“Appa,” you smile through the heat of your body and it takes everything for me not to begin crying. Your bangs are askew and your cheeks glow very red like cherries. “Appa.”

I try my best to explain to my mother but somehow her voice become a distinct sound and all I can feel is the cold spreading under my skin. When I end the call, I can’t remember what I’ve said, everything seeps out of me like steam, things I’ve planned to do to spend times with you.

I’m scared of many things. Some people call me a scaredy-cat and I always just laughed at it because that’s true. I can’t swim, I can’t stand the haunted house, I can’t stop myself from running away whenever I see bugs. I remember you laughed as you scooped a cockroach with your small hands and threw it out of the window.

“I save appa,” you said, grinning from ear to ear as you saw the relief and embarrassment washed over me.

I had been a fool for telling you that it won’t happen again. That the next time, it would be me saving you. That the next time, I won’t be scared anymore. I had been stupid because in fact, you’ve been saving me countless times already even as I never asked you, not even once. How could you know when I needed a distraction? How could you come to me when I said nothing about feeling lonely? How could you, over the phone call, told me that you love me the best when I started to fall apart?

Your fingers come to touch my hand, the searing heat stabs its knives to my skin. It reminds me of the day when we first met, when you were barely two and couldn’t to lift your head to see me. Seunghyun–hyung got to his knees immediately, offering his hand for you to shake and you bit your lower lip before you let him scoop you in his arms. I’ve seen you through pictures and videos but I’ve never thought I had fallen for you already. Not until you reached out to touch my hand that I knew I’d be keeping you forever.

For the rest of me, I vowed to you quietly just like what I’ve vowed to Seunghyun merely five years before. Until the rest of you.

You curl your body in my arms and I pretend that I am protecting you from the world eventhough I know that the war is inside your body. Never in my life had I feel so small like I do now. Your breaths hit my chest and my heart beats according to it, desperately trying to connect us together. Your eyes are closed, your lips curve over gibberish mumbles I can’t catch. You look so tiny beside me, I start to wonder if it’s always like that or that I never paid enough attention before.

I feel a tug on my shirt and see your hand curls over the hem. I am barely aware of breathing as I take your hand in mine, inspecting your fingers and dreams on each tip of them. Dreams of yours, dreams of mine, dreams about us, everything we want to be.

I don’t know when did I started to count your breaths but when I come to twenty-seven, you stir in your sleep and your eyelashes flutter slightly before you settle to a new position, laying on your back with your mouth slightly open and beads of sweat trickle down your forehead.

I get up to grab some wet cloth that will hopefully cooling down your fever. As I pace through our living room, I catch a glimpse of today's canceled breakfast and the party supplies; funny hats, four yellow balloons because you love the color so much, and at the end of the couch are candles I wanted to show you. I swallow down the bitter in my throat and head straight to the bathroom, hoping that my mother will arrive very soon because I’m on the verge of crumbling down.

***

“Now,” my mother whispers quietly having changed your pajamas to a new one, the one I bought when I was in Japan. “We wait for Seunghyun.”

I let out a sigh I don’t know I’ve been holding. “He is going to be okay.”

“He will be,” she clicks her tongue but wraps his arms around me. “But you’re not. At least not until you tell me about it.”

“About what?”

“The lump in your throat, Daesung.”

 I swallow immediately and she laughs. Her laughter basks me until I feel lighter, as if half of the weights on my shoulder are suddenly lifted. “I was worried. So worried.”

“Tell me about it.”

“He might…he could’ve…been sicker,” I try but fears are punching my stomach. “I was too busy cleaning up and preparing for the party I didn’t think about him until…”

“You did great,” my mother says against my shoulder and I lean onto her, just like I did when I was a little kid.

“I should’ve checked on him sooner,” I admit out loud. “I was so stupid.”

“For being excited about his birthday more than waking him up?”

“That’s why I don’t really like parties,” I close my eyes.

My mother hits my back as punishment for that regret. “You should be. It’s Ken’s birthday.”

“I know,” I say. “That’s why it’s supposed to be perfect.”

None of us speak after that because in a perfect scenario, my son won’t be sick.

***

I move hesitantly to Seunghyun–hyung even as he pulls me closer. He is wearing white, it makes him look like an angel with worried face sitting in the kitchen. When I finally stand close enough in front of him, he buries his face on my stomach and I run my fingers through his hair.

“You scared me,” he sighs against my shirt.

“I’m sorry,” I apologize. “I was scared. I thought –”

“That we lost him,” Seunghyun–hyung pulls back to look at me and I refuse to meet his gaze because I know I would break. “We won’t.”

“I hope so,” I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He rises from his seat to kiss me and it’s more than a push to crumble under his touch. I realize I’m shaking in his hold but I can’t stop.

“Do you think we are good for him?”

“Why?” there’s no rage in Seunghyun–hyung’s voice.

“Sometimes I just feel like…I’m not good enough,” I feel tears pounding on my skull, cold like ice cream headache. “I wonder if I’ll ever be.”

“But you want to be, don’t you, Daesung?” Seunghyun–hyung asks, white and black against my doubt.

“I want to,” I nod. “I really want to.”

“Nobody will take him away from us. I won’t let that happen.”

“I won’t let that happen either, hyung.”

***

I watch my own reflection in the mirror and wonder what kind of song would people put as a soundtrack if this was a movie scene. Me, my crumpled face still dripping water, in front of the sink. I wonder if it’s going to be over in fifteen minutes because it’s been hours already.

I wonder if people will start to yell at me for being too dramatic over my sick son. I wonder if they’ll start to tell me it’s not that he’s going to die.

I make my way to your bedroom where Seunghyun–hyung is lying by your side. I watch the way your breathing is in the same rhythm as his, watching the rise and fall of your chest. Will I be able to watch it the next time, given tight schedules and circumstances where I can’t freely hold you in public? How many things I’m going to miss about you?

I don’t regret my life but if I could ask for one thing, I’d ask for God to write a book about those two years in your life when we didn’t know each other, before we met. I’d ask God to tell me what had happened to you, what might hurt you, what made you smile and everything else I missed about you. Because even if you don’t remember it, even if you don’t think it’s important, I do. Every day I spent with you only making me greedy of things I want to learn about you. It’s hard to say that we started to know each other at the same time because you always seemed to outsmart me about me.

Appa doesn’t like it, right?

You like singing so much, appa.

You are pouting. I will kiss you.

Don’t be sad, I love you, Daesung–appa.

I take a deep breath then make my way back downstairs and wish that I would be able to take care of you as much as you’re taking care of me.

***

The sound of your cry makes me sprint to your bedroom. When I arrive, you’re sobbing in Seunghyun–hyung’s arms, your nose is red like Rudolf the reindeer. We would laugh about it if only you weren’t sick, we would talk about gifts if only you were healthy.

We would count the hours until you’re four, all the possibilities for your future.

I trail down behind Seunghyun –hyung and when you reach out to me, although I know that tomorrow is not my birthday, I ask for a present from you. A present of my son, you, to always be healthy and happy for the rest of your life, even if it has to cost mine.

***

I wake up to your touch, feather soft on my cheek. Your eyes are still sleepy but your face is full of color, burst of a rainbow as you scoot closer to me. Seunghyun–hyung is not in the bed, probably making us food in the kitchen.

For a split moment, I don’t remember your sickness, only your presence and the lazy smile you show me. Panic drums in my veins when you cough but you beat me in speaking.

“Am I four now?”

You sound like a broken toy but you’re my perfect son. I blink back my fear as I answer, “Happy birthday, bubble.”

“I’m four.”

“Yes, you are,” I your cheek, aware of how much cooler you are than yesterday. “How do you feel? How’s your throat?”

“Hurts,” you pouts. “Can I still open my gifts, appa?”

“Sure,” I get up to gather you in my arms. You wrap your arms around my neck and that holds me together. “Anyway, you haven’t told me what you want from me.”

You tilt your head slightly. “How about you, appa?”

“Me?”

“Hmm,” you nod and beam at the sight of Seunghyun–hyung setting food on the table. “What do you want for your birthday present?”

“You,” I say as I set you down on the chair.

I see you frown but then it dissolve into laughter as Seunghyun–hyung starts to sing Happy Birthday. I leap to get the candles even though we don’t have any cake right now.

I can’t wait until it’s my turn to wish.