With tears blurring his sight, Park Chanyeol tried his best to fold a square piece of paper, making sure it’ll turn out as a perfect crane as possible despite the fact that his hands were shaking and he was folding the paper quite in a hurry. The flat line he was hearing inside the Intensive Care Unit and the word “Clear!” being projected through the mouth of the doctor deafened his ears; he needed to focus on his paper cranes. If he could make three hundred more in a span of a few minutes, he was positive he’ll be able to save his sister.

   “Hold on, noona.” Chanyeol whispered to himself as he finished the fifth paper crane and got another piece of paper to start on the sixth. His tears were dropping on the paper but he couldn’t care less. He was only focused on saving his sister and if a wish was all he’s got, he’ll do anything to get it.

   Chanyeol was too concentrated to even notice the doctor come out of the ICU. He remained seated on the floor, folding the paper to create another crane, whereas his parents rushed towards the man who will deliver them the news. Park Yoora, his sister, got into a bus accident and was in a coma for four months already. She’s had occasional seizures, which are part of being in a coma, but the one that happened earlier that day led into a flat line. Everybody knew what it meant when a doctor shakes his head and for the first time, Chanyeol looked up when he heard a piercing cry coming out from his mother. Mr. Park was holding her close to him but his cheeks were also soaked in tears.

   The words “I’m sorry” coming from the doctor was what broke Chanyeol from his trance. He quickly returned to folding his sixth paper crane and once done, he placed it down and grabbed another piece of paper. “Hold on, noona.” He whispered again and started folding it.

   “Chanyeol, son . . .”

   He ignored his father. For the past four months, all he’s done was fold paper cranes at home, in school, and right beside his sister, who was lying lifelessly on the bed, and then he’ll write down his initials “PCY” so that when his sister wakes up, she’ll see that those paper cranes were made by none other than her younger brother. He had always told her to “wait until I finish the one thousandth crane, noona.” And he knew he heard the unspoken promise of his sister, saying that she will. For the past four months, he’s folded more than seven hundred paper cranes, sometimes even causing him to get paper cuts and have his fingers calloused but he didn’t mind. All he needed—all he and his sister needed—was just one wish: that she’ll wake up soon and everything will go back to normal once again.

   “Park Chanyeol!” Mr. Park pulled his son up and slapped some sense across his face. The fourteen-year-old boy froze at what his father had done and his half-made paper crane fell from his hand to the floor to join the other finished paper cranes. Everything was quiet after that; Mrs. Park had gone inside the ICU to try and shake her daughter awake but to no avail. “She’s gone,” His father sobbed the words. “Chanyeol, your sister is gone.”

   “No,” Chanyeol whispered and shook his head right after. His sister’s too young, only seventeen! “No, she’s not . . . She can’t.” More tears spilled from his eyes. He was about to get his paper cranes from the floor when his father pulled him into a tight hug.

   “That’s enough, son.” He said in a cracked voice, “You’ve tried your best.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I’ve been dying to write a fanfic about paper cranes and this is the best I could think of. ; ; Anyway, this story contains . . . some fail psychological and medicinal stuff because I’m not really in that field and I’ve just done little research. /slapped by yous. This story is just fiction. None of it is true and I mean no harm whatsoever. *knocks on wood* And yes, this is a Chanli story, squeals. I hope you’ll like it. ^ ^

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters, just the story and the plotline. Any form of plagiarism will not be tolerated. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.