Chanyeol, like the burning ember of a candle, flickers off almost instantly. Weeping becomes snoring, and the tears freeze on his cheeks. He didn’t fall asleep because he was exhausted, or lethargic in any way, he just didn’t want to face me, hear me, or even know I exist. I stagger away from his sleeping figure, holding my head in my hands and I head to the bathroom. What kind of a sister am I when he would much rather speak of his problems with a stranger and not someone connected by blood? I shut my eyes, my fingers clawing into the basin. First I treat him like a fly, just waiting for the day he drops dead; now, I become green with envy because there’s someone who prefers seeing him alive.

  I’m a monster. No, scratch that. I’m the definition of a human.

  I say I want him to die for his own freedom, because he has his own will to escape from the hospital; but really, the main objective for this, in my eyes, is my own freedom. The thing is, I have my right to leave the hospital, but I don’t. In my opinion, I’ll say that it’s because I want to tend to my brother if things go wrong; but I know that isn’t the case. As a human, I will find someone to blame and pin my own mistakes against, I will use him as my wrong because it’s in my nature to only accept my rights and to discard my major blunders. Why is it that when Baekhyun and I are both humans that he is the hero and I play the villain?

  Without opening my eyes, I twist the knob and water sprays into the sink. I scrub my face vigorously, feeling like I’m peeling away a layer of skin from my face, but if I do, I will still be stained. I open my eyes and tears just come pouring out, I scavenge for a towel, but instead, I see a creased paper on the edge of the countertop. A lump forms in the back of my throat as my eyes skim across the words, my lips quivering as I silently mouth them.

  Most of the scribbled letters have been blurred, smeared with thousands of tears, but I know too well of what was on it. Why didn’t I dispose of it more carefully? I run back to the doorframe, but Chanyeol is still fast asleep, a smile sprawled, tugging at his cheeks as he dreams. Most likely of Baekhyun.

  One step back and I accept.

  Baekhyun will be in first place.

  Two steps back and I close the door.

  Twins yet the differences list down.

  Three steps back and I sigh.

  At least Baekhyun will light up his day.

  Honestly, I am at a loss of words, just how could I even take a step out of here? Okay, let me just rest in here for the rest of my life, rotting, disintegrating… How ironic, I was the one complaining about being healthy but chained inside a hospital, yet here I sit… dying. I scramble back up, my mind stirring, too many things constantly playing at once.

  Red.

  Yes, red. The tinge of anger, the heat of lava, the blood of a broken heart, red, everywhere. It’s all red, nothing is bright, everything is just a mix of anger and the remains of a crumbled heart. It rises, erupts, and spills. I throw my fist against the countertop, pain gnaws at my nerves, but I throw my fist down again. Harder, stronger. All the fingers are pointing at me, self-pity circles around like a cocoon. I’m the one to blame. I broke Chanyeol, and the result is just me becoming broken too. I whine and press my forehead against the wall, pleading that like a mouth, it could just open up and swallow me whole. I’m so stupid! I grunt, but I still bite back the scream, only punching the wall over and over again, until the patient on the other side jerks up from their sleep. Without any conscience, I flail and scream, not realising I knocked over his medications until there is the clack when it hits the ground.

  The red and white pills collapse and scatter on the floor, all tainted and unable for him to consume. I breathe heavily, solutions blank, until finally, the red is gone, but the reality is much much harder to face. I grab my head, my fingers intertwining with my hair, stress steaming from my ears. Things easily go from bad to worse because just then, guess who walks into the bathroom? No, not Chanyeol, Baekhyun.

  I gasp, my mouth mumbling and muttering incoherent noises, but Baekhyun’s eyes scan from the pills and gradually, like a tightening choke, lands onto my eyes. “N-no… I… it was on accident!” I grasp his collar, “I’m not trying to kill my brother, I’m not! I want him to do it himself!” Baekhyun heaves out a sigh and places a gentle yet firm grip onto my shoulder and squeezes it.

  “You know… you shouldn’t worry about that.”

  I whip his arm away and groan, “Do you know how much it costs to get these prescriptions? These are special for his condition and I can’t afford to get anymore. Please…” my sight blurs, “could you spare some money for him?”

  “I would.”

  “Then why don’t you?” I scream again, suddenly forgetting rights from wrongs and I find myself, shrieking, and punching this innocent man. Strangest thing is, he isn’t even trying to stop me. He lets me attack him, lets me create bruises on his flesh, and just lets me release all my fury. I reach the point where I lose everything and the next moment, a millisecond after my punches, I’m on my knees, head on the wall and just ready to give up. “I’m the most horrible… horrible sister…”

  Baekhyun kneels down, running his fingers through his waterfall of chocolate hair and whispers, “You’re not horrible, Chanyeol thinks you’re amazing.” I lift my head, feeling the running snot and red watered eyes, but I listen, because even though I wish for Chanyeol’s death, I want him to know that I’m always there. For him. With him. Forever. “Don’t buy even more medication. It’ll only waste money. He told me he doesn’t need them anymore and-”

  “What?”

  At that moment, colour drains from his face, his mouth drops and his eyes dull. “He told me that… the doctors said he can survive without medication so he doesn’t take them anymore. He… he said that everything would be okay and that you already know he hasn’t been taking any for a month, so there was no reason for me to tell or ask you. Chanyeol said… that he’ll live. Please…” he waves a hand in front of my face, “Tell me he was telling the truth.”

  “He’s dying, he still is, and he lied to you. My brother, the person I know the most, is half-dead and there’s no possible way for him to gain that lost life of his! Here you are - a stranger - telling me that my brother is going to live and that there’s no purpose for him taking his medication? Why didn’t I notice? Am I that blind?” I don’t know how Chanyeol could sleep through all this havoc, but maybe, he’s already asleep. Eyes closed, troubles sinking, mouth formed in a smile - that’s the reality I want. “Call the doctor, I don’t know how severe his condition could get.”

  Like an answer to my question, Baekhyun and I hear coughing and sharp intakes of air in the other room. I curse under my breath and Baekhyun is already on his way out, when I reach his side, I see a sprawled, frightened, and dying Chanyeol. His mouth is gaping and his hands are placed on his chest, Baekhyun is the first to run to his aid. Alarms blare, nurses run, Chanyeol coughs, Baekhyun follows, yet I refuse to move.

  Goodbye Chanyeol.

  Time to let go.

  Run free.

  But please… wait for me.