As the days went on, Luhan found himself able to read the boy’s expressions better. He didn’t always understand what he was saying, but something about Sehun kept Luhan coming back. Luhan had long persuaded himself that it was only because he longed to understand something other than the complicated words the doctors would throw at him while speaking, but he never had the courage to ask the boy about his life, nor did he try to tell the boy about his condition. He felt no need; despite the nagging he felt whenever he watched the boy scribble words on the paper planes.
So when Luhan sat under the sheets of his white hospital bed, he wondered why he had kept the pieces of crumpled paper and hid them from those visiting him.
Luhan wondered, because he didn’t quite understand the childish actions and bursts of jealously whenever thoughts of sharing his new found friend with anyone else would arise.
Maybe, he thought, maybe it was because he had never had anything he could consider his own. During the long years Luhan had lived in the hospital, he had seen people come and go. Each time he tried to reach for something, it would slip through his fingers, and the young adult had long become afraid of growing close to anyone or thing. But the further away Luhan had tried to push himself from the mute boy, the closer he seemed to be pulled, and Luhan allowed it. He allowed it, because just this once he wanted to be selfish. Just this once, he didn’t want to listen to the orders from his parents and doctors about how dangerous his condition was and not to wonder from the hospital. He didn’t want to listen, because although he had been kept innocent inside the walls of the hospital, Luhan was still an adult.

So within the thirty minute visit that his mother had managed to turn up to, Luhan kept quiet.
“You’re looking better Luhan.” His mother’s soothing voice spoke, a lie that she had been uttering every time she visited the medication dependant man.
Not wanting to create tension, Luhan forced a small smile and nodded. He hated whenever the people around him lied about his condition to his face and then spoke behind his back about how little progress he was making. He felt like a small child sitting beside his mother at a parents evening, being spoke about as if he wasn’t there. He knew that as soon as his loving mother stepped out of the room, the doctors would tell her about how his condition had worsened, and he couldn’t understand why they didn’t just say it right in front of him.
If he only had a short amount of time to live, then he wanted to know how long was left.
But Luhan was too weak, mentally, to ask them. He was afraid of the truth; of the unjust life he had been granted. No matter how much he tried to persuade himself that he wasn’t, it only reminded him that he was.
“I have to go now Luhan.” The woman’s voice sounded once more. “I’m sorry.”
Luhan looked up, fighting back disappointed tears that would come whenever someone left him. He’d be alone again. “I know.”
Picking up the bag that was resting on her lap, Luhan’s unshed tears went unnoticed. She straightened out the business like, deep purple pencil dress and pushed a strand of her natural black hair behind her ear. “I’ll visit again soon.”
Luhan kept quiet, allowing his mother to plant a light kiss on his forehead before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her.
It had always been that way; his mother would visit for the shortest time and leave just like that, each time taking a little piece of his hope with her. The hope that one day he wouldn’t be left alone, that one day, he’d be able to leave alongside her.
A small hope.
One that he knew was growing more impossible as the days passed.

The young adult only waited ten minutes before changing and slipping out of the hospital like he had started doing on a regular basis. He kept a look out for his mother, but after walking a distance from the hospital, he let his guard down. Looking back once more, only to no longer be able to see the large building, Luhan let out a sigh of relief before looking up at the sky above. He walked with no thoughts to ponder over, as he already had enough time to think while he sat in the hospital alone. But this kind of loneliness was comfortable. It wasn’t suffocating. There was no silence. The young adult just walked, listening to the cars that passed by on the other side of the wire fence.
He wanted to wonder about the life that people lived on the other side. What type of things was he missing?
Was he better off being locked up inside the safe confines of the hospital?
Should he even be trying so hard to become a part of their world?
Luhan didn’t have any answers, and he didn’t want to find any either. He was perfectly happy walking alongside the metal grating towards the space he had become all too familiar with.
However, when he arrived at the usual spot, he looked around in wonder. Sehun wasn’t there. Luhan wondered if maybe he had just arrived too early, and with that thought in mind sat against the metal grating and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze that swept over him.


Luhan woke abruptly, a rather loud but soothing tune playing just behind him. Sitting up with a low grunt, he startled the person who had sat on the other side of the fence, and their sudden movement caused him to jump forward in surprise.
Turning in a hurry, he let out a sigh as his eyes landed on the familiar face of Oh Sehun.
“Ah, Sehun you scared me.”  He chuckled, earning an apologetic look from the younger male. If not for the fence that separated them, then Luhan would have reached over and ruffled the boy’s light brown hair. Knowing that the action was impossible, he settled for a small smile as he watched the boy brush the dirt from his clothes.
Luhan, still tired from his short nap, decided to stay in his position on the floor. He watched as Sehun searched for the notebook he usually used, a possession that even Luhan had started to treasure. Without even something so simple, the two would have never been able to communicate in the first place, and Luhan somehow felt grateful for the inanimate object. He found it amusing, because until he had met Sehun he would doodle on and throw pieces of paper away without a care, but now he treasured every pristine, white sheet that came his way.
‘Did you sleep well?’ Sehun wrote as soon as he had found the item he was looking for.
Luhan smiled without realising. “Yes, thanks. I didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry Sehun.”
However the boy simply smiled at his reply and shook his head, waving away the boy’s concern. ‘You look well today.’
Luhan wondered if Sehun knew he was ill. He looked straight into the carefree eyes of the young male, but couldn’t bring himself to ask him. He didn’t want to worry Sehun with his problems, especially considering he knew there was no way he could help.
“Thanks.” He uttered, not able to find any other words.
However, his reaction did not go unnoticed, as Sehun was used to paying attention to the small things.
‘I didn’t mean anything bad by it. You just haven’t looked well the past couple of days.’
Luhan smiled and nodded. He had nothing to say to the young boy, because he didn’t want to continue the conversation. So instead, he settled for random words that popped into his head. “You know Sehun, I’m really glad I met you.”
The young boy smiled widely, unable to hide the blush that had crept onto his face. He wrote the response quickly and threw the paper plane with little precision in his excitement. But still, Luhan was able to catch the paper reasonably easily.
‘Me too. You’re my best friend Luhan.’

Luhan had never really known what home felt like, but guessed it was something like the happiness he was feeling now.

--

The end of this was rushed a bit because my sister keeps telling me to go to sleep.

Sorry for the lack of updates, I haven’t had much inspiration lately.