It didn’t take Jiyong long to bathe anymore. Ever since breathing had become more difficult for him, he’d gotten it down to a quick science. There was a seat in his shower like the kind old people use, and he’d sit there and wash his face, neck and ears, then quickly wash his arms and armpits. He had to be extra-careful around his surgery scars, because some of them were still a little sensitive, but once he got past them, it was pretty much legs, privates, and done. He wasn’t allowed to wash his hair in the shower anymore. His mother usually washed it for him at night using a cup and a bucket (it was pathetic, but he could easily drown himself if he let the water run over his head.)

                He finished quickly enough, but he kept it to himself. His family meant well, but most of the time, they were too busy taking care of him and worrying about him to understand when he needed space. He had taken a moment to put baby lotion on his skin (the only lotion that was sensitive enough not to irritate his skin anymore), and he lay across the bed in only his underwear, immediately grabbing his phone. He knew that he should’ve been switching back over to his CPAP, but all he could think of was calling Seunghyun. Again. He’d been calling the guy all week, and he still hadn’t gotten an answer. Seunghyun probably wasn’t doing well. Jiyong was actually getting kind of worried.

                Dialing the number, he pulled the covers over his body, and held the phone to his ear. The voicemail came on again and Jiyong sighed loudly, wishing that Seunghyun had finally picked up, instead. There wasn’t really anything he had to say. He just really missed him. After Seunghyun’s greeting, Jiyong didn’t say anything for a moment. It felt pointless. Seunghyun wasn’t listening, and he probably would just be annoyed to see all those voicemails when he got well enough to check his phone. But then he figured he probably sounded like a creeper just breathing into the phone, and so he spoke.

                “… Hey. It’s me again. Are you okay?... I mean, that’s probably a stupid question. But… if you’re not okay, I… I wish your mom or somebody would text me for you. Anyway. I just got out of the shower. I’m not on my CPAP machine right now, which… I probably should be… but I thought I would spare you the Darth Vaderness of it. Well, my sister says it sounds like a broken fast-food speaker. Oh, my sister’s here! … She brought her boyfriend home and she wants me to be his friend or something. Well, her fiancé, I guess. She’s pregnant, too. It’s so weird… and… I wish I could talk to you. You make funny. Anyway… please get well enough to talk to me… okay. Okay, bye,” he hung up quickly. He hung up because he felt tears begin to well up in his eyes, and he didn’t want to cry… over a boy he kissed once and only knew for two weeks. Cancer friends came and went; either they died or they got better and forgot about you; but Jiyong didn’t want Seunghyun to be a cancer friend.

                He sighed deeply, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling again. There was a ceiling fan with four lanterns in the middle of it; he barely used it as a fan, anymore. He wondered if he’d be able to turn it on by standing on the bed, so he sat up, and he attempted to move into a standing position, but the bed made him feel too wobbly, so he gave up after a while. There was a knock on his door, again.

                “Go away!” he yelled without thinking.

                “What? Did you take your bath?” his mom called from beyond the wooden barrier of his door. Jiyong glared at the door, annoyed. He hated that he had to be checked on like a child. He hated all of this.

                “Yeah, I did. And I drowned in the tub. You’re talking to Jiyong’s ghost,” he replied sarcastically, crawling completely under the covers.

                “Aigoo! Don’t say that!” his mother fussed, opening his door(which he was sure he had locked). “Where are you?... Yah. Come out from there. You have to eat.”

                “I told Dami I didn’t want to. I’m a grown-up, stop monitoring me like a child!” he fussed from beneath the covers. His mother walked to the bed, peeling the covers back enough to uncover his head.

                “You should eat. You have to eat to get better,” she smiled at him. “Let’s get dressed.”

                “Mom… I can dress myself,” he frowned. “I’m still . Go out so I can get dressed.”

                “Alright. Dami made you food, so come out after,”

                “Is Justin out there?” Jiyong didn’t want to talk to that guy. He thought he could perhaps avoid him if he stayed in his room and pretended to be too sick to talk to him or meet him. His mother nodded. “… Tell Dami I’ll just eat in here. I’m too tired to come out.”

                “You want to stay in bed?” his mother frowned, staring at him as if he must have been sick. “Do you feel bad?” Jiyong didn’t want to alarm his parents, and he didn’t want to send his doctor a negative report if there wasn’t really one, so he hesitated, but then he shook his head.

                “No… I’m okay. I just… would rather stay in here, thanks,” he replied. His mother seemed to be studying him as if she didn’t believe he was fine, but after a while, she relented.

                “Okay. But get dressed, and put your CPAP back on,”

                There was only two kinds of days, when you were home sick. There were the days where it was lonely and boring and the four walls were your only friends, and there were the days where everyone you knew piled themselves into your personal space and doted over you non-stop whether you wanted the attention or not. This was one of those overly-attentive days. Jiyong had barely gotten a moment to get dressed and check his Tumblr (which had gone neglected for weeks) before his sister, boyfriend-fiancé in tow, barged into his room with a tray of delicious breakfast which she had prepared herself. Jiyong didn’t even look up from his laptop when they walked in, hoping that his ignoring them would cause them to leave although he knew very well that it wouldn’t.

                “Tada! Strawberry crepes with vegan cream cheese filling and maple syrup and a bowl of granola with almond milk! Delicious and very healthy,” Dami exclaimed as she presented the tray to Jiyong. He glanced at the food, disinterest in his eyes.

                “Vegan cream cheese and almond milk?” he asked quizzically, the CPAP mask giving his voice that annoying tone that he hated so much.

                “Mhm. It’s delicious, trust me. I wouldn’t steer you wrong,” she sat the tray beside him on the bed, taking a seat at the foot of it, letting out a short huff. “So, you remember Justin, right?” Jiyong glanced at the guy. He looked like something out of an Abercrombie ad. For some reason, it pissed Jiyong off.

                “I didn’t say you could bring him into my room,” Jiyong closed his laptop, sitting it to the side and picking up the tray of food.

                “Well, Mom said you weren’t feeling well, and I wanted you to meet him, so I just thought it would be fine if he, you know… came in here, instead.” She smiled, and so did Justin. Jiyong just looked at him.

                “Sup, buddy? Wow, I think you grew since I last saw you!” the guy commented. Jiyong scoffed, his eyes shifting to his sister.

                “I feel fine. I just didn’t want to come out,” Ji shrugged. He picked up his fork, picking at the crepe carefully, unsure of this “vegan cream cheese” business.

                “Yeah, I bet you’re feelin kinda bummed, huh,” Justin interjected. Jiyong glanced at him, shrugging a little as he unstrapped his CPAP mask, taking the thing off so that he could at least attempt to eat breakfast.

                “He just doesn’t like strangers,” Dami answered for him.

                “But, I’m not a stranger. I met him like last year, right?” Justin sat beside Dami on the foot of the bed; it was so annoying. He smiled at Ji. “It’s cool, right buddy? I’m not a stranger.”

                “Why do you keep calling me ‘buddy’? Do you think I’m a little kid?” Jiyong asked before he could stop himself. Dami gave him a disapproving look, but Jiyong ignored it, reaching for his oxygen tank. His sister grabbed the tank, handing it to him; also annoying.

                “He knows you’re not a kid. He’s just trying to be nice,” she commented.

                “Sorry, man, I wasn’t trying to offend you or anything…” Justin watched him for a moment, watching him stick the cannula in his nose and turn off the noisy CPAP. “It’s just kinda hard to know what to say…”

                “Then don’t say anything,” Jiyong replied dryly, carefully nibbling a strawberry; the only familiar thing on his plate.

                “Ji, please be nice. Okay? For me?” Dami scolded him. Jiyong glanced up at her, disinterested in this whole exchange.

                “What? I’m being nice. I mean, obviously this is an uncomfortable situation for Justin hyungnim. Having to look at your decrepit, dying brother and everything,” he sighed, separating all of the strawberries from the weird vegan crepe. “I just thought it would be more comfortable for him if he didn’t have to actually talk to me.”

                “No, no, you got it all wrong, buddy! It’s not that. I don’t care that you’re sick and stuff,” Justin insisted. Jiyong shrugged. “It’s more that you’re Dami’s brother… than anything.”

                “Oh, yeah, that’s right. You have all that experience curing cancer patients with vegan breakfast,” Jiyong retorted sarcastically, much to Dami’s embarrassment.

                “Damnit, Ji! Why can’t you drop the cynical act for two minutes and just be nice to my fiancé! What did he do to you? He’s just trying to be friendly!” she yelled, surprising Ji. “And just so you know, the breakfast was all me. And if you really don’t appreciate it, you don’t have to eat it!”

                “Dami… it’s okay. I understand,” Justin calmed her, sliding his toned arm around her. The melodrama was a bit much for Jiyong. “Just give him some time. He’s been through a lot.”

                “We all have! And all everyone ever does is try to help him! He always acts like someone did this to him, like somehow it’s everyone else’s fault that he’s sick, and it’s tiring, Justin!” Jiyong’s heart jumped, hearing his sister’s words. He wondered if that was the reason she was never around; if it was because of him and not just because of his illness. He stared at her, unsure of how to respond, or if responding would even help. It felt ty. He felt ty.

                “If it’s tiring for you, think about it from Ji’s point of view. He’s been sick for a long time,” Justin seemed to have a better understanding of the situation than Dami did. Jiyong wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

                “Whatever… you know, Ji,” she turned to him. “I only asked you to do one thing. One thing! All I asked was that you got to know Justin, and you can’t even take that seriously. But whatever. It’s fine. You do what you want, you’re the sick one.” Dami stood up, storming towards Ji’s bedroom door. “… Your stupid comic books are in my room, if you wanna come get them.” She left, slamming the door. Jiyong jumped a little at the sound, his eyes staring at the door, dumbfounded. Suddenly, he’d lost his appetite. He didn’t even understand what had just happened. Justin looked at him, sympathetic eyes apologizing for Dami’s behavior.

                “I’m sorry about that… You know, it’s not her, it’s the hormones. She’s been really emotional lately,” Justin explained. Jiyong just nodded, unsure of how to respond. “She did tell you, right? She’s um…” Jiyong nodded again. “Hey, don’t feel bad. You really shouldn’t take it personally.”

                “I didn’t know she felt that way,” Jiyong replied softly, looking down at the plate his sister had made for him. Suddenly, he felt really guilty. It was a beautiful crepe that she’d taken the time to roll perfectly with freshly sliced strawberries and a sprinkle of powdered sugar. There was vegan cream cheese, which she’d obviously gone to the store for, since their family didn’t buy vegan products. She’d taken the time to make this nice thing for him, and he reacted like a child.

                “She doesn’t! She loves you! She talks about you all the time, Ji. It’s hard to get her to shut up about you,” Justin insisted, smiling a little. “She just, you know… this whole thing is hard for her. You being sick, and all. She’s already emotional because of the hormones, and just… thinking about you being sick, it makes her more emotional.”

                “I mean… thanks for the explanation, but hormones don’t change people’s opinions. They only make you feel what you already feel harder,” Jiyong responded, deciding to taste his sister’s crepe. He was sad, but he was trying to hide it. Hearing his sister yell at him that way, it really did hurt. The idea that he hurt his sister all those years hurt even more. The crepe was delicious, which made Ji feel even worse.

                “I keep trying to explain to her that whatever she’s feeling; the fear, the frustration, the anger; it’s probably much worse for you. You know? I don’t care if you act cynical, man, hey, I get it. This . You’ve been dealing with this for years and it . You don’t really owe me a smile when you’re sitting here attached to a breathing machine, no offense,” Justin rambled in this sort of Owen Wilson tone that sort of annoyed Ji even if he didn’t mind what the guy was saying. “If you wanna have a attitude, hey, by all means. I mean, you’re entitled to it.”

                “Yeah…” Ji nodded, tasting the granola next. It tasted, well, like granola, but the almond milk was better than he expected. “… I don’t really wanna talk about it, anymore, though. Can you go get my sister, please? I don’t want… eh. I just need to talk to her about it, or something.”

                “Sure, buddy. Ah… I keep calling you ‘buddy’. I gotta work on that,” Justin smiled, standing up. “Hey, man, don’t feel bad. She’s probably already over it.” Justin ruffled Ji’s hair awkwardly; Ji figured it was his attempt to be brotherly; and then he left.

                As soon as he did, Ji picked up his phone again, staring at it. He wanted to talk to Seunghyun. Seunghyun would understand. Seunghyun would get his cynical humor, and Seunghyun would know what to say to make Jiyong feel better about this whole day. But Seunghyun wouldn’t pick up the phone, no matter how hard he wished it. He knew that, but he texted him, anyway.

                “You’re an for not talking to me.” He sent the text. Part of him wondered if it was too mean, but part of him thought Seunghyun would like that. It wasn’t even ten minutes before Dami showed up at his door again, swinging it open swiftly and standing in his doorway with her arms crossed, a burlap tote bag dangling from her wrist.

                “I brought your ‘treasure’, Your Highness,” she scoffed, glaring at Ji.

                “I’m sorry I’m dumb,” Ji apologized. Dami rolled her eyes. “I am. It’s not that I don’t like your weird boyfriend. It’s just that I’m dumb.”

                “Fiancé. And whatever. You’re just being Ji. I don’t know what I expected,” she commented, walking towards the bed and dropping the bag beside him.

                “Don’t put that weird hippie bag on my bed,” Jiyong started, but she stopped him.

                “I’m really not up for you and your banter, Ji. I’m just bringing your stuff because Mom and Justin said you can’t walk upstairs,” she crossed her arms again, eyeing him. “You ate some of your breakfast.” Ji nodded.

                “I’m still eating… It’s good,” he commented.

                “Yeah, I know that. I told you that,” she sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead in frustration. “You don’t have to hide behind this… this attitude where you pretend you don’t like anything and don’t care about anything. I mean, I understand… that you’re just protecting yourself, because you’re scared, but God, Ji, I can’t talk to that person. I can’t deal with you like that.”

                “… Is that why you stopped coming home? Because of me?” he asked, the very question causing his heart to race. Dami sighed again. “I’m not trying to be this way. I just sort of am. I don’t know why I say things like that, but they just come out, okay? I’m sorry, don’t hate me.”

                “I don’t hate you, Ji. And, no, that’s not why I stopped coming home. I’m so… so sorry that I stopped coming home, sweetie, and it wasn’t because I don’t care or that I didn’t want to see you. It’s just… hard. I mean, I have a life in California, now. I have a life, too, and… it’s hard to have a life and also be so concerned with yours,” she shook her head, stopping herself. “That’s not what I mean. I just mean that… it was a full-time job, being here. I needed to graduate, and I was falling in love, and then I got a good job, and I didn’t see how I could have that and also be involved in all of this cancer stuff.”

                “You don’t have to be involved in the cancer stuff. I just want you to be my noona. Omma and Appa, they handle everything just fine. I need my sister, too, for other stuff,” he let out a long sigh, shoving some crepe in his mouth to distract himself. Dami watched him for a moment and then she moved the burlap bag, sitting beside him on the bed. Her arm slid around his shoulders and she leaned her head on his shoulder.

                “You’ve always been my baby. I just… when you got sick, I wanted to make it better. It killed me that I couldn’t,” she explained. “I guess somehow I had convinced myself that it was my job to make you better. And the sicker you got, the more stressful it got, for me. Maybe in a way, that’s why I distanced myself. I wanted to believe that helping you get better was my job, and it was an overwhelming job.”

                “… Can we please stop talking about it?” Jiyong mumbled, grasping his phone and opening Seunghyun’s text thread again, reading over their previous texts for comfort. He really hated the emotional stuff. He hated it, and he needed Seunghyun to be his distraction.

                “Okay. I’m sorry,” Dami exhaled, watching him as he messed around with his phone. “Seunghyun? Who is that?” she asked casually. Jiyong, horrified that she’d seen his name, pushed her off of him and hid the phone under his leg.

               “Don’t read my texts!” he yelled. Dami blinked in surprise, catching herself before she fell off of the side of the bed.

                “Good God, sorry!” she replied, exasperated. “I wasn’t trying to read them. I just saw the name and asked.”

                “Well don’t see the name and don’t ask,” Jiyong grumbled, his face betraying him immediately by turning a bright red color.

                “Uh oh… is it someone special?”

                “Noona,” Jiyong whined. Dami eyed him suspiciously.

                “It is, isn’t it?” she asked. Jiyong frowned.

                “Stop. He’s just a friend… he’s sick, right now, and I’m worried about him, if you must know,” Jiyong replied defensively. That only seemed to make Dami more suspicious.

                “Hmm,” she crossed her arms, studying her younger brother. “Is he a cancer friend?” Jiyong nodded.

                “I met him at the hospital, and we made friends… stop looking at me like that,” Jiyong whined.

                “So, you’re worried about this boy you met at the hospital? So worried that you’re staring at his texts longingly?” she eyed him, pursing her lips.

                “See! You’re coming to weird conclusions!”

                “I’m just wondering something,”

                “Whatever you’re wondering, stop wondering it,” he retorted defensively. “And I wasn’t staring longingly. I just had texted him and I was checking to see if he texted back yet.”

                “Well, if he’s in the hospital right now, he probably can’t text you back,” she commented, still staring at him. “… You should finish your food and get back on your breathing machine.”

                “You think he’s in the hospital? … He was supposed to be out-patient this week,” Jiyong wasn’t really asking. He was more like thinking aloud. Dami gave him a weird look.

                “You really are worried about him,” she looked as if she wanted to ask him something, but after a few moments, she just sighed, shaking her head.

                “… He’s a really good friend. I miss him,” Ji blushed again. “I don’t have any friends but him…”

                “Oh. Well, I guess that makes sense. For a minute, I thought…” she glanced at him again, her eyes studying him. “… I don’t want to offend you, but I really want to ask you something.”

                “… If it’s offensive, don’t ask me,” Jiyong rubbed at his cheeks to stop the blushing.

               “You know what I want to ask you, don’t you,” Dami eyed him. Jiyong didn’t respond. “… You would tell me, though, right? If it was that…”

                “… I do care a lot about Seunghyun. But that’s all there is to tell, okay?” he glossed over the subject. For some reason, saying it to Dami felt harder than saying it to his mom.

                “Care in what way, though?... I mean, do you like this boy?” Dami asked sternly, her face demanding to be told the truth. Ji hesitated before replying.

                “If I did, would that be a bad thing?”

                “… So, you’re gay?”

                “I guess,” he sighed. “I mean, it’s not that serious, Noona. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I haven’t even spoken to him all week.”

                “Wait, seriously? I ask you if you’re gay and you say ‘I guess’? What the hell does ‘I guess’ mean?” Dami fussed, much to Jiyong’s surprise.

               “I… I dunno,” he paused a moment, glancing at her. “You’re mad, so I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay? So, let’s drop it.”

                “’Are you gay?’, Ji. It’s a simple question, just answer it,” she demanded, fire in her eyes.

                “… Why is it making you so angry? I’m gonna die, anyway, so why does it matter if I’m gay or not?”

                “No, don’t give me that ‘I’m gonna die’ ! Just give me a straight answer! I mean, I was honest with you about being pregnant, the least you can do is tell me the truth about you,” she fussed.

                “I just don’t get why everyone keeps asking me if I’m gay… Why does it matter, Noona? I just told you I sorta … I like him. That should be enough. Right? That’s your answer,” he lamented, pushing his tray back a little, and he let out a deep sigh. “I’m just gonna put my CPAP back on.”

                “… Do you like him because you’re afraid that you’ll die before you get the chance to experience love and all that? Because, Ji, you don’t have to go that way just because you’re sick,” she frowned, pushing her hand through his fluffy hair, her dark eyes studying him. He almost couldn’t believe that she asked him something like that. He chuckled a little.

                “That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard. You think I like Seunghyun because I’m afraid I won’t get another chance?... Do you think I’m waiting for some pretty girl to fall in love with me or something?” he asked, shaking his head. “How the hell did Mom take this better than you?”

                “You told Mom? You told Mom before you told me?” she sounded shocked. “Ji, I’m your sister!”

                “Mom didn’t ask me if I was gay because I thought I wouldn’t get a chance with a girl,” he chuckled, too amused to even be upset.

                “That’s not what I meant… I just… I never thought of you as gay. I mean, I know a lot of gays. This just seems like something out of left field, with you,” she sighed, her eyes looking at him as if suddenly his looks had changed; as if suddenly, he was different.

                “Well… it’s not out of left field. Seunghyun’s just… the first time I … got a chance to express it. And no, I’m not settling for him or something stupid like that… he’s kind of ridiculously attractive…” Jiyong blushed a little, biting down on his lip. He hadn’t really said those words aloud before.  “Um… anyway, he’s just really cool, and we get each other… that’s why I like him. But he like started chemo this week and he’s probably really sick, so…”

                “Oh… you really like him, huh.” Dami seemed like she still didn’t know how to react. “What did Appa say about it?”

                “Nothing. He doesn’t know… and I’m not ready to tell him, so please don’t do that thing where you force me to say things I don’t want to say,” Jiyong frowned a little. “And right now, there’s nothing to tell, anyway. Like I said, I haven’t spoken to Seunghyun all week… we only kissed once, well… sorta twice, but it was the same moment, so it kinda counts as once. And after that, we haven’t spoken. So, I dunno… maybe he’s too sick to talk, or maybe he just regrets kissing me and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, or something…  Anyway, I’m not gonna tell Appa that I like guys if I don’t have to. Like, if this Seunghyun thing doesn’t work out, and I die in a year or so, he never has to know, you know? That his only son is…”

                “Oh, Ji… But that sounds so sad,” she sighed, his hair as if he were a kitten. “And you’re not… going to die in a year, so don’t think like that.”

                “… If they can’t get my tumors under control…” he chuckled humorlessly. “Okay, so you know, now. And you have successfully filled my every waking moment since you’ve been home with absolute darkness and despair, so thanks.”

                “I’m sorry,” she frowned a little. “… Let’s call him. You friend. Will that make it better?”

                “That, my dear sister, is a wonderful plan, except that I’ve already called and texted him today and he has yet to answer or respond.” Besides that, Ji wasn’t really interested in having his sister meet Seunghyun. He sort of liked having Seunghyun to himself, if he was completely honest about it.

                “Once more won’t hurt, right?” she smiled, attempting to reach under his leg for the phone. Jiyong grasped her wrists.

                “Stop! This is assault!” he yelled dramatically. Dami laughed a little, pulling her hands away from him.

                “Wow, alright. I can take a hint.” She kissed his cheek lightly. “If he doesn’t like you, he’s stupid. … And I know I sort of forced you, but I’m glad you told me the truth.”

                “Are you sure? You seemed kind of angry about it before,” he asked, sort of playfully, although he did sort of wonder what the deal was.

                “I was just surprised. It’s not like I’m some anti-gay person or something. So… if you feel like you’re gay, I won’t argue with you. And I won’t judge you,” she smiled a little. “Should I tell Justin?... You probably don’t want me to tell anyone, huh.”

                “I don’t really care as long as no one tells Dad… I guess,” Ji sighed a little. It still felt a little uncomfortable being labeled as “gay”. Maybe he thought they would see him differently if they thought of him as “gay”. He didn’t want to be treated differently, although he thought it really didn’t matter if people knew he liked guys. And he didn’t really think his dad would be angry about it or something, but he thought that in a way it could’ve been disappointing. After all, he was the only son, and here he was, dying of cancer and gay. Sons were supposed to become the head of the family and pass on the name and all of that stuff. Both of those things; the cancer and the homouality; made those son duties a lot less likely. Jiyong sort-of felt like not telling his dad the truth; that he was gay; was like sparing him a second heartbreak. He wouldn’t tell his dad if he didn’t have to.

AN: Long one! I had originally planned to update on Friday and Saturday, but it didn't work out. I know I say it every time, but seriously, thank you guys for sticking with this story, and for giving such good comments and being generally awesome~ I will try to update again really soon, because I've been working on this story a lot this weekend. It'll be soon. No more long hiatuses, I promise! Haha. Anyway, please continue to leave good comments! Thanks! (And don't be too upset with Dami! lol)