The days passed by, both at an alarming speed and painfully slow. Baekhyun gradually got sicker as the cancer cells spread out to explore his entire body. Occasionally one of his hands or legs would go numb because his nervous system was getting screwed up, and he would whine until Chanyeol massaged the feeling back into them. It did something to his balance too; he could no longer do a spin without ending up on the floor, his vision would black out for a while whenever he stood up, even if the rest on the couch was brief. Sometimes his hipbone or his backbone would hurt, and he would let Chanyeol set him on the bed without protest and relax under his strong hands. He was grateful for his love. And he tried loving him back, he really did. All the nights they did it, Chanyeol being as gentle as possible, stopping every minute to ask if Baekhyun was okay, Baekhyun was conflicted. No matter how hard he tried, his heart pulled him back to Yixing.

And yet everything was reminding him that he was a dying person.

The last time he tried to sing properly, his voice had came out so hoarse and rough that he immediately shut up. He could see the members’ faces fall slightly and a couple of eyes shine unnaturally bright with excessive moisture. Chanyeol quickly covered him by pelting out a series of raps and loud, boisterous singing, and Jongdae joined him after a heartbeat. For a while the entire house was filled with their bright voices, but to Baekhyun it sounded hollow and faraway.

Baekhyun saw Luhan bend over at the other end of the couch, murmuring softly and patting the person that was lying with his face hidden behind his back. A moment later Luhan reached over and pulled out a tissue, which he pressed into the tear-streaked face. And Baekhyun knew, without having to see, that it was Yixing.

Baekhyun’s shirts started to hang on his scrawny form. He was losing appetite for even his favourite food, and his weight was decreasing by the day. He ate whatever Chanyeol fed into his mouth, just to please him and lessen the worried frowns on the others’ faces, but he could only get a few mouthfuls down before he would start getting nauseas. They said it was the cancer cells spreading to his stomach. It . But still, he gobbled down the porridge Yixing made when nobody was looking, even if he had to throw everything up later.

But it wasn’t all about his body. He had sunk into a perpetually hopeless mood, at times giving up on his health altogether. Some of his evenings were spent sneaking out of the dorm to the shop down the street, where he would drink until his broken heart numbed, even if it meant the tightness in his chest worsened. After a few rounds he would stagger out, drunk, into the night and more often than not, collapse on the pavement when his legs gave away. His stomach was churning and he felt worse than . Then Yixing would walk out of the shadows, where he’d been waiting since he’d follow Baekhyun from the house, and carry him up into his arms. He never let go, even if his back wasn’t in a good state that day, or when Baekhyun convulsed in his arms and threw up alcohol lined with blood all over his chest. He would simply close his eyes against the stabbing ache in his heart, grit his teeth and hug Baekhyun tighter. When they got back into the dorm he would take off his puke-covered clothes and search for Baekhyun’s medicine. When Baekhyun woke up the next morning in his comfortable bed, his head throbbing, he never needed to ask to know. He knew that he’d willingly sacrifice a few days of life for him to be in Yixing’s embrace again, even if he wouldn’t be consciously present in the precious moment. 

He counted his days. He had until perhaps a week after New Year. He’d probably have to live on a breathing machine soon. His lungs were really starting to hurt when he breathed. It was bearable, but then again everything was at first. And look at him now. Death never scared him, but he was afraid of dying.