Youngjae realizes he'll never be able to fly again. When he was a little boy, they bullied him because he liked a girly sport. When it got too painful to bear he could just jump right over them. Now, who's to say if he'll even be able to walk? 

White spots distort his vision as his skull crashes against the ice and he exhales in a sharp breath. There's shrieking in the distance and it's probably his mother. He can't be sure though, because before the noise comes close enough for him to identify he's already succumbing to the recesses of his subconscious. The darkness wraps around him like a blanket protecting him from the harsh reality he'll face sooner or later. The last sound he hears is the shattering of his glass wings skidding to all the corners of the rink. 

Destroyed. 

Just like him.

When Youngjae was a child he loved to race his dad around the local ice rink. They'd skate until their stomachs growled and then would retire underneath the star-filled sky with a big bucket of chicken. His mother made them eat outside because she hated the smell of the greasy food and said it spoiled her own appetite. Youngjae never minded. Nor did his dad. They'd lounge in the backyard and count the constellations until bedtime rolled around. Those were the best memories Youngjae had as a child. 

But, Life likes to remind us that it isn't always fair. Youngjae's dad fell ill when he entered junior high. It seemed like a bad flu, at first. The true nature of his sickness reared its ugly head soon enough. Youngjae bawled hot tears as his dad sang him his favorite lullaby for the last time. Before he could even finish the final verse his grip went slack in Youngjae's trembling hands and the boy looked up with glossy eyes. He watched the soul slip from his dad and cried until his mother had to drag him away.

The long, consistent beep of the heart monitor haunts his nightmares to this day. 

+

High-pitched, computerized whining causes Youngjae to stir and rise from a lying position. He immediately regrets it and falls back into the stiff mattress with a groan. After moments idle, his eyes fall open. The sight of machines, plastic tubes and scattered medical equipment greets him. His heart pounds in his throat and he flails his arms. A fear settles deep within him and he can't manage to see past his initial terror. This resembles his father's death bed too much and he can't see past the knot swelling in his chest at the sickeningly familiar sight.

An alarm sounds and soon there are white, sleeved arms waving in front of him and others holding his writhing limbs still. He starts to howl and the initial blobs of white recruit others to restrain him.

"Youngjae, sweetie. Please, please!" A red dot penetrates the circle of white and Youngjae begins to still. His vision clears and he recognizes the red dot as his mother. Her ruby cardigan is wrinkled and the scarlet of her cheeks are from tears shed and dried. Youngjae takes a deep breath and the heart monitor calms as he does.

"Where am I?" He asks once the small army of doctors disperse and there's only one left in the room. Along with a short nurse scribbling away on a notepad. He already has a pretty good idea of his location and a vague recollection of the reason why. But, he needs someone to explain it to him. Slowly, so he can grapple the situation.

"You're in the hospital. You fell on the ice and you've been in a coma for a week. You landed on your right leg and its snapped clean in half."

Youngjae doesn't know how to respond to that. He just cries, tears slipping down his cheeks in choking silence. He should be grateful that he isn't brain dead. But, he's selfish and instead cries because he is forced to come to terms with the fact he'll never be able to skate again. He can no longer soar through life and the ache hits him tenfold. The only thing that connects him to his father is being stolen from him, with his eyes wide open and mouth shut.

"I'm sorry." The doctor says and beckons for the nurse to follow when he leaves.

Youngjae can't help the tremors running through him. It's just his body's natural reaction to sorrow that he can't express in words. There's no way for him to say how he feels. Just...sad. It shouldn't be complicated any further than that. Youngjae just feels sadness. It settles over him like a state of being rather than a sense of the mind. He can taste the gloom as it curves its talons around him and traps him in his own cocoon of awareness. He wishes to be ignorant of the pain. But, something is propelling him towards that cognizance he yearns to escape. There's no escape. He can either accept the reality he's left with and move on or drown. The first option is common sense, but sense deludes Youngjae at the moment and the second choice is all too appealing.
 

He just wants to be left alone to sink in his anguish until it kills him. Is that too much to ask?

+

The following week is quite uneventful. Youngjae eats his meals as instructed and only buzzes the nurse when he needs to be wheeled to the washroom. At first, he refuses to even eat. But, when they show him how the feeding tube works his hunger strike ends before it even begins. He spends his days watching the cotton clouds swim in a never ending ocean of grey outside of the window near his bed. Sometimes it snows, other times it just overcasts. He might as well be brain dead. He hates the smell of it here. It always reeks of bleach and latex. He misses the aroma of freshly buffed ice. He can still remember riding the zamboni with his dad for the first time. The sounds of his blade scraping over ice plagues his daydreams.

Minutes stretch into hours. Hours into days. Before Youngjae can catch the time that whips past him, it's already been two months. Two months spent wallowing in daydreams that will never come true and nightmares he wishes he could reverse. Starting with his father's death and ending with him collecting the glass shards of his ruined dreams.

By this time his leg is almost fully healed and they promised him he would be able to go home soon. The thought makes him tremble in fear. What is home? Ice is home. These three words are what Youngjae answers when the doctor asks him if he's excited to leave.

"If I can't have ice, I want my dad. My dad's dead. Got any other ideas, doc?" The dismissed tone in his voice rings in his own eardrums. 

"You have your mom." The doctor reassures.

Youngjae almost hisses, "My mother is conceited and once she pays the hospital bills she'll be back to screwing around with men that aren't my late father. You must mistake us for being close because she's visited, like, once or twice..oh my!" The sarcasm coats Youngjae's throat in bitterness and he flips on his side the best he can. He hears the doctor mumble something like clinical depression to the nurse and he knows the promise of his release from the hospital won't be fulfilled.
 

The sun sets again and Youngjae falls back into another daydream. He doesn't sleep these days. His nerves are so hypersensitive the slightest thing wakes him from potential sleep. He gives up on the prospect of sleep and favors staring into empty space until he feels his bladder sting from the need of release. His fingers are ghosting over the button to the nurses' station when he hears scuffling and the wheels of a gurney rolling on polished linoleum. He presses the button and waits. No one comes. He presses it again and waits longer. No one comes. By this point his abdomen is burning and he doesn't think he can hold it for much longer.

"Anyone here?" The door cracks open and light from the corridor leaks inside of the dark room. The intruder switches the light on and Youngjae turns his heavy skull to the side to evade the brunt shine of artificial light. Whoever decided to come in isn't a nurse or a doctor. But judging by his matching hospital shirt and trousers, another patient. From Youngjae's position on the bed he can see the stranger's dark hair and almond eyes set into a pale face. He seems to be of average height. The person nears and Youngjae decides that he's handsome.

"I was listening to the radio at the nurse's station and heard you buzz. Is something wrong?" The young man asks. Youngjae wants to send him away. He doesn't like the fact that the other is so eager to help. That means he's eager to start a conversation, to hang around, to bother him when Youngjae just wants to eat, daydream and use the restroom when needed. But, he has to pee so bad he can't refuse the offer. It aggravates him to no end.

"I..i" Youngjae hates the way his voice shakes as if he hasn't spoken for days--he hasn't. But, that's nobody's business besides his own. "I-I have to use the bathroom. Can you help?"

"How?"

Youngjae points to the wheelchair next to the closet. The boy nods and rolls it next to the bed. He presses a hand into Youngjae's back and the latter flinches.

"You have to sit up first." The stranger reasons. Youngjae throws a glare at him, but complies nonetheless. He is able to get into the wheelchair with assistance from the other and he's rolled out into the hallway. They pass the nurse's station and Youngjae can see that it's empty. He wants to inquire about it, but he forces himself not to  care. The young man sees Youngjae eyeing the nurse's station and smiles even though the other can't see.

"A man was rushed into the ER and all the staff on duty is there. It seemed like stab wounds and he-"

"Did I ask you that?" Youngjae snaps and folds his arms over his chest. 

"No, but-"

"That's your answer."

The young man chuckles quietly and shakes his head a little. Cute, very cute. After a few more turns they reach the bathroom and the young man opens the door. He wheels him inside and steps to follow when the younger holds up a hand meant to block him.

"I'm a big boy and this is something I can handle myself." Youngjae says with a scowl. The other holds up his hands in surrender and backs away. The bathroom door closes. Youngjae wishes he could slam it. But, his arms would need all the strength he could muster. In truth, the nurse assists him inside the bathroom, too. She isn't just transportation. But, there's no way Youngjae's gonna let that creep in. More than just uncomfortable, the thought is embarrassing. It takes him five minutes to do something he would've accomplished in thirty seconds had it not been for circumstances. The usual tinkle, shake and re-buckle seems like a feat of warriors now that one leg is in a cast, the other is weak and everywhere hurts. He finishes either way and rolls himself out.

"Take me back."

The young man begins wheeling him. The ride back seems longer than the one there. Maybe it's because his pride is a little crushed at having to ask a stranger to help him do his business. Or maybe it's because said stranger won't shut up and keeps trying to give Youngjae information he doesn't care about.

"My name's Jaebum. Im Jaebum. I'm twenty. I'm here because both of my kidneys failed. One's working now, but the other is acting up. They want to run tests so I'm stuck here." He rambles on like this until they reach Youngjae's room. Jaebum helps the younger back into bed and puts the wheelchair back in its place. Just as Youngjae is settled and ready to be alone again, the sound of someone clearing their throat catches his attention. Jaebum is still standing in the doorway with an expectant look.

"What?" 

"Don't you say thank you when someone helps you? That's good manners. How 'bout a thank you, hm?" Jaebum grins a goofy smile that makes Youngjae want to smack it from his lips.

"How about you leave before I kick you in the ?" He's scowling again.

"Feisty. I like it." Jaebum mocks taking a bite of his something and gives a little wink.

Youngjae doesn't hide the mortified expression that seizes his features. The older chuckles once more before closing the door and leaving Youngjae to himself and his fantasies of strangling Im Jaebum.

 
The next morning Youngjae finishes his breakfast of plain yogurt and granola. He rests against the pillows and gazes out of the window. A knocks comes at his door and the person doesn't wait to be invited in. Jaebum pokes his head around the door and Youngjae can't help but groan. The older pushes the door wider and stands in the doorway, smiling.

"Good morning, Youngjae-ah."

"How do you know my name?"

Jaebum knocks against the plastic case where Youngjae's name is displayed in block letters on the wooden door. Youngjae sighs and turns his head to the side, burying his nose in the pillow, "Go away."

"It's a beautiful day. Why are you cooped up inside?" Jaebum walks closer to the bed and gestures to the window. Youngjae looks out, he takes note of the overcast sky and dark grey clouds where a storm is surely brewing. He looks back and wonders if the other is always this sickeningly optimistic.

"You want to go outside in that?" 

"Are you nuts? It's so cold out there. I know a place where it's sunny and bright." The crazy gleam in Jaebum's eyes makes the younger worry. He avidly protests as Jaebum all but forces him into the wheelchair. He realizes that unless he gains a source of strength in the next few seconds there's nothing he can do but be wheeled along the corridor.

"This is kidnap, you know? Illegal stuff." Youngjae grumbles as the older pushes him down the hall. They reach a hall where there's a wrap-around glass wall encasing an indoor garden. Youngjae sits up in interest. They go inside and Jaebum parks the wheelchair right under the skylight. It's cloudy and not much sun gets through, though. The older kneels down beside a patch of roses and plucks one from the bunch. He out stretches it to Youngjae. The younger boy rolls his eyes and even scoffs a little. It's cheesy and he should hate it, but there's a warm feeling wriggling through him as he accepts the rose with an annoyed facade.

"Do you know anything about flowers?" Jaebum fiddles with the leaves of some roses as he glances over the patch of flowers. Youngjae nods. His dad was a gardener. He owned a floral shop and Youngjae grew up around flowers. Part of the reason he got picked on was because he would come to school smelling like rose and lilac. Apart from skating, gardening was something Youngjae and his dad enjoyed together. When his dad died, Youngjae's mother sold the shop. He'll never forgive her for that.

"Well," Jaebum picks a flower from the bunch. It's a lilac. But, not just any lilac, "do you know what this is? A double bloom lilac. It's called that because it has another set of petals and they all have a match. It repr-"

Youngjae cuts in and recites it just as his dad had years ago, "It represents the first emotions of love. The love of a soul mate and a family. It means you'll never be alone and no matter how isolated you may feel, there's always someone waiting for you." Youngjae smiles and the lilac in his fingers. 

"Let's go back." Jaebum says as he analyzes the younger's tired posture. Youngjae agrees. But, something tells him that the older won’t be shaken off easily.

And he isn’t.

+

“Hyung.” Youngjae is slumped in his wheelchair with a bushel of double bloom lilacs in his arms. He blinks the sleep from his eyes and sits up straighter. The last thing he remembers before his nap is Jaebum wheeling him to the garden and promising to be back soon. Youngjae couldn’t lie that he was more than irritated at the older boy kidnapping him from his room only to dump him here and then leave. But, the flowers in his arms brighten his mood considerably and he gazes up at Jaebum curiously.

“I went to the florist to pick these up. I thought we could plant them.” Jaebum says with a big, cheesy smile. 

“The nearest florist shop is a mile away. And it’s, oh, just about freezing outside.” Youngjae squints his eyes and hikes an eyebrow in confusion, disbelief and slight doubt, “Are you crazy or just stupid?”

“Neither.” Jaebum laughs good-naturedly. “But, you liked those flowers so much that I had to do something to keep that beautiful smile on your face.” Youngjae hiccups at the sudden compliment. His eyes avert to the floor and he cranes his neck to inspect an imaginary speck of something. 

+

With each passing day, Jaebum becomes less of a bother to Youngjae and his wall takes hits. When the older smiles, a brick falls. When the older utters something that transports Youngjae back to a happier and simpler time when his dad was with him and fried chicken still tasted sweet, two bricks. When the older brushes their skin together by accident (or on purpose), ten bricks. His once indestructible gate he built up to keep the hatred inside slowly deteriorates and he finds himself clearing away rubble day by day. 

+

Youngjae is finally persuaded into physical therapy by a persistent someone who doesn't know the meaning of ‘giving up’.

"Youngjae?"

"Yeah?"

"It'll be fine."

Youngjae nods and takes hold of Jaebum's hands. He leans heavily on the older's chest and takes a small step. His legs shake as does his resolve and he slumps ungracefully back into the wheelchair.

"I told you." Youngjae grips the wheels. He rolls himself out of the garden and down the hall towards his room. His arms have gained back their strength and it's not such a trouble to do trivial tasks anymore. But, his legs are still inept and that deflates his spirit. Footsteps echo after him and something solid stops his chair from moving.

"Let go."

"This is why you should do the physical therapy. It'll help." 

"Let go of the damn chair." Youngjae whips his head around to glare at the older, "I'm never walking again. Face it."

Jaebum glares right back, "If you're so discouraged then have the doctors get rid of them."

"Go ahead! I'd love that. There's no reason to have legs if I don't plan on using them. I'll do handstands to get around!" Youngjae pulls the lever to loosen the brakes and wheels himself away. Not being able to use legs . So much for a cool exit, he thinks bitterly. Jaebum stares after Youngjae's retreating figure and he wants to scream. But, it'll hardly solve anything. He stays stuck in the same place long after the younger's gone from sight. 

 +

The morning drags by. Youngjae stares out of his window, counting the snowflakes until they all seem to clump together on the sill and he closes his eyes to prevent himself from going cross-eyed. He slowly opens them again and heaves a sigh. He really didn't mean to scream earlier. But, the irritation of his incompetence somehow spilt onto Jaebum. He does feel bad. But, his pride won't let him admit it. Someone knocks on the door and Youngjae is already forming the words 'go away, jaebum' when it opens and a man he's never seen before comes in.

"Yes, is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. The doctor just wants to do an x-ray on your leg." The man says and gestures towards Youngjae's wheelchair, asking permission. The boy nods his consent and the man helps him into it. He wheels him past the nurse's station, the bathroom he frequently visits, the garden and right past the room he'd be headed to if he would be taking an x-ray. If and would be being the key words. Just as he's fully caught on, the man abandons him and a familiar and irritating person picks him up.

"I'm not doing therapy. Is there cotton in your ears or are you just stupid?" Youngjae fusses, but he doesn't put up much of a resistance.

"People like you need others to help them make decisions." Jaebum says, as if that's hardly a sufficient rebuttal. They reach the therapy room and when Jaebum is about roll him in, Youngjae grabs his wrist.

"What if I can't do it?" His voice breaks into a whisper and he's looking into Jaebum's eyes. Hoping the older will have a solution to chill his sizzling nerves. The prospect of failure is forefront in his mind and he doesn't like it at all. Jaebum takes the boy's hands and ensnares them in his own, smiling softly.

"I'm right here." Those words shouldn't soothe him, but they do. 

Jaebum wheels the younger inside and parks the chair near a window. Youngjae gazes around apprehensively and coughs a little, pretending to inspect his cuticles out of boredom. A sprightly looking man strides over to them.

"So, you're Youngjae." He says matter-of-factly. It isn't a question. Someone has been leaking his name to strangers and that someone looks away while rubbing the back of his neck as if he can hear Youngjae's accusations through telepathy.

"Yes, that's me." The anxious smile on Youngjae's lips is proof enough of his unease. The therapist doesn't miss this and smiles in response.

"We're going to take it slow." That sentence has the contracted muscles in Youngjae's face and shoulders loosening. He nods meekly and squirms in the chair because he isn't sure what will come next. But, the fact that they won't push him past his limit is relaxing enough.

"I'm Wooyoung." He gestures to himself then claps his hands once in conclusion, "Now that we're all introduced, let's get started." Jaebum immediately rushes to Youngjae's side acting as a spotter and grins down at him with a wink that settles the boy's nerves further. Wooyoung holds out his hands and Youngjae grabs them.

They start by standing. 

The crack of his joints upon stretching his legs for the first time in two months is nothing compared to the pain in his ankles from having to support his entire weight. He scrunches his eyes closed and clenches his teeth. When it's too much to handle he folds back into the chair with a sour feeling pulling at his chest and bleeding into his morose expression.

"Let's try again."

+

Two hours later and they're still at square one; standing. Except the only difference is that they're exhausted. Youngjae, being the most spent of all. Wooyoung suggests they take a break and start again tomorrow. Jaebum agrees. But, Youngjae just sneers and says there won't be a tomorrow as he wheels himself away as fast as he can. Which happens to be slow enough for Jaebum to catch up.

"Why do you always run away?" Jaebum jogs in wide steps to keep up. His chest is trembling and he tries to conceal it with verbal distractions.

Youngjae snorts bitterly, "You mean roll away."

Jaebum grabs the handle of the chair and yanks it to a stop. He hopes the sounds around them will hide the slight wheeze in his voice, "You know what I mean."

"I do. You mean you want me to try harder, right? What if I want to waste away, huh?"

"That's taking the easy way out."

"What if I like easy?"

"Please, Yo-"

"Save it." Youngjae jerks the wheelchair and it hits Jaebum above the knee. The older hisses and backs away to give Youngjae room to roll away.

+

The only light in the otherwise dark room is the moonlight spilling in from the window. Youngjae lies awake pacifying his regret. He always does this. It's never Jaebum's fault, the older only wants to help. Youngjae is the one turning away his help with venomous words as if Jaebum is trying to do anything but aid him. The guilt chews at him until Youngjae is sitting up and reaching for the handle of his wheelchair to bring it closer.
 
The sun is peeking over the cloudy horizon when Youngjae pushes the door to Jaebum's door open. The older shifts at the sound and turns in his bed to face that direction. When he registers the boy sitting in the wheelchair he sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes. A low sound of surprise escapes him and he makes a move to get up. Youngjae holds up his hand for him to stop.

"I'll come to you." He stutters a little and the click of him pulling the brakes on his chair resonates in his skull. He braces himself by gripping the arms of his chair and pushing up. This is the easy part. When he pushes away from the support, the real battle begins. 

The pain is back. His ankles scream for relief. His knees crack as he shuffles his right foot and advances toward the bed a tiny bit. The agony searing through his lower half spirals upwards and sprouts into a migraine. The dull throbbing between his eyes causes his vision to blur and he's ready to give up already. He teeters to the left. Jaebum scoots to the edge of the bed, springing upwards without hesitation. The sound of sheets rustling as a result of the quick movements manages to penetrate Youngjae's crowded skull. 

"Stop." The younger breathes, voice shaking, will cracking. He's on the verge of tears and his eyes water as he painfully centers himself and straightens his spine, "I can do this." He chants these words like a mantra as he forces all of his blood downwards to shock his weak legs awake. With his eyes closed tightly and heart vibrating against his bone, he takes one step forward. The waves of pain crash against his shore and he swears loudly. He takes another step and his legs quiver like bamboo ready to snap. 

"I can do this." He inhales a drag of oxygen and slides his foot forwards, "I can do this." He takes a large step and his eyes snap open when he feels like pins are digging into the balls of his feet. He screams with his lips sealed shut and keeps moving. His cheeks flare vermilion as he scuffles closer to his target, the bed. In reality it's only a few feet from where his chair is parked and even less so from the point he's come to. But, it looks like a mile in his tired eyes. His eyelids droop and he doesn't realize he's swaying until Jaebum makes a sound of alarm.

"I-it's okay." Youngjae centers himself again, The distance between him and the bed stretches and shrinks at will. He shakes his head and looks. It's only a few inches away. He looks again, two miles. Again, so close he could reach out and feel the covers with his hands. Once more, far. Too far for him to get to without passing out. His arms shake with determination and he keeps moving forward. His hips meet the edge of the mattress and he collapses onto it. His chest is heaving and he's gasping from fatigue, but he's happy.

"Youngjae-ah." Jaebum closes in on the boy and pulls him up by the elbows. He's standing again, but his elation drowns out the sting. Youngjae grips Jaebum's biceps and smiles leisurely. His pupils are slightly dizzy and judging by the way his muscles slack, he's clearly tired. But, he's tired and happy. A satisfying combination.

"Hyung." Youngjae puffs, short of breath. He blinks for a long time before opening his eyes again. They're clear, apologetic, "I'm sorry for always lashing out on you when all you want to do is help. I...I was scared. My dad died two years ago. He was my best friend and, to be completely honest, my only friend. He loved to ice skate and taught me how to. When I broke my leg I felt like the last string connecting me to him had snapped. When I was angry and facing failure, I took it out on you. I did wrong. Forgive me, hyung. I'm so sor-"

Jaebum catches the younger's shaking lips in his own and presses their mouths together tight. The warm sensation surging through him causes Youngjae to hum in content. Jaebum’s hands move from the younger's arms to his back, pushing him closer. Youngjae's hands also drop and he brings them up to wrap around Jaebum's neck. 

The kiss they share is blissful, but it's imperative to pull away. Jaebum does so first. His mouth is still parted as little pants slip out. Youngjae is both sad and grateful. Sad, because this is his first kiss and he doesn't want it to end. But, also grateful, because his calves are hurting like hell. He giggles in spite of the pain, his insides are bubbly from joy.

"Let's sleep." Jaebum maneuvers around the younger to climb onto the bed. He pats the place next to him.

"It's morning. We should be waking up." Youngjae retorts, despite this he sticks out his hands and Jaebum grips his wrists. He hauls him up dutifully and pulls the smaller boy close. The warm breath on Youngjae's neck is settling and he snuggles deeper into the older's chest. The rapid thumping of Jaebum’s heart is a bit startling, but the swift metronome soon lulls Youngjae into almost-sleep. 

"Are you that excited?" Youngjae drawls, grogginess nipping at him. In his sleep intoxicated state he has so many questions to ask. Too many. But, he settles with this. The vibrations of Jaebum's chuckle against his back is cozy and his mind explodes in pleasure endorphins.

"I just need to catch my breath, that's all." Jaebum kisses the side of Youngjae's temple before they both succumb to sleep.

+

"Hey." Jaebum says around a mouthful of plain yogurt.

"Hey." Youngjae answers back with a slight laugh.

"No, not ‘hey’ like I’m just saying hi, but ‘hey’ as in I have something to tell you. I'm getting discharged tomorrow." The hand bringing granola to his mouth freezes at Jaebum's words. Youngjae coughs and puts the cereal down, wiping his hands of crumbs. His eyes swing to the older and he forces a smile.

"That's great." Youngjae says through gritted teeth. Don't cry. The thought of being in the hospital without Jaebum is horrible. No one to burst in his room in the morning being obnoxiously loud and forcing him places. No one to wheel him to the garden and back. Though, ever since he gained his confidence back he's been working his legs more and more and doesn't need much assistance. Just the day prior he he tottered all the way to the bathroom and back, only needing to take a break twice. That's a record. 

"So, I'm taking you out today." 

Youngjae perks up, "Where to?"

"You'll see." They prepare to leave around noon. Youngjae needs his mother's consent. She speedily agrees. She'd OK him walking into traffic as long as she didn't need to be the one to lead him. Youngjae dons a thick coat, while Jaebum slips his arms through a simple rain parka and fastens the buttons.

"Won't you be cold?" Youngjae wonders aloud, zipping up his own coat. Jaebum shakes his head.

"I get warm easily and I'll be doing most of the pushing." He nods his head in conclusion. He won't be saying anymore. There seems to be more to it, but Youngjae trusts the older's words. They set out. Winter swirls around them in thick flurries and Youngjae sticks out his tongue. A snowflake lands on the tip and he giggles around it, pulling his tongue back in time to taste it melt and spread across his tastebuds. He shivers while smiling.

"Having fun?" Jaebum laughs. Youngjae nods his head enthusiastically and shoots out his hand to catch more in his palm. It's not like he's never played in snow before, but it's the first time in months he's felt refreshed and he revels in it. The shadow of a familiar building looms over the sidewalk and Youngjae grips the arm of his wheelchair in fear.

"I can't do it." He mutters and drops his head. 

"Think of it as closure. Your leg is getting better but these type of things never heal completely. Say goodbye." He wheels them past the entrance and into the lobby. Jaebum sheds his outerwear immediately and goes to grab Youngjae's. But, the boy pulls it tighter around him. It's warm inside, although the ice coursing through his veins is too much to bear. Jaebum nods and pushes him into the rink.

 It's empty. Early on a Monday not many people would be here normally. Today, there are none. He wheels the chair closer until they're at the edge where carpet gives way to ice. Youngjae glances back at Jaebum, he nods and urges the boy to go on. After a moment's hesitation he rolls out on the ice. 

"Go on." Jaebum nudges a bit more urgently. It's not exactly rink policy to ride wheelchairs on the ice, so they should probably make it quick before a worker wanders in. The chill of the rink is nice. Youngjae fills his lungs with as much of it as possible. He can feel his dad's firm hands gripping his shoulders and lightly guiding him.

 +

A sixteen-year-old Youngjae races around the rink. He's zipping past the other skaters at lightning speed. The sound of his freshly sharpened blades slashing ice underneath his skates is the only sound that enters his ears. He's smiling. He's happy. It's a wild, invigorating feeling. His nostrils expand as he in chilly air and gradually shrink to normal size when he lets it back out. The strip of skin below each shoulder blade tingles with denied release and he imagines white, sparkling wings bursting through his itching flesh. Through his high he manages to throw a glance over his shoulder at his dad. His eyes meet the shriveled man just as he's about to hit the floor. There's a thud.

+

Like déjàvu, Youngjae chances a glance over his shoulder just in time to witness Jaebum fall. The man crumples to the carpet like a puppet with its strings cut. Youngjae's fingers freeze over the chair lock. He abandons his fantasies of going around once more and rolls over to the older as fast as his twitching arms will take him. The wheels on his chair hit the rubber stopper separating the ice from the carpet and the impact causes him to tumble down next to Jaebum. Youngjae's sweaty hands clasp around the cellphone in his pocket and his clumsy fingers dial 9-1-1.

Youngjae's labored nap consists of nightmares. His dad is dead, his mom is dead, Jaebum is dead. Youngjae, himself, is not dead. It's terrifying and he just wants to wake up. But, it keeps pulling him back into the dream. Finally, he opens his eyes and takes a breath. There's something wet on his face. He isn't sure if they're sweat or tears. Either way, he wipes it off with his hands and sits up. A very familiar, welcome face is waiting for him.

"Jaebum-hyung." He reaches out his hands and the older accepts the embrace. He climbs in beside the younger and wraps his arms around the boy's waist. Pressing their foreheads together and never losing eye contact.

"I have something to tell you." The tone of Jaebum's voice is calm, steady. Much like his personality. Youngjae smiles and nods for him to continue. The way his strong grip tightens should be an indicator that something is amiss.

"I'm gonna die."

The smile vanishes from Youngjae's face.

Suddenly, the ceiling dips as it swipes much needed oxygen from the room--Youngjae can't breathe. He can't feel his legs or arms. His chest is cold. Something wet gathers in his eyes and slides down his cheek. He can't see, can't breathe, can't talk. What would there be to say? Nothing. Nothing at all. His throat closes and he's struggling to focus. 

Jaebum aches to see his boyfriend like this. But, he has to continue. If he stops, he won't start again. He'll lose the will.

"My kidney isn't the biggest problem. It's my heart. It beats too fast, too hard. If it beats past a certain speed, it'll explode." His voice is cracking and he can no longer watch the sadness slither its way into Youngjae's glossy eyes, " I don't want to live the rest of my life inside of an incubator. I don't want to live for death. That's what I'll be doing if I let them do as they please. I'd be okay to die. I met you, I helped you, I loved you. No, I love you. Present tense."

Youngjae can only nod through his tears. Once the silence has lapsed long enough, he opens his mouth in a pained noise. Akin to the sound a wounded animal would make. He cries and screams. They always leave. His dad left. Jaebum isn't gone yet, but it's only a matter of time. Whenever he loves something, it dies. People die. Flowers wilt. Everything comes to an end. Everything has an expiration date. Everything except him, it seems.

"Don't...don't be sad." Jaebum whispers against Youngjae's temple. He kisses it softly and pulls away to look into the boy's eyes. They're red and puffy. Dazed. There somewhat, but not all of the way. Youngjae coughs as he cries the last of his tears. 

"How do you expect me to be anything but sad?" His voice is dry and the words are so low Jaebum can barely hear them. But, he doesn't need to know the words as long as he knows the reason behind them. He kisses Youngjae again, this time, on the lips. The tremors trekking through every part of Youngjae doesn't prevent him from kissing back. Jaebum's lips are warm and comforting. The older pulls away and latches his teeth onto the younger's collarbone. Dragging and creating plum bruises along his pale skin.

"I've wanted to make love to you for a while now." Jaebum whispers in Youngjae's ear before the shell of it. Hot air hitches in the boy's throat and an uncomfortable sensation races to his crotch. At least he won't die a .
 
 
Lights filters in through the window. It casts a warm, yellow glow on everything it graces and the sight fills Youngjae's insides with happiness. The cover tickles as it touches his bare chest and the draft he's getting isn't pleasant. But, he can hardly care. He stares off into the air for while. Too long of a while, he swears he see spores swimming through the air. He shifts and his leg bumps against something else. He can't contain his smile as his eyes jump to the person next to him. Rather, the body next to him. 

His blood runs cold.

He's tearing up again as he's met with a sight too putrid for words. Jaebum's flesh is tinted a sickly green. Translucent, the veins underneath all too vulgar and proud. His gaze is disconnected, clouded over in expiry. His broad chest is flat, still. Jaebum, in the physical sense, is next to him. But, Jaebum, his friend, his boyfriend, his would've been lover, is nowhere to be found. A lone strip of rufous liquid crawls from the corner of Jaebum's mouth and leaks down his jaw, dripping onto the sheets. Just to appease his weeping soul, Youngjae raises a hand and places the palm flat on the other's chest, spreading his quivering fingers out wide.

No pulse.

A/N: This used to be another story with a different pairing. I tried the best I could to edit the names.