Minhae let out a nervous chuckle, glancing from the older boy to Junhong. The older boy had dark, black hair, the opposite of Junhong’s lighter blond hair. He seemed very pale, almost to the point where he looked anaemic, with a very skinny, frail frame. It was as if saying a word would be strong enough to break him. But his face showed otherwise; he had a stern look on his face, yet strangely, he exhibited a warm aura.

                “Junhong,” he said, breaking the silence between the three. His voice was strangely deep, but it was soothing, in a weird kind of way. Almost comforting even. “Is this your friend?” Looking closely, Minhae realized that he had a small smile on his face; some way or another, this man seemed to have a very strong relationship with Junhong.

                “A friend, yeah,” Junhong responded half-heartedly, still gazing at Minhae with a look of fear on his face. She didn’t understand why though. Why would he look so fearful? What was he so afraid of? After a second, he snapped back to reality, blinking a few times before issuing an introduction. “Minhae, this is my...” he hesitated, “brother.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the boy had a look of surprise on his face, though, he quickly masked over it. “Yongguk, this is my friend, Minhae.”

                Awkwardly, Minhae gave a small bow, unsure of how he would respond. Yet, when she looked up, he broke out into a grin, his gums becoming visible. It was heartwarming to see, but she couldn’t understand why. Just his smile managed to make her feel lighter, if possible.

                “It’s nice to meet you Minhae,” he greeted. She was still in awe by his lower than low voice, a voice that could rival the deepest caves and darkest secrets. She felt as if his voice could reel out all of her deepest and darkest secrets. She gulped. “I hope Junhong isn’t being too bad to you.” He laughed, causing Minhae to let out a few giggles too. Junhong, on the other hand, didn’t look too amused, a pout on his face.

                “Yongguk, I’m not that bad, I promise!” He whined, causing Minhae to laugh. It was the first time she had ever seen him act like that, which shocked her to no ends. It was crazy how much a person could change in front of their family; how they can act like an entirely different person. Minhae slowly reached in her bag, pulling out a notepad, starting to write. For some reason, she felt as if she was able to be herself around Yongguk. It was just the aura he emitted; it was so strong, yet warm and welcoming.

                “It’s fine, Junhong’s not that bad,” she wrote down, showing the pair what she wrote. She noticed Yongguk raise his eyebrows in surprise, but he didn’t give any other reaction. He didn’t question anything, which she liked about him. Maybe she could get used to visiting.

                “Junhong, be nice,” He laughed. Yongguk then looked at Minhae, a more serious look on his face, though he still seemed content. “Minhae, aren’t you the one who gave Junhong the letter?” That question made Minhae freeze; it was embarrassing, acknowledging it. How weird would it sound if someone said that an anonymous person put a letter filled with compliments and a flower in your locker? She was afraid of Yongguk thinking she was strange; she was tired of people thinking that. But from what she saw of Yongguk already, she knew he would judge her based on something like that.

                Slowly, she gave a small nod sheepishly, shuffling her feet. She watched as the smile grew on Yongguk’s face, his gummy smile noticeable.  

                “Yongguk, you... don’t bring that up!” Junhong said, causing Yongguk to look at him in slight surprise. Junhong sighed, running his hand through his hair, but she noticed a small smile on his face. He seemed to really adore Yongguk.

                “What? Is something wrong?”

                “No, it’s just... nevermind.” Junhong turned to Minhae, starting to question her. “What are you doing here anyways? Are you hurt?” She shook her head, beginning to write.

                “My brother is taking his cast off, so I came with him. But I got a bit lost...”

                “A bit, huh?” Yongguk said, chuckling. His laughter was suddenly interrupter by a hoarse cough, making Minhae take a step closer in alarm. But she froze. What could she do?

                “Are you alright?!” Junhong exclaimed, watching Yongguk with worry. He quickly grabbed a cup of water, handing it too him. His hand was patting Yongguk’s back, his face filled with concern. His coughs started to die down, and he slowly started to drink the cup.

                Minhae watched, her face getting pale. The situation gave her slight deja vu, reminding her of something that happened a while ago. She clearly remember it as well; the dry coughing, the blood, the cries. She let out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. It was truly horrible, something an 12-year old shouldn’t have seen.

                “Don’t worry, I’m fine, thank you, Junhong,” she heard Yongguk say, snapping her back to reality. Still, the image of that day was still burned on the back of her head for four years. Yongguk seemed to notice. “Minhae, are you okay?” Quickly, she nodded, though, her eyes said otherwise.

                “I’m fine. You should worry about yourself... Are you alright?” Minhae wrote, showing him the notebook. He opened his mouth to respond, but ended up letting out a loud cough.

                “This happens often, so don’t worry,” he responded, waving it off. Junhong just looked at him with concern. He was rearranging things on the table next to the bed, though she noticed that he was jittery. ‘I’m perfectly fine. Junhong, you should calm down. Take a walk with Minhae, okay? I’ll be completely fine.”

                “But--” Junhong shot back, being interrupted by Yongguk.

                “The nurses will be here, Junhong. I’ll be fine,” he gave the two a big grin; it was something that made Minhae feel completely safe and at home.

Yoo Youngjae [17:21]: minhaeeee where are youuuu

Yoo Youngjae [17:21]: respond!!

Yoo Youngjae [17:21]: dad’s gonna kill me if i lost you at the hospital

Yoo Youngjae [17:22]: just imagine... i go home and tell dad i lost you at the hospital and kicks me out of the house!!!!!!1!!

Yoo Youngjae [17:22]: woops i didnt mean the 1. but still respond!! daehyun is crying bc of you!!

                Minhae slightly rolled her eyes at the texts, a silent laugh escaping her lips. She couldn’t help but find the texts her brother sent hilarious. He didn’t even sound worried about her: he sounded more worried about making her laugh. But it was good enough. A laugh was hard to pass by these days.

Yoo Minhae [17:22]: i am alive, just wandering the gardens

Yoo Minhae [17:23]: they’re gorgeous!!

                “Who are you texting?” Junhong asked. Immediately, she could tell he was still scared about what happened back in the hospital. He was slightly shaking as the two walked down the stairs. When they got out the hospital, into the gardens, he seemed to calm down a bit, but he still seemed nervous. As they walked around the gardens, Minhae had to raise her arm up, blocking out the glaring June sun.

                She showed him her phone, and he looked over her shoulder, which was easy due to his height. He took his time reading the name of the contact. “Your brother, huh?” He pondered. “Aren’t you mad at him or something?”

                She looked up him in confusion, tilting her head. She started to write in her notebook. “Why would I? Did he do something bad?” He looked down at the ground sheepishly, almost as if he thought he would sound stupid if he continued talking.

                “No, it’s just that...” He responded, barely audible. She strained to hear him, but didn’t pester him about it. “I mean, he doesn’t talk to you. Doesn’t that make you feel... I don’t know, bad?”

                “Well, Chorong, Eunji and Seohyun don’t talk to me either,” she retaliated, waving the notepad in his face to lighten up the atmosphere. He didn’t seem to notice her efforts.

                “I know, but don’t you feel mad at him? For not talking to you, I mean... Do you not feel mad at your friends?” He suddenly got quieter. “I would be really mad if Yongguk stopped talking to me.” That was when Minhae froze. Her walking started to slow down, and she stood still in the same spot-- thinking. “Minhae?”

                Was she really okay with it? Eunji, Chorong, and Seohyun stopped talking to her, her brother won’t even acknowledge her in public and she was alone. She tried so hard to forget about them; studying, watching shows, reading books... but nothing ever worked. Always, in the back of her mind, were her friends. She even tried to trick herself to think that she was okay... but she wasn’t.

                The texts weren’t enough. The apologetic glances weren’t enough. Nothing was ever enough. All she wanted was to look forward to hanging out with her group of friends at school. She didn't care much about her grades or how others thought of her. But when everyone thought of her as the same thing, an outcast, it made things difficult...

                Slowly, she shook her head. Minhae was shocked with herself, but she didn’t want to lie. Something about Junhong made her want to always tell the truth; she thought she could call it a skill of his. Maybe it was because he was so lost, hurt, and lonely throughout all these years. She didn’t want to disappoint him.

                “I’m… a bit disappointed, I guess…” she wrote down. She hesitated as she passed her notepad to Junhong, waiting anxiously for his response. Maybe he asked that to test her; what if he thought that she was a selfish freak? She noticed as he pressed his lips together, as if he was disappointed in her in some way.  He heaved a sigh, startling her.

                “Honestly, I can’t help but feel the same way…” He responded, shuffling. “I mean, I know it’s not their fault, but… I want them to talk to me.”

                “When did you start being ostracized?” She wrote. Minhae couldn’t help but be curious about his situation.

                “Second year, maybe?” He responded. She widened her eyes at his response, unable to process what he just said. That meant that he was alone for over one year. She softened her eyes at him, feeling his pain. “I used to hang out with quite a few people in first year; like Hayoung, Yoonho, Seokwon, Chanmi, Jungkook, Sooyoung… but I guess they all just floated away into their own separate groups.”

                She sulkily nodded at his response, knowing exactly how he felt. She was abandoned, whether it be her own mother abandoning her or her friends. Though, she know that none of them had a choice and that if they did, they would choose to stay with her. Or so she thought, at least. The two sat down at a bench, underneath the shade of a tree. Junhong rolled his shoulders back, stretching his long body.

                “I’m scared that Eunji, Chorong and Seohyun will forget about me sooner or later...” she showed him. He only heaved a sigh.

                “Honestly Minhae, it’s possible,” Junhong stated. It was true, but it still stung. She was saying those words over and over again to herself, but hearing someone else say it made it sound more real, more devastating. She pressed her lips together, unable to respond. “Let’s just forget about all that...” He paused. “What do you think of Yongguk?” She was slightly taken aback by the question.

                “What do you mean? Like his condition...? Or...?” Personally, Minhae was still confused about Yongguk. She didn’t have a clue about his condition; she didn’t understand why he was in the hospital, why he was coughing so much, or why he was so frail. It just reminded her of her mother’s cancer. But she didn’t want to press Junhong. She knew that if someone continuously questioned her about her mother, she would break down.

                “Whatever you want to say. Write, I mean.”

                “I like him.” She wrote down.

                Jokingly, Junhong replied, “Please don’t hit on him! He’s like 6 years older than us!”

                “No, not in that way!” She frantically scribbled, her handwriting barely readable. “He seems warm. And inviting. Kind of like a big teddy bear.”

                “Yeah... I guess,” Junhong mused. “But he lost a lot of weight recently. It’s because of his illness you see... Leukemia isn’t very nice on the body.” There was a pause. Yongguk had leukamia. “But I still look up to him. I’m sure he’ll make it through." Leukemia was different from cancer, but she knew one thing: that both are illnesses that slowly away one’s life. She suddenly thought back to her mother. Minhae and Youngjae thought the same thing too; they thought that she was going to live, through treatment and chemotherapy. But their dreams and wishes were crushed in less than a day. She didn’t want to bring Junhong down, so she decided to shut up, only nodding along.

                “I hope he gets better soon...” she wrote down.

                “He’ll get through it. He has a strong mind.” She slowly nodded to his words, staring at the flowers around them.

                It was mid-June; the weather was extremely sunny and bright. It made everything seem so much more hopeful and uplifting than it really was. She wished that she could be optimistic about the situation. She tried and tried, but every time she thought about it, she would get frustrated to no end. If it was gloomy and rainy, it would seem to fit my feelings more.

                “The flowers are awfully pretty, huh?” She heard Junhong say to himself, staring at them. Rather than staring at the flowers, she suspected he was, instead, lost in thought. Minhae just assumed that he was making small talk to fill in the silence. But it was okay; she didn’t mind it. She didn’t feel awkward at all, but he could feel otherwise.

                “Yeah...” she scribbled down, staring at the flowers more closely. They were so colourful that it seemed to make Minhae blind; a bright combination of yellow, red, purple and orange was sure to surprise the eye. But they were somewhat comforting to look at.

                If no one was there, flowers were the next best person to talk to. They wouldn’t spill any secrets, and they would give you a nice smelling scent. They were also gorgeous, so when you walked around with one, people would think you’re beautiful in personality as well. Or so that’s Minhae thought.

                “But really, I don’t have an interest in flowers. They’re kinda... eh,” Junhong continued. Minhae widened her eyes at him; how could someone dislike flowers? They were pretty, and they smelled nice. A whole room can just brighten up with just one flower.

                “Seriously? Flowers are so pretty, I love them,” Minhae wrote down, not feeling rushed for once. She stopped thinking about the bad things: her friends, Yongguk, her dad. She was completely focused on the flowers. “I know so much about them too!”

                “Really? How so?” Junhong slightly raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile tugging at his lips. He seemed curious.

                “Well, I know the types of flowers.” She had been to gardens all her life, with her mother, especially, which caused her knowledge of flowers to expand.

                “Then what’s that?” Junhong asked, curiously, pointing at a group of flowers.

                “They’re tulips, obviously. Even a six year old can draw that type of flower!” She wrote down, laughing. Junhong joined in.

                “Well, I’m sorry! I never went to gardens or anything.”

                “Really, how come?” She flipped to the next page of her notebook, drawing a tulip for him. It was nothing extraordinary; in fact, it looked more like a first grade drawing, but it didn’t bother either of them.

                “I don’t know,” he shrugged. “My mom... didn’t really bring me to those types of places.” Suddenly, she could sense the atmosphere darkening. She felt that his mother, or childhood, at least, was a sensitive topic. Before she could write a response, he continued, in a cheery voice. “What else do you know?”

                “The language of flowers,” she wrote down immediately, starting to doodle in her notebooks. Roses, daisies, sunflowers; she was drawing them all. He just watched her with curiosity.

                “What’s that? I never heard of it before. Language of flowers...? Nope.”

                “It’s like...” she paused, unsure of how to explain the concept. She continued to write. “Most flowers represent something. Color is important too. It’s like how a white tulip could symbolize forgiveness. You could use it to apologize or forgive someone. At least I think that.”

                Suddenly, Minhae watched as Junhong widened his eyes, looking as if he remembered something important. She tilted her heard to the side, questioning him about what he was thinking about. Though, he just shook his head at her. She tried to think back; what would make him look as if he remembered something? Maybe a family member or something gave it to him... Then, it hit her.

                She remember giving him a white tulip. When she was writing his letter, she decided it would be best if she attached a white tulip to it, thinking that it would tell him that she was sorry. But obviously, he didn’t know the language of flowers at all. How stupid was she? She completely forgot the fact that other people might not know that language of flowers.

                “Really...? Didn’t you give me...?” His voice got quieter, and quieter, to the point where he wasn’t audible. Sheepishly, she nodded at him. She might as well tell him; what was the point of hiding it from him? Sure, it was a bit embarrassing, but they were friends. He just gave her a smile; she could tell he was content with what she said. “So, you were saying sorry for not talking to me? Or something? Sorry, maybe I’m just being arrogant, thinking that you wanted to talk to me, haha.”

                She shook her head, and rushed to write a reply down. “No, no, no, it’s not like that! I actually wanted to say sorry! I mean, I understood how you felt...”

                “What do you mean you understood how I felt? No one can understand until they experience it. Being at school for 10 hours a day with no one to talk to... At least I have you to talk to.” He smiled at her. It was the type of smile that she had never seen on his face before. It was pure gratefulness; it was as if he was grateful that he had someone to talk to. Nothing about his smile seemed fake. It seemed so inspiring, so uplifting, and so beautiful.  

                “I just... do. Understand your feelings, I mean...” She wrote in her notebook. He solemnly shook his head.

                “Personally, I can’t find anyone that can understand me. Not yet.”