The medication works like a miracle.

He takes a pill before work and he doesn’t so much as hiccup for the rest of the morning. Another one at lunch ensures that his evening is free from worry as well. He could take one at night too, but Kibum had told him that it was important to let the flowers out at some time or he’d choke on them before the week was through.

So every night he makes a complete mess in Kibum’s guest room. Kibum doesn’t seem to mind, and Taemin learns how to use Kibum’s washing machine and dryer. It’s an arrangement that works for them.

It’s an arrangement that is killing Taemin.

He goes to work with Kibum. He comes home to Kibum. He cooks dinner with him. They walk Comme des and Garcons together. Kibum is the first person he sees in the morning and the last one he sees at night.

It’s impossible not to fall for Kibum when he’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, studying the script for his play. His hair – dark brown for now – falls in his eyes and he mouths along to the lines with such intense concentration that he doesn’t notice how Taemin has stopped watching the TV and is watching him instead. Or when he’s getting dressed for the morning and pairing this top with those pants and making playfully exasperated comments about Taemin’s trusted sweats and t-shirt combination.

Sometimes Taemin catches Kibum looking at him. His face caught off guard is crumpled with worry, his eyes filled with sadness.

Taemin always pretends not to notice.

~

Taemin really did live in the clouds when he was younger. He never noticed what the other members didn’t tell him personally how Kibum and Minho weren’t on speaking terms how Jinki was depressed how Jonghyun had insomnia but he’s much better now.

Or so he thought.

The pasta has been in the oven for a very long time now, so long that even a hopeless cook like him knows that it’ll get burnt soon. Kibum’s been in the bathroom for a long time.

He knocks on the door. “Key-hyung, should I take the pasta out of the oven?”

There is no answer.

Taemin’s heart skips a beat. He opens the door, uncaring of how awkward it might be to walk in on his bandmate in the middle of taking a .

But Kibum is not.

The entire floor of the bathroom is covered in red and yellow flower petals. Kibum is curled into a ball next to the toilet, which is also covered in with petals. He’s breathing raggedly.

Taemin barges in, dropping into a crouch next to Kibum his knees give way in sheer horror just in time to see Kibum retch again, a flurry of petals and flowers dancing through the air like confetti. Up close, he realises that Kibum’s flowers are purely yellow and that the dark red staining them is blood.

Kibum wipes his mouth on the back of his hand.

Taemin feels like he’s about to faint. How could he have missed this? What sort of worthless wit is he that he can live with Kibum for weeks and not have the slightest clue that Kibum has Hanahaki as well?

“You need to go to the hospital,” Taemin says absently. The floor is covered in flowers and blood Kibum must be at a very advanced stage of the disease and Kibum is so, so pale.

Kibum doesn’t reply. He wipes his mouth again, smearing streaks of red against the pale whiteness of his hand. He tries to stand up, but he sways on legs that don’t have the strength to keep his body upright. Taemin holds him up. “Hyung, please…”

“Not tonight,” Kibum says then, his voice hoarse.

They stumble to the bedroom, slowly. Taemin hovers useless as Kibum crawls in under the covers. A bottle of the pills Taemin has been taking sits on his nighstand. Why would he even know about black market medication, Taemin thinks, unless he needed it too?

“Can you turn the oven off?”

Taemin does. He feeds Comme des and Garcons, gives them water and treats and puts them to bed. He throws out the trash and locks the doors. And then, he goes to Kibum.

Kibum doesn’t say a word when Taemin climbs into bed with him. He looks so pale, so lifeless.

“Key-hyung.” That’s all Taemin can say before his eyes fill with tears. Why has Kibum been suffering alone for so long?

“Aigoo,” Kibum breathes. “Why are you crying?”

“I will get the surgery,” Taemin says then, desperate. “If you get it too. Okay? What will happen to Comme des and Garcons if we both die, huh? What will happen to those three idiots? SHINee will become a ballad band without us.”

Kibum just blinks at him.

“Who is it?” Taemin sniffs, wipes his tears away. “Who is this stupid person who doesn’t love you back?”

“His name is Sikyung,” Kibum answers. His voice is soft and strained, as if every word hurts him. Taemin inches closer, so close that they’re breathing the same air. “He volunteers at the orphanage that I donate to.”

“Does he know?”

“He’s married.”

“We’ll go to the hospital tomorrow, okay? Both of us.”

“Neh.” Kibum shuffles closer still and Taemin pulls his hyung into his arms. Kibum’s skin is cold, clammy. It’s the first time they’re sharing a bed like this. Taemin’s dreamed of this moment a hundred times, but this particular scenario is not one he’s ever imagined. “Thank you, Taeminnie.”

Kibum sleeps then. Taemin stays awake the whole night, feeling Kibum’s chest expand and contract against his own, feeling Kibum’s breaths huff against his shoulder, feeling Kibum’s fingers twitch against the skin under his t-shirt. How can he sleep, knowing that he might wake up to a world without Kibum in it?

~

The managers question him about Kibum’s condition, but Taemin really doesn’t have much information to supply to them. He doesn’t know how Kibum managed to keep it hidden for so long. He doesn’t know who Kibum’s supplier is.

When they lead him to lie in the hospital bed once more, Taemin sends a prayer up to God.

Please cure him, Taemin prays. I will cut myself open a hundred times if Kibum doesn’t have to.