Breathing was hard. But it had become a habit in Jiyong’s life, so he didn’t really cared anymore. Everything was just automatic: the way he checked any weird noise coming from his lungs, the way he listened to his heartbeat, even the way he was careful how his voice sounded to his ears. It was his everyday, and people around him were way more scared about his health than he was. They were always asking him how he felt, if he wanted anything. Some also told him he shouldn’t be that carefree about how bad his condition was, that it wasn’t even normal and fair for someone as young as him. Most of them pitied him, Jiyong could see the glances, the stiff jaws, almost feel the ghost touches some dared to apply on his skin. His mom cried a lot. Seungri too. His father never once showed him the sadness he was fighting against inside but Jiyong knew it too well. They all wished him to be fine, to get over his illness and have a life like everyone had, with a healthy body.

But Jiyong never knew what a healthy body was. So he couldn’t figure out what he missed.

As he felt sweat run along his back, wetting both his pajamas and the sheet he was buried in, he was pretty aware his fever remained the same as the previous days.  High fever. Such a sweet, sweet torture. It always made him turn into a delirious mess, dreaming awake of his childhood memory confusing them with reality, hopes and fears. And it drove him crazy, almost unable to put the right aside from what he was imagining.

With all his might, Jiyong clenched his eyelids tightly their dryness hurting him, and then opened his eyes the widest he could. His lashes stopped him seeing clearly the room, but he was totally able to tell every details of it. It felt like a golden jail. His golden jail.

He knew the shapes around him as he has lived here forever. Bed in the middle of the room. TV in front of him. Closet on the left corner in front of him. Bedside table on his right. Thinking of the bedside table made him hollow laugh since it was the only thing he could touch on his own aside the bed, in this room. White walls that his mother took care of covering with map of any country of the world.

Jiyong always told anybody how much he dreamed to see the world once before it was too late. Because he was totally aware that there would be a time when it would be to late even thought people around him kept on telling him he was just too pessimist.

Realistic, he would answer.

And he was right, but the moment he feared the most came sooner than what he expected and Jiyong never had a chance to see any country. So his mother came on day with a bag stuffed of maps. She pined one in the wall. And then another. And another, trying to put it in a logical way only she was able to understand. She smiled proudly once she was finished, and so did Jiyong.

Now, he couldn’t remember if it was an honest smile or a faked one because realization hit him hard after his mother left. This dream had become out of his reach, those walls telling him that every minutes he was awake and sometimes even in his dreams. Although he never had the heart to tell her how he really felt knowing too well that she was worn out. It could have been the reason of his fight, his will to stay alive though, but there was something else. Something way stronger than map on a wall and with such a warmer embrace than cold pieces of paper.  He glanced at the nearly dying pot of flower in front of his bed and chuckled as he saw the surviving leaf dangerously becoming brown . He wasn’t sure anymore of what flower it was. Maybe an orchid. Maybe a tulip. All he was sure about was that nobody really cared about that pot. That was such a pity.

Then, he turned his head to the bathroom on his right, thought he couldn’t really remember the architecture because nurses always helped him when he had to go there, taking care of his sleepy body. Sometimes, his family took the charge of it, the guilt overflowing his parents’ minds since they couldn’t stop putting all the blame on them about their son’s health.

But the best was when Seunghyun dragged him there.

He always did the same things yet in such a unique way. Carrying him bridal style, knowing perfectly the water temperature Jiyong liked as well as every sensitive spots on his body. Seunghyun was the only one with that strength among his relatives: he felt loved when he was here. Not any pity. Just love. Love that made him relaxes and gives away all his fears.

A light smile appeared on his lips at the thought of Seunghyun.

The man had promised him that he would come and visit him at 6 or 7PM and Jiyong couldn’t hide his excitement, rather happy that nobody was in the room right now. His phone told him it was 4PM and since he had no check up today, he decided to turn on the TV watching any program that would make him fall asleep again.

Jiyong woke up feeling a pair of warm lips pressed against his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he let a grin come to his face knowing to well the kissing person. He reached his phone, quickly looking at the hour and mumbled a joyful:
“Right on time”

Which was answered by a light kiss on his lips. Nothing to do with the ghost caress he was used to.

Seunghyun’s piercing glare made him melt and as exhausted as he was, Jiyong found the strength to mouth a meaningful :
“I love you”

So much held in those world. The love. The thank you. For everything. Being there. Loving him back. For coming tonight. For being there from the start. And way much more.

Seunghyun understood everything and just sat at the edge of the bed, squeezing the needle-free hand of Jiyong as an answer. And Jiyong understood the meaning of the gesture too.

Suddendly Seunghyun came closer whispering in his ear and sending shiver down his spine.
“I’ll see the doctors tomorrow. They asked for me.”
And with that, Jiyong cried hard, because he knew what it meant. Feeling Seunghyun circle his arms around his waist comforted him in his thought.

It meant a whole new world.

It meant hope.