Tonight, Chanyeol couldn’t rest, he wouldn’t, not when the constant buzz of Baekhyun’s voice whirled endlessly in his mind. His voice, Chanyeol told me the moment his visitor left, reminded him of a soft and dulcet lullaby, one that makes him tranquil, but he won’t go to sleep listening to it because he wants to be awake to hear the next verse. He says that he doesn’t need the roses, and they gradually wilt by his bedside, the rims already brown; he only wants to see Baekhyun and for him, that was enough.

  After the visit, the rest of the day was filled with Chanyeol’s newly discovered aspirations and dreams of being a part in a band and uncover his buried love for music. It was odd, him dreaming about a future which had a narrow likelihood of happening, but it was as if Baekhyun, the male who I still consider a stranger, is a cure in my brother’s eyes. Before, we didn’t even think about speaking of the future as Chanyeol knew that it was a slim chance and most of his life had already been devoured, but he spoke so gently of the years ahead in a way that implied he was certain it would occur; and it made me think, for the slightest moment, that we were freed from our distress.

  All because of that boy Baekhyun.

  I didn’t expect a visit to have changed my brother this much. Never had I predicted a single person to have lit the once-extinguished flame in Chanyeol’s heart, much less a mere stranger. Though, much to my disbeliefs, it did happen. He spoke endlessly of the visit that his words became a constant rhythm in the hours of today. Every once in a while, he would remind me of that boy, somewhat afraid that he may forget him too. Now, after a final stir in his sleep, he mutters the name of ‘Baekhyun’ several times and there comes the snore.

  It may seem like a perfect ride for now, but what if Baekhyun one day decides this is all too difficult and deserts Chanyeol as a fragment of his past? What if he accepts that he is better than just a caregiver of a sick boy? What if he enlightens and elates my brother only to break his heart in the end? What if their friendship is already filled with cracks that will one day fall apart? What if Chanyeol loses his will to live a second time? With that, I scrunch my eyes and grunt, trying to remove the questions which I don’t want answered.

  How strange is it for something so simple to completely change someone’s perception on life? Just a single visit and the life which was once only tainted with sickness had been transformed to something unexplainably beautiful. Chanyeol hadn’t cried himself to sleep this night, instead, he whispered the name of the boy who changed him and he spoke with a smile so genuine. I’ve witnessed him trying to conceal his negativity with a fake but positive smile that shadowed his true emotions like cakey make-up. Today? There was simply no negativity to hide. Strangely, his illness hadn’t shown itself either. As if Baekhyun really was a cure, an angel descending from above, Chanyeol didn’t cough or wheeze.

  It was as if, despite all the science I know, Baekhyun really did remove his cancerous virus.

  I am tired, my eyelids feel like they weigh a thousand kilograms and every once in a while, I yawn, but I can’t fall asleep. The thing that keeps me awake tonight is not Chanyeol’s weeping, but rather his encounter with his first friend. I haven’t experienced many friendships in my lifetime, but from the books I’ve read, don’t friendships someday end or slowly drift apart? My negativity emerges once again and I decide that now is the time for me to sleep before I start hating on Baekhyun for no reason. After all, it’s me who expects him to demolish my predictions of the future.

  In the first time since we’ve arrived to the hospital, I awaken peacefully and to the steaming scent of fresh-out-of-the-oven bread. I thought I was back when I was four, huddled under the covers in my room which was decorated with every shade of pink. Toast for breakfast, not microwaved hospital food, and because of this, my mouth starts salivating. The smell wafts around around the room, dancing and spreading like confetti, my mouth waters, and my eyes bulge, but the nostalgic feeling of home had disappeared. The whiteness of the hospital is back and somehow, the aroma of perfectly baked bread had dulled. What’s stranger is that I’m the last one awake, and that Baekhyun boy is back.

  “Jennifer!” Baekhyun shouts as he notices me grumbling and sitting upright, “You probably get so sick of hospital food, and thankfully, I work at a cafe. My manager throws out a lot of food, so he let me take a fresh loaf.” Chanyeol is already slurping away at his slices, his chomping echoing. In a way, I feel like I’m intruding their breakfast together; it’s as if I’m the one visiting, as if I’m the one who’s not always here. Baekhyun places down jam and toast on a paper plate on my lap and I mumble a thanks. Even though he called my name, Chanyeol hadn’t even acknowledged me. Am I not important to him now? Is it because he’s already ruined my life so now he just wants to ruin Baekhyun’s? No, no, my brother isn’t like that.

  Since we were born, I was always the selfish one.

  “Good morning, sis,” Chanyeol says between bites, but he doesn’t even lift his head, nor does he even take his eyes off Baekhyun. It’s like saying greetings to me is a procedure, but not something he would actually want to do. I reply, but our conversation ends there. At this very moment, I feel my significance wither.

  Baekhyun’s eyes flicker at his watch, then at the clock, after one rapid gulp, he jumps to the door. “My shift starts in ten minutes so I need to head out now,” he pulls the door open and Chanyeol discards his slice of bread, runs up to him and pouts. “Don’t worry, Yeollie, I’ll visit a second time today. Promise.” Chanyeol beams again and after a farewell, Baekhyun slips out and Chanyeol heads back to his unfinished breakfast, still not batting an eye at me.

  My stomach is in knots and the bread no longer tastes like it melts in my mouth, it seems stale and my mouth spits out every crumb that goes in it. Now Baekhyun calls him Yeollie? It seems as though we were never siblings, just broken shards of each other’s life, and now, Chanyeol shatters me from his. “Yeollie! Wait, do I need your permission to call you that? Is Baekhyun the only one who can call you nicknames?” He doesn’t flinch at my voice, only pays full attention to the half-eaten bread in his hands. The crumbs fall from the corner of his lips and he wipes them away with his hand, the same way he wiped my existence from his life. If he yelled at me, that would hurt less than him saying nothing at all. Maybe he found a special switch that muted my voice from his ears, blurred my figure from his sight, and made my scent bland from his smell.

  “Hm?” He utters from his mouth stuffed with bread.

  “I hate you!” I clasp my hand over my mouth the instant those words leave. I never thought of them, they just came out in retaliation to him ignoring me. There is no meaning behind them either, I love my brother, and he should know that. Instead, he drops the slice of bread onto his plate, watches it hit the floor and the jam stain the whiteness. Tears well up as I see the smile, for one second, falter.

  He shifts uncomfortably before wrapping the blanket around his face to shield him from my words that stab him like daggers. I hear him sniffle, whine, and quietly sob; and I’m afraid that I’ll soon do the same. His words cut me off, his heart-breaking words that strike bullseye into my heart.

  “I know.”