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A YEAR LATER

Baekhyun’s subconscious mind shifted his arm to the left in his sleep, feeling around, grasping for the sheets. When nothing responds to his reach and only the feeling of quilts answered him, he sat up and gasped. He rose suddenly and, though the rush of blood through his head pained him, he looked around the bed, not even registering where he was—all he knew was that his child wasn’t within his presence, like he used to be, and that he is gone.

A choked sob escaped his throat and he began to cry, weeping into his hands. He couldn’t even register his surroundings, his vision—all he knew was that the child he so loved wasn’t within his proximity and he began to panic, crawling around meaninglessly as he tries to stifle his sobs, looking around the room—

“Daddy! Daddy, I’m here!”

Baekhyun stopped.

He looked around.

Minhyun stood at the door of the bedroom.

Baekhyun was too confused to respond, and thought that his child was a ghost for a second. Then he remembered that this had happened far too often—since a year after his child’s transplant surgery, he would wake up, and if he couldn’t feel his child sleeping next to him, it sent him into a frenzy of panic, thinking that his child was either gone, or dead, or both.

Baekhyun, from his almost-screaming state just a few seconds ago, fell awfully quiet, and his eyes fell to the carpet.

“I—I thought you were…” Baekhyun began to whisper, his voice hoarse, “y-you were…”

Then he fell quiet again, and his arms fell limp.

“I’m sorry I worried you, Daddy, I—I was hungry, and then… food,” Minhyun said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. Sure enough, Minhyun had never left Baekhyun—he had simply got up, reasonably hungry as a child, trotted to the kitchen and grabbed some cereal (apparent by his full cheeks).

Then Minhyun remembered what his Papa told him. That Minhyun almost died, then he got better again, but afterwards Daddy started waking up in the middle of the night screaming because he had nightmares. Then Papa took Daddy to the doctor and Daddy has something the doctor called “separation anxiety” and “PTSD” and all sorts of complicated words Minhyun couldn’t understand. That meant that Daddy was almost always sad all the time and he didn’t like it when Minhyun wasn’t in the same room—because Daddy was afraid that Minhyun had died.

Minhyun swallowed his munched cereal and wiped the crumbs from his face. He looked at his father, who seemed both embarrassed and forlorn at the same time, and Minhyun suddenly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Baekhyun said nothing. He smiled sadly and shook his head dismissively.

Minhyun trotted into the room, struggling to climb onto the bed. He crawled onto his father’s lap. As soon as Minhyun was in Baekhyun’s arms, the latter’s tense body relaxed immediately, shuddering in relief. He embraced his son tightly, and Minhyun could feel Baekhyun’s visible effort of not trying to weep, apparent by his shaking shoulders. Minhyun cooed and petted his father’s hair, pecking away his tears with a smooch, and Baekhyun gave him a smile.

“My poppet…” Baekhyun murmured, his son’s cheek, smiling to himself. He jumped when the alarm next to the bed rang, instinctively wrapping his arms around Minhyun to protect him from supposed danger, but soon calmed as Minhyun poked his arms underneath Baekhyun’s hold and turned it off.

“It’s time for me to go to school, Daddy.”

“Y… Yeah?” Baekhyun said, almost sadly. He looked at the clock, then Minhyun’s backpack, and then Minhyun himself. Baekhyun’s face immediately seeped with sadness, knowing that he’d have to separate from Minhyun for the little boy to go to school for a few hours.

“A-Are you sure? I mean—y-you could… stay home…” Baekhyun said anxiously, not wanting to part with his son. He fought to keep the paranoia away, but it was almost a daily struggle to let his son go to school simply because of the fear of his child dying again, for whatever reason.

“I’m not going to be gone for long, Daddy,” Minhyun murmured, his father’s hair. Baekhyun pursed his lips inwards, holding his breath before he let out a sigh, smiling sadly before he nodded.

“Okay,” he said, though it sounded more as if he only said it aloud to assure himself, “Okay.”

“Yes, okay,” Minhyun parroted him, and his round cheeks curved into a wide smile. Baekhyun simply couldn’t ruin that smile—he himself too, gave him a smile wide as he could muster.

Minhyun promptly fetched his uniform from the wardrobe, and Baekhyun felt a little out of place. Back at the flat, he didn’t really have a wardrobe. It was all tattered and broken down, with shelves that didn’t function. Ever since he moved in to Jongdae’s—the latter’s house was given to Baekhyun’s in his will—he actually had furniture, and for once, their clothes were primly hung, crease-free.

Minhyun kicked off his pajamas, immediately pulling on his clothes without being told. Though he still struggled a little with buttoning his shirt and he looked at Baekhyun for help. His father laughed and crouched down, though not without tracing the unmissable scar across Minhyun’s chest.

“It’s Dae-dae!” Minhyun whispered as his father traced his scar, and Baekhyun chuckled (somewhat amused, somewhat sadly). Baekhyun patted his chest gently and began to button his shirt.

“It is certainly Dae-dae,” Baekhyun said softly, “Are you taking care of him well?”

“Yes. Dae-dae has taken care of me lots and lots and now it’s my turn to take care of Dae-dae,” Minhyun said, almost puffing in pride. Baekhyun knew how much Minhyun liked to brag about how he had his “uncle”’s heart (literally) and how he had this massive, almost heroic-like scar across his chest, sometimes lifting his shirt up for his classmates to admire. Minhyun’s appreciation of Jongdae was almost patriotic.

“Mhmm. Has Dae-dae been hurting lately?”

“Nope.”

“Good. If it starts hurting or you feel funny you have to tell me immediately—or go tell Mr. Kim if you’re in school so he can help you, okay?”

“Okie-dokie,” Minhyun nodded, so vigorously that his hair fell onto his face. Baekhyun grinned, smooching his still round cheeks before pulling Minhyun’s jumper over his head.

“Did it hurt when Dae-dae gave me his heart?” Minhyun cocked his head, pulling the large sleeves over his hands. Baekhyun froze a little, looking around the room, remembering that his friend had passed a little over a year ago. He bit his lip glumly and shrugged his shoulders.

“I must imagine so,” Baekhyun said carefully, “but I think he didn’t mind.”

Baekhyun hadn’t quite grasped the passing of his friend, nor had he really accepted or came to terms with it. He had pitted Jongdae’s death to the darkest corners of his mind, as if to forget that Jongdae had ceased to exist and that his body now resided next to his wife’s grave. Baekhyun liked to think that Jongdae was away, somewhere—on vacation, or shopping somewhere for groceries—and whenever Baekhyun remembered that Jongdae was just simply gone beyond his reach, he was conflicted. At the same time, he cherished his son’s life—but he knew that life couldn’t be given if his best friend didn’t die.

Anyways, he hasn’t thought about Jongdae for quite a while. Baekhyun refused to come to terms with it, so he often dismissed the thought.

Minhyun was a few months shy of his eighth birthday—he’s seven now, and though he grew in height, he hasn’t really grown into his uniform. Baekhyun always thought of how lucky he was to see his son live for his seventh birthday.

Breakfast was toast. Minhyun munched on the crusts as he trekked his yellow digger across the plaid tablecloth, careful to avoid knocking down the glass of orange juice.

“Daddy, you have to eat, too,” Minhyun pointed out Baekhyun’s untouched plate of breakfast. In all honesty, Baekhyun had been so focused on making sure that his son wasn’t showing any symptoms of being ill and that he was eating well. He seemed to snap back into the present and looked at his plate of toast, a little flustered.

“O-Oh, yeah, later. Daddy’s not really hungry…” Baekhyun said dismissively. Minhyun cocked his head at him—Baekhyun had grown so frail and thin since the past year, even without working, but his anxiousness had literally ate at his weight. All of his clothes now hung by his shoulders, and sometimes he had to wear a belt simply because his jeans could not hang onto his hips. Though seeing Minhyun’s saddened face, he sighed and silently chewed on his breakfast, eating just to make his son happy and reassured.

After his second toast, Minhyun clambered down the chair and opened the kitchen cabinet, collecting a box that contained many sections, each section labelled a day. Minhyun popped open the section labelled “MONDAY” and revealed a set of pills. He cooed over them as Baekhyun got up to fill a glass of water for his medication.

“We’re going to keep Dae-dae nice and healthy,” he sang, patting his chest before clapping his hands. Baekhyun smiled and sets the glass down in front of him.

“Yes,” Baekhyun nodded, then, to humour his son, he asked, “Can you say what they’re called?”

“Yup!” Minhyun exclaimed with confidence, “They’re called—i—immu—immunno… sss…”

He was stuck on the “s” for a few seconds, hissing like a boiling kettle. His face scrunched with concentration and Baekhyun smiled at him encouragingly, before Minhyun got over his tongue and said the last part of it.

“sss… suppressants?”

“Yes!” Baekhyun grinned and clapped his hands, before his son squealed with pride and fell into peals of laughter. He palmed the pills in his hand and Baekhyun playfully counted along as he took them one by one, the little boy washing down each pill with a gulp of water. When Minhyun finished the last of his pill, Baekhyun gave him a high-five.

They left the house promptly after that, Baekhyun tucking in Minhyun’s lunch into his bag. Baekhyun locked the door. It felt so strange—the house was his now, but it felt as if he was locking the door for Jongdae. In any case, Baekhyun didn’t really have to worry about paying rent or the bills—Chanyeol took care of it. Baekhyun was in no shape to work; physically or mentally.

He hasn’t seen Chanyeol in quite a while. Baekhyun wondered what the man was doing...

They walked to school, Minhyun bumbling around excitedly, flinging his toy digger as if it was a plane. Baekhyun watched him with a peaceful mind, though as Minhyun’s school came closer and closer to his view, anxiety invades his mind once more and his steps slowed down, not quite wanting to let go of his son again—even if it was only for school.

His steps completely stopped at a few yards away from the school, and he suddenly stood rigid, hands fisted by his side.

This wasn’t the first time—when Minhyun first came back to school after recovering, Baekhyun had refused to let him go. When he did, he stayed until Minhyun got out of school and had hung back behind the gates, riddled with anxiety, chewing his nails and peeping in even though he couldn’t see his son beyond the classroom windows. Sometimes it was worse and Baekhyun kept him home, where he could keep an eye on Minhyun—but he knew that it would do neither him nor his son any good.

Minhyun notices his father’s absence by his side, and turned around, spotting his father rooted at the sidewalk. Minhyun hobbled back, looking up at Baekhyun, tugging at his shirt hem.

“Daddy, c’mon!” Minhyun said, hopping up and down.

Baekhyun sniffled.

“Daddy, I’ll be fine, I promise,” Minhyun said, hugging Baekhyun’s leg. He stared up to his father’s saddened face and Minhyun pointed his pinkie out.

“Pinkie promise.”

Baekhyun bit his lip, but he fought hard to push back his anxiety the furthest he could. When he succeeded, he let go of the breath he had been holding and gave Minhyun a simple smile, hooking his pinkie onto the child’s small one and shaking it lightly.

Baekhyun crouched down and gave his little boy a tight embrace.

“I love you so much, poppet.”

“I love you too, Daddy.”

Minhyun gave a shy smooch on his father’s cheek. He paused a little, drawing circles on his Baekhyun’s shoulder.

“Daddy—if you’re really really really worried… I—I can stay home, if it makes Daddy happy,” Minhyun mumbled. For a moment, Baekhyun wanted to say yes, yes you should and trek with his son all the way back home. But he pushed the thought away and he shook his head, smiling, albeit a little painfully.

“No. It’s okay. Daddy—“ Baekhyun paused, before exhaling deeply, “Daddy needs to learn that… that sometimes, he needs to let go.”

Minhyun smiled. He nodded.

Another hug, and Minhyun trotted off beyond the school gates, running off with a happy shout and an energetic wave.

Baekhyun waved back, a little forlorn.

Then Minhyun disappears.

Not forever, Baekhyun reassured himself. He breathed in deeply and exhaled, closing his eyes, feeling everything still for a moment. Once his heart stopped thrumming wildly, he nodded to himself and walked back to Jongdae’s house—home—with his hands pocketed in his sweatpants.

He walked with a glum expression, his back hunched, feeling his sandals slap against the heels of his feet. He looked at the windows of the stores aimlessly—knowing that he wasn’t really looking around, but was just trying to distract himself from irrational thoughts.

Halfway down, he noticed that a sleek car had drove by next to him, slowing enough just to match Baekhyun’s walking speed. He didn’t have to guess who it was—nobody had a car like that around this part of the neighbourhood.

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