||I've got to have let go at one point.||

Jaejoong doesn’t know anymore. The dreams are scary, and he’s regretting ever telling Ray. Ray was a strange person…almost as if she herself was a figureless butterfly. After he had told her his story, she told him her own. It had ended beautifully, but there was something in her eyes that told him it wasn’t going to last till she was old and wrinkly with this mysterious Jongin figure.

There was…death, haunting the hollow of her eyes, the empty void she kept hidden. It was scary, she had problems too, so why was he being selfish and forcing his problems on her? It wasn’t fair—she was such a beautiful young lady with such great potential. If he wasn’t going to die in less than three month, they would’ve been great friends.

A ray of light…a Ray of light—how noble indeed. Jaejoong only curses the world for ending lives so carelessly before he remembers he has a reason to die. He wants to die so he can forget and remember.

The iridescent light was harsh on his eyes, since he was always lying down and staring at the ceiling, the little bulbs of flashy white light was the only thing he stared at. It momentarily blinded him if he stares long enough, which he does almost every day. There was nothing interesting on T.V. and there was no one to visit him.

The windows didn’t have any special view, not that he could get out of bed without tripping over wires and the machine hooked to his arm. What was it called again? He remembered seeing a lot of them in dramas; he just didn’t know what they were called. He wondered if he looked like those people in dramas when they’re dying. Does he have perfect pale white skin and dry, crackly lips? Does he look sad, does he feel remorse and regret? He surely does feel regret…but is this what they go through? Is what he’s feeling right now the thought process of those actors/actresses? Does it feel real or surreal?

He figures he could ask you later. Maybe you would laugh—he’s dying to hear someone other than himself right now. He’s tired of his negative thoughts, tired of practicing how to say “I love you”. Because it doesn’t happen…the lead never looks this distressed, and Jaejoong bets they don’t feel this feeling at all. They were acting…he had to remind himself he has to carry out the act as well. He’s playing the lead; he’s been casted especially for this, so he has to do a good job. He has to leave the audience in tears, has to make his fans happy. Did he even have fans? He was just a graphic designer; he still had to finish the logo for a newly established company. If this company makes it big, he would too. But he was just a no-name with a deviantART account long abandoned with many hand sketched pictures of Yunho and him on it. Yunho never saw them, but when he dies, if Yunho goes onto his laptop and browse through his history, the files would still be on it. It should attract Yunho, since he had labeled it something only Yunho would guess. Three Mints—before their dates, Yunho would have at least three mints to reassure himself that his breath doesn’t stink. Jaejoong had poked fun of it countless of times, and Yunho would only smile. It became a habit for the both of them—three mints throughout the day.

Jaejoong hadn’t touched mints ever since Yunho left, he wondered if Yunho still remembers. Jaejoong hoped he did, because that was a fun memory. He wants Yunho to remember him by fun memories.

He remembers a friend of his named Yesung, a strange and peculiar person. He was always silent, but he was an amazing artist and his paintings were always so morbidly beautiful. He had dotted them the “Mints” couple, though it sounded hilarious since Yesung had attempted to say it in English. It always came out weird, but it stuck. Everyone on campus would call him Minty, regardless if they knew of his and Yunho’s relationship. They obviously didn’t, since being gay was a big taboo in Korea. He wonders why Ray wasn’t affected though.

Jaejoong knew the feeling of being tortured for who he was. His high school buddies turned their tails on him the moment he confessed to them. His mother wasn’t around for him to tell; his father was dead and had been dead to Jaejoong ever since his mother left them.

They weren’t buddies after that, more like bullies. But Jaejoong wasn’t the weak damsel everyone mistaken him for. He’s a fighter who finds revenge sweet, even if it does nothing but cause bad blood. It was thrilling, those times, but he has forgotten those and he labeled them as bad times.

He’s glad he forgot. He wouldn’t have appreciated the memory right now. Jaejoong was bored out of his mind, quite literally. When he’s bored, he tends to remember stuff he doesn’t want to. Sometimes, he wishes there was a shutdown button on his mind. He thought too much—of irrelevant things, such as the weather, the sports team, the noises around him. He thought of Yunho too, and he wasn’t irrelevant, he was important, but he was just as unwanted in Jaejoong’s thought as the small details.

He wants to tell Yunho, but not now. It’s too soon. He wants to tell Yunho while he’s breathing his last gasp of air—to make it all dramatic, so he could play the part of the main character well. He was still scared out of his wits, but if he dies right after, he’ll never know the response. He wouldn’t know if Yunho cries or if everyone starts laughing and telling him he’s nothing. But it’s alright—he wouldn’t find out. Maybe his spirit will linger around and watch the finale, watch everyone’s reaction. It hurts, right now the ache in his heart hurts, but not as much as the dryness in his throat or the pounding of his blood. He wanted to throw up, his body felt hot, and he was sure he was bleeding internally. It just hurts—the type of physical pain he couldn’t describe because he’s never felt them before.

He hasn’t, he just hasn’t ever experienced a type of pain so great at this. And in this fleeting moment of pain, he determines he’s going to tell Yunho. “I—” He was practicing to himself, to ensure he won’t screw up. Three months was no more, it was two months now. It had gone by so slowly, yet so quickly. Two months—ticking, ticking ever so slowly, pouring ever so quickly. It didn’t make sense, but nothing made sense. His breath hitched, his heart pounded a pace faster. “—love you. I love you Yunho.” It was no more than a whisper, but it was real, his feelings were real. It scared him, but part of the fear had evaporated, all he was afraid of now was how death was creeping so fast and of Yunho’s response.

What will it be like? Is he going to tell Jaejoong he loved him? He did that so often, but Jaejoong couldn’t recall if he was telling the truth of not. Why can’t he remember? He was sure cancer didn’t do this to a person. He was sure he didn’t have cancer either. Brain cancer…was it this bad? From his conversations with Ray, he could tell his speech was getting worse. He was forgetting words, forgetting things so easily. Ray always gave him this look of pity when he gets frustrated and cries when he can’t think of something. He wasn’t the type to cry. He knew he didn’t look like he used to. He knows his head is bare, he never talks about it. His hair was his life when he was young, in his teenage years. Now, it wasn’t there anymore. Ray insists on him wearing a hat, since his head gets very cold. He doesn’t want to. He hadn’t given up fighting. He knows he’ll die—it was useless, but fighting and contradicting the plans of life was his sole purpose to live. He was given an opportunity to be stronger, as many have. He will fight, he will succeed, he will live to see Yunho smile and grow old with him.

Jaejoong, realizing his train of thoughts, scoff at his silly self. This was him during college—it wasn’t him now. He was strong, he would live if he wanted to, but he wants to forget. The hero doesn’t always show up fashionably late, sometimes, he gets scared and ditches everyone. It’s an ‘either their life, or mine’ situation. In this case, he was sacrificing himself for Yunho. Yunho doesn’t need to know why, just as Jaejoong doesn’t need to know why Yunho left. There’s a reason and both of them don’t know why. It was intuition. The bad always come before the good, so maybe if Jaejoong dies, Yunho will live better. Maybe he’ll strike oil and become rich.

Jaejoong just wishes the best for Yunho—he just wishes on every dying star that Yunho will live happily without him. They all need to lose something dear in their lives, Yunho will lose Jaejoong and Jaejoong will lose Yunho and his memories. All things in the world needed to be balanced, and this is only fair. It’s only fair—it’s only for the better. Not for the greater good, because there is no greater good, but for the better. It’ll be better for Yunho, but worse for Jaejoong. Yunho doesn’t need to know this, because he’ll cry if he knows this. As emotionless as Yunho was, he cries easily.

There are a lot of things he wished he could do, but none of that mattered. Yunho was top priority, even though Jaejoong was so confused, even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, Yunho still mattered most. There was only two months left, two quick paced months, and he’ll be gone. It was getting dark outside—no one had come into his room today. He doesn’t want company, he’s lonely, but he doesn’t want other people to see how pathetic he looks. His throat itches and he’s so tired of thinking. The blood was pounding in his ear, the pain almost unbearable—almost. He was tough, he knew better, he didn’t know a lot, but he knew better, which was almost the same. It wasn’t, never will be, but it’s alright. Knowledge only does so much, knowing how to do it and what’s better is the option to go for.

His thoughts were a mess and he almost misses the knock on the door. With his hoarse voice, he calls the person in. The person was a stranger, most likely looking for someone else.

“Is Ray here?” He was handsome, his clean shaven face was fresh, his white coat and name tag crisp and new.

“No.” The room was empty—Jaejoong was ashamed of his current state.

“Weird, she texted me earlier saying she was here. Anyway, Mr. Kim, when the head nurse comes later, she’ll bring you to the lab. We’ll try it again.” Jaejoong shivered, he knew where this was heading and he didn’t like it. Getting treatment wasn’t all that painful, but why waste precious time when he has no more motivation to live? Yunho was as good as gone to him, already. His only reason, or so he thinks, is dead to him, as Jaejoong was dead to everyone else. It was July, the first, and he’s not getting any better, only worse.

“Thank you.” Jaejoong said as the man his heels and left him to mope in solitude once again.

His fingers wouldn’t move—he wanted to get a cup of water, but he couldn’t risk tripping on the many cords laid on the ground. The nurse had forgotten to move them back when they hooked him up yesterday.

Round and round the horsy went, this time, however, it doesn’t go back round.

•••

“Who are you? I’m sorry, but you can’t enter this patient’s room.” You had caught a man trying to get into Jaejoong’s room when you were on your way. He was old, around your father’s age, and his eyes seemed conflicting.

“I’m Jaejoong’s mother’s husband.” He had hated the word step-father, and he had never once met Jaejoong besides when he was really young, but he needed to clarify things with Jaejoong. Jaejoong deserves to know why, to know the reason as to why he was abandoned.

“I’m sorry, it’s not visiting hour yet and you need a pass from the front desk. I cannot allow you inside.” You saw him sigh, but he turned and was about to leave.

“I know it’s a lot to ask from you, but will you do me a favor?” The man handed you a box, a rather small box with a fancy ribbon tied to it and a card tucked under the wrapping. “Give this to Jaejoong. It’s from his mother, but she’s too ashamed to come here after what happened.” He bowed and left, leaving you at a loss for words.

You stared at his retreating back and was about to go in his room. However, something compelled you to follow the man. You knew it was none of your business, but you wanted to help Jaejoong.

“Wait, sir!” You ran after him, he was already half way down the hall, but you caught up to him in no time. He was limping instead of watching—a clear sign of bad knees.

“What is it?”

“I—” You paused, “Do you happen to known Jung Yunho’s phone number?”

Author's Note

This is the post-final chapter, a bit short because I have no excuses. I'm sorry for the final chapter, because I just re-read through it and I had no idea what I was writing about either. I'm kind of proud of this story. Thank you for reading this.

P.S. Misty, I wish you the best of luck at your new school and hope you won't get bullied. You will now be permenately labeled as Duck on my phone. <3