Despite the daredevil façade, Bae Jinyoung feared death more than anything.

He supposed it understandable, logical to a certain extent—that one should cower in dread before the great unknown. The aftermath was a far cry from the adrenaline-pumped free-fall over the ledge of a towering skyscraper, cushioned by the knowledge of the blistering pain that was to follow. The outcome of death, on the other hand, was but a mystery to all of mankind. It was a boundless conundrum, a cliffhanger at the epilogue, the crux of existence itself. And death itself was the occult grim reaper, requiring neither face nor shape for it to bring the mortal populace to its knees, bargaining desperately for just a little more time.

And nobody knew what lay in wait in death’s embrace. Is it eternal nothingness, a pit of despair, an absence of thought? Or perhaps a closing of the eyes from this world, and thereafter an opening into yet another?

But more than the uncertainty, Jinyoung feared the loss. Not his own, but that of his beloved, for grief to stalk them in the places he’d walked upon before his passing, for tears to replace the smile they’d worn in reminiscence of the memories he’d once been a part of.

The silver lining, he thought, was this: should death see it fit to come for him now, he’d have accomplished enough in his lifetime to believe—wholeheartedly so—that death would not be so unfair as to take him. Young as he may have been, he’d found happiness in his friends, support in his family, and completion in the love of his life.

Yoon Danbi, however, couldn’t possibly have said the same for herself. She was all of seven years old, far too young to have gotten very far in life, far too sickly to have properly enjoyed what most other children would’ve taken for granted.

And neither would she in the future.

Unless Taejoon, by some miracle, procures the resources enough to pay for Danbi’s kidney transplant.

And I….where do I stand in all this?

You’re an obstacle, Bae Jinyoung, his conscience echoed.

A bothersome dint in the greater scheme of things. Why remain that way? Let Taejoon win, for once. Give him back the only source of joy he has besides his sister.

Who may, before you know it, disappear altogether. After all, life may provide for its master, but death serves no man. It harvests aplenty, and cares not for your concerns. It takes whomever it wants, whenever it wishes.

And it never, ever returns what it’s already taken.

Jinyoung clenched his fists within his sweater pockets, ensconced in the eerie, almost unearthly silence of the hospital corridors. He was chilled to the bone yet drenched immensely in sweat, as if his mind and body were at odds in their response to the immediate environment.

The clock had stricken midnight long ago, and not a soul was in sight where he stood.

 “You alright?” a throaty voice spoke up, startling him out of his stupor. “You’ve barely moved an inch from that spot by the door.”

Jinyoung turned sideways, sparing Yoon Taejoon a cursory glance. “Given the circumstances, I do believe I’m in more of a position to fret over your welfare.”

He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck, an air of disquiet washing over him.

“Are… are you alright?” he ventured. “We should’ve known better than to wear out your sister. Our ignorance put her at risk.”

“Danbi’s physical limitations were unknown to you,” Taejoon shrugged. “And I’m sure her sprightly, happy-go-lucky behaviour served only to conceal her disease. I have myself to blame, and myself alone. For letting my sister run amok beyond reach.”

Jinyoung had to admit he’d expected Taejoon to snap at him for getting involved in his private affairs. Yet it seemed almost as if he was grateful for the additional company.

He sighed to himself, the makings of a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You’re even harder to comprehend than Daehwi is.

“I still am sorry,” he insisted. “Very much so.”

“Didn’t think I’d live to see the day,” Taejoon chuckled. “Things have certainly taken a turn for the worse. And some… for the better.”

“Is this because I’ve apologized?” Jinyoung demanded. “Or because I’ve asked if you’ve been feeling well?”

“Both,” Taejoon exclaimed, clapping a hand against his shoulder. ‘Almost as if… we’ve been friends. As if you’ve never made an attempt at severing my arm from the rest of my body.”

Jinyoung made a move to swat at his hand, pausing abruptly in conscious observance of the pain stamped onto Taejoon’s countenance, the fatigue in his weary expression, the exhaustion in his sluggish posture.

“As if you’d find it in yourself,” Taejoon sighed dejectedly. “To forgive me for the trouble I’ve put Daehwi through.”

Jinyoung flinched, as if in distress, away from their point of contact. Enmity and outrage came rushing back in forceful torrents, a harrowing reminder of Taejoon’s flagrant misbehaviour.

He plagiarized Daehwi’s song.

He forced himself upon Daehwi, after having met recurrent rejection.

Not once, or twice.

Would thrice have been enough?

Perhaps not, had I been unable to circumvent his behaviour.

For all I know… he may have wasted no time in taking from Daehwi what is rightfully mine.

“You alright?” Taejoon inquired. The concern in his tone threw Jinyoung off, curbing his thought process altogether. “Your face looks rather ashen. You’re not feeling nauseous, are you?”

“I…” Jinyoung began. “I’m quite fine, thank you.”

“That’s my line, buddy.”

“B-buddy?” Jinyoung stammered. He blinked at Taejoon, unable to fathom the situation at-hand.

Death was an enigma, a face yet unseen.

But Yoon Taejoon was a chimaera, many-headed and strange, as if to trick you in jest into thinking you’ve lifted the cipher at last, only to watch him peel off yet another mask, strip away yet another layer.

And then, for the hundredth time, you find yourself staring into the eyes of a stranger.

“We buddies now?” he asked. “That’s new. I thought you hated my guts.”

“Didn’t even think you had guts, I’ll admit,” Taejoon shrugged. “Thought you the ultimate typification of what I’d call a wuss.”

“That’s the Taejoon I know and love,” Jinyoung grumbled, hoping Taejoon was intuitive enough to read into his sarcasm. “ to say, but I’ve missed him.”

Taejoon let loose a back-slapping laugh, taking Jinyoung entirely by surprise. He blinked once, twice, goggling at the vivacious display unfolding before him.

“I’ll give it to ya,” Taejoon relented. “That was hilarious.”

“Your sense of humour is misplaced,” Jinyoung smirked. “But I’ll take it.”

He let the unease die down a little, relaxing the biting tension at the pit of his stomach.

A chimaera, is it? He thought. Why not? I’ll wrestle with that.

“But how come I’m the wuss?” he demanded. “Logic dictates otherwise. It points a finger at you. The risks you’ve taken thus far are… how shall I put it? They’re escape routes for spineless invertebrates.”

Jinyoung expected retaliation, even the slightest twinge of discernible pain in Taejoon’s neutral expression. And yet, true to his astonishing streak of incongruous behaviour, Taejoon flashed him a curt smile instead, as if to affirm his allegations.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Taejoon shrugged. “I’d er-punch the living daylights out of you, had I been capable. For no reason other than resentment for having lost Daehwi to the likes of you, when I have no one left to turn to. When I’ve been in love with him far longer than you’d think. But I’m a little… incapacitated, as of the moment. I’m better off calling a truce.”

He tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans, as if to withdraw even further into himself. “Besides, I have a debt to repay. For leaving my sister in your hands without meaning to. To tell you the truth, Danbi’s rather… mistrustful, where strangers are concerned. She heavily disliked the staff at the clinic, and I’m sure it’s why she’s orchestrated an escapade. But Daehwi tells me she warmed up to all of you almost instantaneously. I’m sure it’s because she could tell you weren’t the bad guys.”

“She read our aura, is that what you’re saying?” Jinyoung snickered. “Sounds to me like some magical unicorn type phenomenon. You believe in that?”

“Do I have a choice?” Taejoon sighed. “I have to. Against my will, I’ve been indoctrinated into faith in the impossible. Only the impossible will save my sister now.”

Danbi’s memory tugged at Jinyoung’s heartstrings, thawing at the ice shielding his heart.

Of course. Of what use is resentment now?

“For Danbi’s sake,” Jinyoung whispered. “I’d be more than willing to put every single ‘if only’ and ‘as if’ behind us.”

He cast a sideways glance Taejoon’s way. “And Daehwi’s, too. If setting aside irreconcilable differences is what it takes to extract the thorn both of us have pierced him with, I’d be more than willing to forget the unforgettable, forgive the unforgivable. If you’re calling a truce, then so am I.”

Taejoon’s eyes bore into his own, probing them for meaning. “Does that mean what I think it means, then?”

“I’m not saying,” Jinyoung clarified. “That I’m folding here. You’re still an idiot for thinking it wise to ually harass your former best friend.”

“Great,” Taejoon muttered. “Yet another thing you and I can agree upon.”

He fished an aluminum can out of the paper bag in his right hand, which, until then, Jinyoung had been much too preoccupied to notice.

“Here,” Taejoon offered, extending the drink towards him, beads of moisture still the exterior. “Take it.”

“Peach Soda?” Jinyoung inquired, reaching for the beverage before he could regret it. His throat was parched, and he was in no position to reject any freebies. “Is this your idea of a peace offering?”

“Hardly,” Taejoon smiled. “It tastes quite nice, though. Care to join me?”

He made for the bench adjacent to Danbi’s hospital room, Jinyoung gingerly trailing his tracks. He sat a comfortable distance away from Taejoon, pulling at the tab of his soda in order to pop the can open.

He downed half its contents in one go, gulping noisily at the fizzy drink. Taejoon watched him in ardent fascination, smirking as Jinyoung wiped at his chin in haste, a paltry attempt at concealing how messily it sloshed onto his chin.

“Someone’s thirsty.”

“Shut up.”

“Shall I tell you a secret?” he offered.

Jinyoung’s mouth flew open.

Again with the surprises.

“You’d… you’d do that?” he gawked. “Daehwi tells me he’s never had the honour.”

“Daehwi speaks the truth,” Taejoon nodded. “So do you. And so shall I, given the chance. Just to prove a point.”

“The point being?”

“That I’m not the erted, degenerate scumbag you may have already presumed I am.”

Jinyoung compressed his grip around the soda can, the sound of ductile metal crinkling at his fingertips piercing through the muted air.

“Talk. I’ll listen.”

Taejoon extended his right hand towards Jinyoung, his can of grapefruit soda swishing lightly back and forth. “Before anything else… here.”

“No thanks,” Jinyoung shook his head. “I can’t overdose on the sugar. One monster burp is enough to scare you senseless. Might even startle your sister out of her coma.”

“I’d like that,” Taejoon grinned. “But that’s not what this is for, you .”

“Excuse me?”

“Cheers,” Taejoon interrupted. “To the brotherhood you and I would not—under a thousand other circumstances—have forged even under duress. And yet, here we are, at the point of launching into civil dialogue. For the moment, at the very least.”

His eyes bore through Jinyoung’s nonchalance, as if in valiant challenge.

Should the hereafter change in tide, I won’t spare even a second’s worth of hesitance before I charge you and stomp you flat.

Jinyoung flashed him a crooked grin, his sharp incisors on full display.

“Sure, I’ll drink to that,” he exclaimed, clinking his canister against Taejoon’s in mutual accord.

“Bottoms up, my friend,” Taejoon offered, before the both of them held their refreshments to their lips in perfect synchronicity, chugging their Tropicana Sparkling down all at once.

“Ahh,” Taejoon exclaimed, wiping at his lip. “That was tasty.”

“Now spill,” Jinyoung urged, patting lightly at his bloated belly. “What’s the big secret?”

“The secret,” Taejoon began. “Is that I’m quitting.”

Jinyoung gaped at him, flabbergasted.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I don’t… I don’t think I heard that right. Did you just say you’re quitting?”

“Don’t mean to pitch a curve ball,” Taejoon apologized in return. “But you heard that right. I’m quitting.”

“Quitting... what, exactly?”

“Everything.”

“Everything?” he bellowed. “The Idol Project? Your education? Your unyielding pursuance of my boyfriend? That everything?”

Taejoon gave an audible exhale, shrugging faintly in mimicry of apathy. “Right. I’m leaving the Idol Project. Dropping out of school. Raising the fabled white flag. Daehwi’s all yours from this day forwards.”

“You expect me to thank you for that?” Jinyoung barked, harsher than he’d intended. “Why, out of the blue?”

“Why else?” Taejoon quipped. “You think I’m doing this because I want to? Because I’ve given up? I’m fighting, Jinyoung-ah. Fighting tooth and nail for my sister.”

He seized Jinyoung’s drink, wresting it from his iron grip before Jinyoung’s fist tore through the can altogether.

“I thought you were competing for her,” Jinyoung whispered. “I thought you hounded after victory at the Idol Project because you wished to succeed in her stead. Because you’re trying to earn the money enough for her surgery. Was that all talk? Another party trick I’ve fallen for? Was that it?”

“That was then, Bae Jinyoung,” Taejoon argued. “This is now. That was the master plan before Danbi fell into a coma. Things are different. Her condition is critical. And you expect me to… what? Sit around and wait for her to die? Have the time of my life with everyone else, while she suffers through treatment alone? I can’t do that. Not to her.”

Caustic pain bloomed at the base of Jinyoung’s temple. He knit his brows, unable to form a singular coherent thought, as if he’d bitten into the apple of discord, and the seeds nested within its core had sown themselves deep within him.

What is he thinking? Is there no other way?

“I have to find work,” Taejoon confessed. “Full-time work. I can’t do that while I’m at school. As of now, I make enough waiting tables at Sapphire Bay to pay for the bare minimum: a decent flat, Danbi’s caretaker, a filling meal every now and again. But once the medical bills have been factored in… a part-time gig won’t even cover half the costs. Danbi’s monthly check-ups, her dialysis, the antibiotics she’s gotten prescribed… where am I to turn to for help? My mother is dead. My father’s abroad. And even then he—“

Taejoon stopped himself then, unable to cough out the words he’d meant to say.

“Even then he… what?” Jinyoung persisted. “Is… is your father alright?”

“My father,” Taejoon managed. “Is a colossal dickhead. Ever wondered who it is I’ve taken after? He’s your man. If only I could trade in his life for my sister’s.”

“Don’t say that,” Jinyoung urged, even then uncertain if he’d said the right thing. “He’s…”

He’s still your father.

And yet… has he valued you, the way a father is meant to value his son?

“After our mother died,” Taejoon disclosed. “He promised my sister and I he’d fill the gap she left wide open.”

He chuckled impassively, cloaking his bitterness beneath a veil of indifference. “That was bull. He escaped to Shanghai. Fell into shambles. Into sin, and vice. Gambled away his fortunes, then sank into debt. Left his children to fend for themselves. And even though he sends wads of cash home every now and again… I have no way of knowing if I’ve paid for my sister’s life with dirty money he’s made through some shady business. I take it, without question. Because once again, I’m left no other choice.”

Jinyoung clapped a hand against his mouth, clamping it forcibly shut.

His mind was reeling, misguided resentment flying promptly out the window.

Has all this gone on behind the scenes without my knowledge?

“Daehwi,” Jinyoung spoke up. “Does he know?”

Taejoon buried his face in both of his palms, resting his elbows against both knees, as if their discussion on his spendthrift father had thoroughly sapped him of energy.

“If Daehwi knew,” Taejoon replied. “His heart would break. I could never have been able to stomach that. Not because of my family. He has nothing to do with any of them.”

“He does now,” Jinyoung corrected. “You have to let us help.”

“How?” Taejoon asked, the skepticism evident in his impotence, in the haplessness of his tone. “Danbi dies without the transplant. And as it stands, she isn’t high enough on the priority list for her to make it out of this battle alive.”

“Priority… list?” Jinyoung stammered.

“The hospital has one,” Taejoon explained. “For kidney recipients. With neither a donor, nor a payment guarantee… the doctors can’t make the necessary arrangements. It’s not their priority.”

“That’s unfair,” he whispered.

“That’s reality, Jinyoung-ah. As bitter a pill as it may be to swallow.”

Jinyoung stared at his feet, utterly helpless.

“Don’t try and stop me,” Taejoon warned. “I clued in you in to get you out of the way.”

“What about the performance?” he asked. “The others are counting on you.”

“Not with their lives on the line,” Taejoon reiterated. “Don’t you see, Jinyoung-ah? I’m willing to disappoint everyone for Danbi. My group members, my fans, our mentors and professors, the general public. I love her far too much to care for the rest. She’s all I have left, now that…”

His voice trailed away, but Jinyoung knew in his heart of hearts the words left unspoken between them.

Now that Daehwi’s gone.

Now that he’s yours.

Now that I’m friendless. Loveless. Desperate.

“I understand,” Jinyoung reneged, unable to put up any further arguments. “I won’t get in your way. I promise. Do what has to be done. And then make your return.”

Taejoon nodded gravely. “That’s the plan.”

 They sat in bitter silence for the next few minutes, much too reluctant to delve any further into the matter.

Jinyoung had to admit he’d played out Taejoon’s surrender in his head much differently.

It was triumphant, rather than bleak.

A win as opposed to loss, after loss, after loss.

“For how long... have you been keeping things to yourself?” Jinyoung pressed, shattering through the lull of silence. “Daehwi’s been worried. Did you even know that?”

Taejoon shook his head, hands clasped together, the veins lining his arms more prominent than ever.

“I never wanted his pity.”

“Good,” Jinyoung nodded. “Because he never pitied you.”

“What makes you think you’d know that?” Taejoon whispered, an evident strain in his voice, caught between anger and despair.

“He tells me,” Jinyoung shrugged. “Because I listen. And so does he. You can’t have a functional relationship without reciprocity, you know. Without scaling the walls standing between either of you. That’s all he’s ever wanted, and all you’ve ever refused him. A chance to be of help. Because you were a friend, and you were important.”

He extended a hand outwards, patting Taejoon’s shoulder haltingly. Taejoon stiffened for the briefest of moments, before inhaling deeply and then releasing a breath, letting his tensions go.

“I’ve been a jerk,” Taejoon sighed. “To everyone, myself included. Because of Danbi’s disease, my father’s uselessness, Daehwi’s rejection… I was mad at the world. And the anger led me off course. I was no longer myself, at the time. No wonder Daehwi thought to replace me.”

He offered Jinyoung a pensive smile, as if to cocoon himself within a thin veneer of acceptance, even though his eyes—ever reflective of the truth to his soul—spoke volumes of the pain he sought to keep hidden.

Don’t say that, Yoon Taejoon, Jinyoung thought.

Not while I’m on the brink of letting him go.

“Please tell me Danbi will be alright,” Jinyoung whispered, wishing for even the slightest notion of comfort.

“She will be,” Taejoon whispered back. “Danbi is stronger than the both of us combined.”

She’s strong.

She won’t give up without a fight.

Not without saying goodbye.

Jinyoung nodded, letting a discomfiting lull settle in the atmosphere. Neither of them spoke for what seemed an eternity.

“So—“ he and Taejoon ventured at the exact same moment.

They peered at each other, ears turning red.

“You go first,” Jinyoung coughed..

“No, I...” Taejoon began. “You go first.”

“I insist,” Jinyoung argued. “You—“

Taejoon stared at him in disbelief, as if to question the atypical courtesy.

“R-right,” Jinyoung stammered. “I’ll go first.”

He scratched at his nape in discomfort, unsure of where to begin. “About Daehwi. The both of you have... quite the history together.”

“That, we do.”

“When exactly did you…”

“Meet him?”

Jinyoung blushed, flustered by Taejoon’s predictive skills.

“Ahh, forget it,” he amended in haste. “I’m being nosy. If you’d rather not tell me, I’d understand.”

“You’re right,” Taejoon smirked. “I’d rather not tell you.”

“...Oh.”

“But I will.”

“Ehh?” Jinyoung gawked. “Why is that?”

“I think you deserve to know. Why the luckiest man alive is the man fortunate enough to call Lee Daehwi his own.”

He settled his plastic bag onto the floor, leaning against the wall.

“Back in high school, Daehwi was a victim of severe bullying.”

Jinyoung felt his own heartbeats come to a screeching halt.

“Severe bullying?”

“He’d run to class in stealth,” Taejoon pressed on. “Actively ran for cover from the kids at school who picked on him for no reason at all. Most of the time he’d succeed, but on days less auspicious, he’d sustain small scratches, tiny nicks, purpling bruises from being shoved around and manhandled by these rascals twice his size.”

Jinyoung ran a hand across his face, a feeble attempt at shaking away the outrage rattling him to the bone.

“And I knew this, because I’d watched him from afar,” Taejoon concluded. “Shared in his dream of becoming an idol. So I offered him a helping hand, once. Tended to his wounds at the infirmary. And then…”

“And then?” Jinyoung asked, even though he knew exactly what had befallen Taejoon next.

“I fell even deeper in love,” Taejoon smiled, confirming his suspicions. “With the boy whose voice was sweeter than honey, richer than chocolate, and smoother than silk.”

Jinyoung grinned, acknowledging the truth to Taejoon’s words.

“The boy whose eyes shone brighter than the moon at night,” Jinyoung continued, quoting Daehwi’s lyrical description of him from memory. “Whose smile could replace a lifetime’s worth of sunshine.”

The boy who wore his heart on his sleeves and inked his soul onto paper, shared a piece of himself with the rest of the world through his music.

“The boy the world thought broken,” Taejoon added. “Though it dared only scratch the surface, under which it might’ve found—had it paid enough attention—the gold that shone so brightly beneath.”

Jinyoung let his eyes close, let himself sink into darkness.

Reading into the words Taejoon chose to leave unspoken between them.

And that gold was my greatest treasure.

The treasure you’ve so effortlessly stolen.

Jinyoung’s right hand rose subconsciously to his chest, resting above the spot where his heart beat in steady rhythms.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “I wonder if you understand him more than I do. Because you share these experiences with him. I for one have only known happiness with Daehwi. Outside of the problems you’ve brought upon us, at least.”

“How many times more do I have to apologize before you’re satisfied?”

“I don’t need another apology,” Jinyoung smiled, eyes still closed from reality. “Just promise me you’ll be there.”

“For?”

“For Daehwi. And for your sister.”

“. You needn’t ask me for that. Any more questions?”

Jinyoung’s eyes fluttered open, ever so slowly, the pristine white walls of the hospital corridor coming gradually into focus. “One more.”

“Will it make me uncomfortable?” Taejoon wondered aloud.

“Likely.”

“You sure are frank.”

“Why did you fall in love with him?” Jinyoung asked, setting hesitation aside.

“Was that all?” Taejoon beamed. “Because he’s perfect, that’s why.”

“It’s that simple, huh?”

“I’ve never thought him any less than that.”

“Can’t say it’s been the same for me,” Jinyoung confessed. “Must be nice, not having to go through conflicting emotions.”

“If you’re looking for specifics,” Taejoon added. “I fell for his music first.”

“His music?”

“His lyrics. His voice. His heartstring melody. And I wanted to be a part of that. The world he sang so fondly of. And since the day I’d come to befriend him… I’ve believed he’s all I’ve ever needed to fill the void I’ve suffered through for so long, the vacancy my parents’ absence carved into my heart by force. And I at making friends. Because at the time, no one understood why I’d chase so stubbornly after a career in music, when my chances of making it were slim to none.”

Jinyoung watched Taejoon cast a faraway glance, into an unseen horizon beyond the harshly lit corridors.

“But Daehwi understood,” he whispered. “And more than that, he embraced my dream, shared it with me. He gave me new life, a renewed sense of purpose, the strength I needed to be there for my sister. To be the hope for a future she can never enjoy herself. Because if… if by chance she won’t make it far enough to pursue her own dream, at the very least I’d like to pursue mine for the both of us. It’s all I can do to make her happy, and Daehwi’s played a massive role in that.”

“Danbi thinks Daehwi is your dream.”

“That she does. Can’t say she’s wrong to think so.”

“But you’re giving the dream up.”

“Isn’t that great? You no longer have to worry about me.”

Ah, Jinyoung thought.

But that’s where you’re wrong.

He clutched at his heart, as if to grasp at the pain was to crush it between his fingers, banish it from existence altogether.

“The promise,” he reiterated. “You’ll keep it won’t you?”

“Like I’ve said--”

“It’s a serious matter, Taejoon-ah,” Jinyoung interrupted. “If by chance, Daehwi chooses you over me, you had better not put him in danger.”

Taejoon blinked, taken clearly by surprise. “You make it sound as if you’re about to break up with him. Or he’s about to break up with you.”

“Don’t ask me why,” Jinyoung pleaded. “Just… promise me. And swear upon your honor.”

Jinyoung expected yet another retort, but Yoon Taejoon, thankfullly enough, chose to keep his mouth impenetrably shut.

Another eternity passed between them before Taejoon’s voice filled the roaring void.

“I swear upon my honor. I’ll keep him safe. But you… you had better not break his heart, Bae Jinyoung. Because the moment you do is the moment I’ll kill you.”

Jinyoung chuckled, less unfazed by Taejoon’s threat than he’d let on.

“I guess,” he whispered. “We’ll see about that.”

“How is she?” Jinyoung asked, having re-entered Danbi’s hospital bedroom. He stole a glance at the clock, which read 3:27 AM.

The clock was half an hour late.

“She’s asleep.” Daehwi replied, murmuring almost to himself. “Nothing new to see here.”

“And how are you?” Jinyoung smiled, patting Daehwi’s mop of hair affectionately.

“Sleepy,” Daehwi yawned. “I might just collapse any minute now.”

Jinyoung chuckled, fetching a stool from the nearest corner of the room. He settled himself beside Daehwi, pulling him in by the shoulder.

“If you’re about collapse,” Jinyoung whispered. “Then collapse into my arms instead.” He let Daehwi rest his head against the crook of his neck, using his own head for support. The fragrance of Daehwi’s shampoo wafted lightly through the air, drowning out the scent of the iodoform disinfectant.

“Hmm,” Daehwi sighed, gently closing his heavy-lidded eyes. “Sounds tempting.”

“Jinyoung leaned in slightly, planting a kiss onto his cheek. “Get some rest, Daehwi-ya. I’ll watch over from here.”

“What if I tire you out?” Daehwi whispered. “I’m heavy.”

“I don’t mind. Tire me out as much as you’d like. In whatever way possible.”

“Ahh,” Daehwi giggled. “Sounds romantic.”

Jinyoung blushed, only then noticing his words could’ve been taken much the wrong way.

“You…” he began. “You know what I mean.”

‘I know,” Daehwi replied, already nodding off. “We aren’t adults, but we aren’t children either. I can tell between the things you mean, and the things you can’t mean, unless you want me to slap you.”

“No slapping,” Jinyoung chided. “No more talking, either. Sleep, my love. I’ll be right here.”

“For how long?” Daehwi inquired.

“Ah, how disobedient,” Jinyoung grinned.

“For how looooong.”

“Until you wake up.”

“You’re no fun,” Daehwi grumbled, and Jinyoung could tell without looking that he’d flashed his signature pout, bottom lip protruding outwards. Jinyoung swallowed, quashing any such desires to kiss them swollen.

Bad, Jinyoung-ah. This isn’t the time for that.

“I thought,” Daehwi whispered, burnout and fatigue on the verge of lulling him into sleep. “I thought you’d tell me you were staying forever.”

Another twinge of pain came over him, as if an alien force were strumming at his nerves like an acoustic guitar.

“Get some sleep, Daehwi-ya,” he pleaded. “You’ll need it.”

“Promise me you’ll stay?” Daehwi whispered. “I can’t possibly rest easy, not knowing the answer to that.”

“I’ll stay,” Jinyoung whispered, holding Daehwi even closer to himself.

I’ll relish these moments, he thought.

For as long as they last.

“Daehwi-ya,” he spoke.

Forgive me.

If heartbreak is written in the stars, then so be it.

But I hope you know, I’ve chosen not the path of least resistance, but the path of least wrongdoing.

Not for my sake, but yours.

That’s how it’s always been.

“I’ll stay,” he lied. “I promise.”

A week had passed since Danbi’s hospitalization.

Nothing of particular note had gone on since then, and by some heaven-sent miracle, they’d made enough progress on ‘Oh Little Girl’ for them to enjoy an idle weekend dilly-dallying around. They had rehearsals for the television program in the afternoon, but for now they were off the hook.

Most of their time, however, was spent in hour-long shifts at the hospital, waiting in inexhaustible hope for the instant Danbi’s charming, doll-like eyes were to open.

It was rare for patients to last in a coma for more than two weeks to a month at most, and though Danbi had thus far crossed the halfway mark, none of them were weak-willed enough to think she’d lost the race against time.

Their new mantra was: One day, she’ll wake up.

One day she’ll find a donor.

One day soon.

Our little, little girl.

“...will wake up,” Daehwi’s voice spoke up, suspending his innermost thought. “Won’t she?”

They were sitting at the outdoor park a few blocks away from Mireu’s school grounds, having just bought Melona popsicle sticks from the nearby convenience store. Daehwi was sitting by his lonesome at the swing set, Jinyoung watching over him by the fountain, where a faceless cherubim angel sat atop a weathered marble orb, pouring a limitless stream of water from a glazed ceramic jar.

“How are the lyrics coming along?” Jinyoung inquired, walking in gentle strides towards him. He tore at the wrapper of his banana popsicle, unsure of why they’d gone for frozen treats despite the chilly weather.

Then again, he’d given in to Daehwi’s craving.

He smiled, at the ice cream contentedly.

“The lyrics are all set,” Daehwi exclaimed, looking pleased with himself. “I hope Assbrass and Kiggen approve.”

“I’m sure they will,” Jinyoung reassured him. “You’ve worked hard, Daehwi-ya.”

“Do I get a reward?” Daehwi ventured, flashing him a painfully beautiful smile.

His heart pounded in his chest, the butterflies in his stomach performing one backflip after another, as if they’d flown through fields of roses and gotten heavily drunk on nectar.

Jinyoung strolled towards the patch of grass by Daehwi’s feet, pushing softly at the swings to get him moving. He leaned in slightly, grinning in mischief. “What exactly do you have in mind?”

“Hmmm,” Daehwi pondered for a moment. He at his popsicle, gaze moving in alternate motions between Jinyoung’s eyes and his mouth.

“Something banana-flavored?” Daehwi smiled.

Jinyoung gaped at him, astonished by Daehwi’s surprising initiative.

That made him happier than he cared to admit.

“Someone’s gotten braver,” he grinned, an eyebrow raised in challenge. “You forget we’re in public.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Daehwi shrugged. “I simply don’t care.”

“Ahh,” Jinyoung smiled, leaning even closer towards him, an inch away from his nose. “Well, neither do I.”

He pulled at the swings, pressing Daehwi’s mouth to his.

The overwhelming taste of strawberries hit him full-force, and he found himself unable to think beyond the sensation of Daehwi’s pillowy-soft lips moving against his. Before long, Daehwi’s arms climbed from his chest to his neck, pulling him even further in.

The park was deserted, and the air silent around them, save for the sound of their lips smacking lightly together.

The thought sent blood rushing to Jinyoung’s face.

“Mmm,” Daehwi sighed, breaking the kiss momentarily. “That feels nice.”

“We should stop here,” Jinyoung whispered. “Before your ice cream drips onto my shirt.”

“We should,” Daehwi agreed. “Doesn’t mean we will.”

“Hah,” Jinyoung grinned. “Of course not.”

He claimed Daehwi’s lips once more, savouring the moment between them. Daehwi responded to him in earnest, free hand rumpling Jinyoung’s shirt. The gentlest touch of his fingertips set Jinyoung’s heart afire, tore him asunder, as if to realize he’d been a puzzle incomplete until Daehwi’s lips locked and fit perfectly against his.

God, I love you, he thought.

“God, I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” Daehwi replied, pressing a kiss onto his cheek.

Jinyoung tilted forwards, touching his forehead to Daehwi’s. “Just one more…”

“Two more,” Daehwi pleaded.

“No more,” another voice declared. “You guys are sick.”

Jinyoung and Daehwi broke apart in alarm, utterly embarrassed to have been caught red-handed.

“An outdoor park, really?” Jihoon exclaimed. “Kids could’ve walked in on the both of you.”

“Ugh,” Jinyoung groaned, burying his face beneath the palms of both hands. “Not you again.”

“How’d you find us, Jihoon-hyung?” Daehwi asked, blushing profusely. His lips were an even more vivid shade of red, and Jinyoung reddened to a proper crimson in having known they were like that because he’d kissed them much harder than he’d initially intended.

“Jinyoung asked for me,” Jihoon explained. “Claims he has something important to tell me. I hope you didn’t drag me out her just to bear witness to the earlier spectacle. It’s nothing I’ve never seen… or uhh, done before.”

“That wasn’t it,” Jinyoung declared. He peered at his wristwatch, inspecting the time. “Also, you’re a couple hours early to the appointment.”

“I know,” Jihoon shrugged. “I thought I’d invite Daehwi out to the café across the street, but it seems he’s kept himself busy, gallivanting about elsewhere.”

“Wait,” Jinyoung interjected. “You were planning on taking my boyfriend out on a date?”

“Pretty much,” Jihoon smirked, wiggling an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“I—” Jinyoung began. “Well, no. I would’ve stolen your boyfriend in the meantime. Guess we’re even.”

“Hmph,” Jihoon muttered