I couldn’t even sleep that night, nor during the flight on the plane. Hoseok kept asking me why we were going home, earlier than expected. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him what I saw, what I thought, what I feared.

“It’s just…,” I bit my lower lip, “I’m homesick.”

I could tell that he knew that I was lying. But he went silent and didn’t ask any more questions. I didn’t want to break his heart. We’d finally left home and came to Japan. But things didn’t go as smoothly as we thought it’d be. I didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

There was an awkward silence throughout the flight. I did not want this. But he seemed to have guessed the truth. I couldn’t be sure. He tilted his head and faced the window, watching the clouds with a blank expression.

“Hoseok, I…,” I touched his shoulder.

“There’s something wrong with me, isn’t it?” he asked softly, not bothering to face me.

“Last night, I saw –”

“Blood,” he interrupted, “I know.”

“There was blood on my pillow when I woke up this morning,” he continued, “I just…I just thought that…maybe…if I kept running away from it, it’ll come much later.”

“I just…,” he couldn’t finish his sentence as he started sobbing.

I pulled him into a hug. I patted his back to soothe him. I whispered words into his ear. I did everything I could think of to calm him. But all I could hear was the sound of my heart breaking into tiny little pieces.

“Thank you, Yoongi,” he whispered softly.

“Bringing me home’s probably the right choice,” he said, trying to make me feel better, “Or else, who knows…what might happen.”

“It’s going to be alright, Hoseok,” I told him, “They’re going to make you okay again.”

“For what?” he suddenly snapped, “Prolong my death, is that it?”

I didn’t know what to say as I kept silent, staring into his eyes that were so full of hatred, loath, desperation, and most of all, sadness. He clasped his hands around mine.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he said, “I’m just –”

“I know.”

Our hearts grew heavier and heavier the closer we get to Korea. The first thing we did after arriving in Seoul was going to the hospital.

As expected, his condition had worsened. The doctor said it would be better if he stayed indoors. His advice was to go out only when necessary. The good news was that Hoseok wouldn’t need to stay at the hospital again. The doctor allowed him to go home and rest.

“Are you alright?”

He touched his chest and nodded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“The doctor said that you can’t exert too much strength,” I said, “You should rest more.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t know me,” he chuckled softly before stumbling on his way to the couch.

I caught him just in time before he could fall to the floor. The poison in his body was fast. Suddenly, he became even weaker. He couldn’t walk without falling, couldn’t breathe without clutching to his chest. I couldn’t bear the sight of him.

“You need to rest,” I said, holding his hand.

“I’m fine,” he said sternly. Then, his eyes softened.

“I’ll let you know if there’s anything wrong,” he smiled a little. And then, he slumped down on the couch, not bothering to go up to his room.

His breathing was loud and labored. It was no longer steady as his chest heaved up and down with extra effort. I feared that it might suddenly stop. I bit my lower lip and tasted blood. He coughed again. And when his handkerchief came away, I noticed blood. But Hoseok put it aside and lay down on a pillow, making himself more comfortable. It was already evening when I decided to wake Hoseok up.

“Hey, dinner’s ready,” I gently shook his shoulder, “If you want to have some.”

He rubbed his eyes and smiled, “I’d like that, thanks.”

It was as if after a nap, he became a whole new person. He seemed more energetic, like the short rest had returned some strength into his body. He smiled more. And he ate well. Some part of me was convinced that he just wanted to live his last days better than moping around.

“This is delicious,” he complimented, putting another mouthful of spaghetti into his mouth.

“Thanks,” I smiled, I was glad his mood was better now.

After the meal, we spent the night out on the balcony, reminiscing the times when we were younger, when there were no problems, just us two, together. Hoseok slipped his hand in mine and squeezed it tight.

“You know that I love you, right?”

I squeezed him back, “Of course I do.”

“Never forget that, ever,” he stared into my eyes. I didn’t like how he was saying it. But I decided not to say anything about it. Instead, I smiled.

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Good,” he said softly before pulling me in for a kiss.

Our lips stayed together, warm breathes brushing against each other’s faces. He lingered for a moment before he broke away, caressing my face. He looked at me as if this was going to be the last time he’d ever see me. I couldn’t control it as I felt my face burning up.

“After all these years, and you’d still blush,” he laughed softly.

“Stop it,” I hit his chest, feeling embarrassed.

“I love it every time you blush,” he smiled mischievously, pinching my cheek, “So adorable.”

“This isn’t real,” I spoke softly, not sure if he could hear me.

“None of this is real.”

“Yoongi…”

He tilted my chin up so that I was facing him. I tried to smile but the tears poured uncontrollably.

“Oh, Yoongi,” he sighed, and used his thumb to wipe my tears away.

“Baby,