Zitao is dying. Yifan learns this from Zitao's messages to his friend.

Zitao has a flower vase in his room, a simple sunflower in it. As time passes he lets the beautitful flower wilt – just like him.

Yifan doesn't know whether he should be angry at Zitao for keeping this from him or sad because well, Zitao is dying. But how can you be mad at someone who is dying?

Yifan never comforts the younger male about it, hoping he would willingly, freely tell him but the clock ticks and Zitao is living on borrowed time. Yifan notices the signs now, the forgetfulness, the muscle pain and the headaches. He looks pale, he's skinny.

“Zitao.”

The sick male looked over at him, eyes filled with an emotional Yifan didn't really understand. “Do you not feel well?” He asked, hoping once more the other would confess but Zitao shakes his head. “Just a cold.” It's been 'just a cold' for a few months now. Yifan doesn't press any longer.

On some days Zitao looks healthy, like he was never sick at all. He's happy, hyper and wants to go out for the whole day.

He drags Yifan to the park on those days.

They sit under the same tree who's shade has kept them safe for years now. “I want to be a flower.” Zitao speaks, his hand snakes it's way into Yifan's. He's warm, Zitao. “And what's wrong with being my little panda?” Yifan asks eyes teasing as the younger rests his head on his shoulder. “Nothing but to be a flower would be really amazing, don't you think?” Most people would say they want to be a bird, a cloud or even a star but no Zitao wants to be a flower. Yifan asks why. “Because no one will look at you any different when you're wilting and dying.” Yifan understood a little more than he probably should. “If you were a flower, I would water you everyday, to keep you from wilting.” Zitao smiles softly at the older male's words. “All flowers die at some point, that's how it works. They die so new flowers can grow in their place.” He's tired now Yifan thinks. He's pale again, cheeks flushed as he tries to breathe. “Maybe we should go home, you're not feeling well again.” Zitao shakes his head. “I want to stay him until the stars show themselves.” Yifan complies.

And they do, they spend the whole day there, sitting, laughing, napping, just enjoying the limited time they have. As the stars come out Zitao speaks once more. “I had a friend, he thought for every person living on this planet there is a star just for them. Stars are people, is what he would say.” Yifan thinks that sounds a little funny but he doesn't laugh and instead listens. “He said some stars shine brighter than others and some form really pretty things with other stars.” Yifan takes note of the past tense Zitao is using while he talked about his friend. “He's dead now. So his star isn't in this sky anymore but sometimes I like to look outside and wonder if in his place something beautiful was left behind.”

Zitao's voice is small, “Just like he believed in the stars, I want to believe in my flowers.”

Yifan doesn't talk because even though it's silly, he finds it believable. “But I won't even let you wilt.” Zitao laughs and Yifan continues. “Even if physically the flower is wilting, I'll have the memory of the once beautiful vibrant flower living on in my memory and in my heart.” He presses Zitao's cold hand to his chest and Zitao in a deep breath, at the warm touch. He kisses Zitao, pouring all his emotion into the kiss, arms wrapped securely around his frame. He whispers and ghost of a whispers alone his lips, “I love you, my beautiful flower.” They don't say more and Yifan knows this will be the first and last time he'll see Zitao, the flower, in it's most beautiful form.

And it is because the next morning he finds his flower wilted.