"If your heart was full of love...could you give it up?"
Not About Angels by Birdy

They say that when you die, your entire life flashes before your eyes.

   But what if your entire life consisted of one important thing; one important person? What if all you saw was your most precious memory? A picture, frozen in your mind for as long as you live and forever after, beautiful and breathtaking it is. That memory. His almond eyes gazing into my dying soul as I am filled with nothing but pure content at the smile that graces his lips. It is the first time I saw that smile. The creases of it are darkened by the shadows cast from the firelight. He was looking at me, seeing me for the first time, and falling in love with me just as I him.

   I never stopped loving him.

   “Junsu, there you are . . .”

   That voice echoing before me, it was only vaguely familiar, but part of me was certain I knew who it belonged to. My eyes looked up and they were standing there, almost faded out by a blinding white light but there were still the little details. He had the same face that I remembered years ago.

   “Dad?” I couldn’t even whisper properly behind the lump that swelled in my throat and threatened my breathing.

   He smiled the same smile I hadn’t seen in over fifteen years. “You don’t belong here, Junsu.” Hearing him call me that, my old name, it rattled my heart more than the next words to fall from his mouth. “. . . It’s not your time.”

   “But I miss you,” I tried to beg desperately but his light was already dimming, and I could feel his presence getting further and further away as I spoke. “It’s so hard for me . . . E-Everything’s gone wrong.” For the first time, I wished I could just give up, that I could get it over with and follow my father into that light that swallowed him up and stole him from me yet again.

I opened my eyes to the hideous sea foam green walls of a hospital room with a strong need to use the bathroom. The second I reached to push the blanket away from me, a hand rested on top of mine and I followed the arm up to meet a pair of serious looking doe eyes. “How are you feeling, hyung?” Chansung asked as he looked me over and felt my forehead for a fever.

   “I’m fine, I gotta take a piss.” I mumbled through my dizziness, still trying to push him out of the way but the frivolous attempts were halted when Chansung lifted my back up and pushed a bed pan behind me like I was come kind of indolent with no strength on my own. “Can I use the in’ bathroom?”

   He just looked at me with a sigh and shook his head, explaining my ‘doctor’s orders’ while sliding his arm under my knees and holding my back with his other arm while I got into position on the bed pan and then excused himself to standing on the other side of the room to give me ‘space’.

   Never in my life was there a more humiliating moment for me.

   When I was done relieving myself, Chansung had removed the pan and dumped it in the bathroom that connected to the room. He looked at me and I could tell just by the way his eyes widened as he took a deep breath that he was about to speak. “What did you dream about?”

   “My father.” I said, wiping the miserable tears from the corners of my eyes.

   He was going to ask something else, he was going to but I didn’t feel like answering. I felt like being selfish and ignoring anything he had to say, and refusing to talk to him about this and so I cut him off before he could even part his lips.

   “Where’s Taec?” There was nothing out of the ordinary about questioning my husband’s absence at a time like this. Honestly, at a time like this, I half expected him to stay by my bedside until I woke.

   “I made him go home and sleep.” Chansung said bitterly. “He refused to talk to anyone, or even move, as long as he was here . . . It’s been almost three days.”

   .

   My shaky fingers touched my face and felt the clammy sweat that stuck to my skin like dried glue. I was feeling worse by the second, the contents of my empty stomach were bubbling in the back of my throat and before I could warn him, I pushed Chansung away from the side of the bed and emptied what little remnants were left in my guts all over the floor. “Call the nurse.” I had managed to choke out before I held my mouth closed.

   Seconds ticked by as slow as minutes but the familiar nurse’s face was suddenly looming over me, telling me that it was alright and that I needed to relax. You see, I already knew that I needed to relax, but that didn’t make the task any easier. I let him adjust my bed back into more of a laying position, not understanding what was happening until a new IV was hooked up to my arm and I was having trouble keeping my eyelids open.

   The last thing I remember was Wooyoung’s fire red hair, the color of blood.

   This time, there was warmth when I woke up. My eyes fluttered open and roamed down to the heavy hands that rested over top both of mine. I found myself staring at my husband’s sleeping face, lips parted slightly and his head fallen back into a clearly uncomfortable position as he successfully fit his entire body curled up in one of the hospital chairs. The moment I squeezed his hand he awoke.

   I could see it in his hazed over eyes, the battle Taecyeon had been through while I was asleep. They were bloodshot and crazed with never ending emotion, drunk with unshed tears and yet utterly empty at the same time.

   We sat silently; staring at each other whenever the courage arose, but for how long could I keep up this nonsense? Any of it? How long could my hallow heart take it? I was beginning to think that I felt better when I thought I was dead, and that was the trouble of it, when every breath was a struggle.

   But as long as Taecyeon refused to let me go, I was anchored, tied to every part of him from the tips of his toes to the purple lips that parted as he spoke first. “How long do you have?”

   It was a simple question . . .

   So why did my throat swell, why did my tongue twist into a knot and my stomach sour at the answer? How could I look into his eyes, right here and now, see the betrayal, and answer him? Destroy him.

   “How long, MinJun?” His voice was stern now, his grip on my hand crushing, though I doubt he realized it.

   “Five years,” My whisper cut through the tension in the room and replaced it with something far worse. “Hopefully.”

   “And you knew about this?” There it was, that tinge of anger in Taec’s voice that had been missing, making him seem lifeless. He was beautiful when he was angry, fierce, but beautiful. “Since when?”

   This game of questions was quickly tiring, but in a way, I owed him the answers he sought. And that was the pain of it, that I owed him this, this that would surely kill him, just like this cancer was slowly killing me; eroding me from the inside out. These truths would hurt him like this, and they would not stop. But I owed this nasty payment, and he was ignorantly eager to receive.

   “Since June.” I said, feeling guilty of the faint weights lifting from my chest the more I confessed. “I’ve been . . . sick, for the last six months. I’ve been hiding it from you, from everyone.”

   Everyone but Chansung.

   I could tell those were the words behind his eyes as he finally let go of my hand and stood up, away from me. I didn’t blame him for looking way or tugging angrily at his hair as he stared out the window onto the grey cityscape.

   “Did it ever occur to you, at all, to tell me?” I stared ahead, feeling his eyes on me, eyes that could wage wars burning into me. “What did you think would happen? Where you . . . were you just gonna die . . . disappear one day?” His voice carried enough to make my bones shake. “What was going to happen, MinJun . . . Would you have ever told me?”

   Would I have?

   I honestly couldn’t tell. I wanted to, so much, I wanted to; to wake up and tell him everything. To be able to turn to him in the middle of the night when my muscles were aching, instead of lying on the bathroom floor and waiting for things to pass. I wanted to lean on him, when I tired from walking. But fear was powerful, fear won. Fear always won.

   “I know I should have,” I wiped my eyes and sat up the best I could. “Chansung told me to, but I didn’t listen.”

   “Chansung?” Taecyeon looked as if he had just remembered about some crucial detail. “Chansung . . . What the hell is he, MinJun? What are we doing with him? Be honest, this time, what are you . . . I just don’t know.”

   I was stiff, my heartbeat quickened at the thought of the third part to our little tryst. It took no time at all for me to decide that I didn’t want to tell him that just yet. As I spent the seconds raking my mind for a distraction, the door opened halfway and stopped when the person entering saw Taec standing in front of the hospital bed.

   Never had I been so relieved to see Nichkhun, though with one glance in my direction, he walked over immediately and started checking my IV. “I heard you had another scare earlier this morning, how’s your stomach holding up?”

   “Better.” I said as I let Khun shine a light in my eye and then stick a thermometer uncomfortably in my armpit.

   “You know this guy?” Of course Taec asked, eyeing the two of us as Nichkhun so casually worked around me.

   “Nichkhun, this is my husband, Taecyeon.” I introduced them, looking up at the man I was motioning to. “Taec . . . This is my primary nurse, and my good friend.”

   “It’s nice to finally meet you in the flesh, Mr. Ok.” Khun extended his hand and I silently urged my husband to accept it. It took a moment, but Taec finally grasped the nurse’s hand and the latter gave his signature smile, followed by a not-so-killer wink. “I’d like to fill you in on a few things but first, if you wouldn’t mind me speaking to MinJun privately, it will only be a few minutes.”

   Taecyeon’s eyes widened and when he looked to me, I nodded. “But you just woke up!” He objected. “Now you want me to leave?”

   “Taec, please–” I couldn’t even get the words out before Nichkhun spoke.

   “Your husband’s going to be alright, for now.” He was speaking to Taec, but his eyes lingered on me, assuring me of who he was really concerned for. Those eyes held so much, understanding, relief . . . disappointment. When the door closed and we were left alone with each other, Nichkhun finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down at the floor. “I can’t believe you really didn’t tell him.”

   “I’ve been a little bit busy lately.”

   “Have you?”

   My jaw clenched as I felt the tension rising in the back of my throat and making me grip the blanket at my side. “I’m not going back and forth with you.” I said, looking away from him. “Let’s just cut to the chase – how much time do I have left? What’s gonna happen next?”

   To tell the truth, Nichkhun’s face scared me the most. As he looked over my records on his clipboard, his face was so straight and unreadable that I questioned if I actually wanted the answers I was asking.

   “To put it simply,” He said, looking at me again and adjusting his glasses as he set the clipboard facing downwards in his lap. “You’re experiencing some of the first stages of your cancer. As the abnormal white blood cells grow faster in your body, your lack of normal blood cells will result in your inability to fight off infections and lower your immune system. Proper diet and rest is crucial to you, now, MinJun . . . You’re going to start to get to the difficult part real soon, and you need to prepare for that.”

   “The difficult part?” I couldn’t help the huff of air that left my throat, unable to really scoff since I had been holding my breath the entire time. “Do you even know what you sound like? Screw you, Khun . . . My whole life has been the difficult part, if you haven’t noticed. You think I’ll notice if it gets any harder than this?”

   “Yes.”

   Nichkhun answered so bluntly that I felt the blow to my chest, knowing full well that he meant that single word so intensely. “Yes,” He repeated. “When you can’t get out of bed, because your legs just don’t seem to have the strength . . . Or when you’re stuck on a soft food diet, because you can’t chew properly . . . When you’re afraid to fall asleep, because you’re not sure if you’re ever going to open your eyes again, then yes . . . I think you’re going to notice just how hard it’s going to get.” I watched him silently as he stood and looked at me one last time. “And I think the only thing you’re going to want is your husband, holding your hand . . . Don’t take him for granted.”