2

Minseok didn’t know what to expect. He was notified that Kim Jongdae would be young, playful and difficult to handle. But he didn’t assume that the unknown Director would come up behind him and gave Minseok the shock of his life.

                “What the heck?!” He jumped a little from his spot, clutching tightly to the board that read ‘Kim Jongdae’ in neat Hangul lettering. He felt a migraine edging into his head, a sudden nausea hitting him as well. He started sweating.

                “You could have gone for Beyoncé or Mariah for the fun of it, you know?” He quipped, shooting a look at the placard in Minseok’s hand. 

A sheepish smile greeted him, the upward curve of his lips revealing his playful nature. His cheekbones appeared more prominent with the smile. The coffee brown eyes that almost disappeared into slits, his childish manner mirrored his lack of sincerity.

                “I’m Kim Jongdae, International Sales Director of Seoul HQ. Nice to meet you– ”

                “Kim Minseok, Senior Interior Designer,” his short and clipped answer came. He ignored the intensifying pains in his head and stomach. 

                “Alright, Mr. Kim, lead the way,” Jongdae said over his shoulder, tilting his head a little, he gave Minseok a sideward glance as he pulled the handle of his luggage. Minseok nodded, finally recovering from his silly shock, led the way towards the parking lot. He thought that with time, the several pains would ebb away, but no, he felt queasier than before.

                “Excuse me,” he whimpered breathlessly before tossing the car keys into Jongdae’s hands and rushed for the nearest toilet.

He spewed what little amount of breakfast he had in the morning into the toilet. He felt the sweat trickling on his temple, on is back, crawling spider-like down his neck when he shut the seat and flushed the sickening content down. The vomiting was getting more and more frequent, but Kim Minseok ignored it. Again.

*             *             *

It was safe to say that Jongdae felt the utter most relief when he was greeted by a Korean rep from their Chinese-franchise company. He was even more surprised to be welcomed by a boyish-looking guy; with light pink hair to top it off. Cute. He was clad in casual pale brown fit sweatshirt, black skinny jeans and brown worn out Converse. Looking at the boy in front of him, he seemed everything but fierce.

He passed the short guy who was peeking subtly at the arriving crowd and rounded at the end of the line. He turned, though he could no longer see the person he was aiming for, but his hair stuck out like a sore thumb and Jongdae chuckled at the sight. Carefully, he approached the man, avoiding the other people around them and placed his luggage close to his side.

                “Boo!”

                Jongdae’s hands gripped the other’s shoulders and he felt the boy jump, twisting his body with a rather high pitched, “what the heck?!”

He threw in a dumb comment he knew his cute wouldn’t forget; at least he won’t, because heck, he should have said something better!

Jongdae could scarcely conceal his delight when he eventually smiled and introduced himself. Initially, he wanted to run away, enjoy some night life later on, and get his and Dongjun’s asses fried and where he could finally step away from the Director title. But the guy in front of him was kind of cute, and he didn’t want to miss any chances. But the professionalism from the cute man took him by surprise. His short introduction added to his mysterious charm that Jongdae was dying to dig into.

They trudged along the ever increasing crowd, Jongdae as close to Minseok as possible, their hands and shoulders brushed ever so lightly, sending tickling spark against his skin. Jongdae noticed how Minseok reacted though, and he avoided the graze as if Jongdae had a mild fever or flu that he didn’t intend to catch,  even against clothed skin. Jongdae wondered if he was that repulsive, but kept that question to himself. At the parking lot, Minseok headed far off to the left and took a sharp turn to unlock a red Volkswagen.

                “Excuse me,” Minseok breathed and Jongdae caught the keys tossed at him. He was surprised with the sudden turn of event that Jongdae blinked once, twice, on the spot and finally moved when he couldn’t see Minseok’s figure anymore.

Silently, he loaded his luggage into the car and helped start the car. Jongdae waited for another 10 minutes before Minseok finally reappeared. He seemed pallid, the layer of sweat visible against his temple.

                “Are you okay? Can you drive?” Jongdae asked, in a serious tone.

                “I’m fine, really,” his reply a little too cheerful. “Just needed to do some ‘major investment’ if you get what I mean. Let’s get moving.” An awkward chuckle came from the man beside him.

Jongdae knew that this Minseok guy was hiding something from him, but he just couldn’t figure out what, yet. He finally relaxed in his seat when Minseok shifted the gear into drive and the car moved silently out of the car park.

                “So, what is it like in Beijing? Is the work here okay? Are the Chinese being nice to you? What do you think of your boss?” Jongdae started up a conversation, not being able to stand the awkward silence creeping in. He watched Minseok from the passenger seat, the way his fingers flexed then settled comfortably on the leathered steering wheel.

                “Beijing is good, but I miss Gyeonggi-do a lot. Work here’s okay; I try to take up as much work as I can, distracts me better than anything. The Chinese people are nice, even my roommate is Chinese and I adore the fellow. Kris is a good guy and an approachable employer,” he answered, in order. In contrast to Jongdae’s eccentric self, he could sense the perfectionist in Kim Minseok.

                “Gyeonggi-do?! Hey, I’m from there too, Siheung. You?”

                “Guri, Mr. Kim,” was his short reply, and Jongdae wondered what would get Minseok talking.

                “Do drop the formalities, Mr. Kim. Call me Jongdae, please,” he said and looked away from the man toward the road ahead.

The buildings were not too different from Seoul; standing unequal in heights, painted vibrant in colours. As Minseok drove through the smooth traffic, Jongdae took in the sight of the city. He caught sight of a bright pink candy shop squeezed in between an azure blue bookstore and a vintage-style café. Further ahead, they turned at a corner; shopping enthusiasts would have the time of their lives here as designer shops with their top-end designer goods lined up beside one another, and even the most convincing of fakes could be seen around. He thought that their conversation had died down, but at the sudden reply, Jongdae was snapped out of his sightseeing and he turned his head to look at Minseok.

                “Similarly for me, Jongdae-ssi, Minseok is just fine for me. Let’s get lunch first before I send you to your hotel, Jongdae-ssi. Do you have anything you would like to eat?”

                “Hmm, I don’t know. Anything is fine for me. Dim sum or some cute baozi, I’d say?” Jongdae asked and he swore he could almost see the other man perk up at the mention of baozi .He wondered what kind of inside joke there was about the mentioned food. Well, Jongdae did notice how the guy’s cheek actually looked like a baozi, he might as well assume that it was a nickname for Minseok from his friends. His lips quirked up a smirk with the knowledge.  

*             *             *

Minseok left a text telling Jongdae that he would pick him up for breakfast. He was determined to make a change that day. He would make sure that Jongdae does his job and not run away, if he did, Minseok would search the whole Beijing’s nightlife if he had to. Well, with the amount of stories he got from Zitao – company’s biggest informant, read: gossiper along the line if you will – and a constant reminder from Kris, he figured the young director would try to avoid carrying out his duty.

But of course, he can’t accuse someone so easily. He just met Kim Jongdae the day before. Plus, Minseok himself almost ruined everything when his stupid vomit and migraine came the day before. At the mention of those pains, they came back again that morning, and his head met the toilet before he could even properly look at himself.

Fortunately for him, Jongdae was already waiting at the lobby of the hotel for him, a playful smirk visible when he greeted Minseok in the car. They got themselves breakfast, and that was when he felt the nausea doubling itself, the stabbing migraine pressure in his head forced him to a halt, and Jongdae was by his side before he knew it.

                “Hey, you okay?” The worried tone really didn’t suit Kim Jongdae, he thought.

His breathing increased, short, rapid breaths. Cold sweat seeped through the cotton of his sweatshirt, his stomach was aching, like an invisible hand found its way around and started squeezing and pulling it away from him. The world around him started spiraling, and Jongdae’s voice was mere muffled sentences. He felt himself retch and the contents of his stomach clawed their way out of his stomach, onto the side of the paved road. Gasping, he lost his bearing, couldn’t detect his footing. The hands wrapped on his arms tightened, but again, Jongdae’s voice didn’t even reach him.

Dragging his feet, they were both halted once again when Minseok wheezed and weakly pushed Jongdae as to not trouble the man beside him. The bright morning sun didn’t seem to affect his eyesight until black spots started dancing around in his wake. Minseok felt weaker, and weaker with each step he took. Jongdae’s hands once again claimed his arms, steadying him. But Minseok’s body failed him and he fainted. 

*             *             *

White. Anesthetic. Sterile. Jongdae was pacing the brightly lit hallway, alone, waiting for the doctor to come out.

                “Mr. Kim Jongdae?” A small voice called out to him, and he stood still, looking at the direction where the voice came from. From a short distance, a cherubic man appeared while looking back at Jongdae, waiting for confirmation.

Jongdae finally found his voice, and replied, “Yes, that’s me.”

The petite guy came running towards him and started spewing something in rapid Korean, “What happened to Minseok? Why is he here?!”

                “He vomited earlier on, and fainted after that,” Jongdae replied calmly, very different from his usual jovial self. “I speak limited Chinese but I managed to get the ambulance and, someone called Minseok while I waited. I’m assuming you’re –”

                “Luhan! Yes, that was me, I called him earlier on. I’m Minseok’s roommate and best friend. He didn’t say a word, but Minseok looked paler than ever when he left to pick you up. I was going to check up on him but you picked up instead.  What happened to Minseok after that, Jongdae-ssi?!”

                “Ambulance came around 15 minutes after, I followed with his car. Luhan-ssi, if you don’t mind, I’d like to stay,” he ventured and Luhan looked up to him, eyes curious.

                “Sure.” He shrugged a few seconds after. “I’d appreciate the company, Jongdae-ssi.”

                “Okay, thanks,” Jongdae sighed in relief, and sat down a seat apart from Luhan.

Both men were in total silence as Jongdae peered over the clock on the opposite wall over and over again. He didn’t know why he waited, and he didn’t even know why he bothered. He didn’t even know Minseok well, let alone on a personal level. But whatever it was, he didn’t budge from the seat until the doctor came through the electronic sliding door and Luhan charged forward.

                “Are you his guardian? Is Kim Minseok’s family present?” The doctor asked.

                Luhan shook his head and answered, “I’m the closest thing he has to a family. What’s wrong with him, doctor?”

                “Has the patient been showing any symptoms that should have been a concern? His diet most importantly, was there anything different?”

                “Well, Minseok eats healthily but sometimes he gets these digestive problems. In the end, he would brush it off as a mere gas pain or just gastric. There were times that he vomited. I think he thought I didn’t know. He was quite secretive about it. But there were times that he just left the table and he spent most of the night hugging the toilet, head hung low and he would always shut me out when I asked through the closed door. He never let me in.” Luhan paused; his explanation came to a temporary halt. He appeared to be more and more crestfallen by the minute. Clearing his throat and recalling his memory, Luhan continued. “Minseok always, always has a reason for everything. Then, I-I noticed he started losing weight. He said it’s from the green tea, I believed that since he didn’t put in any sugar, at all. He kept himself away from all those junk food that we used to love, he cut out on the oily meals. Aside from that, he’s also suffering from migraines. Minseok works too hard; I think he got pressured from there. I didn’t question if it was serious.”

Apart from ‘lavatory’ the rest was just gibberish to Jongdae. He felt sympathy for Minseok and pathetic for not taking Chinese lessons at school seriously. He stayed behind, not knowing anything, and just stared at the pristine floors and white walls surrounding him. 

*             *             *

Minseok shivered and his head felt fuzzy from the sleep. How long was he out? The last thing he remembered was the heaving he just went through a while ago with Jongdae?! Where was he? Minseok tried to get up, but the abdominal pain forced him to lie back onto the somewhat lumpy bed covered by padding and sheet, it wasn’t the familiar baby-scent fabric softener he and Luhan used; it wasn’t even of coral blue dye. Minseok caught a lungful whiff of the material; he recognized its foreign odor of disinfectants.

He focused on the sounds around him; the steady beeping of heart rate monitors at second intervals, the buzzing of the blinding fluorescent lights above him, and the television announcer with his boring, meaningless drawl. It didn’t take Minseok long to finally register that he was on the cramped bed of a hospital! He started thrashing around, a pair of hands caught his wrists and the soft voice that reverberated against his eardrums calmed him, a little.

                “Minseok-ah, it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here now.” Luhan’s face finally settled in his vision, a smile directed at him, but he was well aware of the greatly familiar façade. Luhan couldn’t fool him that easily.

                “What’s wrong, Luhan?”

                “Ah, no, nothing’s wrong. I think the doctor would come in any time now,” he replied, all too rapidly for Minseok’s liking.

                “Kim Jongdae. Jongdae, where is he? He was with me,” Minseok asked.

                “He was here a while ago but I got Zitao’s help to replace you for the day. Don’t worry,” Luhan replied a lot slower this time, partially putting Minseok at ease. Luhan knew he wasn’t going to stop worrying that easily. 

The doctor came in with his usual trained smile displayed on his face but not before acknowledging Luhan with a short nod of his head.

                “How do you feel, Minseok?” The doctor asked.

                “I’m not sure, myself. My body aches a little but, other than that, everything’s fine.”

                “Ah, yes, there’s a reason for that. So you see, you’ve been through a good daily diet, you don’t smoke or consume alcohol regularly. But, I’m sorry I have to break this bad news to you. It might not have been obvious in the beginning; people usually mistake it for some digestive issues. After a thorough blood test and MRI scan, it has been proven that you’ve developed 3^rd stage pancreatic cancer…”

And the rest of the news fell on deaf ears as Minseok stared at nothing in particular, the only words in his mind was 3^rd stage pancreatic cancer, replaying over and over again, like a broken record.

*             *             *

A/N Thanks, Xander! Hope me subs like this because
me sorry me didn't update sooner. Comments?