Joonmyun is laying in the hospital, nothing serious. On his right is a window, the light too bright for his eyes and on his left is a man around his age, maybe younger.

 

His name is Jongdae.

 

The lack of hair on his head and pale skin with the many tubes and wires coming from his arms speaks volume.

 

Jongdae doesn't have long but he still smiles like he's got a life time. On his bed side is a Game Boy and under his head is a soft fluffed feathered pillow. He wears Star Wars pajamas like he's still a kid and you know what he's got a damn right to that.

 

Joonmyun manages a smile when Jongdae looks at him, ice cream staining the corner of his lips, it feels like the biggest lie Joonmyun has ever told. He thinks Jongdae will call him out on it, so he holds his breath. He holds his breath because he's scared of the child like man who probably weighs less than his own arm and is hooked up to a machine. And maybe he has Jongdae pegged wrong, maybe he's superman or some .

 

So he looks away, like he's looked at a gangster who's got a rap sheet the length of a lecture bomb on stupid politicians have done.

 

Jongdae's eyes linger on the many items Jongdae has by his bed, his fear subsides when he realizes that Jongdae is – all show and tell.

 

He's got everything from a shotgun shell to a crow's foot and for every damn thing he has, he has a story to go along with it.

 

“See this is from a shooting range.” He holds up the shotgun shell, spinning it between his fingers. The corners of his lips curve up. And Joonmyun nods, listening because what else can he do besides listen to the many stories the dying man has? No one else seems to care so for the few days his there, he'll listen like he's Jongdae's best friend and maybe Joonmyun is his only friend besides the many items he stores by his bed side.

 

He curls his hands around a small bouncy ball, “See this is from a weird girl.” Joonmyun wants to laugh because Jongdae makes a face that says, he didn't like that girl. “Why did you keep that ball?” Jongdae looks at him, smile never faltering. Joonmyun thinks he's falling in love with the smile. “Because she said she worked hard to win this ball.” Joonmyun thinks that's silly and maybe this girl was an ex or some .

 

He says, “See this is from my father.” “See this is from my brother.” “See this is from my mother.” And once more he says, “And this is from that weird girl again.”

 

It took Joonmyun a whole two says to figure out that the weird girl was his sister, it took him two hours today to figure out that he missed her.

 

They visit everyday and stay well past visiting hours because the rules don't apply to them. But when they do leave Joonmyun and Jongdae are left alone, and he says, “Do you know what the worst thing is about being sick?” Joonmyun looks at him, he could say a million things but what Jongdae says never crossed his mind. “They give you all the ice cream you want.” Joonmyun wants to ask what's so bad about that but Jongdae seems to read his mind. “Ice cream can't make you better.” It takes Joonmyun a moment to understand. They give him ice cream because there isn't much they can do but try and make him comfortable.

 

There is no easy way of asking someone who is dying in a hospital bed this question but it, Joonmyun asks anyway. “Are you scared?” Jongdae doesn't even hesitate before he answers, “ yeah.”

 

Joonmyun just listened to a man in Star Wars pajamas who is hugging a teddy bear (that the weird girl gave him) just the word , like he was a drunken sailor being lowered into a shark tank with a bloody nose.

 

And if it takes him a curse word to get through this then Joonmyun would teach him how to swear like the devil's sitting right there with a paper and notepad taking notes.

 

Before Joonmyun can say anything, Jongdae whispers, “Please don't tell my dad.”

 

The next day he asks Joonmyun if he believes in Angels. Joonmyun realizes he doesn't really have the heart to tell him, “Not lately.” So he just lays there, eyes locked on the smile that's all so familiar to him now, waiting for Jongdae to continue.

 

But he doesn't know how to so Jongdae never does.

 

Jongdae loves like a man loved before God gave human's religion and left them to figure out what hate was.

 

He never greets Joonmyun with silence, only smiles and a patience that Joonmyun is amazed by considering Jongdae is dying. And he tries so hard not to remind him that he'll be out of there in a couple of days and Jongdae will be stuck to his bed, left to tell his stories to the empty walls. He tries not to think about how he'll be out of there, smoking and drinking while he takes his life for granted while this innocent man is planted to his bed like a flower that refuses to grow. Joonmyun has been with him for five days and all he really knows about Jongdae is that he likes to pull feathers out of his pillow and watch them slowly drift to the ground like he wishes he was just like the light weight feather, it had all the time in the world to float right on day to the ground.

 

He creates a small pile each day, his pillow becoming less fluff and more so uncomfortable. But that's okay because, he'll just get a new one.

 

Joonmyun half expects him to say something wise like, “It's gravity that's been getting us down.”

 

But the truth is: there's not enough miracles to go around, kid. And there's too many people petitioning for the winning lotto ticket. And the only reason they can't find answers is, they weren't invited to the search party. And Jongdae right now, there are no winning lotto tickets for sell.

 

But hell if Joonmyun had the money, he would walk right on over to the corner store and buy Jongdae all the lotto tickets he wants, and hopefully one of them will be a winning lotto. But miracles don't work like that and this lotto isn't exactly one you can jut buy.

 

So there is no music, no symphony of crescendos, as if the ripping into melodies that can keep a rhythm with the way their hearts beat. They must meet the silence with the same level of noise that the parents of a dying Star Wars wearing pajama man make when they take liberties into their own hands. They must shout until they shatter their own echoes and listen to the bounce off the plain hospital walls until they grow distant and distant becoming nothing but whispers in the air.

 

Until they grow distant enough that the two males never get a reply.

 

But whatever God Joonmyun finds, he'll match sure remember Jongdae and tell this God that, “Hey there is this man that wears Star Wars pajamas, could you do me a favor and help him out?”

 

He's going to tell their story as often as Jongdae told him the stories of his items by his bed side. And every time he does he'll tell them this,

 

“See, there is bravery in this world. 6.5 billion people curled up like fists protecting death, but every breath we take has to be given back. A man in Star Wars pajamas taught me that.”

 

So Joonmyun will hold his breath like the way he holds his pen when writing Thank You letters on his skin to every tree that gave his the breath that he's holding. Then he'll let it go as if he understood something about getting old and having to give back. Let it go like a laugh attack in the midst of some REALLY good , the black eye following will be totally worth it.

 

Because what's a night worth when there's no story to tell? And why wield a word like worth if you got nothing to sell?

 

Joonmyun and Jongdae crack the world open during their stay together and found the prize in the center is that they never really lied to themselves, never said they would be understanding or undemanding.

 

So they sing in their own vibrations and dare angels to stop mid flight to pluck the feathers off their wings and write demands that God's hands take the time to catch them.

 

And so if their prayers aren't answers it wasn't because they didn't try.

 

Joonmyun doesn't believe in angels often, but on the day Jongdae plucks a feather from his pillow and tell Joonmyun, “Thank you.” He half expects him to say, “See, this is the first one I grew.”