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There’s an ache in his chest that’s been there for weeks.
It’s a dull throbbing most of the time and it’s easy to not think about it and what it could mean. He can still go about his day as if nothing is wrong. He can sing and dance and smile and smile and smile.
Then there are minutes, hours, days when he’s in agony and it’s all he can do to keep going. When everything he does takes all that he has and he just needs to keep going – somehow – he needs to keep just putting one foot in front of the other.
It’s in those moments that Jongdae’s smile, his laugh, his voice become his reason to keep on going. They give him strength as much as they take it away. They buoy his spirits and yet they, too, mock him and his pain. They are so perfect and like a moth to a flame he can’t keep away, no matter how much he gets burnt. He doesn’t want to keep away. He would rather die a thousand deaths than to live one lifetime without Jongdae by his side.
To know him, to touch him and breathe him in…
It is enough.
He doesn’t expect Jongdae to love him back. He doesn’t expect Jongdae to even realise Minseok is in love with him. What Minseok wants and what he feels isn’t important, not when Jongdae is involved.
He is the sun and Minseok is tiny and insignificant in comparison, just a foolish thing taking the risk of being burned alive just to feel his warmth.
He does everything he can to make the other man happy, to keep him smiling, and it’s so much easier to do that than focus on the pain that grows more and more terrible as the days continue to slip away.
He acts the fool whenever Jongdae is getting too serious. He takes the lead when Jongdae doesn’t want to think. He listens whenever there’s something Jongdae wants to get off his chest. He comes home with Jongdae’s favourite drinks and snacks whenever he leaves the dorm.
He makes Jongdae his whole life and flies closer and closer to the sun with every breath.
He doesn’t mind that Jongdae calls him his best friend. Minseok thinks that is enough if that’s all that Jongdae wants them to be.
Nothing matters as long as Jongdae is happy.
Nothing.
Not even how much Minseok loves him, how willing he is to give him his heart. Jongdae deserves to be happy and Minseok knows he can’t be that if he forces Jongdae into feeling something he doesn’t.
So, he keeps quiet.
He smiles and dances and he sings and he smiles and he smiles.
The pain in his chest gets worse.
Minseok pretends everything is okay even as his breath becomes shorter and exhaustion seeps into his bones.
“Are you okay, hyung?” Jongdae asks him.
Minseok tries harder.
Except he can’t keep his food down and the ache in his chest is now a permanent agony and he can’t sing or dance or smile without the world spinning and threatening to fade to black.
And then Jongdae meets someone new.
Minseok coughs up blood coated petals.
Jongdae is the sun and the vines in Minseok’s chest twist and grow and reach for him. He chokes on petals and the blood and still he tries to smile for Jongdae.
Jongdae doesn’t have the same time for him as he once did. He doesn’t turn to Minseok when he needs cheering up or if he wants to talk. He doesn’t depend on Minseok when he’s having a bad day or take the same pleasure from Minseok bringing home his favourite food.
Still, Minseok tries because he loves Jongdae with every fibre of his being and he just wants him to be happy. If that means Minseok fades into the background then that’s okay because Jongdae is burning more fiercely than Minseok has ever seen him.
He looks beautiful.
The pain grows and it spreads.
Minseok wheezes after the simplest of movements and he has to be careful to keep the blood from staining his lips. He tells everyone he’s ill so he doesn’t have to get out of bed and pretend everything is okay. They believe him because he’s thin and pale and his voice is rough and jagged.
He tries to hide the truth.
But he can’t hide the petals.
“What are these?” Jongdae demands when he find them sticking to Minseok’s his lips, his chin, the front of his t-shirt. “Who is it, Minseok? Who?”
Minseok coughs and he chokes and he drowns.
The last thing he sees is the horror on Jongdae’s face as a single flower bursts past his lips and blooms.
He wakes a week later and there is a fresh scar running down his chest from the base of his throat to his belly button and he feels empty and dead.
There’s a stranger there, too, by his bedside and his expression is as cold as a winter’s day.
“Hello.” Minseok whispers.
The stranger’s face crumples and he sobs and he runs his hand through Minseok’s lank hair.
“Hello.” He says. “Do you know who I am?”
Minseok searches his memory, the man’s name on the tip of his tongue, and he remembers nothing but an ache.
“My name is Kim Jongdae.” The stranger tells him. “And I was too blind to see that you're my sun.”