While photographs keep the moment frozen, time passes by. As if it has the wings of an eagle, it flies so fast. With Jaemin being busy editing the countless pictures of Renjun he took for the past five months, chasing the unknown deadline, Renjun spends most of his time in the hospital. From chemotherapy, to surgery, to chemotherapy again, the man is doing his very best to survive. He will survive. He believes, and Jaemin believes too.

Sometimes, however, things get rough.

As the coughs worsen, burning his dry throat, he wishes he can cut off his oesophagus. He suffers every second of the day, hopes crushed, replaced by a silent plea to die. The pills kill him inside more than he can remember, but at the end of the day, a video call from Jaemin helps pick up the shattered pieces of hope and faith.

“I’m sorry I can’t visit you again today.” Low, Jaemin’s voice is, filled with a lace of regrets. He takes off the hat he is wearing, revealing his messy hair. “In case you need to hear this for the thousandth time, I miss you.”

A small smile appears on Renjun’s pale face.

“By the way, I’m half-way done with your photographs!” the Korean beams. His tired eyes light up with rays of excitement. The dark circles under his eyes become apparent every day, but he reassures Renjun that he is getting enough sleep. Renjun notices he is wearing the same blue shirt he wore yesterday, but he is feels guilty to point that out. The thing is he feels like a burden because he knows Jaemin is working extra hard to make his wish a reality.

“Why do you put yourself into so much trouble for me?” Renjun manages to say, voice cracks here and there. “Just forget it, please. I don’t deserve your time.”

Jaemin pouts. “You deserve the whole universe, Renjun. You truly do.” Jaemin places his phone against his monitor as he pushes his chair backwards, grabbing something from the corner of his studio.

“Look,” he shows a printed picture of Renjun during his graduation performance to the screen.

In the photograph, Renjun extends his right arm above his head, chin tilted. The passionate desperate eyes make him look as if he longs for something he cannot reach. The spotlight on him adds the dramatic effect to the picture. Before he knows it, Jaemin states that it seems as if he is reaching for the Sun.

It is amusing how Jaemin puts it in a way Renjun has always felt about him.

“It’s one of my favourites,” Jaemin flashes him a smile. “I miss seeing you dance.”

Renjun looks away. Tears well in his eyes at the sentence because truth be told, he misses dancing too. He misses the way his mind brings him to travel to a fantasy world whenever he listens to the beats. He misses the sweats that sometimes stick his bangs to his forehead. He misses the endorphin he experiences after every successful routine. He misses the round of applause he always receives from the audience. And most importantly, he misses the amazed grin on Jaemin’s face as he hides behind the lens.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to.”

Renjun’s tears fall upon Jaemin’s apology. He quickly wipes them away with the hem of the sleeve. “You never have to apologize, Jaemin,” he replies, facing the camera.

Oh God, he misses seeing Jaemin face-to-face.

“Will you put that on hold?” Renjun suddenly asks.

“Why would I?” Jaemin shakes his head. “Look, Renjun, we’re on a deadline.” His eyes mirror his fear, lips tremble. “I- I know you’ll survive…” he pauses. “But just in case…” Jaemin blinks a few times. “I’d like to do what I can to make you happy.”

“Spend time with me.” It is more of an instruction compared to a suggestion. “It hurts like hell right now. Everything is overwhelming. At least, if I have you by my side, I think the chances for me to survive will increase.”

Jaemin stares at the camera for a good minute before he nods.

“As you wish, butterfly.”