “You’ll probably want to be.”

“Taeyong,” his father says as he takes the armchair, letting Eunyong and his mother sit on the couch beside him. “You’re scaring us. What’s going on?”

Taeyong’s mother is at his side, and she takes one of his hands in hers. Taeyong meets her gaze, and then has to tear his eyes away immediately. There’s so much confusion and fear there. He can’t watch it turn to grief and horror.

“Um,” he says, staring at his lap. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’ve been a bit sickly lately. And I’m sorry for worrying you, and for keeping it to myself. I just—I didn’t want you to have to hurt, when there was nothing you could do. I—I have hanahaki disease.” Now that he’s started, he can’t stop talking, and he’s glad the only interruption is his mother gasping sharply. “I’ve had it for a couple of months now. I’m—I’m not going to get the surgery. I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself, if I did. I’m really, really sorry. I know it’s not fair.”

His mother reaches out to him, swiping tears off his cheeks that he didn’t even know were there, folding him into her chest. “It’s okay,” she murmurs into his hair. He sobs softly as she rubs his back; slow, soothing movements. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.” 

He almost wishes she’d get angry at him. It’s what he deserves, for tearing their family apart, for ripping himself from their lives, all for a stupid crush. If anyone is allowed to beg and plead for him to get the surgery, it would be his mother. She should push him away, she should force him into the car and drive him to the hospital, berating him the whole way. They all should.

But instead, he feels more arms around him. Eunyong is hugging his mother, one hand reaching out to his hair, and his father is standing over them, forehead knocking against one of Taeyong’s temples. It only makes him cry harder.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” his dad says softly. “You’ve made your choice for yourself, but that doesn’t mean you have to deal with it by yourself. We’ll take care of you.”

“Can you tell us who it is?” His mother’s voice is gentle, not demanding.

“I can’t,” he insists. He doesn’t want them to look at Johnny any different. He doesn’t want to strain their relationship with the Seos. “I can’t.”

“That’s okay,” his mom says immediately. “You don’t have to.”

“Appa,” Taeyong cries. “Eomma. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” his mom tells him. “All you did was fall in love.”

= = =

His parents put him to bed that night, tuck him in like they used to do when he was little. Despite their reassurances, he still can’t stop apologizing. 

“Worry about yourself first,” his mother admonishes gently. “We’ll be okay.”

Taeyong can’t respond to that. That’s the whole problem to begin with—that he’s thought too much for himself and not enough for the people he loves. There’s nothing to worry for himself, really. Johnny’s right—he’s dying, and then he’ll be dead, and that will be all for him. He doesn’t have to deal with what comes next. His parents try to stay calm in front of him, but he doesn’t miss the way his mom grips his dad’s hand so tight the skin wrinkles. He hears them crying together when they go downstairs, his parents and his sister, trying to learn how to fill the hole he’ll leave behind. 

He sighs, rolling over in bed, and calls Doyoung.

“You okay?” Doyoung asks. He doesn’t even say hello.

“Yeah. I just told my parents,” he tells him. “I think Eunyong is staying, so at least they won’t be alone.”

“Well, it’s good you told them,” Doyoung says heavily. 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to Jaemin’s birthday party,” Taeyong says, biting his lip. “I’m just—I’m so weak. I passed out again today.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand,” Doyoung says. “Will you tell them?”

“No, I’ll wait until after his birthday, at least,” Taeyong says. “I still have a little time. There’s something else, though. Johnny and I had a fight today.”

“Oh, god, about what?” Doyoung asks.

“He kept trying to push me to get the surgery, and couldn’t understand why I was saying no,” Taeyong says. It’s more than that, of course, but he doesn’t want to reveal Johnny’s awful secret to Doyoung. He’s done enough damage for one day. “I don’t know, I told him to get out, and now… now I’m worried I won’t see him before I... before I die.”

Doyoung sighs. “He’ll come around,” he says gently. “I’ll talk to him for you, if you want.”

“You don’t have to,” Taeyong says. “It’s just been so strange.”

“I know,” Doyoung says. “I’ll come hang out tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” Taeyong agrees.

“Get some rest. I know it’s probably hard to,” Doyoung says. “But it’s kind of the only thing you can do.”

“I know. Thanks, Doie,” Taeyong says.

“Yeah. I love you. See you in the morning.”

“Love you, too. See you.”

Taeyong settles onto his back, staring up at the vague lines of the ceiling in the dark. It’s still early, but he’s exhausted. He’ll worry about his family tomorrow. He’ll consider texting Johnny tomorrow. He’ll face his heartache, again and again, tomorrow. 

For now, though, he’ll just sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(A/N): Hi! You're currently on the happy ending track. if you'd like to read the sad ending first, you can do so here, and then come back. Or you can read the happy ending first; i'll link the sad ending at the end of this work as well! happy reading!