First off, I want to thank all 20 of you who have subscribed to this fic!! I've just finished my exams this morning, and because I'm also an incredibly sad person with no social life, in addition to being a student, I shan't go out to day to celebrate, and instead will stay home and do double updates for this fanfic and my other DaeJae that I'm working on, called Mission Impossible II. *Wipes sweat* Stay tuned :)))), and I hope you guys enjoy this chappie <3333

I must admit, I just sat infront of my comp, and watched this gif replay itself so many times, and smiled like an idiot while melting into a pile of goo...But don't worry though--I've kept my fingers intact so I can write the rest of this chappie :)

Myungsoo was snapped out of his thoughts when muffled sounds from Sungyeol distracted him.

Myungsoo's eyes widened.

Sungyeol was staring at him in horror, fits clenched against the table, so hard that they shook. Myungsoo's eyes travelled up from Sungyeol's hands, to rest on his face, and they lingered there. Sungyeol's eyes were so wide that Myungsoo could see himself reflected in them, without having to peer into them. They were a little red-rimmed now, and shone with the wetness that gathered on his lower lid. Myungsoo started when a droplet s it's way down from the right eye, lining the side of his nose to meet with his upper lip, and hung there, shaking a little.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

Myungsoo swallowed hurriedly. He waved his hands in front of Sungyeol to get his attention, to distract him, to stop him crying. Sungyeol turned his head slightly so that he faced Myungsoo head-on, and made no effort in wiping away the tear. Myungsoo could see more collecting in his eyes, threatening to spill over, threatening to streak Sungyeol's face with more salty stains.

"No no..." Myungsoo stated weakly, hand grabbing the dark red paper napkins that lay next to the utensils on the table. "Don't..." Myungsoo tried to stuff a handful of them into Sungyeol's fists, but the boy didn't take them, just stared at him. Myungsoo didn't really want to look up, and see the look in Sungyeol's eyes. He looked so hurt, so lost, and Myungsoo felt like a bad, bad person for making him cry.

Sungyeol tried--he really did--to stop crying, and Myungsoo could see the effort he put in, scrunching up his face, crinkling his brows, but the tears still escaped from the corners of his eyes, still rolled his nose, still continued to dot the table with his hurt. Myungsoo's hand curled around the napkins once more. Did I look like that? Myungsoo wondered once, and couldn't help himself anymore.

Leaning forward, Myungsoo reached so that he could place his hands on Sungyeol's shoulders, patting them, patting his head, his hair, his face. It was awkward, this position, because the table was in between them, and Myungsoo had to stretch out to reach Sungyeol. He wondered what they looked like from the other customers' point of view. Probably like Myungsoo was wrestling with Sungyeol while both of them were still seated or something. He couldn't be more glad he hadn't decided to choose the available table beside the window.

"Don't..." Myungsoo tried again, and this time Sungyeol actually responded, and brought his arm up to wipe his face on his sleeve. When Sungyeol's face was hidden in the folds of the fabric, Myungsoo felt as if the weight of the despair and gloom settled on his shoulders had lightened, just a little. Myungsoo retracted his hands, and stared at Sungyeol's shoulders that still shook slightly.

It struck Myungsoo how weird this whole situation was.

Sungyeol--the-stranger-named-Sungyeol--was crying for him. Because he'd told him he was going to die. It was funny, because it was as if Sungyeol was the only person in the world that was so affected by that fact. Myungsoo had felt relieved about the news. His sister was just stunned by the information --she hadn't cried. Myungsoo could bet his life on it (ha.) that his best friend wouldn't give a damn. He hadn't told his friends anything yet.

And yet--and yet, here he was in some random roadside cafe, squashed into a booth with a guy he'd met almost (Myungsoo glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall to his right) an hour ago, trying to get the almost-stranger to stop crying over his impending death. This was absurd. Myungsoo watched Sungyeol uncurl his arm around his face, and grab a few tissues to blow his nose on.

"Vanilla ice-cream." The waitress brought the tall glass cup over, and smiled so bright, Myungsoo felt blinded for a moment.

Over-eager woman alert.

The waitress looked over at Sungyeol.

"Anything else?" She beamed, expectantly.

But Sungyeol had his arm wrapped around his head again, so Myungsoo shook his head for both of them, and answered, "We're fine."

It wasn't until the waitress' smile faltered a little, and she'd backed off, that Myungsoo realised what he'd just said. What, Myungsoo cringed inwardly, an obvious lie. Myungsoo looked down at the ice-cream, that was just beginning to melt. He'd ordered it, because it was a habit of his to snack on something sweet while his mind processed information, but Myungsoo knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate now. Not with Sungyeol sitting opposite him. Myungsoo glanced up to see his face still hidden, and sighed, and wrapped his fingers around the glass.

"Here, you have it." Myungsoo pushed the ice-cream towards Sungyeol.

Sungyeol looked up at him, but didn't take it. Myungsoo frowned, and looked down at the ice-cream, then back up at Sungyeol, willing him to take his offering. When Sungyeol still didn't make a move towards the ice-cream, Myungsoo sighed again, and took the spoon, and uncurled Sungyeol's fingers gently.

"Just eat it." Myungsoo pressed the spoon into Sungyeol's fingers.

Myungsoo didn't expect it when Sungyeol's fingers closed around his at the last moment, hanging onto his pinky with an almost desperate clasp. Myungsoo looked up at Sungyeol, then down again, at his arm awkwardly resting on the table.

"Don't die." Sungyeol rasped, voice still a tad thick with tears.

Myungsoo let his other hand draw small circles in the small puddle of condensation the glass had made on the table. Myungsoo didn't look up. He jerked his pinky out of Sungyeol's grasp.

"Not like I can help it." Myungsoo muttered to his lap.

"But--"

"The doctor said--it's way past the curable stage." Myungsoo's voice was low, even, as he quoted word for word.

"But there has to be--"

"There's nothing anyone can do, Sungyeol."

Myungsoo risked a glance up at Sungyeol, and wished he hadn't. The boy's face was on the verge or crumpling up again, and Myungsoo was afraid that he'd start crying once more.

"Hey...Can I have your number?" Sungyeol's voice went a pitch higher, back to normal. Myungsoo didn't raise his eyes, but arched one eyebrow, trying to keep up with the boy's change in emotions. Why did Sungyeol want his number for anyway? Myungsoo wondered. He'd only pick up calls, and reply text messages for the next two months afterall. After that, he'd never hold his phone again, and his phone number would become a useless string of numbers to be forgotten and erased from contact lists.

But Sungyeol insisted, and slid his phone along the table, towards Myungsoo. Sungyeol nodded his head encouragingly as Myungsoo picked up the phone and stared at it. Then gave up, and typed his phone number in. He shifted on his bum a little, making the cheap leater of the seats squeak, and Sungyeol laughed to himself again at the noise. Myungsoo frowned.

"I didn't fart."

That only made Sungyeol crack up more, and soon Myungsoo found himself smiling too.

"Here." Myungsoo handed Sungyeol's phone back to him, along with his own phone, so Sungyeol could type his in too. Sungyeol took his phone from Myungsoo's hands reverently, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. He watched as Sungyeol beamed an extremely grateful gaze at him. Myungsoo raised his eyebrow again.

"What?"

Sungyeol's mouth curved upwards again. "Thanks." Sungyeol motioned to the phone. Myungsoo shrugged, as if to say 'you're welcome', because he wasn't entirely sure what Sungyeol was so grateful for. Sungyeol's brow furrowed a little, as if he was unsatisfied with something, but then his fingers worked on the phone, and he handed it back to Myungsoo.

He took a look at the screen, and laughed. Sungyeol had saved his number as 'Your New Friend Sungyeol', and even added a heart behind for extra measure.

After Sungyeol had finished demolishing the ice-cream, and used up the last of the red paper napkins to wipe the stuff off his mouth (Myungsoo had tried to help out by pointing to his own mouth, but the only thing he'd accomplished was to make Sungyeol go into hysterics from the weird faces he made), Myungsoo left the cafe, and walked back home, hands stuffed deep into his pockets against the cold of the evening. Before he left though, Myungsoo turned to watch Sungyeol head in the direction of the hospital.

Myungsoo stopped walking when his phone buzzed, and he stared at the caller ID. He debated over whether he should answer the phone, before sighing and surrendering. He'd done that alot today--sighing, and surrendering, and smiling, and laughing. Anyone would think he'd lost it. Maybe he had.

"Are you Myungsoo?" Sungyeol's voice was slightly muffled, and Myungsoo remembered the scarf Sungyeol had wrapped around his neck, covering his chin and almost reaching his mouth.

"I thought we established that already." Myungsoo was confused.

"Just checking you gave me the correct number. Thanks for picking up." The line went dead suddenly, and Myungsoo turned around.

In the distance, someone tall and thin was waving to him, and bouncing up and down to get his attention. As if the bright red fleece jacket wasn't eye-catching enough. Myungsoo laughed once through his nose, and returned the wave, and watched as Sungyeol turned the corner, and disappeared.

Too cute...I can't... At this rate, my sister will have to scrape me off the floor with a spatula or something... *-*

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Updating once more tonight... Stay tuned :) Sorry if this chappie wasn't very interesting... more things will happen in the next chappie... ><