Snowflakes drifted into Sehun’s dreamless stupor; shape contorting into something that resembled both a bride’s bouquet, and a falcon’s feather.

His hand involuntarily reached up to touch the snow, wanting to caress its frozen softness before it deliquesced into liquid upon contact with his warm skin.

But dripping wires and a mechanical beeping prevented his wishes.

The boy then opened his eyes slowly, reveling in the feeling of waking up to a future – having survived the past.

“Good morning. Congratulations on staying alive.”

»» • ♦ • ««

It was the first snow of December in 2001, when seven year old Oh Sehun was pushed into the Emergency Room of Seoul National University Hospital for his debut as the youngest South Korean patient suffering from a primary cardiac malignant neoplasm; more commonly known as ‘heart cancer’.

The doctors told his mother that cancerous tumors beginning in the heart were among the rarest types of cancer to be found around the world – especially in South Korea.

His mother then asked if there was something evil about her son for being diagnosed with the unusual cancer, but neither the doctor nor mother knew the answer to that question.

What could such a young boy possibly have done to deserve such ill destiny?

Throughout Sehun’s sixteen years alive, he has done nothing that would be deemed irresponsible or evil by society’s conceptions.

Never has he smoked an offered cigarette; nor drunken a single drop of alcohol; nor seen an adult film featuring women as the centerpiece of the plot. He is completely innocent and clueless to life – and has done nothing that deserves to be punished by nature.

Yet with the odds of twelve out of fifty million Korean citizens, Sehun happened to be among the unlucky few who were diagnosed with primary cardiac cancer every year.

What greeted him every morning was a sight that was both uncomfortable to him, but at the same time not alien to his memories. White walls, blue gown, and the smell of disinfectants hung heavy in the air with every lungful of oxygen Sehun took into his body.

The hospital became his second home, and novels became his teachers in replacement for the education he missed out on every so often.

Maybe Sehun wanted to become an author who would plant painful emotions into the readers’ heart with his intricately weaved words.

Maybe he wanted to become a doctor who would use his knowledge and intelligence to save souls and cure children like himself.

Regardless of the specifics, Oh Sehun wanted things. He was constantly submitted into hospital for check-ups and x-rays, but he hung onto hope like a drowning man would clutch at his last piece of straw. Because without hope, Sehun felt life was not worth fighting for.

After all, among all the primary cardiac tumors diagnosed around the world, only 25% are life-threatening, while 75% are benign.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be a part of the 75% instead of the 25%.

Maybe, just maybe, he would finally be included in the majority instead of the minority for once in his life.

Settling into his usual spot at the usual hour on a day that could not have been unusual in any way imaginable; Sehun squints his eyes at the bright spring morning, before tuning his ears to refine the sounds of various conversations mingling into one giant murmur.

It’s not that Sehun likes to eavesdrop – it’s just that…he doesn’t know who to talk to, and what to say even if there was someone to talk to him. He hasn’t stepped off of the hospital grounds for nearly two months now, and has long forgotten what it feels like to ride a bicycle to school in the morning.

“Your taste in music is so main stream; try listening to my songs,” Sehun observes silently as a teenage boy forces his earphones into the hands of a girl wearing the same uniform as his own.

“Why do you care what I listen to? It’s none of your business,” the girl rejects his suggestions with an indignant huff.

“But Super Junior isn’t even GOOD. That song called Sorry Sorry is so popular everywhere, but it sounds like .”

“I’m not listening to it because someone told me to,” the girl stares at him in confusion, “so why is main stream popularity not acceptable? I just like them.”

“People will think you’re just trying to fit in,” the boy speaks as if his words were a proven fact, “it’s better being different to the majority – that way people will think that you’re special and better than them.”

“No,” the girl insists, “that’s just you thinking you’re special and better than them.”

Why is fitting in not desirable? Sehun thinks to himself in confusion; after all, the only thing he has ever wanted in life was to be like everyone else – to be healthy, to go to school everyday, and be able to live life like any normal teenager would.

“Being different isn’t necessarily a good thing,” Sehun whispers to the bickering pair unaware of his presence quietly.

“But being different makes you stand out, and makes others curious about you.”

Sehun turns slowly in his seat, pivoting his weight around to find the speaker of the previous sentence. What he finds behind him, however, literally takes his breath away in the most ecstatic and euphoric way describable.

Lu Han.

The most gossiped and wanted male doctor in all of Seoul National University Hospital; both desired by males, and females.

With sparkling eyes and a handsome yet youthful face, Sehun tries his best not to drool at the man standing in front of his eyes. A mischievous smirk turns the corners of the man’s alluring lips upwards, while one hand is tucked casually into the pocket of his pristine white doctor’s coat.

He is talking to me, Sehun faintly registers, before he is smiling coyly back at the older man whom he has been crushing on since December last year.

“You are the perfect example to back up my generalization,” Luhan continues his previous speech, “Not only are you different – you are also my ideal type.”

Despite his helpless heart, Oh Sehun has never displayed outright anger at his misfortunes – he simply holds onto the hope that some day, some time, there will come a genius doctor with more knowledge than he could ever imagine; someone who will take one glance at his Computerized Tomography scan, and confirm that his primary cardiac tumor is benign.

In Sehun’s mind, that genius doctor gradually developed a face and name: Lu Han.

Luhan is a freshly graduated medical student majoring in cardiac surgery.

At the peak age of twenty-five, he has won countless awards for his excellent grades and voluntary work.

His performance in the cardiac field is so outstanding, that he was excused from his last year of student internship, and given the opportunity to work as a full-time residential surgeon in Seoul National University Hospital.

Upon first meeting, Sehun had instantly labeled the young doctor as a charismatic character.

His confident lip corners, his bright brown eyes, and his stylish caramel-coloured hair; Luhan was the epitome of attraction, and he himself was very aware of his effect on people in general.

However, Sehun is not a greedy person.

He never expected to meet Luhan again, after their little encounter on that early spring morning.

"Not only are you different - you are also my ideal type" were Luhan's last words to Sehun.

He had wanted to say more, but the younger man had stumbled upon his own two feet in order to run away from the unfamiliar warmth heating his cheeks.

Sometimes, however, fate makes decisions that humans are incapable of defying.

The two meet again – and far more than once.

»» • ♦ • ««

Unknown to the patient, Luhan became the assistant of the doctor in charge of Sehun’s rare medical case.

At first he was confused as to why Sehun was required to come to the hospital so often for CT scans and blood testing; but then soon discovered his special circumstances and fragile physique.

Sehun’s heartbeat was weak – and although he was not constantly sick or in pain, he had difficulty participating in strenuous activity.

His heart would often pulse unevenly, and even a tiny attack to his immune system could result in a seriously high body temperature for days.

Thus, the teenage boy was constantly submitted into bed space number 107, and Luhan would constantly hook his veins to various tubes.

They started off with polite small talk and gentle blushes; gradually developing into boisterous laughter and teasing smirks.

Luhan perks Sehun's interest quickly with his unique and different lifestyle. 

The typical "how are you feeling today?" is replaced instead with "what do you want to do today?"

The boring "have you taken your medication?" instead becomes "that nurse has a nice body."

Using himself as a demonstration, Luhan teaches the younger male how being different from the majority can help one to stand out from a crowd.

It is Luhan's sincere and emotional words, however, that earn Sehun's trust eventually.

The flirtatious "that nurse has a nice body" slowly fades away into "your eyes are like a calm pond, meditating purity and honesty."

The reassuring "you will be released in less than a week" oddly shifts to "don't leave me here by myself."

Unsure of whether he is a shallow and poisonous role model or a lost child wallowing in an inferiority complex, Sehun learns that the older male is not as perfect as he seems to be.

Their relationship develops into expectant smiles and familiar touches; followed by the contentment of something more than friendship; based on needles, chemicals, and a forbidden yearning for the contact of inexperienced lips against confident ones.

»» • ♦ • ««

Passing spring and summer in a rush, Sehun felt that autumn had barely brushed by his finger tips, before December came around again.

He was one more year older when the Christmas songs began to play themselves on the radio; but maybe due to the fact that 2012 had been an uneventful year in general, Sehun did not feel a sense of accomplishment in completing the year alive.

A surgeon deals with the physical problems of a person’s heart, yet not the emotional mechanics hidden beneath the coils of veins and muscles. 

And although Sehun has felt lust for his doctor and friend far more than once - he is certain that what they share is not love.

The excited moans exchanged between entangled limbs at midnight relieve his hormonal stress and desires; but do not quench Sehun's thirst for that deeper emotion others call love.

But what is love? 

Love, by definition, is easily confused with lust.

And perhaps Sehun was beginning to submit to the nature of greed.

Love is not a luxury everyone is able to experience.

Lust, however, is easily obtainable - and very addicting.

Watching the snow fall silently in the hospital garden, a lanky teenage boy curls his long legs awkwardly in front of his chest; tears silently falling and soaking into his blue hospital gown.

“Are you…alright?”

Sehun’s ears perk up fractionally, reminding the approaching doctor of a puppy upon hearing his owner’s familiar call.

“Luhan,” it was more of a reluctant acknowledgment – rather than a friendly greeting.

“I…uh…” Luhan scratches the back of his neck, flustered and lost for the first time in his adult life. “The snow…is…pretty.”

Sehun smiles half-heartedly; he understood that Luhan felt the need to comfort a fellow human being, as it was normal of human nature to try and bring happiness to others around them. Seeing sadness also brought an odd sense of guilt to one’s conscience – and the urge to fix broken things would surface from any human’s self-righteous ego.

“This is the first snow of December for 2012,” the younger hugs his knees tighter against his torso. “Everything is beautiful for the first time; clean innocence that has yet to be tarnished, and a refreshing, magical spell that will remain idealistic until midnight.”

“And what happens after midnight?”

“The next day arrives.”

“You sound like you despise the idea of the sun rising at the beginning of each day,” Luhan comments with amusement, stealing glances at the attractive boy sitting within arm's reach to him. “Is waking up healthy and alive not something to be proud of?”

“It is,” Sehun turns to smile at the elder, “but after the initial gratitude passes, all I am left with is an empty feeling – an emotion that resembles regret.”

“What is there to regret?” Luhan looks up at the dark night sky, exhaling a long puff of white carbon dioxide, “you’re still young; life has yet to offer you many surprises.”

“That’s the thing,” the teenager sighs wistfully, “life is ordinary; so ordinary, that it bores me to think about the future, and pains me to remember the past.”

Luhan stays silent, waiting for the boy to vent his feelings of frustration.

“Hyung – I can call you that right? I just…I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything, nor experienced anything in life. I’ve never done anything exciting in all my eighteen years alive, and I’ve never even failed in anything that is uncertain. All I want is to be able to experience life! I don’t even care if I die tomorrow, as long as I can understand what it’s like to be truly alive today.”

“And what do you consider as ‘experiencing life’?” Luhan smirks down at the younger boy now looking up at him with melancholic eyes. “Inhaling drugs and feeling high? Having and experiencing the pleasure? Or going out to stab someone in the guts and falling in love with the adrenaline rush? Because I could help you with two out of the three mentioned."

“No!” Sehun quickly covers his eyes in astonishment, as if Luhan has shown him unpleasant imagery, “nothing like that, hyung!”

Luhan lets out a chuckle, “Then what is your definition of being alive?”

The younger taps his chin thoughtfully.

What is the definition of life?

“Maybe…” he glances at the older with hints of embarrassment, “you can’t laugh, alright?..."

Luhan waits for his answer expectantly.

"I…I want to fall in love." Sehun blushes lightly, "the definition of life is love, hyung; no one can truly feel alive if they do not give and receive love.”

Taken by surprise, Luhan’s entire body becomes immobile, while his mouth drops fractionally open involuntarily to gape at the younger. “L-love?”

“Yeah,” Sehun laughs breathily at the dancing snowflakes, “more precisely – I have someone I think I can love, but I want to find out what it feels like to really fall in love with him.”

“W-who is that person?” Luhan swallows the lump forming in his throat; please don’t say you’ve fallen in love with me.

“It…” Sehun’s cheeks grow heated despite the wintery air, “it’s you, hyung…I think I love you.”

Oh god.

“…Luhan?” the younger shifts uncomfortably in his seat, “please don’t feel burdened; I’m sorry for telling you something like that. I know you don’t love me, I really am sorry –oh my god why can’t I just keep my mouth shut– I’m not expecting you to answer my feelings—”

Without waiting for Sehun to finish, Luhan cuts off his blabbering the only way he knew how.

The older man lands his lips onto the younger’s still-open mouth, pushing his tongue past the black-haired boy’s ice-cold lips, and sneaks his hands under the younger’s hospital gown.

Lifting his insignificant body weight up, Luhan encourages Sehun’s long legs to wrap around his waist while he relocates them to an empty storage room behind the stairway.

“Sehun,” the doctor finally opens his eyes from the bruising kiss after feeling an uncomfortable rush of blood to the lower half of his body, “I’m sorry…I can’t love you.”

“It’s okay,” the black hair strands move back and forth in denial, “I know our…relationship isn’t that pure. I understand that you want things to remain physical between us—”

“No, you don’t understand,” Luhan practically whimpers, “I…it’s not that I don’t feel anything for you – it’s just…I don’t know what love is. How am I supposed to teach you the meaning of love, when I myself am completely clueless too?”

“Then…why don’t we learn together.”

Luhan freezes at his words, momentarily taken aback by Sehun’s offer, and unable to function due to the haunting memories of his past.

Fear of the unknown, combined with a spotless record of constant success, has long deterred Luhan from experimenting new things which he cannot assure victory in.

Human psychology was easy enough to understand in medical school – but Luhan has always been afraid of putting what he has learned into practice.

He knows that there are no textbooks on life; no set rules, and no guarantee of what will happen in the future. But this is also the reason for why he is afraid – afraid of failure, and afraid of being hurt by his fall downward.

Those who are not afraid to fail are either both exceptionally courageous and stupid; or are reassured by the knowledge that no matter where they fall, there will always been someone waiting to pat away the dust and pull them back up.

But Luhan belonged to neither of the aforementioned groups.

He has always been alone; relying only on himself, and trusting only his personal skills to achieve success.

His father was once a notorious businessman in China, before his company was shut down due to bankruptcy. His mother died from an overdose of sleeping drugs when Luhan was only seven years old, and his father followed her footsteps three years later with the same method of suicide.

The blankets upon his bed have always been big enough for a single person only; because he has never allowed others into his bedroom no matter how many times he may have had with them.

To Luhan, his bed is the warmest place in his otherwise abandoned house; the only piece of furniture that has accompanied him into adulthood. Thus, he will never allow other’s dirty bodies to tarnish his last fragment of pleasant familiarity.

Perhaps because of his undesirable experiences as a child, Luhan has always sported an insensitive and facetious attitude towards society in general.

His charming appearance, outstanding intelligence, affable attitude and polite mannerisms have all earned him much praise in life; and Luhan has gradually learned to wield them as social weapons in order to take advantage of what he has been born with.

But never has he experienced love.

How could he, when he is unable to trust anyone other than himself?

“Please,” Sehun’s whisper pulls Luhan back into reality, “give me a chance and let me love you.”

“I…I can’t,” Luhan is nearly choking at this point, “Sehun…I can’t…I’m—I’m scared.”

“Then it’s not that you can’t, but rather; you won’t.” The younger wraps his arms around himself, tears circling in his eyes at Luhan’s lack of cooperation. “The difference between can’t and won’t is intent, Luhan; if you have the intention to try but fail after attempting, then you can rightfully claim that you simply can’t fall in love. But right now – it’s not that you can’t, but rather that you won’t try falling in love with me.”

“What do you want me to do then?” Luhan sobs brokenly, “I want to be with you – but I don’t want to hurt you…”

“Then control yourself, and don’t hurt me,” Sehun answers with a soft peck on Luhan’s lips. “I trust you; you will never hurt me intentionally.”

“But what if I hurt you accidently?”

“Well in that case it wouldn’t be your fault.”

“Manslaughter is still a crime, despite being not as severe as murder!” Luhan cries impatiently, “if I fall in love with you, only to end up breaking you – what will become of us?”

“I’m not as weak as you think I am,” Sehun grits his teeth. “Luhan, I have been crushing on you since the first day we met; yet I plastered a smile on my face while patiently listening to you describe how hot the nurses are every day. I have endured, Luhan, not because I don’t mind your twisted morals, but because I am willing to fall in love with you despite all your flaws.”

It was the first day of December in 2012, when Luhan nodded his head timidly and allowed Sehun to wrap his body into a warm embrace.

Two weeks later, Sehun successfully stepped into Luhan’s spacious apartment for the first time since Luhan agreed to become his boyfriend.

Only blacks and whites were offered to his gaze upon entrance through the front door sporting triple lock functions. Monochrome was the only palette considered by the interior designer, and Sehun trotted curiously around the white carpeted floors in a desperate attempt to see a splash of colour.

“Sit wherever you want,” Luhan gestures vaguely around the living room as Sehun’s mouth drops open at the huge plasma screen television in the middle of the room, “make yourself comfortable while I go make you some hot chocolate.”

“What are you drinking, hyung?” Sehun perks up at the prospect of food.

“Black coffee – you know that’s what I always drink.”

“Drink chocolate with me; just for today,” Sehun pouts cutely, “I’m the guest, so you should listen to my wishes.”

Luhan sighs, but smiles at the soft lips sticking out in his direction, “Fine.”

While Luhan is busy boiling water in the kitchen, Sehun allows his lanky legs to carry the rest of his body through the apartment complex, exploring the large living space with interest. He stops at a closed door, tilting his head slightly in a silent debate with himself of whether or not to turn the tempting door handle. Eventually, his curiosity gains victory over his more rational self, and he walks into the room with a heart pounding in excitement.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Luhan’s breath tickles the back of Sehun’s neck slightly, causing the taller to shiver in both fear and delight.

“Lu—Luhan hyung…”

“I never gave you permission to enter my bedroom,” Sehun feels Luhan smirk against the skin under his ear, “do you need to be punished, my dear?”

“You’re the deer,” Sehun laughs nervously as Luhan sneaks a hand into the baggy t-shirt he is wearing, before eventually closing his eyes in a submission to Luhan’s touches.

But before the situation became too heated, Luhan pulls his hands back to himself, and instead guides the younger into his bedroom while linking their hands together. “If you wanted a tour, you should have just asked nicely.”

“Sorry,” Sehun blushes lightly, eyes trained on the warm fingers now holding onto his hand.

“I never bring people into my bedroom,” Luhan admits, “but I’ll make an exception for you today.”

The brunette turns to point at random objects around the room – surprising Sehun with the amount of stuffed toys and richly-coloured ornaments decorating his window sill; contrasting the rest of the house.

Mindlessly, Sehun forgets Luhan’s distaste for others sitting on his bed, and settles his backside onto the soft mattress while listening to the elder introduce various features of his personal space.

“And in here, is a three by five metre walk-in wardr—Oh Sehun what do you think you’re doing?!” Luhan shrieks in surprise upon seeing the lanky body now lying upon his bed – eyes closed in a deep slumber.

Sehun stirs fractionally in his sleep upon Luhan’s high-pitched scream, but does not awake.

The host sporting caramel-coloured hair furrows his eyebrows in confusion for a moment, before deciding to leave the younger where he is – lazing peacefully on his untarnished bed. Sehun is the only person I am willing to let onto my bed, Luhan admits to himself, because he is clean, pure…and because I love him enough to share my most treasured possession with him.

But maybe Sehun was wrong about one thing.

He was weak; maybe not emotionally, but physically weak.

When he had fallen asleep on top of Luhan's bed for the first time - it was also for the last time.

On the 31st day of December, he had awoken from his long slumber lasting 7 days. His wrist was again hooked onto plastic tubes dripping liquids into his blood; but this time, an oxygen mask and heart rate machine were also added to the scene.

At that moment, Sehun understood his fate, and smiled at the white dots falling outside his window, before pressing the emergency button above his head to call for a doctor – his doctor.

Luhan came running into the room while trying to put on a pair of socks at the same time, and gasped in surprise, before allowing tears to fall from his face.

The clock read 11:59pm when Sehun reached his hand out to the figure in a white coat standing at his door; only to have the same hand drop against the left side of his chest, before his lover could run to his side.

What greeted Luhan when his feet finally carried him to the bed was the absence of a constant beeping from the heart rate machine.

Instead, a flat and thin electronic line highlighted the end of Oh Sehun’s short existence.

A year later, Luhan is promoted to the head of the department of cardiac surgery.

Every morning, he wakes up in the same room, wrapped in the same single-person blanket, and hearing the same annoying alarm of his bedside clock. But one thing had changed forever; and that was his new preference for stirred hot chocolate instead of brewed black coffee at breakfast.

Sehun never made it into the New Year.

His life was concluded one minute before the first day of January 2013; and Luhan felt eternally grateful for that. Sehun had held onto his labored breaths for so long – waiting and enduring the pain in order to celebrate his one month anniversary with Luhan as official lovers.

Hope had acted as Sehun's ultimate survival kit; the faith that Luhan would be his savior, and the naïve belief that his cardiac tumor was benign.

But Luhan couldn't save him.

»» • ♦ • ««

Falling in love with Sehun had been the most painful yet beautiful experience Luhan has ever had.

Maybe some would say that it is better to never fall in love, because it saves one from heartache and heartbreak; but life is not only about the positives.

Sehun had wanted to experience life to the fullest before he died – because he understood life as something much more precious than passing every day peacefully. And because of Sehun’s love, Luhan has also learned to treasure every little detail in life. Luhan does not regret ever having fallen in love with Oh Sehun; instead, he simply locks the precious past love inside his heart, reminding himself from time to time what the meaning of love is.

Before, I was a selfish person, only caring about myself; I was a careless person, never hearing your heart.

But because of you I have changed: every time I miss you, I see your face everywhere; hear your voice everywhere. You left me, and now I cannot find you nor hear you.

Although you are not by my side, I am able to grow everyday and mature gradually, fueled by your love.

I had not been able to understand the purity and rarity of love; I did not care if I lost the emotion called love. However, now that you are gone, I finally see myself for who I really am.

I finally see myself changing for you.

I finally see myself treasuring this special feeling called love.

--Adapted from Miracles in December lyrics.