The air is already wet and heavy when Taeyong wakes. He kicks off his blankets irritably, disgusted with the sheen of sweat already collecting in beads on his skin. Doyoung is still sleeping peacefully in his bed, so he pads on down the hall to the kitchen with the intent to make them breakfast. He decides on omelettes—they both like theirs thin and crispy, with the cheese a little burnt around the edges, so he gets to work, throwing in some chopped peppers and whatever else he can find in Doyoung’s fridge. The kettle whistles cheerfully as he carefully pours half of the egg mix into the pan.

He’s just sliding the first finished omelette onto a plate, coffee dripping rhythmically through the filter when Doyoung shuffles into the kitchen, hair tangled and fluffed up on one side, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

“Good morning,” Taeyong says, suppressing a laugh. “This is for you.”

“Oh,” Doyoung says softly, blinking. “Thank you.”

He eats slowly, nursing his coffee, as Taeyong makes his own omelette, and then they sit together in companionable silence, watching the birds on the bird feeder in Doyoung’s backyard out the window.

Taeyong’s phone buzzes aggressively against the table, shocking them both out of their peaceful reverie. Taeyong murmurs an apology, picking it up. The disturbance is, of course, Johnny.

Tell doyoung hi for me! Ten says hi to you both. He’s taking me to dinner tonight :o I’m trying to convince him to come back home with me… any talking points?

It’s accompanied by a picture of Ten sitting on a couch, sticking his tongue out at the camera, a cute little frown on his face.

“Who is it?” Doyoung asks. 

“Johnny.” Taeyong tries to keep the strain from his voice. “He says hi. His, um, his boyfriend says hi, too.”

“Boyfriend? I thought it was just a boy he was seeing,” Doyoung says, swirling the dregs of his coffee around in his mug.

“Well, he says he’s trying to convince him to come back with him when the month is up,” Taeyong says. “So I guess it’s serious? Though why he wouldn’t just stay a while longer…”

“He wouldn’t want to miss Mark’s birthday,” Doyoung says. “And he probably misses you.”

“Yeah, well.” Taeyong presses his lips together. He shouldn’t be angry, right? So why does he feel fury rising in his chest and his throat? He forces it down, stabbing another bite of his omelette. “I don’t want him to put his life on hold for me.”

Doyoung gives him a curious look, but just shrugs. “Do you parents need you at the shop today?”

“No, we’re closed on Saturdays,” he replies. “Do you still want my company? Or do you need to work?”

“Those are not mutually exclusive,” Doyoung says. “I have a little work to finish, but you can hang out while I do it, and then we can go to the beach or something, if you’d like.”

“That sounds good,” Taeyong agrees.

So Taeyong sits in the living room, skimming a book, while Doyoung works in the kitchen. He can’t focus, though, mind drifting back to the picture of Ten. He’s guessing they’re in Johnny’s apartment. He imagines Johnny laughing at the face Ten was making when he took the pictures, imagines him scooting across the couch to kiss him after he put his phone away. He imagines him asking him to come visit his hometown with him to meet all his friends. He imagines meeting Ten, having to shake his hand, having to welcome him. He imagines Ten, gorgeous eyes, shiny hair, perfect smile, deciding to stay.

He hates him. He hasn’t met him, but he hates him, and he’s mad at himself for hating him, because of course it’s not fair of him. It’s not Ten’s fault Johnny fell in love with him and not Taeyong. It’s not Ten’s fault he’s flawless. It’s not Ten’s fault Taeyong is dying.

Taeyong doesn’t realize he’s coughing until he already is, huge, wheezing breaths in between. He flings the book down, folding over himself, knowing very well Doyoung hears. He feels a hand on his back and all he can think is that Doyoung’s gonna kill him before this stupid disease gets around to it.

He’s coughed up giant orange petals—he has to pull one from his mouth, where it’s still sitting, half down his throat. He looks up at Doyoung, eyes watering, and sees horror and pain reflected in his face.

“, Taeyong,” Doyoung whispers, grabbing a nearby trashcan so Taeyong can dispose of the flowers. “What the ?”

“I’m sorry,” Taeyong replies. “I’m sorry you had to see. Nobody—nobody was supposed to know.” 

Doyoung sits down on the floor next to him, leaning his back up against the sofa. He stares at the wall. “How long?” he asks.

“About a month. A little longer, I think,” Taeyong says, biting down on the inside of his lower lip, worrying the skin between his teeth until it’s raw.

“You should’ve told me,” Doyoung says. “Do your parents know? , does Johnny know?”

“No one knows.”

“Why?” Doyoung turns, and the hurt in his eyes is so strong that Taeyong has to look away. “Did you think you could get through this alone? Did you think any of us would want you to go through it alone?”

“It’s not like you can help me,” Taeyong says bitterly. “You can’t make him love me. None of you can.”

“Who is it?” Doyoung asks, soft.

“I don’t want to tell you.”

“Okay.” Doyoung sighs heavily. “Okay.” They’re silent for another minute or two. “Are you going to tell your parents?”

“I’ll tell them near the end,” Taeyong says. “So they can say goodbye. But… there’s no point in worrying them now. Again… there’s nothing they can do. I want them to be in pain for as short a time as possible. Same goes for everybody else.”

“Is that what you meant at breakfast today? That you didn’t want Johnny to put his life on hold for you? Because you won’t…” Doyoung swallows, unable to finish the sentence.

“He’s got so much time ahead of him,” Taeyong says, somewhat wistfully. “And I don’t, so…” He shrugs. “I knew if I told him he’d treat me different. He wouldn’t have gone to this training program—and then he wouldn’t’ve met Ten. So I was right not to tell him.”

“I’m not sure he’d agree with you there,” Doyoung says wryly. “Jesus, Taeyong. I can’t believe you hid it for this long. You’re an idiot.”

“I know,” Taeyong murmurs. “I know.”

Doyoung glances into the trash can. “What flower is that?”

Taeyong peers into it, too. “It’s an orange lily,” he says.

“Why that?”

Taeyong gives him a sideways look. “It’s, um. That’s new.” It’s because I’m angry. It’s because I hate a man I haven’t even met. “The flowers have been changing from the start.”

“,” Doyoung mutters again, putting his head in his hands. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance I can convince you to get the surgery, is there?”

“No,” Taeyong says firmly, simply. 

“I’m sorry, Taeyong,” Doyoung says softly. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. It’s not fair. You don’t deserve this.”

Taeyong feels tears prick behind his eyes. He knows all that, of course--but it’s nice to hear someone else say it. “It’s a little fitting, though, don’t you think?” he points out.

Doyoung gives a watery laugh. “A little, yeah.”

They sit quietly for a little while longer, Taeyong catching his breath, Doyoung angrily swiping tears away from time to time. Finally, he huffs out a breath and gets to his feet. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s go do something fun. Let’s go to the beach.”

“What about your work?” Taeyong asks. “Did you finish it?”

“My work doesn’t matter.” Doyoung offers him his hand, pulling him to his feet. “You’re gonna have the best summer ever, if I have anything to say about it.”

So, they go to the beach. Doyoung pushes him around in the water, their small assortment of items abandoned on the sand. Taeyong finds himself laughing in spite of it all. The sun is bright and oppressive, but Taeyong doesn’t mind. The gratitude returns to him now, too; he’s lucky he has a friend like Doyoung. It could be much worse, he thinks as he runs and grabs Doyoung, hoisting him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes or a particularly unruly child and trudging back down to the water, ignoring Doyoung’s flailing limbs and protests, wading in and then dunking Doyoung below the surface. At any rate, he certainly isn’t moping around at home, as Doyoung had so sweetly put it.

It’s late before they finally decide to head back. The sky is already a vibrant pink by the time they pull up to Taeyong’s house.

The bugs are all coming out, cicadas humming sharply in the trees, and he and Doyoung both let out a little breath at the same time. Doyoung stares through the windshield, still gripping his steering wheel, even though the car is in park.

“Thank you for today, Doie.” Taeyong decides to break the silence.. “I really… I really appreciate it.”

Doyoung doesn’t answer for a moment, only gripping the steering wheel harder. “I know it’s not my place to be sad,” he finally says, his voice tight. “It’s not my place to be angry, but god ing dammit, Taeyong.” He leans forward, resting his forehead against his knuckles. “I’m mad. I’m furious. It’s not fair! I thought our stupid friend group was finally done with all of this. I thought we had all the time in the world.”

“I know,” Taeyong says.

“I hope I never find out who this idiot you love is,” Doyoung says. “I’d kill him if I knew, I think.”

“I don’t think you would,” Taeyong says delicately. “But that’s partially why I’m not telling anyone.”

Doyoung raises his head, and Taeyong realizes he’s crying. “I’m gonna miss you so much, stupid,” he says thickly. 

Taeyong blinks away his own tears. “I… I know.” 

“I’ll—I’ll come take care of you, when it gets bad,” Doyoung promises, and Taeyong shakes his head. 

“You don’t have to do that. It’s not—it’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to see me like that.”

“I want to,” he says fiercely. “And I don’t want your parents to be alone.”

Taeyong nods numbly, trying not to think about his parents, trying not to think about how they’ll have to choose the plants for his bouquet and wrap them themselves. He tries not to think about them waking up to an empty loft, a quiet, too-big house. He thinks about them having to manage the flower shop without him. He thinks about them having to bury their son.

“Thank you,” Taeyong says again. He doesn’t know what else to say. “You’ll be… you’ll be alright, eventually.”

“I know.” Doyoung sighs, long and heavy. “It’s the kids I’m worried about.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Taeyong murmurs. “Mark and Yukhei… Donghyuck… Jisung especially. I feel terribly sorry to them. I don’t want to leave them behind like this. I—I don’t want to leave any of you behind.”

Doyoung makes a pained noise. “Go, get out of my ing car before I start ugly-sobbing,” he says, pushing his shoulder. “I’ll see you soon.”

Taeyong laughs, opening the car door. “Okay, okay.” He closes it behind him and leans down. “Goodnight, Doyoung.”

“Goodnight, moron,” Doyoung mutters in reply.

Taeyong rubs a few tears out of his eyes as he watches Doyoung drive away, then makes his way down the path to his front door. 

“Just in time!” his mom calls from the kitchen. “Will you help me finish dinner?”

Taeyong kicks off his shoes and hurries to her. “Sorry for being so late, it wasn’t supposed to be that long.”

“It’s okay,” his mom says. “It’s good you got to spend so much time with Doyoung. He’s so busy these days.” She hands him some vegetables to wash. “By the way,” she adds. “Your sister said she’s going to come home in a few days for a visit.”

“Why didn’t she tell me?” Taeyong says, checking his phone and finding it devoid of messages. “Why doesn’t anybody tell me anything?”

His mom laughs. “Yes, we’re all conspiring against you to give you lovely surprises,” she teases, and Taeyong giggles. “It’ll be nice to have her back.”

“How long is she staying?” Taeyong asks.

“Oh, she said maybe a month or so,” his mom replies. “She has some time off of work—or, well, she can take time away. She’ll probably still be working. You know how she is.”

“Yes,” Taeyong says nodding. “That’s good, though,” he adds, though his heart feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. “I can’t wait to see her again.”

That night after he’s put himself to bed, he stares up at the ceiling, feeling the creeping tendrils of dread wrap themselves tightly around him. Eunyong knew more about Taeyong than even Johnny, even their parents. She can see right through him, can predict his every action, and she loves him fiercely. He knows it will be quite the feat to hide his condition from her, especially when she’s staying so long. If Doyoung was mad at him for keeping it a secret, Eunyong will be furious. She won’t force him to get the surgery, of course, but she won’t be happy about it, either. And if Eunyong finds out, it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows, because she knows they’ll all want to say goodbye.

Taeyong knows it’s fair, but he’s not sure he’s ready for it. He tosses and turns, and when he closes his eyes, it’s his friends’ faces he sees. He’s not one for exaggerating his place in other people’s lives, but he also recognizes that for some reason, he’s loved. He knows it’ll break their hearts.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into his palms, curled facing the wall in the fetal position. “I’m so sorry.”