Jinyoung.

His name in the form of a whisper that punctuated my sleep-induced breaths, his eyes liquid pools of warmth that made my stomach clench involuntarily each time I looked at him, and his tuneful voice that sent shivers down my spine whenever I heard my name on his irresistible lips.

I woke up first today, instead of him. Normally, Jinyoung would have woken up before me. He was the lighter sleeper, between the two of us, and I had lost count of how many days he had spent trying to drag me out of bed so we could have breakfast together, then giving up and throwing a tantrum. The realisation that his body was gradually wearying pained me, and the soreness doubled as I tried to detach his arms around my torso, to pull back and tuck him under the warm comforters. The room was too cold for a patient, and even though some of his body heat had set my skin alight with sparks, a few minutes of standing under the blasting air vents had me tugging my jacket tighter against myself.

“Mark…”

Immediately, my neck turned and I winced, slowly raising a hand to rub the crook in between my neck and shoulder as I glanced at the boy lying on the small bed, his frame looking even smaller than I remembered. His skin was paler than it used to be, and there were bags under his eyes even though he had been refraining from any physical exercise or strenuous activities in the past few months. They accentuated many things – his delicate albeit strong bone structure, his bright and optimistic eyes and his contrasting ebony hair. Yet, they also pointed to how much stronger he used to be, and how weak he had gotten.

I swallowed, and slowly lowered myself until I was squatting in an uncomfortable position next to his bed, my hands clinging onto the frame of the bed as I watched him intently. Jinyoung talked in his sleep, but because I was usually dead to the world once I fell to my slumber, I missed out on a lot of his incoherent ramblings.

“Mark… I’m sorry…” He mumbled almost inaudibly, his eyebrows creased in the middle as he frowned. He reached his arms out to pull at something, but when they were met with cold air and blankets, he let out a sigh and disgruntledly used them as a substitute instead. Even after he was hugging at the sheets tightly, the deep line in between his eyes stayed, and witnessing his distressed expression and not doing anything about it send waves of guilt washing through me.

“I love you…” He said, before the frown finally dissipated and a more peaceful look found its way to his face. I waited, feeling the small ache build up in my legs as I heard his breaths become more and more even, before finally standing up. I winced at the uncomfortable sensation of pins and needles, but forced myself to walk as quietly as I could in sneakers towards the door. When my hand touched the metal doorknob, I glanced over my shoulder one last time before whispering goodbye.

I walked out of the ward, then out of the dreadful floor where they sent patients and told them “It’s alright” with an awful, apologetic smile on their faces even though every single person knew that if you had to switch rooms to one on that floor, you pretty much had your days numbered. I hated it. I hated that day so much, where I had been sitting on Jinyoung’s bed, holding his hand and pretending to read his palm while I spouted nonsense as I just admired the lines that appeared at the side of his eyes when he threw his head back and laughed. I remembered thinking about how light-hearted we both were, since Jinyoung’s condition had been improving and things had been looking good – even good enough for him to get discharged. Then, I remembered how quickly the mood plummeted, and how heavy the crushing silence was when the doctor strode in and blurted out the horrible news. I remembered staring at Jinyoung, even though I knew he should have just given the boy his space and privacy to come to terms with his own situation, and I remembered how helpless I felt when tears began to fall from Jinyoung’s eyes and onto our intertwined hands. I remembered every damned detail, and how much I hated doctors and hospitals and expensive medicine that seemed to be good for nothing since they failed to do anything about Jinyoung’s illness. Weren’t they supposed to save lives? Why could they not help at all? I hated standing by, watching idly as Jinyoung began to count down the number of days he had left to live. It was too cruel.

I felt myself being brought back to reality when a hand obtrusively waved in front of my face.

Oh. It was the woman who was running the food stall. She had an annoyed look on her face, and I quickly snatched the receipt out of her hand, passing her a few thousand won to pay for the overpriced hospital food, muttering for her to keep the change. I carried the tray to an empty table near the sinks, in a corner that seemed hidden away from the bright lights and incessant chattering of people.

After setting my food down on the table, I stretched both my arms and limbs, trying to touch my toes. The muscles in my stiff body protested, but I persistently continued to push my limbs, until my fingers grazed the worn canvas of my sneakers. There was a satisfied but mildly sore sensation in my straightened back, and I finally sat in the seat. It was almost I was repelled by the food, even though I had no recollection of even walking up to the food stalls, or buying anything from the ddeokbokki shop. I stared ardently at the plate of spicy rice cakes, wishing I could burn the entire plate of fried potatoes, vegetables and flour with my eyes. I hated fried foods, and I liked drinking soup. Even Jinyoung had begun drinking soup more often because of me. He often joked, saying that I was prepping us to become an old couple, spending out days watching sitcoms that had been replayed tens of times before and drinking hot, lotus soup and even hotter summer days.

What a liar.

I swallowed hard, although my throat was dry and scratchy. It wasn’t as though Jinyoung had lied to me with ill intentions; sometimes my mind spoke before it could process the thoughts, and filter out the not-so-nice ones. The betrayal stung – from both Jinyoung’s body and my inability to be understanding about his situation.

Pushing the plate away from me, I placed the cutlery beside the plate and looked at the empty space opposite me, pretending for a few moments that Jinyoung was there, with a mocking smirk on his lips at how I would refuse to eat what I had bought and let the food go to waste.

“It’s your fault for preoccupying all of my thoughts. You eat it.” I demanded softly, dropping my gaze and not daring to see that the space opposite me was rightfully and truly empty.

Instead, I let the smell of oil and chilli paste waft into my nostrils, and let the unstimulating aroma probe at my stomach, which was equally as disgusted as I was. I took my phone out of my pocket, and switched it on, and waited it to start up. My expression softened when I traced my finger over the wallpaper, washed over with nostalgia. Reluctantly, I entered my password and a small pop-up appeared on the screen, notifying me of my fading battery life.

14% left. Please charge your phone.

I ignored the little reminder, and tapped on my notifications to check on the missed calls and messages.

1 Missed Call (Youngjae)

13 Missed Calls (Jaebum)

6 Missed Calls (Jackson)

4 Messages (Yugyeom)

3 Messages (Jaebum)

2 Messages (Bambam)

2 Messages (Youngjae)

I rolled my eyes, and quickly shut my phone off before any of them could send any more text messages or call. Jaebum seemed to be the most panicky one, and I couldn’t blame it on him. He had a personality of a wolf: strong and fierce, and he possessed extremely individualistic characteristics. He wanted to be a lone wolf, but every wolf needed a pack to survive. A member of his pack was dying, and he felt guiltier than any of us as the days passed and the situation depreciated. He was overly protective and too worried, and while excessively spamming my phone with missed calls was his method of approach, he failed to understand that I needed my own space as well.

“Oh !”