It goes down like it usually does.

The four of them barge into his home. Because they always do. And why it's always his place, he has no clue, but he doesn't care much. 

Jongin carries with him a bag of snacks, usually a huge bottle of cola or pepsi, and several types of chips. On some days, when there's something up, he brings sweets even though he doesn't like them. When he's feeling down. Or out of it. He plops down onto the couch after flinging the bag onto the kitchen table and starts flipping through channels, motioning for the others to come join him for a round of video games.

Chanyeol comes in his tall, lanky glory, hands shoved deep in his pockets and a lopsided smile on his face. He booms out a "hey" as he strides through the doorway, his head almost bumping into the frame on the top. He'll sling an arm around Jongin as the latter slips past him in the hurry to get to the games, fast. Chanyeol's a mood setter, that one. A little slow at times, but they love him.

Kyungsoo walks in last of all, calm and composed, but still smiling. He'll wave his hands upon entrance, his eyes lighting up as he takes in the look of everyone settled in one place. He doesn't play the games with them, but he watches and cheers. He typically switches teams every other time, or depending on who's winning. In the end, whoever he cheers for, wins. Kyungsoo's luck is magnificent.

So then you're probably wondering why the above says Kyungsoo was the last to enter if four people barged into his apartment. Well, you see, the forth is probably already there. He always comes before everyone else. In fact, he spends more time there then at his own house.

It's Sehun's second home, almost, to be lingering on the floor of the living room during the hot summers, his shirt hiked halfway up his chest to allow his to touch the cool ground. He calls out that he wants ice cream, and of course, silence is his answer. Because he does not want to get Sehun ice cream. Sehun shouldn't be so lazy. He should get it himself.

(And who's home are they in, you ask?)

Well, in the end, Zitao does get Sehun his ice cream. But only because it's his and he can do whatever he wants with it, which includes sharing it with his lazy boyfriend in the end because he looks so pitiful on Zitao's living room floor. The other three just always happen to walk in when he's feeding Sehun a spoonful of coffee ice cream. No big deal.

And that was them. Chanyeol, Kyungsoo, Jongin, Sehun and Zitao. Best friends.

To the end.








"He said to meet him here?" Zitao asks, glancing around the dingy alleyway. "He's crazy, right?"

Chanyeol drops an arm around his shoulders and Kyungsoo rests an elbow on him on the other side. "Crazy bastard," Chanyeol sighs. "By the way, where's Sehun?"

"Said he went ahead."

"Weird."

"Yeah."

They turn to each other and, after a second, laugh at the ridiculous scenario they find themselves in. Three suspicious looking teens walking through a dark alley like there's no tomorrow.

In fact, they're still laughing when they reach the meeting spot.

One look at Jongin and Sehun, whom are already there, and the laughter is gone.








Zitao remembers the first date he had with Sehun.

The weather had been horrendous, he'd been ten minutes late, and Sehun had tripped and scraped his knee.

Everything had been perfect.

He recalls so clearly the image of Sehun standing by the bus stop, his hands so deep into his pockets that Zitao could see the little indents of the tips of his fingers on the bottom of the fabric. He was biting into his bottom lip, chewing it mindlessly.

Zitao had never regretted not setting an alarm clock as much as that moment.

In his defense, he'd barely gotten any sleep at all. Having stayed up until 5 AM, on overdrive from all the excitement the thought of the date had brought him, it was just his bad luck that he fell asleep when the sun rose. He was out the door five minutes after the realization and, though he was a mess, he made it. And Sehun had waited.

That had been the most amazing feeling in the world, seeing Sehun despite the fact that Zitao was a good fifteen minutes late, and knowing that he had waited.

Sehun looked up at the sound of his approaching footsteps, loud against the wet concrete, water splashing on the hem of his jeans.

"I'm so sorry I'm late," Zitao said upon arrival and Sehun had quickly forgiven him, waving it off as if it were nothing. But Zitao couldn't accept that. He paid for all of Sehun's snacks and drinks and tried to be the perfect gentleman.

It started raining near the middle of their date, Sehun with a chocolate bubble tea straw in his mouth and Zitao about to take a bite from his burger. They ran for cover under a shop garage, the top of the umbrella covering over the door blocking them from pellets of water.

They caught the bus back to Zitao's place and it dropped them off a couple blocks away.

He'd made the dumb suggestion of running to his house to save themselves from getting any more drenched which eventually resulted in Sehun being a little too clumsy with his long limbs and tripping. He got a shallow cut on his knee but Zitao was a worrier, even if he didn't show it. He carried Sehun on his back all the way to his house where he proceeded to dry him off with a towel and that led to their first kiss and falling asleep together on Zitao's bed.

Eventually the college vibe wore off on them and they moved into the same apartment together. 

Zitao loved Sehun to the ends of the earth. And, god, he thought Sehun loved him like that too.









"Take this, please."

"But... But Sehun, I can't." Jongin's eyebrows turn up. "He... gave you this."

"No, please," his voice breaks. "Please, take it, please. Jongin, he can't know."

"Know what? Sehun, stop, you're scaring me here."

"Please, just, he can't know so take it."

"Can't know what?"

"He can't know I'm--"








It was weeks before Sehun and Zitao had their second date, but they were in so deep, no one could pull them out. They hung all over each other when they had the chance, but Zitao wanted to meet up outside of classes.

"Sehun," he breathed out upon seeing him, rushing up to wrap his arms around the younger and kiss his hair.

Sehun laughed in his embrace, reddening with the shyness that came with public affection. "Missed you too?" He said, despite the fact that they'd last seen each other in class the other day. He hugged Zitao in return and they stood there, letting the moment fade ever so slowly.

"I have something for you," Zitao finally told him. He pulled back and dug something out of his pocket. 

"For me? You shouldn't have," Sehun grinned.

Zitao commanded him to close his eyes and, some seconds later, he felt something cold being wrapped around his skin. His eyelids fluttered open and he looked down to see a bracelet tied on his wrist. White beads neatly adorned the accessory. Something was pushed under his peripheral vision and he saw Zitao's own arm, sporting a matching bracelet with black beads.

Zitao watched as Sehun's eyes curved into dark crescents and the brightest, most loveliest smile, grew from ear to ear. Sehun was so remarkably beautiful, and he couldn't help it. He wanted to spoil him until the day they both died. Grow old together and be able to say that that smile was his.

"Well," he began, "what do you think?"

"I'll never take it off," Sehun promised, and Zitao could feel that grin as Sehun leaned up to kiss his cheek.

Nothing could break them.








He pretends as if he doesn't know what's going on.

"Sehun?" He calls, a shaky laughter in his voice. He braves a small smile, though it hurts every muscle in his body. He furrows his brows unconsciously.

Sehun and Jongin turn to face him, equally guilty expressions on their faces. Sehun's hand is still atop Jongin's. He clenches his fingers and presses the object down. Jongin takes it in a hurry and buries it into his jean pocket. 

But Sehun won't say anything back to him and he doesn't understand why, doesn't want to understand why.

"Sehun, what are you doing?" He tries again.

He sees Sehun gulp, his adam's apple bobbing up and down once and he knows it's coming.

"Zitao, I'm breaking up with you."

Hell. No pillows and blankets, no feathers to break his fall. Concrete. He can hear a buzzing in his ears, a ringing that gets louder and louder.

He forces out a "ha". He takes another step closer. "You're kidding, right?" Don't stutter. "W-why?"

Sehun and Jongin share a glance and it all comes crashing into him.

"Him? Come on, Sehun, you can't... you can't, just--"

And Jongin captures Sehun in his arms and Zitao stops. 

Sehun flashes Zitao his wrist.

Black spots dot his vision as he runs up and his fist collides with Jongin's jaw.

Sehun jumps back, mouth open in a silent scream, but nothing comes out. He stands there, gaping. Just as shocked as the rest of them.

It's Chanyeol who surges forward to hold Zitao back as he goes for another swing, Kyungsoo quickly following. Jongin's on the ground, bringing a hand up to his lip where he'd been grazed. He's bleeding from somewhere in his mouth.

Zitao's gritting his teeth, shouting out whatever comes to mind. A swarm of absurdities and colorful language and he knows he can't ever take this back. Everything. Everything comes out.

But worst of all are the tears, hot, streaming down his face at an alarming rate. 

He squirms under Chanyeol's grip but , even he can't find the strength to keep going. He hangs his head, his blood boiling.

In the end, it's Zitao who leaves first, head to the sky, yelling out a cry laced with agony and rage. It's him who gives up.

In the end, it's him who loses.








His apartment has never felt colder than now. 

There's so much there. So many souvenirs and memories and it's all too much, too much simulation and the walls... the walls are closing in and the ceiling is suffocating.

The wall next to the door is his only solace as his knuckles meet it again and again until there are dents blooming and red flows from his broken skin.








The world is in two, double visions of his ceiling, and then his walls and his house.

He blinks and he can't see anything at all. The terror crawls up from deep within and the word he'd never let out, comes out.

Help. 








Sehun loved the water.

So Zitao gave it to him.

There were ponds and rivers and, one time, even the ocean.

He brought Sehun anywhere with a drop of H2O. 

And there were pictures. So many pictures.

He knows both their phones were full of them, endless photos of himself, the other, and them together. They liked those the best, the ones where they could pose in one frame and yet still catch the beauty of the scenery behind them.

They stored the world -- their world -- on their phones. 








With one aching hand, Zitao opens the window in his living room.

The frame is a little difficult, but he manages.

Out goes his cell phone.

And his half of their world.








Sehun was always so self conscious before leaving his house to go out. After ages, Zitao liked to simply show up on his doorstep and walk in, already knowing Sehun would be coming out with him soon enough anyway.

And Sehun would be standing in front of his mirror, fixing a strand of hair or checking his skin for blemishes.

Zitao would sneak up behind him as quietly as he could and snake his arms around Sehun's thin waist. Sehun would yelp, only because he hadn't seen or heard Zitao coming, but after a while, he would place his hands over Zitao's.

Zitao would nuzzle his nose into the nape of Sehun's neck and sigh. "You're the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

The mirror would be forgotten.








Hair.

Falling and floating down into the running water in the sink. Disappearing down the drain.

He's scared.

Help.








He hates that man staring back at him, all black, frazzled hair, and wild eyes. Darkness everywhere -- under his eyes, in the hollows of his cheeks, under his chin and pooling in all the shadows.

Why are you staring at me? He wants to ask.

A fist is brought back and smashed into the mirror. Glass shatters everywhere, covering his floor tiles, and he knows he'll accidentally step on them later.

Zitao despises the man in the mirror.

He looks like a dead version of himself.








It's a clean week before Zitao leaves his apartment. He opens his door one night to find Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, leaning against the door frame with solemn faces. 

"Let's go out," Kyungsoo breaks the silence. It's an innocent suggestion, really.

Chanyeol is quiet.

Zitao nods.

He follows them into Chanyeol's car and dives into the backseat. 

He knows where Chanyeol's headed before they even tell him. He scoffs. A bar? He must really look like he needs a drink. He does.

Zitao, however, does not expect to see Jongin and Sehun there too. And neither do Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol goes all hard lines and scowls. "What are you doing here, man?" He bumps Jongin in the chest. 

"You really ed up bad," Kyungsoo snarls.

Their rough exchanges go deaf to Zitao's ears, he who can only stare at Sehun standing behind Jongin with a stoic look. Jongin's hand slowly reaches back to interlace his fingers with Sehun's. Does he feel nothing? No regrets? 

Hardly aware of what he's doing, he's walked up to Sehun and is now standing there before him, hardly a foot away.

Sehun looks up, fear in his eyes.

Zitao doesn't even recognize his own voice.

"Don't you miss me at all?"

There's no sound and Sehun's lips open, wordlessly fumbling for a response.

That's all it takes.

"Take me home," Zitao demands, already turning back to the car.

The night air feels chilly around his leather and denim. There's not enough wind whistling past him to block the small "wait" that escapes Sehun's throat.

But he's already gone.








He can't spare the one glance back from the car's window, though.

He sees their backs, Jongin's arm thrown across Sehun's shoulders. He's leaning down, closer... closer....

Zitao looks away before he can see the end.








He crumples over the rim as the contents of his last meal spill from his lips.

He coughs the last of the remains out and groans, collapsing against the ground.

Help.








The three of them reach Zitao's apartment building in no time, or at least, no time is what is seems like to Zitao.

In the elevator, it only takes three seconds for Zitao to stop Kyungsoo from pressing his floor and instead slamming down on the rooftop button.

No one stops him.

It's cold this time of year. He looks down at the city, bright lights flashing, the sounds of traffic and people, alive and roaming. Out there, he knows, Jongin and Sehun are together. Without him. Without them. 

There's nothing to describe the empty feeling in his chest when he grabs the railings and, as loud as he can, shouts, " you!" into the air.

He crumples to the rooftop floor, his vision blurry and his bottom lip between teeth. He hears Kyungsoo and Chanyeol walk up and sit down on either side of him.

One of them is patting his back and the other is rubbing his arm, but he can't tell who is who.

They leave him first, with words like "go back inside soon, you'll catch a cold" and "you're not on your own." 

What time is it when he goes back to his own apartment?








Sehun sat on this couch.

Flipped over.

Jongin loved this game.

Crushed under his heel.

Sehun loved these flowers.

Destroyed between his fingers.

Jongin ate at this table.

Pushed to the floor.

Sehun slept on this pillow.

Wrung over his head and slammed down on the walls.

Everything. Everything is demolished, ruined, and overturned.

Nothing. He can only bear to have nothing.

But even these fragments of china, splinters of wood, and withered petals remind Zitao of him.

He can't stop the things that bubble up from inside him. All the anger, all the despair, all the in betweens and everything buts.

He screams until his throat burns.

Zitao sleeps on the floor that night, surrounded by all the pieces of his life he's abolished, body trembling, heart hidden beneath the piles of rubble.








"Jongin."

That voice calls him from the depths of his phone. "Sehun?"

He hears a held back choke. "Jongin, can you get over here? Can you bring them? Please."

Violent sobs. How can he say no? "I don't know about Zitao."

"Please... please, I'm running out of...."

He hears the struggles in Sehun's voice. 

"I'll do it."

Please. 

The only word he can't stand to hear anymore.

What has he agreed to?








Chanyeol takes a seat on the white blankets, his face in his hands. Kyungsoo stands, opting not to give in to his own inner turmoil.

They're all thinking the same thing. This can't be happening.

He looks so withered here. So thin and so frail and so broken and so close to that edge that they all want to pull him from.

The silence is unbearable, pushing them all down to the ground with its pressure. They were wrong, they were wrong, they were wrong.

It's Chanyeol who voices it.

"I'm so sorry."

Kyungsoo steps out of the room as Sehun smiles at him, unresponsive.

He whips out his cell and dials the number out of memory.

"Hello?" Zitao croaks. 

Kyungsoo starts to wonder who's really dying here.

"Come to the hospital quick."

"Why?"

"He's here."

That's all he needs.

A click, and he knows Zitao's lost.








His heart reflects the sound of his feet pounding against the ground.

He hates himself the most.

"Taxi!" He calls out, waving his arm around like a madman. "Taxi, dammit!"

A vehicle slows in front of him and he climbs in before it even comes to a full stop.

"Where to, kid?"

"Hospital. Now!"








Zitao took care of Sehun like no one else did. 

That boy, always sick in bed, the covers pulled up to his face and his cheeks red as a rose.

His parents were always out of the house. Zitao doubted they even knew their child was sick.

"I'm always here for you," he would whisper as he spoon-fed soup to Sehun.

Sehun's smile, though weak, was dazzling.








The meter goes over the amount of cash Zitao has on hand.

He ignores it and keeps fidgeting. "Can you go any faster?"

"Someone in trouble, kid?"

"Yes. Please, please, can we go any faster?"

The driver runs the next red light.








There were moments when Sehun was exceptionally clumsy.

A flat surface and yet he fell to his knees, muttering about the world spinning and how nauseous he felt.

Maybe it wasn't clumsiness. But Sehun always used that as his excuse.

Zitao pulled him up and knelt down, telling him to climb onto his back.

Sehun flopped on, laughing, and Zitao ran the whole way to his house, Sehun bouncing on top of him. 

"Want snacks?" He yelled over the wind.

"Yeah!"

He bought snacks.








He slams every bill and coin he had in his pockets into the man's hand.

"There's not enough," he mumbles through the tears dripping down his face and into his mouth. "There's not enough, there's not enough, there's not--"

"Kid, just go."

He gives the man one last thankful look before running out of the cab. 

Kyungsoo meets him in the lobby.

"What's wrong with him?" Zitao asks, shaking Kyungsoo's shoulders.

"He's--"








They're running up stairs and past bodies as soon as the words are out.

But Jongin. Jongin stops them both once they're meters away from the room.

He tells Kyungsoo that he needs to talk to Zitao.

Zitao can't imagine what he possibly has to say now.

"This," Jongin starts, taking Zitao's hand and placing an object in it. It's cold, bumpy, familiar. "This is for you."

Zitao stares down at the bracelet like it's his lifeline.

"Why?" The word is barely audible.

"He never wanted you to know."

"Why?" He says again. As if Jongin can give him the answer to anything he wants to know. Why Sehun never told him before. Why Sehun felt the need to lie to him. Why Sehun kept smiling at him and laughing with him and being with him.

Jongin shakes his head. Somber.

"You don't understand, Zitao."

"What is it?" He grabs onto Jongin's arms, pleading. "Tell me!"

"He wanted you to have this."

"And? So what! I have it now, what are you trying to say?"

"He. Wanted. You. To. Have. This."

With that, Jongin slips from his grasp and walks away. Walks away from Zitao, from Chanyeol and Kyungsoo and Sehun.

Could a man not be broken once? Does he have to suffer again and again and again until the world is pounding the truth into his head?








"What's wrong with him?"

"He's dying. Brain cancer."








There are people. People wheeling a body towards him and it's covered in white, all white, like an angel. 

And he was an angel. Truly. 

"You can't be leaving me again," Zitao says, stopping the stretcher with a hand.

A laugh escapes him. They must think he's crazy.

"Not again, Sehun." He caresses that face in his palm, so smooth beneath his callouses. "Come on, wake up, Sehun. Stop. This isn't funny."

And they are. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo and all the doctors. They look at him and each other and they're all thinking the same thing.

"Stop, Sehun. Please. Please, come on. Why didn't you just tell me? Why the didn't you tell me! Dammit, Sehun, why?"

His head drops to the sheets beside Sehun and he clutches Sehun's fingers in his hand -- so, so cold -- as he screams his lungs out.








"No, wait!"

He runs and stops them for the second time. He wants to say more. Ramble on and on until Sehun wakes up with that smile and tells him to stop.

You can't take him away from me again.

Slowly, he lifts Sehun's arm from beneath the blanket and, with shaking fingers, ties on the white beaded bracelet. He kisses the boy's icy knuckles and lets them wheel him away.

And it's Jongin, Jongin who comes from around the corner to kneel in front of Zitao's bent body and take him in with quiet words.

"He was always yours."