He was different now. No mask. No breathing tube. Instead, he had a smile, as bright as the sun. He also had about fifteen wires running from beneath his shirt. He was talking to someone, as well. A tall, dark-haired boy with crutches. “Jungkook?” “Hi, Hyung! Come meet my friend!” He said, turning to face me. The boy did a little 180 with his wheelchair. “Hello.” He smiled, the same warm smile as before. “I’m Taehyung,” He said, holding an incredibly bony- hand out. “Jimin.” I took his hand in my own, shaking it weakly. He still looked really sick. “So why are you in here?” He asked, putting his hand down. “Jimin-hyung’s crazy.” “Jungkook shut it.” Taehyung laughed. His voice was really deep, but it fit him. Perfectly. “I have bad eating disorders.” “Ah, I see.” I looked around the room, then back to him. “And yourself?” “Hm? Oh, I um, I have lung cancer. I’m also severely anemic.” I frowned, tears filling my eyes. “That’s so saaaaad.” Jungkook panicked and hugged me. “I’m sorry…he’s just a softie…and a crybaby.” Laughing, Taehyung said, “That’s fine…Anyways, I’m getting tired. I should head back to my room now.”