Baekhyun blinked at the harsh white ceiling.

His entire body felt like it had given up on him, and for a moment Baekhyun lay still, feeling the numbness that spread throughout his tissues and the stinging behind his eyes. And oh, someone was holding his hand. Ignoring every cell’s screams of protest, Baekhyun turned his neck to face the figure huddled over the edge of his bed.

Not Yixing.

Disappointed, the air escaped from him louder than usual and the head shot up. Bloodshot, puffy eyes met his and the grip on his hand tightened. Baekhyun tried to smile. He managed a twitch of the corner of his mouth. Then Chanyeol was gently throwing himself on top of him, sobbing as new tears started falling onto the white sheets.

Baekhyun mustered all his energy and lifted one hand to pat his back. It was weak, but he felt it.

“I thought you weren’t going to wake up, Baekhyun-ah, I was so scared, Baekhyun-ah…”

Baekhyun tried to speak and started coughing feebly instead. Man, he was so useless he couldn't even talk.

Chanyeol’s eyes dulled with a newfound sadness and he gently caressed his chest until he stopped. Baekhyun’s hoarse voice when he spoke grated on his heart like steel claws and he didn’t know how to answer him. Not because he didn’t know what happened to Baekhyun, he heard it from the doctor, but because every inch of his being was in denial, up till now.

“B-Baekhyun.” His throat was so restricted he had to swallow to get the rest of the words out.

When Baekhyun heard “tumour” and “lungs” in the slur of words he thought he was wrong. But he asked Chanyeol to repeat it and his voice broke midsentence and he buried his face in his big hands to hide his tears, Baekhyun knew that was it.

What was it they called it – cancer?

The idea of this monster destroying the very body he had been living in 24 years of his life was terrifying. All of a sudden he felt foreign in his own shell. Like he didn’t know himself anymore.