The newspaper crumpled in his strong palms, and Jongin’s heart began to race. He wasn’t sure why he’d even bothered reading the health section: he normally skipped that part to go straight to sports, or the classifieds, if he needed to seek out a second job. He didn’t know whether it was fate, or just the gut feeling he had the moment he picked up the newspaper that led him to reading the article. He wasn’t even sure what it was he was feeling now, after having read it. It was an unnameable emotion.

The headline had read Local Tycoon Decides to Take Heir off Life Support. Normally this wouldn’t concern Jongin, not in the least. But the heir in question was a name that Jongin had never expected to hear again.

He uncrumpled the paper, rereading the article, hoping and praying that he had been wrong, that he mistook the name he had read there for someone else’s.

Since his accident on 20 June, 2012, Do Kyungsoo, son of Do Dongmin has remained in a coma…

Jongin took a deep breath with great difficulty. He hadn’t misread. That had been Kyungsoo’s name he had read there, his father’s name following. It couldn’t have been any other Kyungsoo.

“This has been the hardest decision of my life,” Do says. “But I know my son wouldn’t want to be living like this, unable to move or talk…”

Do has prepared the date for when his son is to be taken off life support...

The newspaper fell to the ground in shreds.

-

Kyungsoo lay in agony.

He felt the pain of the foreign tubes in his throat and stomach. But they felt far, far away. He was still aware of them: he could still feel pain, could still feel every part of his body, but only vaguely, as if only a spider thread connected the two. Otherwise, he was awake, alert, although his eyes did not open. He could see, hear, sense everything around him. And he knew, after hearing the nurses speak in hushed tones, that his time was coming. The doctors were going to take him off life support. At first he couldn’t believe it. Would his father really allow such a thing? But soon, he knew it to be true. His father had come again, sitting by his bedside. He used to come every day, but Kyungsoo knew better than to think he always would. Dad was a businessman: he had things he needed to do. He was too busy to always be by his son’s side. The last time Dad had come, he had cried over his son’s body, apologizing for what was going to be done, and praying aloud that wherever he was, he would be happy. And so, the date was set.

Kyungsoo had tried many times to call out to his father, or to a nurse, or anyone, desperate to show them that he was still here, still alive, just immobile. But as hard as he tried, he could not make his body obey his commands. He could no more cry out than he could bat an eyelash. There was no way to convince his father that he was still alive, no chance at living.

He knew that soon, he would die.

But he was resigned to it now, and he would not fear. He would be calm, relaxed, so that when they came to take him, he would be-

What was that commotion outside? His peaceful thoughts were interrupted by noises outside his hospital room. He could hear someone arguing with Yixing, his regular nurse. But who? His father? Dad didn’t come around too often anymore. Couldn’t have been him. But who else would come? All his friends had deserted him, and his coworkers would never be caught dead- he smiled at the irony- here at the hospital. He strained to hear, to figure out who the person was by the timbre of their voice. He could’ve sworn it was familiar…

-

Jongin wasn’t even sure what he was doing. He hadn’t bothered to stop and think about it either. He simply let his body take over, overtaking his common sense and soon enough, he found himself running to the hospital. Maybe he just needed proof; the newspaper wasn’t enough. Maybe he just needed to see for himself. He tried to convince himself that that was the only reason compelling him to go rush to this man’s side.

Stabs of emotion, of memories threatened to overwhelm him, but Jongin firmly held them at bay, for now. He had held back memories so many times before, and it was a practice that wasn’t unfamiliar to him. Bursting through the main doors, he gasped out his request to the hospital receptionist, asking for the number of Do Kyungsoo’s room. She had hesitated, looking over his dishevelled appearance nervously, but had given him a room number. Jongin barely remembered to thank her before dashing off. He was too impatient for the elevator, instead opting for the stairs. He took them two at a time.

The narrow hallways of the hospital seemed to grow narrower and narrower as he rushed through them, counting down the room numbers until he got to 458. They whizzed past his vision: 442, 446, 448… He kept running, the motion of his body helping to keep away the thoughts that tumbled through his head. When he got to 456, he ran into a nurse, almost literally conking into him. He began to scold him for running in a hospital, and threatened to take him back to security. Jongin gasped out his request to see Kyungsoo. The nurse refused, explaining to him a confidentiality agreement the hospital had with the patient’s father: nobody except him and a few other friends were allowed to see him. This would keep away the media, he explained, since the patient was so well-known in the public eye.

Jongin felt all the breath leave him. He didn’t come all this way just to have some uppity nurse tell him he couldn’t go in! He quickly caught his breath, only to lose it again by arguing with the nurse, arguing, pleading and nearly begging to go in to see Kyungsoo.

The nurse tilted his head to one side. This madman was claiming to only be an “old friend” of Kyungsoo’s, although he had never seen him visit here before. But the desperation to see him was evident in his face and voice. Yixing, Kyungsoo’s regular nurse, who had grown a little attached to the poor young man he cared for, stepped aside, nodding his head at Jongin, allowing him passage.

He didn’t hesitate another second, swooping past the nurse into the hospital room. He felt as though all the air was knocked out of him, and he took slow, halting steps into the room.

It had been a year since the two men had gone their separate ways. After their parting, Jongin knew that he would surely see Kyungsoo again. Perhaps as the two passed each other on the streets, or maybe on TV, standing next to his tycoon father as he shook hands with someone, making another deal. But after a year of not even seeing him, no contact at all, Jongin tried to force himself to give up. He had said it himself: Kyungsoo couldn’t come back. Kyungsoo was better off without him. It was best if they never saw each other again. That was what he had always told himself as his fingers hovered over the phone keypad, prepared to dial Kyungsoo’s number, which he still had memorized. It was better this way. Kyungsoo hadn’t tried to contact him so far. Maybe he never would. Maybe he had already moved on.

Jongin felt guilt wash over him. It was no wonder that Kyungsoo hadn’t contacted him. He wasn’t able to.

According to the newspaper, he had gotten into an accident on the very night they had parted. And Jongin had never known.

Jongin fell to his knees beside the bed, staring with vision blurred by tears at the man with the soft brown eyes, an oxygen mask covering most of his face.

“Hey,” he whispered softly. “It’s...been a while.”

-

If it hadn't been for fate, they wouldn't have met at all.

It had been a glance, just a casual glance from across a river that had begun it all. Jongin had known who he was, the man standing across the rushing water from him. Who didn't know who Do Kyungsoo was? He had seen him on TV before, in some newspapers, once or twice in person out in the city. He had scoffed in disgust every time he had seen him. He was probably another soft, fat-lived lapdog, raised in luxury. Jongin was sure that without his daddy's inheritance, that man would have never been able to survive on his own. He and his friends hated people like him, people who never had to scrape around for a job, had never once known the struggle of life on the streets. This Do Kyungsoo was an heir, everybody knew it. His job and fortune would be guaranteed to him as soon as his father croaked. He’d never want for anything.

Jongin was a little shocked to find him here, at the river. This was his own little place, the place he went to get away just by himself from everything. What was he doing here? This was practically the ghetto: what would daddy’s little heir be doing here? He should’ve been out on the town, dining at fancy restaurants or strutting down the streets, showing off his expensive suits.

Jongin glared. This man had everything: did he have to have Jongin’s riverside haunt too? He expected him to look away at his nasty stare. A puffed-up daddy’s boy wouldn’t stand a chance against him, and they both knew it.

But Kyungsoo surprised him. His eyes grew wide in an expression of, what? Surprise? Fear? Jongin couldn’t tell. But he didn’t back down first. He didn’t run scared like any other person would. Instead, Kyungsoo had taken a step back, nodded politely to Jongin, and paced a little ways down the river before sitting down near the reeds. Jongin watched in one part surprise and one part fascination as he took off his shoes, rolled up the cuffs of his pants, and slid his feet into the water. After watching him dangle his feet for a few more minutes, Jongin left in disgust, needing to find another place to be alone and relax, away from anybody. But the image of the businessman’s son with his pants rolled up and expensive shoes discarded was still in his mind. More so was the image of Kyungsoo’s big, soft brown eyes.

-

That wasn’t the last time Jongin found Kyungsoo there at the river. After that day, almost every time he went there, Kyungsoo had been there too, and Jongin grew used to seeing him there. Before he knew it, Jongin’s glares were turning into nods, which, before he even cared to notice, turned into smiles. It was hard not to smile at such a soft-eyed man with such an innocent face. Kyungsoo slowly and shyly began to return those smiles, and with those smiles, Jongin found himself suddenly willing to share his safe place.

-

“You live on the other side of this river?” Kyungsoo’s voice was soft and kind, and at times gently teasing. After many days of smiles and nods, Jongin finally jumped across the stones and had crossed onto the other side. It was strangely natural to sit next to him, kicking off his own shoes and sliding his feet into the water, sitting in companionable silence.

Jongin tried to hide his surprise and appreciation at Kyungsoo’s boldness. “Yeah. You live on the other side?”

“Yeah.”

Neither of them spoke much, but they both enjoyed each other’s company. There wasn’t much to talk about anyway, being from two completely different worlds. But here, it was different. This had become a safe place for both of them, by the riverside, on the sand and in the reeds, where they could forget where they came from and just be unlikely friends.

-

“There’s got to be something though! Can’t they do anything more?”

“It’s been this way for a year already. Maybe with more time, he might wake up. But it’s next to hopeless, and his father’s already signed the papers.”

Jongin squeezed his eyes shut, fighting to keep down a sudden wave of nausea. This nurse was telling him that it was hopeless. That there was no way to revive Kyungsoo.

Why was this a big deal though? A voice screamed at Jongin internally. You made your decision long ago. He did too. He left you, and you told him he couldn’t come back. What more can you do?

“No.” Jongin whispered aloud. That voice was wrong. If he really believed that even though he had pushed Kyungsoo away forever, he would be unaffected by his death, he was wrong.

There was an awkward pause as the nurse reached down to readjust the thin bed sheet covering Kyungsoo’s still body. Jongin watched him as he worked through the nighttime routine, checking Kyungsoo’s blood pressure, oxygen levels and readjusting the IV bag.

“When will it be?” Jongin’s sharp question broke the silence. “When are they going to do it?”

Yixing felt a quick rush of sympathy as he turned to face the strange man who had practically begged him to see his patient. “In four days.” he murmured solemnly.

“I see.” Jongin said curtly, while on the inside, his stomach was churning. Four days. Four days, and he would never see Kyungsoo again, would never hear his soft voice again, would never again look into his big, brown eyes, let alone see them open.

If Kyungsoo dies, the voice in his head said before he could silence it, you’ll never get to apologize. And you’ll never get his forgiveness.

“Please,” he murmured, looking down at his feet. “Can I stay a while?”

“Of course,” Yixing replied, knowing that even if he had said no, it would be futile keeping him away. “Stay as long as you like, so long as you don’t disturb the other patients.”

-

“Get down!”

Jongin hissed as Sehun grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him back behind the piles of boxes and junk in the alleyway.

“Watch it!” Jongin shot back in a fierce whisper, but knew that Sehun was right of course. He wasn’t being careful enough; one wrong move and they would’ve been spotted. It was hard to have to stay cramped up in one position, lying in wait, but he knew that soon enough, they’d profit. Jongdae held out his hand as he kept watch on the street, ready to signal the three others when their target passed by. They’d been tailing the guy for a couple of weeks now, and figuring out his regular route back home from work had been child’s play.

Jongin felt the adrenaline begin to course through his body. This was what he loved, the thrill of the chase, the energy of being with other men who did what he did.

“Here he comes,” Jongdae whispered, one hand on his hip, steadying the holster there. “Not until I say so.”

The three men behind him lay in wait, barely breathing. They strained to listen, waiting for the sign. Jongin barely felt anything besides his chest heaving and his heart pounding. Chanyeol was breathing onto the back of his neck, but he barely noticed.

Then, they heard the footsteps.

A man’s figure crossed the alley.

“Now!” Jongdae hissed, and like a liquid shadow, he slid out from behind the junk heap to leap out at the man. Jongin and Sehun followed just as quickly, while Chanyeol moved towards the rear. Before the man even knew what was happening, the three men wearing black had cornered him. Jongin grabbed the man along with Sehun, and they held him while he struggled.

“Hey!” he shouted. “What the hell-” Sehun clapped a hand over his mouth.

Jongdae slowly sauntered up to the man, smirking evilly. “Hello there,” he said silkily. “Now, let’s not make a fuss. You know what’s coming for you if you do.”

That was Jongin’s cue to press his gun against the man’s side, making him freeze.

Jongdae himself slid aside his dark jacket to reveal the gun holstered at his side. “Don’t even try to run, by the way,” he purred, examining his nails. “See the guy over where you came from? He’s a guy of mine.” Chanyeol stood ready, his tall form imposing and dangerous.

Sensing that the guy had calmed down enough, Sehun removed his hand from the man’s mouth.

“What do you want?” His voice was shaky and sounded at least two octaves higher than it should be. Jongin bit back his scoff of disgust. Such a lily-livered wimp. All businessmen were like that. So used to being rich and pampered that they thought nothing could touch them.

“Don’t want much,” Jongdae said. “Just that you hand over any money you got. Throw in those cuff links and rings you’re wearing too. And also,” Jongdae pushed his face close to the man’s with the most intimidating smirk on his face. “It would be good if you didn’t, you know, go around squawking about this, okay?” Jongin smiled knowingly. Even if the man had, he wouldn’t be able to identify them. They each wore masks made from black cloth covering the lower halves of their faces. It made them look even more frightening.

They made quick work of stripping the shaky businessman of his money and valuables. Jongin could hardly hold back the laugh at their fourth victim of the week as he dashed away from the alley, cursing under his breath.

“Too fun,” he said with a smirk. “Look at all this!”

“Shh! You want anybody to hear?” Sehun scolded. But his eyes still lit up at the wad of cash they’d taken. “Damn, how many pounds of beam d’you think we can get for this?”

“At least fifty,” Jongdae said with a smirk. “Another success. Good work guys.”

Chanyeol clapped Jongin’s shoulder as the four men headed back to their rendezvous, laughing. Nothing was better than this, Jongin thought with glee building up in his chest. With his gang, he was dangerous, a threat, not just some kid on the street, struggling to get by. Whenever he was in a tight spot, he had friends who would always back him up.

For the first time since his eighteenth year, he was happy.

-

If Kyungsoo wasn’t already hyper-aware of everything around him, he would have questioned what he had just seen. Could it really be? Was it really him?

He hadn’t had much time to miss him, especially seeing as hours after they had broken up, he had been knocked unconscious and had stayed that way since. But as soon as he grew aware of everything, as soon as he was able to think again, Jongin hadn’t been very far from his thoughts. As if the bodily pain hadn’t been enough, his heart smarted to the very core from Jongin’s lies and betrayal, and his harsh words, telling him he couldn’t come back. The fresh bruises still hurt too, though not as badly as the numerous needles they’d stuck his arms, legs and back with during countless tests, or the tubes they’d stuck down his throat, and later his stomach, for feeding and oxygen. So much pain, everywhere. It was inescapable. But worse of all was the internal, emotional pain that Jongin had inflicted on him. Worse, because now that he was in this state, how could Kyungsoo move on? He couldn’t go out and do things to keep himself busy, or meet new people that might help him forget the younger man he’d spent many days and nights with. He couldn’t do anything, except think.

He was stuck. Stuck in love with Jongin. 

When he saw him here, here in his hospital room, right next to his bed, Kyungsoo at first thought that he must’ve been dreaming. But no, his eyes had not deceived him. Jongin was here, he really was here. After a year spent trapped in his thoughts of him, he had finally appeared to him, real and in the flesh.

Kyungsoo dared to hope that even after this year away from each other with no contact, maybe, just maybe, Jongin had stayed stuck in love with him too.

Jongin! Is it really you? Did you really come to me? Jongin! Kyungsoo desperately tried to give voice to his thoughts. But it was no more successful than his attempts to call to his father. Jongin couldn’t hear him.

Kyungsoo watched, in a daze, as his former lover from the wrong side of town knelt next to his body on the bedside. He watched as he put his face down on the bed, right nearby his body’s hand, and began to cry like a child.

If he had been able to, he would have cried with him.

-

Neither man expected to grow close with each other after their first meeting at the river. But soon enough, before they knew it, they were going to the river specifically to meet.

Kyungsoo couldn’t help it: he knew if his father found out he was shirking his duties at the company to sneak down to the river in what he would call a slum to meet with some strange guy, he’d have his head. But he couldn’t stay away. The man he was spending time with was so...intoxicating. He was a little scruffy maybe, mostly wearing worn out jeans and t shirts, maybe sometimes with a leather jacket, a huge contrast to Kyungsoo’s expensive wardrobe. But even in the ratty old clothes, this man was still so handsome.

Kyungsoo had been surprised at the thought. He had never once thought of this guy as handsome before. But now, he forced himself to look, really look at him, and realized that he was right. His smooth skin, broad jawline and pouty lips made him look all the more sultry. He certainly was different from the other friends Kyungsoo had in his father’s social circles. His double-lidded brown eyes were bright, sometimes sleepy-looking, enticing you to gaze into them. He took a second look at his lips; they were plump, pink, almost always pouty, so kissable. And his build? Well...he had a very nice body, Kyungsoo thought with a blush.

As for Jongin, the little voice in the back of his mind would never shut up every time he met with Kyungsoo. Although he knew that he should listen to that voice, get away and go back to his real friends, he always silenced it. He knew what would be waiting for him when he did leave Kyungsoo’s side: his gang, cigarettes, and the drugs they always bought to sell again, using money they got from robbing people on the streets. It was what he did, what his gang had to do to make a living, to survive. He’d never had any problems with it before. He was used to it. It was his life.

But somehow, when he was with Kyungsoo, he felt...almost ashamed. Ashamed that he had sunk so low in order to make his living. He was sure that if Kyungsoo knew who he really was and what he did, he would be disgusted. Jongin knew that it didn’t matter. They were barely even friends. Kyungsoo probably didn’t want to know him better anyway. He would never find out.

So for now, Jongin would let all the newfound shame and degradation fall away as he sat next to the business heir. Maybe, he thought secretly, he could just pretend that there was no real barrier in between them, and they could be real friends.

-

“I’m sorry sir. It’s time for you to go.”

Yixing felt a stab of pity shoot through him. The man hadn’t left Kyungsoo’s side since he had arrived here. Most of his time spent here was spent with his face down on the bed, gently clutching the patient’s hand. And when he looked up to face him after he had spoken, Yixing could see the dried traces of tears on his face.

“It’s very late,” Yixing explained at his incredulous expression. “Shouldn’t you be getting home?”

Jongin frowned down at his hands. They were cramping after having clutched the bedsheets and Kyungsoo’s hand for so long. His knees were incredibly stiff: he had been kneeling there all this time. Slowly, feeling his joints ache and crack, he got up.

“I…” Jongin murmured, aware of his voice, made raspy from weeping. “I want to come back tomorrow.”

Yixing nodded. “You can.” He stood by the door, trying not to watch or eavesdrop as Jongin made his farewell.

Jongin, after dealing with the nurse, turned back to Kyungsoo. He willed himself not to cry again as he took in his still body, his arms and face still bearing faint shadows of the bruises he had last seen there. He wished with everything he had that those eyes, soft and deer-like would open again, open and see him there. He wished he could remove that oxygen mask and press his lips against his, like they had done so many times before.

Four days. Four more days before he would lose him indefinitely.

“I’ll come back again tomorrow, okay?” Jongin whispered, wishing that somehow, Kyungsoo could hear him. “Stay strong, hyung. I’ll be back.”

-

“I don’t know what to call you.”

Kyungsoo had said this the moment Jongin had sat down next to him after crossing the river. He had been pondering for days the right way to ask this man what his name was. It was a little difficult to find out about this guy when they both hardly talked while spending time with each other. It was a companionable silence, but Kyungsoo wanted to know who he was and know more about him. Kyungsoo especially wanted to know his name. Weeks had they spent together already, and he didn’t even know his name. It was curious. 

The man didn’t turn to look at Kyungsoo when he spoke. That was a habit of his, the observant Kyungsoo had noticed. They didn’t speak much, but when they did, Kyungsoo would always turn to look at him. He, however, did not, instead continuing to stare into the clear water. Kyungsoo didn’t mind. Maybe he just had trouble looking people in the eyes. He liked admiring his side profile anyway.

“Jongin,” he had replied. “My name is Jongin.”

Kyungsoo opened his mouth, prepared to introduce himself, when all of a sudden, Jongin turned to look at him. “I already know who you are,” he said, and Kyungsoo closed his mouth with a snap. Of course he knew, he thought miserably. Who doesn’t know who I am?

Kyungsoo was prepared to fall back into the regular silence, but Jongin broke it again.

“And what am I to call you?”

“Well,” Kyungsoo mused, smiling, pleasantly surprised at the question. “How old are you, Jongin?”

“Twenty. And how old are you?”

“Twenty-two. So you’ll call me hyung then.”

Jongin bristled at first. In his gang, nobody was ever referred to as hyung. They were all thick as thieves- he smiled inwardly at the irony- and as close as brothers. But they hated the respectful rigidity of society, so they had decided that within their gang, all rules would be thrown out the window, so nobody was ever called hyung, despite age differences.

But he wasn’t with his gang right now. He didn’t have to be his usual vulgar self. One corner of his mouth quirked up into a smile.

“Alright. Hyung.”

-

Days passed, and the two were soon fast friends. Laughing and talking on the riverside, they pretended that they weren’t from two completely different worlds that hardly ever intermingled, and that their friendship could continue away from their safe place. Conversation became easy for them now: they spoke naturally to one another as if they had been good friends for years. Bit by bit, Kyungsoo began to tentatively confide in Jongin, whom he found was sympathetic and understanding, albeit a little rough around the edges. Today, Kyungsoo had brought up one of his biggest troubles. He had said it quietly, partly hoping that Jongin wouldn’t even hear. But he had, and to Kyungsoo’s surprise, burst out into hoots of laughter.

“No, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Jongin had choked out as his laughter calmed down. “You can’t be serious!”

“I am serious.” Kyungsoo mustered the sternest facial expression he could to prove his seriousness.

“No,” Jongin said, wiping away a tear; he had been laughing hysterically. “You don’t really mean that...you hate being rich?” Kyungsoo had only muttered it under his breath, but Jongin had heard. Kyungsoo hated being rich? How could he not laugh at such a ridiculous thing?

“It’s not that I hate it,” Kyungsoo murmured. He felt a little incredulous: he had given Jongin one of his deepest secrets, and he had burst out laughing. His ego smarted a little, but he could understand Jongin's reaction. Sort of.

“I mean, I know I’m fortunate,” Kyungsoo continued as Jongin stifled his laughter. “And I’m very lucky to have what I have. But it’s just…” he took a deep breath, prepared to voice what he had never told anyone before. “I’m tired of people only liking me for what I have. People look at me and only see my wealth and fortune. I’m sick of it.” He splashed one of his feet in the water violently to prove his point. “They never try to get to know me for real. All they care about is my money.”

Jongin stared quietly at their feet, made pale and white in the water. “Really?” The idea had never occurred to him before.

“Yes. It can get hard sometimes, not having any real friends.”

“I used to think having money solved everyone’s problems.” It certainly would have solved his.

“Not mine,” Kyungsoo said with a small laugh. “Money is the cause of my problems. Sometimes I wish I could just be someone else for a day. You know, just to see what it would be like to be a normal person, not someone everybody knows and recognizes.”

Jongin smiled the half smile that Kyungsoo had grown to love. “Maybe someday we could try and switch places? That way you could solve your problems and I could solve mine.”

They laughed, and continued to swish their feet in the water. They were quiet for a few moments, the splash of the water the only sound breaking between them.

“I envy the people with real friends. Those who have people who genuinely care about them. I’d give anything to have someone to care about...someone who really cared about me.” Kyungsoo murmured musingly. And then he turned to Jongin with a soft, hopeful smile on his face.

Jongin caught his breath. He had never once thought of Kyungsoo as anything more than an unlikely, secret friend. But in that moment, as Kyungsoo smiled the sweetest and most childlike of all smiles at him, Jongin was suddenly enraptured. He swore that he was looking into the face of an angel. Kyungsoo had never looked more beautiful.

He suddenly knew, in that moment, that after all their time together, confiding in one another and laughing together, that he had grown to care for this man genuinely. Never once did Jongin ever think about being in a relationship with Kyungsoo at all. Not even for his wealth. But all of a sudden, it dawned on him: he wanted to be the answer to Kyungsoo’s prayers, the person he had been hoping for.

Kyungsoo wanted someone to love him. And Jongin could be that someone.

They stared at each other for another long moment, before Kyungsoo stammered out an awkward laugh, blushing hard. “But enough about me, I’ve been talking all day! How about you? What’s your biggest trouble?”