The first time Dongwoon visits Gikwang in the hospital, he looks exactly the same. He smiles nervously, (though still somehow managing to make it reach his eyes) shifting uncomfortably under the itchy fabric of his gown.

They talk as always, Gikwang using his hands, as always. He’d always talked with his hands; it was one of his small quirks.

The second time Dongwoon Visits Gikwang, he’s laying back in bed, back facing the door, hospital gown untied at the back. Dongwoon approaches and gently fastens it together before pulling up the covers.

“It’s too hot,” Gikwang murmurs, sleepily flopping the blankets back from his shrinking form. Dongwoon sighs.

The third time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he’s smiling again. Sitting up in bed, a box of juice in hand. His food looks untouched, though, and he offers it to Dongwoon as he takes the same seat he always does beside the bed.

They hold hands as they talk, and Dongwoon notices the way that Gikwang’s veins protrude from the back, his skin an awkward pale colour.

He says yes to the food, making conversation and quietly tricking Gikwang into eating it along with him. He manages three spoonfuls of mashed potatoes before looking exhausted and begging no more, Dongwoonie. Please.

The fourth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he kisses him. Holds his face between his palms, thumbs brushing over the fast appearing cheekbones beneath what once were a chubby set of rosy cheeks. Cups his now sharp jaw, and kisses the breath out of Gikwang.

He kisses him three times during the fourth visit, ending his stay with forcing a promise from Gikwang.

Don’t you leave me.

I won’t.

The fifth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he isn’t allowed inside. Gikwang’s mother says that Gikwang doesn’t want to see Dongwoon now, that he should go home and perhaps come back when Gikwang feels better.

The sixth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he’s refused once more, but it’s been over a week and he needs, needs to see Gikwang. He goes inside after Gikwang’s mother leaves for work, closing and flicking the lock shut behind himself.

Gikwang’s asleep when he approaches, and Dongwoon’s heart tears just a bit. His hair is gone. His hair has always been his point of confidence, styled perfectly even since day one in here.

Dongwoon sits at the side in which Gikwang is facing, noting the way that Gikwang seems to drastically change with each visit. They’d caught his illness late, Dongwoon knows, and he doesn’t want to waste a single day with Gikwang.

He leans down to kiss his sleeping face, the building tears in his eyes quietly falling upon sunken cheeks. Dongwoon wishes that this were a fairytale, that his tears could cure this. He’d do anything.

The seventh time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he wants to go outside. He’s strapped to a bunch of machines, but he’s adamant, so Dongwoon manages to steal the wheelchair of the patient in the opposing room to Gikwang, noticing them being asleep. Surely they wouldn’t need it any time soon.

He walks with Gikwang, who’s in his usual beanie hat and large glasses. Gikwang still talks, but he no longer uses his hands. He no longer talks with hope, nor does he talk in promises like he once did. He talks about how the breeze feels nice, and that Dongwoon should definitely enjoy it whenever he can, tells Dongwoon to please play more. Play enough for the both of them.

Dongwoon doesn’t want to hear it.

The eighth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, it’s been a few weeks. Dongwoon’s been out of town for a wedding, and he wishes with all his heart that he could’ve taken Gikwang. He would’ve loved it, Dongwoon tells him, and there were a lot of children and bouqets of flowers. Gikwang loves both, and he smiles as Dongwoon tells the story of how his cousin, Junhyung, had gotten blindly drunk and sprained his wrist trying to break dance in his state.

Dongwoon takes Gikwang’s hand, running his thumb over Gikwang’s thin fingers, over the IV jammed into the back. He kisses it, kisses his way along Gikwang’s frail forearm, causing the boy to erupt into a weak set of giggles.

Don’t you leave me, Dongwoon say playfully as his lips tickle the skin of Gikwang’s earlobe.

I won’t, I won’t.

The ninth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he’s swaddled in bed, eyes half open and out of focus. He’s white as snow, teeth softly chattering as droplets of sweat fall from the ends of his eyelashes and onto his cheeks.

He tells Dongwoon of how it hurts, how he feels ready now, that he doesn’t think he can fight anymore. It’s too late, and Dongwoon openly cries, his head dipping into his hands.

You said you’d never leave, Dongwoon says.

I won’t.

The tenth time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he’s no longer attached to any machinery, his breaths deep and shaky as he slowly blinks to Dongwoon. His hand is limp as Dongwoon takes it as always, giving it a kiss, and although it’s weak, he can feel Gikwang softly squeezing back.

The corners of his lips tip up just slightly, and Dongwoon brings his face close so as to hear Gikwang’s words.

He tells Dongwoon to kiss him, and Dongwoon does. Closes his eyes and appreciates the way Gikwang is trying with all he has to deepen it. He’s no longer strong enough for it, but Dongwoon kisses him until it’s hard for both of them to breathe. He then kisses Gikwang’s pale skin, arms and cheeks and his nose and lips and his forehead and his fingers, as he closes his eyes and catches his breath.

Dongwoon isn’t ready to admit that this might be goodbye, since surely Gikwang couldn’t possibly deteriorate further. No longer did he have defined and tanned skin, and Dongwoon felt like a monster for thinking that maybe Gikwang was better off being put out of misery.

I love you, he says as he sits beside Gikwang once more, head resting against his stomach, savoring every rise and fall. Please, don’t you ever leave me. Please, please… please.

I won’t, Gikwang whispers. I love you.

The eleventh time Dongwoon visits Gikwang, he’s in his best suit, hands gently folded together at his front. His head bows, tears dribbling endlessly from the corners of his eyes as his shoulders violently shake with cries held onto.

He looks at all the colourful flowers placed down, and he knows that Gikwang loves each and every one. If he were here, he’d be picking them up and burying his nose inside, shoving them in Dongwoon’s face even though he has severe hayfever.

Everybody came, just as it should have been. Gikwang’s spirit is one that couldn’t be denied, he’d definitely brightened the lives of many people. Dongwoon had always been at the very top of the list.

The lost feeling will never truly leave, Dongwoon knows. He doesn’t feel he has a heart anymore, but maybe one day he’ll find it once more. Maybe Gikwang took it with him to wherever he is now, Dongwoon thinks. Dongwoon hopes.

Gikwang once said that he belongs outside, playing in the grass and rolling around in the flowers. That’s where he always felt most at home.

So, as Dongwoon leaves, he slips his shoes and socks off as he toes his way through the cold grass, droplets of snow landing on his suit covered shoulders as he does.

And for once, he enjoys it. The feel of each blade tickling his toes, and he finally embraces the tingling of his skin as his feet crunch the faded green beneath them. He truly feels as though Gikwang is right beside him here, laughter and a head full of snow specked hair bouncing in tow.  

You said you wouldn’t leave, and you were right.