There is a house in Gapyeong. It’s a simple place, but it’s clean and it’s just a two-minute walk from the beach. Taemin stayed here with Jongin and Kwonho on a daytrip a few years ago, just before Kwonho’d enlistment. It has wooden flooring and white-panelled windows and a swing on the front porch.

The house is just like he remembers it.

The first thing he does, once he unpacks, is to go to the beach.

The afternoon sun is high in the sky. The beach is empty. Even the seagulls have taken shelter against the heat.

Taemin sits on the hot sand, feeling his skin scorch. If he had gone to the hospital, he’d be on the operating table now, inhaling anaesthetic instead of the salty sea air. He takes the SIM card out of his phone and sticks it down a crab hole exposed by the low tide. When the tide comes back in, the card will be swept out to sea. If only he could lay out here and let the sea take him away as well.

At the house, he takes the last of the pills. He’d told Moonkyu that he wouldn’t need them anymore.

~

The coughing starts just after midnight.

He barely has time to pick himself up and get from the hall to the bathroom before the flowers start coming up.

It’s not pretty.

Taemin bends over the toilet, choking on the flowers clogging his throat as they bloom out of him. They’re all whole now. Pink hydrangeas, covered in saliva and blood, petals crushed by the narrow passage of his oesophagus and ripped between his teeth. Taemin throws them up, one after the other, until he feels like his whole body must be made of flowers.

~

A few days later – though Taemin doesn’t know how many days – Taemin’s condition has deteriorated so much that he thinks he’s hallucinating the sound of the doorbell ringing. It’s only when the ringing persists that Taemin realises that it isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

Could it be the owner? He’s booked the house for a week; it should have been more than enough, it can’t be a whole week already?

He peels himself from where he’s lying on the couch always the couch never the too-empty bed, dusts remnants of flowers flakes of dried blood crusty spit and snot off himself and staggers to answer the door.

It’s Jongin.

~

He’s outnumbered.

To Jongin’s credit, he hadn’t tried to wrest Taemin off the banister of the stairs that he’s clinging to and drag him back to Seoul, despite the fact that Taemin wouldn’t be able to fight him off.

Instead, Jongin had called for backup.

His friends mean well, but this is futile. He feels sorry for them, he really does, but they’ve been talking at him for over an hour already and he’s so tired that he’s only catching half a sentence here and there.

“- of us, but think of your parents. Are you really going to make them bury their son over something that can be cured-”

And that’s all Taemin can bear.

“Yes, I am. I am choosing this. If the only way I can live is to not see Key-hyung, if it means that I have to leave SHINee, or if he leaves SHINee because he’d do that for me, then I don’t want to live.” Taemin pauses to breathe. “If you’re really my friends, you’d respect that.”

“Are you asking us to just stand by and watch you die?” Jongin asks.

“No one is asking you to stay.”

Moonkyu sighs and walks towards the staircase. Taemin stiffens, tightens his grip on the banister; he knows he’s no match for any one of them - let alone three – but he’s not going without a fight.

“Relax, you idiot,” Moonkyu says. He stops short of Taemin, holds his hand out, palm up. “When was the last time you had a bath? You’re so smelly I can’t think straight. We’ll leave the decisions until we get this sorted out, deal?”

Taemin looks down at himself; Moonkyu is right, he hasn’t bathed in days. His t-shirt is blotchy, stained. He feels disgusting all of a sudden. Looking up, he sees Moonkyu’s hand, still open, still offering a temporary truce.

Taemin takes his hand.

~

He can’t stand under the shower, so Kwonho runs him a bath. The warm water feels heavenly against his stiff and sore limbs. He could almost fall asleep right here, if not for the frantic conversation taking place outside the door. His friends seem to think that just because he can’t stand can’t even undress himself without help he can’t hear either. Well, they’re wrong.

“You can’t seriously be taking his side!” Jongin’s voice is the loudest. He’s always so angry. He’s scared, Taemin knows. Of the four of them, he and Jongin are the closest; he can’t imagine a life without Jongin and he’s sure Jongin feels the same way.

But it’s Moonkyu’s response that catches his attention. “It’s too late. Jongin, he’s… even if we take him back, it will end the same way. Didn’t you see his ribs?”

Taemin looks down.

His chest is distorted. Taemin runs a hand over the skin, once smooth, that now looks gnarled; the roots are so dense that they’d probably burst out of him if he doesn’t suffocate soon.

The thought makes him nauseous. He coughs; there’s nothing in his stomach to throw up, but more than enough flowers in his lungs.

The door opens. He retches, tasting petals at the back of his mouth. Someone is rubbing his back. The clean bath water is now tinged pink; his mouth is bitter with blood. He draws a shuddering breath, tries to wipe his mouth with a shaking hand. Someone moves his hand away, brings a wet towel to his face.

It’s Jongin. He wipes the blood and petals away from Taemin’s face with gentle hands with tears in his eyes.

“Moonkyu is right,” Taemin breathes. “It’s too late.”

~

“I thought you and Key were dating for real.”

Taemin eyes Kwonho, wondering if his friend is stupid. “We were dating for real. It’s just that he was pretending to be in love with me.”

“Are you sure?” Jongin asks. “He’s been calling me every day, sometimes more than once… the day we figured out you were gone, he came over to the dorm and begged me to tell him where you were. He looked like his entire world had been turned upside down. I’ve never seen him like that.”

Taemin’s heart clenches. Kibum doesn’t deserve this. “You have to tell him not to blame himself. It’s not his fault.”

“No, you’re not getting Jongin’s point,” Moonkyu says. “We think Key is genuinely in love with you.”

“If he were, I wouldn’t be like this.”

Jongin shares a look with Moonkyu. “You know, there’s this theory that it’s not the other person’s emotions but your own that causes Hanahaki… in the sense that as long as you believe that your love is unrequited, you’ll get it.”

“Don’t talk to me about quack theories. Let a dying man die in peace.” Taemin closes his eyes, not wanting to see the hurt flashing across his friends’ faces. It’s not fair ofs him to snap at them, but they don’t know Kibum half as well as he does; they don’t understand how cruel for them to insist that Kibum is in love with him when Taemin knows that he isn’t.

Do they think he wants to die? Do they think that he’s satisfied with the 23 years he’s had, just because he’s far more successful – even as a solo idol – than all of them put together? There’s still so much he wants to do.

But he can’t have everything he wants.

It’s Kibum or his future; Taemin can only have one and he’s made his choice.

~

The roar of the tide as it comes in and breaks provides a soothing counterpoint to the constant itch at the back of Taemin’s throat. It’s becoming harder to breathe; he’s always tired and dizzy now, always a blink away from unconsciousness.

Jongin lies with him in bed. His muscular chest makes a comfortable pillow. He’d laughed so hard when Taemin told him that earlier. Together, they recount their memories; of sleeping together in the practice room, of sneaking into PC-bangs to play counterstrike, of midnight snack runs, of hot springs in Hakone and crying together over hard-won awards.

There are so many of them, so many little moments of his own life that Taemin had taken for granted as they happened. He’s seen and done so much and as he remembers his life from Jongin’s point of view, Taemin feels somewhat comforted about his own death. He’s lived a lot more in twenty years than most people do in sixty.

~

Kwonho cannot hold his tears back. Taemin pretends to sleep in his embrace, pretends not to notice how his tears make the back of his t-shirt wet.

~

“I’m sorry it’s taking so long… you have a comeback soon, right?” Taemin has lost all sense of time; the waves and the flowers are constant and his friends come and go in turns. “You have to prepare…”

“It’s fine,” Moonyku says kindly, his hair. “Take as long as you need. We’ll be here.”

~

Someone’s touching his face. Taemin stirs under the gentle hand that his cheek.

“Hey babe.”

That voice. Taemin’s eyes snap open. Kibum’s eyes meet his.

“Key-hyung?” He’s dreaming, he must be.

“It’s me.” Kibum draws his hand back, and then he’s climbing into bed with Taemin; moving him, cradling him to his chest. A hallucination wouldn’t be able to do this, right? A hallucination wouldn’t smell of Kibum’s perfume, right? “Did you think you could hide from me, you ridiculous bastard? I’ve become an expert in finding lost things after all the times I had to find your phone.”

It is him. His Kibum. Taemin opens his mouth, to thank him for coming, and all that comes out is a sob. He’s missed Kibum so much.

“Shh…” Kibum rocks back and forth slightly. “It’s okay, I’m here now.”

“I’m sorry,” Taemin says. Now that Kibum is here, he realises just how fiercely he’s been longing for Kibum’s presence, but he’s also aware that having to see him must be painful for Kibum all his hard work gone to waste.

“I’m not angry,” Kibum replies. “I love you too much to be angry with you, don’t you know that?” His voice breaks on the last word and he inhales sharply, and Taemin can feel how he’s holding his tears back. “Is it painful?”

“A little.” Every breath hurts, every inhale, every exhale. “But it’s better now that you’re here.”

Kibum kisses him. It’s just a chaste kiss, a simple press of lips against lips, but it’s everything to Taemin.

~

“Can you keep Eve?” Taemin misses Eve; he wishes Kibum had brought Eve with him. When Eve had turned ten and his family had thrown a small birthday party for him, Taemin had worried about how he was going to deal with Eve’s eventual passing. He never imagined that his dog would outlive him. “He likes Comme des and Garcons and you take care of him better than I do. Adam can stay with my parents.”

“I will.”

~

Like Jongin, Kibum talks to him. Most of the time, Taemin doesn’t catch what he says; he only knows the sound of Kibum’s voice, his inflections and the way his hands play with his hair or fingers as he speaks.

Sometimes Taemin catches the word SHINee, or Jonghyun or Yeonggam or Minho, and he pictures their faces, imagines their voices.

“Play me one song,” he asks, with a voice that is barely his. “One of our songs.”

Kibum plays him a bit of Replay before switching over to Honesty how well he knows Taemin. When the song ends, Taemin says “play it again.”

So Kibum does.

~

When Taemin opens his eyes, he knows that he’s close to the end. The world is blur; he can barely make out Kibum’s face. He’s thirsty, but his voice is gone; he doesn’t even have the strength to lift his hand to ask for water he can’t lift a hand he can’t even feel. The only thing that is still clear is the drumming of Kibum’s heartbeat, underneath where Taemin’s head lays on Kibum’s chest.

“Taeminnie?”

Swallowing, Taemin tries to speak. And mercifully, the flowers loosen their grip on his throat. “Key-hyung…” I lived well. Remember me. Be happy. Don’t cry for me. I’m not afraid. I love you. “Key-hyung.”

“I know.” Kibum kisses his head. “I know, darling. You can rest if you’re tired. It’s okay.”

It’s enough for Taemin. He tries to smile at Kibum, one last time, before letting his eyes fall shut once more.

The door creaks open.

He hears footsteps. Then, Jongin’s voice. “How is he?”

“He-” Kibum’s voice breaks. “He…” And then Kibum cries; deep, wrenching sobs that shake his whole body; he pulls Taemin closer, wraps his arms around his body as if Death will physically rip him away. “How am I supposed to live without you,” he asks, seemingly unaware that Taemin can still hear him. “Please, please baby, don’t leave me.”

Taemin has heard Kibum cry many times before; with happiness, with anger, with sadness, but he’s never heard anything like this he’s never heard a heart break like this.

“Please,” Kibum pleads. “I don’t know how to live without you.”

And Taemin’s last thought is ‘he really does love me’.