Being at home instead of at work didn’t feel as relieving as it should. Normally, Seokjin would have reveled in being able to sit on the couch and watch movies with Kookie instead of making copies or bringing coffee. But today, the apartment felt too small.  The walls were too white, they reminded him of the sanitary hospital rooms that would soon become his second home.

They should paint the apartment.

Even Kookie sensed his discomfort. She whimpered by his feet where he was sitting on the couch. He pulled away from the blank TV screen to give her a reassuring smile. “Hey girl, what’s wrong?”

She whined again, then hopped on to the couch and rested her head on his lap, the sad expression never left her face. Dog truly is man’s best friend, Seokjin thought as he threaded fingers through her thick fur. She didn’t say anything. Didn’t bark. Didn’t jump. She was just there, and that was all the comfort Seokjin needed. But also a terrible reminder. These days were limited. And even before his expiration date he would be too weak to hug the Sammoyed, too weak to even pet her. His only comfort would eventually hurt him.

He didn’t cry at the hospital, he had to be strong for Nam Joon. But, honestly he was terrified.

Terminal.

What a terrible word.

In the white walls of the apartment, Seokjin wrapped his arms around the soft white dog and finally broke down. She didn’t whine, she didn’t move, she left him cry into her fur. Seokjin had never been more thankful for her existence.

There was a knock at the door. He tried to compose himself as best as he could, but there was no way to hide his red eyes. He shouldn’t see anyone. Not like this. “Go away,” he weakly called out, “There’s no one here.”

“Seokjin, it’s me” Taehyung’s voice was muffled by the door, “please open up.”

Seokjin rubbed the tears from his face, there were still more coming. He moved up off the couch and walked to the door, Kookie was right at his heels.

Taehyung was in sweatpants, and a holey shirt, with a wary expression on his face, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Seokjin whispered back.

“So, Nam Joon called earlier,” Taehyung swallowed, his eyes were starting to water, “Is it true?”

Taehyung was desperate, Seokjin could see how much he wanted the answer to be no. But that would be lying. So Seokjin nodded, “Yeah. I start chemo next week.”

Taehyung nodded. He bit his bottom lip. Fiddled with his hands. Looked back up at Seokjin, his eyes were red and spilling now, “Seokjin I-I’m sorry.”

Seokjin tugged him through the doorframe and into his arms. Taehyung buried his face in Seokjin’s shoulder and was sobbing. He clung onto Seokjin desperately, but then loosened when he remembered those terrible words. Cancer. Leukemia. Terminal. Those were now adjectives to describe Seokjin.

“You don’t deserve this,” he said between sobs.

“No one deserves it,” Seokjin replied. He a hand through Taehyung’s hair, closed the door with his foot, and led them both back to the couch.

They ate ice cream and watched Mamma Mia! They sang aloud with the songs, and as usual Taehyung did all the dance moves. He made goofy expressions at his audience, Seokjin laughed and applauded, Kookie barked and jumped with his dancing. But after some time, Taehyung would stop what he was doing and start crying again. Because you’re not going to be there Jin. Who will cook for me when I burn the kitchen? Who will be singing on the balcony at 7 in the morning? Who will I gossip with at work? Seokjin didn’t know. So he just held Taehyung and let him cry.

When Nam Joon got home that evening, Seokjin thanked him for telling Taehyung. That way he didn’t have to, and he had a distraction on his day off. Seokjin couldn’t sit in self pity because he had to take care of Taehyung.  Thank you. He mouthed the words into the back of Nam Joon’s neck. Nam Joon smiled and tightened his grip on Seokjin’s hand.

~~

It was Wednesday. On a normal Wednesday, Yoongi would be riding shotgun and complaining about how Nam Joon never goes out with them. But this Wednesday, Nam Joon didn’t go to work. He took Seokjin to the first round of chemotherapy.

“Do you want a ride to Tony’s?” Hoseok asked.

“Nah man, I think I’ll just- I’ll go home,” Yoongi waved him off.

Nam Joon told them the day before, he broke down in his office, and Hoseok coaxed the information out of him. They convinced him to take the day off, to spend it with Seokjin.

Yoongi was good with words, but terrible with emotions. That’s why he was a sports writer, he could describe play by play action or the perfect pass. But ask him to write an obituary and he refuses. Too many emotions. “How does one write about humans?” Yoongi had asked once, “How can Nam Joon write about a funeral without wanting to tear apart his computer?”

“I don’t know,” Hoseok answered. When Hoseok brought up that conversation later, Yoongi said he didn’t remember it. Or maybe he did. Maybe he chose to forget.

Hoseok expected another evening like that one, but Yoongi obviously didn’t. He avoided that conversation all together. But Hoseok wasn’t Yoongi, he couldn’t ignore his problems. And he wanted to talk about Seokjin. He wanted to tell someone about how the strongest person he knew shattered before him. Because his favorite person had a due date. Because forever and always will only last nineteen more months.

Terminal.

What a terrible word.

Hoseok drove to Tony’s out of habit. The bartender was friendly, and he didn’t mind Hoseok’s obsessive habit of photographing everything.

Dim lighting, cigarette smoke, the clash of pool balls, Hoseok felt that the bar was more of a home than his apartment was. It was where he came when he was happy, when he was sad. It was comforting, isn’t that the purpose of a home?

He went searching for his regular stool, but someone was already sitting there. Someone with pale skin and dirty blonde hair. Taehyung. He was staring into the glass filled with amber liquid, so consumed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice Hoseok.

Hoseok remembered Nam Joon, and how he only had nineteen more months with Seokjin.

“Can I have a bottle of Newhouse Ale?” Hoseok asked as he sat next to Taehyung.

Taehyung turned to him blinking, “Hoseok?”

“I prefer Hobi,” he teased, “I didn’t know you come here.”

“I don’t. Usually I’m at my apartment, but it’s finals week so Jimin’s locked himself up at the library, and I don’t like being there by myself. I would be at Jin’s place but…” he swallowed down the glass, “Bartender another!”

“How many have you had?”

“Four?”

“Five,” the bartender interrupted, “this is the sixth.”

“Isn’t that too much?”

“Not when your best friend has terminal cancer.”

Okay yeah, he was allowed one more drink for that. Hoseok looked at Taehyung. His tie was loose, top button undone, sleeves rolled back and trembling.

“I’m sorry about Seokjin.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like you like you lived next door to him,” Taehyung half laughed, “It’s not like you saw those big ugly bruises that were too big to come from work or a dog. And – and you didn’t have lunch with him every day and watched him as he ate only half of his salad. It’s not- not…”

Taehyung ran a hand through his already messy hair, pulling back his bangs, showing long eyelashes and pink cheeks.

Hoseok remembered that Nam Joon only had nineteen more months with Seokjin.

“We should go out for dinner this weekend.”

“Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about Seokjin a lot lately, and how Nam Joon has been with him for nine years already, and for him that’s too short. Tomorrow isn’t promised to anyone. So why not make the most of today? And spend your days falling in love with someone.”

“So you want to date me because you want to have a boyfriend when you die?” Taehyung scoffed.

“No. I want to date you because I like you. You’re adorable, snarky, and make cute faces when you’re drunk. I’d like to learn more about you, Taehyung. Death has nothing to do with it.”

Taehyung was taken back.

Hoseok chugged the rest of his beer, “Have a good night Taehyung.”

He felt on tug on his sleeve when he turned to leave.

“I took a cab here… and I don’t have the cash to take one back,” he looked up with red eyes, “drive me home?”

And because Hoseok was nice, and Taehyung was sad, and Hoseok found him attractive even when he cried, he answered, “Sure.”

~~

Seokjin hugged the trash can to his chest. This inanimate object was his new best friend. Too bad Taehyung, grey trash can has replaced him. Because grey trash can doesn’t judge him every time he throws up. Then again, Taehyung wouldn’t either, at least not in this situation.

Nam Joon rubbed circles on his back. “I bet I look attractive right now,” Seokjin mocked as he fought off another wave of nausea.

Nam Joon looked at Seokjin. His hair was dripping and plastered to his forehead, his face was pale, and his eyes were red and watering. There was a tube connected to his wrist, the thing that will kill him if the cancer doesn’t do it first. “Yeah, you are attractive.”

Seokjin glared at him, “That’s not funny.”

“No, you’re attractive, just not in the usual Seokjin way. When you’re the usual Seokjin handsome, your hair is soft and styled, your shirt has no wrinkles, and you smell like that cologne you’ve been wearing since you graduated college. Right now, you’re a fighter. You could have given up and be crying on the couch, but instead you’re here, fighting it. That is the most attractive thing I have ever seen you do.”

Seokjin smiled, “I want to kiss you right now… but I probably taste like the McDonald’s we ate on our way here.”

Nam Joon chuckled, “Yeah that was a bad idea.”

The hospital walls were their usual sanitary white, and there was the rhythmic beating of a heart monitor somewhere in the room. They should paint their apartment, Nam Joon thought. Maybe green, green is nice a color. The color of grass, and spring, a color of new life. Yeah, tomorrow he was going to pick up green paint from the Home Depot.

Seokjin retched into the trash can again, Nam Joon began carting calloused fingers through his hair. “How much longer?” Seokjin asked.

“I don’t know, I wish I could do this for you,”

“No you don’t. This is the most miserable thing I have ever had to go through.”

“What about my mom’s rant when she found out we were married?”

Seokjin paused, “Second worst thing.”

Nam Joon smiled again. Even in the bad times there were good moments. He just wished he had the power to take all those bad moments away. Nam Joon thought God was wasting his power. He gave bad people comfortable lives and good people uncurable diseases. Nam Joon would be a biased God. When creating the world, he would form a perfect one for Seokjin, one filled with large dogs that adore him, and soft pillows for him to fall on, and strawberry cheesecakes that wouldn’t give him diabetes. But Gods don’t get to play in the worlds they create do they? So maybe Nam Joon wouldn’t be God, he’d be an angel. He wished he could be Seokjin’s guardian angel. And save him from running across the street when he’s five years old, or from the bullies that told him he was too pretty too be a boy in middle school. Most of all, Nam Joon would have given the cancer to someone else, someone mean whose life wouldn’t be missed. Seokjin would never be able to see him of course, but at least Nam Joon would be able to protect him. How he wished he could do that right now.

Seokjin heaved again, Nam Joon slid an arm around his waist.

Where was God now?

~~

Jungkook walked into the living room, glaring at his notebook “Hey, Jin, you majored in English right?”

“Yep,” Seokjin swallowed the pills the doctor prescribed, “and now I’m a secretary. Thank you world.”

“Can you help me with this paper? I have to choose one or two stanzas from a poem and write five pages about it,” he placed the book of poems, In Memoriam, on the table.

“That’s not too hard,” Seokjin began flipping through the pages.

“Yes it is. How can you write five pages about so little words?” Jungkook huffed.

“You’re not reading the poem correctly if you’re thinking like that,” Seokjin smiled, “poets are very precise with their words. The only have a few lines to convince the reader of their purpose. Each word is specifically chosen, each sentence carefully crafted. If a poem was done properly, you should feel what they feel in ten words or fewer. Do you understand?”

“I’m an engineer major. I don’t understand words I understand numbers, they’re not complicated.”

Soekjin laughed, “Well numbers are too complicated for me. Come on, I found a poem that even you can write about, it has biblical allusions.”

“Allusions are good,” Jungkook sat next to Seokjin on the couch, Kookie hopped next to him and nuzzled his hand.

“Here, poem 69, ‘the fool that wears a crown of thorns’ can’t get any more biblical than referencing Jesus on the cross,” Seokjin smiled, “but it’s more than just that. Why did Tennyson write these poems?”

“They’re for his friend, Hallam, they were his thoughts and feelings after Hallam’s death,” Jungkook recited.

“That’s right. So what is the crown of thorns? Tennyson isn’t calling himself a martyr like Jesus, he’s publicly showing his grief. He wears a crown, something obvious and imposing, so that everyone can see it. It’s made of thorns because he is in pain, because his friend is gone. So by wearing a crown of thorns he is displaying his pain for everyone to see. How do people react?”

“Uhh,” Jungkook started playing with Kookie’s face.

“Did you even read the book?”

“I read some of it,” Jungkook smiled sheepishly.  Seokjin shoved him lightly, Jungkook laughed, Kookie barked.

“They call him a fool. They mock him for showing his grief and bringing down everyone’s mood. Read the damn poem,” he smacked Jungkook’s head with the book.

“Yes ma’am,” Jungkook laughed as he evaded Seokjin’s fist.

Three hours later, Jungkook had a rough draft, Seokjin had untangled Kookie’s fur, and Jungkook finished one of box of pizza on his own, Seokjin felt too nauseous to eat. Jungkook rested his head in Seokjin’s lap.

“I don’t want you to leave.” He whispered.

Seokjin heard it, he his fingers through the younger’s hair. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered back.

Jungkook fell asleep with his head on Seokjin’s lap, Kookie was draped across his legs, and Seokjin was flipping through TV channels. His head was lolled back against the couch by the time Nam Joon got home later that evening.

That moment was the wallpaper on Nam Joon’s phone for months.

~~

The doctor didn’t tell him if cancer affected his eyes, he didn’t say anything about the chemo doing it either, but it looked like flowers were peeking out over the cubicles so something had to be wrong. Flower arrangements aren’t that large. Are they?

Seokjin followed the flowers until he arrived at Taehyung’s cubicle. “Oooh, someone’s got a boyfriend.”

“Shut up,” Taehyung smiled.

“They really went all out, the lilies are lovely,” Seokjin admired.

“They’re all just flowers to me, but they’re still pretty.”

Seokjin found the card first, read it, then handed it off to Taehyung, “So, how long have you and Hoseok been doing this thing?”

“Technically we aren’t.”

“Do you go to dinner together?”

“Yes.”

“Do you go to his apartment afterwards?”

“Yes.”

“Do you stay the night?”

Taehyung’s face turned red, “Sometimes.”

“And does he drive you home after making you breakfast?”

Taehyung smiled, “Yeah.”

“Boyfriends,” Seokjin sang, “How long has this been going on?”

“A month and a half, two months, maybe?” Taehyung shrugged, “Like right after you found about the cancer thing. I was sad, and well, he was there to cheer me up. Well, at first he was there to make sure I didn’t pass out at the bar or get abused by lonely middle aged freaks. But then he started showing up at my apartment on weekends to take me to the movies, whether I wanted to go or not, he didn’t take no for an answer. And there was licorice and popcorn – And the giant bear that was delivered to my apartment on Valentine’s Day, it was huge! Jimin hates it so much. He complains that it takes up half of the living room. Hobi’s the nicest guy that’s ever liked me… and sure he’s ridiculous and goes all out when doing things. But he means well, and he’s a sweetheart… so yeah…”

“You guys are cute,” Seokjin pinched Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung shoved him half-heartedly. Seokjin’s phone vibrated.

“Hobi is scared to come to my apartment because of you. He’s worried that you’ll rip off his balls or something like that.”

“I do need to give him speech about what will happen if he breaks your heart,” Seokjin snapped his phone shut, “but later. Now, I need to buy a present for my boss’s wife. It’s her birthday today, of course he forgot.”

“Don’t work too hard okay? Nam Joon would yell at me if you go home covered in bruises,” Taehyung advised.

“I’ll be careful.”

Nam Joon. Nam Joon with his black hair and tan skin. Nam Joon who worries too much. How often does Seokjin see Nam Joon?

The question plagued him for the rest of the work day. And by the end he had an answer: not often enough.

He also doesn’t see Kookie that often, it’s not fair that she has to spend all day by herself.

Or Jungkook, shouldn’t someone be home when he gets out of classes?

And Nam Joon, what if Nam Joon leaves his briefcase at home and needs Seokjin to bring it to him? That hasn’t happened at all in the seven years he’s worked at the newspaper, but what if it happened today? Or last week? Or next week? Shouldn’t Seokjin be home, just in case?

Home. Home sounds nice. He would learn how to cook those fancy meals they show in the movies. Or maybe he could finish that story he started writing his second year of college. There was so much Seokjin could do if he was at home.

They don’t need him at his job. There are more coffee fairies to be trained, more secretaries to be found. His boss would probably prefer a younger one anyway. One with a short skirt and big s.

When Nam Joon came home that evening, Seokjin told him, “I want to quit work.”

“What would you do?” Nam Joon rested his hands on Seokjin’s waist.

“Play with Kookie, clean the apartment, normal things.”

“Normal is good.”

“Yeah,” Soekjin kissed Nam Joon, “it’s nice.”