Archive of Our Own

Truly living meant loving deeply, even if it meant an inevitable fall. 

Soft and delicate petals fall from his lips like quiet expressions of a heart longing for the unattainable. Jisung understands that love, with all its bittersweetness, is both suffering and art. He has accepted that if he must meet his end, he would prefer it to be in love’s hands. 

He had never intended it to be like this; he didn’t want it to spiral so far out of control. He once believed this was merely a fleeting rush of emotions that would soon escape his mind, heart, and body. 

He was wrong. 

Now, three years later, the sight of Minho’s face, the shine of his eyes, and his pout still send a shiver down his bones. He knows it’s love, after all, his body has a permanent reminder: the thing that has taken root deep within him, an ache that never quite fades. 

But, how could he not have fallen in love with him? The way Minho laughed, the way he filled the room with warmth—each one a petal falling, each one a note in the symphony of his unrequited longing. Jisung’s heart beats in a rhythm that echoes with the knowledge of his fate, a cruel reminder that love, while beautiful, can be devastating. 

Yet, the thought of losing Minho is a torment he cannot even begin to imagine. In his heart, he knows—if love is to be his end, then let it be a glorious fall into the depths of what he cannot have.

❀.ೃ࿔

The coughs woke him up exactly at the same hour every time, every day. 

8:27 AM

His hurried footsteps carried him to the bathroom, where he knelt in front of the toilet. It was as if he were programmed for this—an unyielding clock ticking down to his fate. He had grown accustomed to it.

It hadn’t always been this bad; these scheduled coughs had begun less than a year ago. Before, the petals had been sporadic, easy to conceal among the mundane clutter of his life. But now, the evidence of his decline was painfully clear. Each cough brought forth a fresh wave of petals, rasping against his throat, a bitter reminder of the longing that consumed him. 

Today, though, something was different.

He glanced down, and his heart plummeted.

Blood. 

Not much, but enough to send a cold chill racing down his spine, spreading like ice through his veins.

Oh… ha.

He was dying. 

He had known this day would come, yet seeing it manifest in front of him didn’t make it less… nerve-wracking.

Seeing it like this… it felt real. Almost too real.

He took a shaky breath, the air thick with despair, and felt the familiar ache in his chest, the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him like a stone. Even in this moment of clarity, the thought of Minho flickered in his mind—his smile, his laughter, the way he brought light into Jisung’s darkened world.

Even looking at the blood before him, he could not say he regretted his feelings. He had already accepted that his heart had chosen this path, and despite the pain it brought, he would not wish it away.

So, with a sigh and shaky legs, he stood up, the cool ceramic of the toilet a stark reminder of the reality he faced. He flushed the toilet, watching as the petals and blood swirled away, leaving him with an emptiness that echoed the void in his heart.

He turned to the mirror, taking a deep breath, and as always, he put on the facade he had worn for so long it was almost real. His reflection stared back at him, eyes slightly red, lips pale, but he forced a smile. Everything was fine.

“Just another day,” he whispered to himself, though the words felt heavy on his tongue. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it down as if to tame the chaos inside him.

As he stepped away from the mirror, he felt the world’s weight settle back onto his shoulders. He had to keep going to maintain the illusion of normalcy, even if his heart ached beneath the surface. 

“Hey, you’re awake!” a cheerful voice called out as Jisung walked into the kitchen.

“Morning,” he replied, his voice still raspy from the early bathroom visit. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about it; the roughness would likely pass, making it seem as if he had merely woken up instead of having just thrown up loads of bloody petals. For that, he was grateful—another day without having to explain himself.

He knew he should talk to his friends sooner or later; they would find out eventually. After this morning, it seemed it was going to be sooner rather than later, but he would face that when the time came. Now, it just wasn’t the right moment. It hadn’t been for the past three years, after all.

Seeing the warm smile spread across Chan’s face, Jisung felt a pang of guilt. He couldn’t fathom being the reason for that smile to fade. “Do you wanna go out for breakfast?” Chan asked. “Binnie and I are going if you want to join.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung answered, trying to muster enthusiasm as he turned to head to his room. He hoped some fresh air would help clear his mind after what had happened.

“Go get ready, we leave in 20,” Chan called to his back.

❀.ೃ࿔

The restaurant was small and cozy, with a homey atmosphere that wrapped around him like a warm hug. Some tables were taken, but not so many that the place felt crowded. They took a seat at the back, closer to the bathroom—per Jisung’s request. 

He had claimed it was due to his fast metabolism, if only that were the real reason.

As they settled in, the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon filled the air. Jisung tried to focus on the menu, but his mind was still racing.

He looked out the window, watching as the snowflakes danced gracefully through the air, each one unique yet part of a greater tapestry. 

As the flakes fell, he couldn’t help but think of how fleeting this moment was—how each flake, beautiful in its own right, would soon melt away into the mundane. Would his feelings for Minho fade as well? Highly unlikely. It was too late now, anyway.

“Hey, you okay?” Chan asked, his voice laced with concern as he noticed Jisung’s distracted demeanor.

“Yeah, just… a little tired,” Jisung replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t want to worry Chan, not when his friend was creating a normal day for them.

They talked normally for a bit while waiting for their orders. Jisung found himself laughing at times, the sound feeling comforting. But despite the laughter, the shadows of his thoughts loomed large, whispering reminders of the truth he was still grappling with.

As they waited for their food, Jisung glanced around the restaurant, watching couples share quiet moments, friends laughing together, and families enjoying their time. A wave of sadness washed over him. He wasn’t going to be seeing any of these moments for much longer.

He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself in the present, when suddenly, Chan interrupted his thoughts with excitement. “I have to tell you guys something,”

“What is it?” Changbin asked, leaning forward, curiosity piqued.

“I’ve been waiting to tell you this news, but I was waiting for the confirmation and all that—anyway, guess what?”

“Oh my fucking god, just tell us,” Changbin replied, and Jisung chuckled at his impatience.

“Have you seen the news? That JYPEnt is debuting a new girl group? Well…” 

“No way. You’re joking,” Jisung scoffed, disbelief etched on his face, while Changbin gaped like a fish, processing the information.

“They asked if we can produce their debut album!”

“Shut up!” Changbin exclaimed, equally in disbelief as Jisung. “Have you accepted yet?”

“I’m going to, right now. I was waiting to tell you,” Chan smiled brightly. “Jisung… I was thinking. You’ve been writing new songs, love songs, right? I’ve seen you. I think they would be perfect for the group.”

Ah, yes. Because being in love with your best friend isn’t enough, you have to write songs about it too, and on top of that, let it kill you. 

Jisung’s mind raced. His writing of love songs wasn’t unusual; he often did so and made the lyrics pass as if they were about a show he’d watched or a book he’d read, so he didn’t have to worry about his friends finding the lyrics weird or looking too far into them.

“Yeah,” he smiled, though he fell quiet again, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. 

He picked at his meal, forcing himself to join the conversation while his mind wandered back to Minho, a gentle ache settling in his chest. 

“What do you think, Jisung?” Changbin’s voice broke through the haze, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts.

“Uh, what?” Jisung blinked, focusing on his friends’ expectant faces, their smiles bright yet tinged with concern. Chan leaned in, excitement sparkling in his eyes. 

“We were talking about the concept for the new girl group. What do you think about the whole ‘cupid’ theme?”

Jisung smiled weakly, the irony piercing deeper than he intended. “Sounds cute,” he replied.

“But—wait, how did JYPE find us?” Changbin asked, glancing between Chan and Jisung.

“A little birdy put in a word for us,” Chan replied, his grin widening.

“Who?”

“Guess who’s in charge of the choreography?”

“You’ve gotta stop doing that, dude. Stop making us guess,” Changbin whined, exasperated.

“Hyunjin, Lix, and Minho.”

Jisung’s head turned abruptly at the name. 

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?” Changbin’s worried expression made Jisung’s heart sink. He didn’t want to burden his friends with his reality.

Ever since this morning, he felt strange, as if death were breathing down his neck, shadowing him with every step.

“I am, I’m just—thinking about something, sorry,” he replied, forcing a smile.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell us, seriously, but we know you, and you’ve been weird all morning.”

“For real, I’m fine, I’m-” An unexpected cough rippled out of him from nowhere. Normally, he would feel the discomfort settle in his throat before he had to cough, but not today. The coughs came violently, and all he could do was bolt to the bathroom, hoping his friends wouldn’t ask too many questions.

Once inside, Jisung leaned over the sink, the cool porcelain grounding him as he struggled to regain his composure.  Each cough felt like it was tearing him apart. The petals bled out of him into the sink, their soft pink hue, which would be normally seen glimmering against the sun in a garden, now drenched in bloody spit.

After a moment, he took a deep breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t let his friends see him like this—not now, not when they were so excited about their future. With one last cough, he straightened up, gave himself a final look in the mirror, and stepped back out to face them.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m not feeling the best; it’s probably just a cold, so you guys don’t need to worry,” he said, forcing a smile that felt more like a mask than anything genuine.

He didn’t know if he could keep up with the lie. Deep down, he was terrified of how long his friends would continue to believe him. The petals felt like a ticking clock, and he didn’t even know how long he had left. 

Maybe it was easier this way. If no one knew, if he kept everything buried deep inside, then maybe it would make the reality of his situation less real. He could pretend, for a little while longer, that everything was fine.

As he rejoined Chan and Changbin at the table, he forced himself to focus on their words, on their excitement about the new project. Chan was animatedly talking about the girl group’s concept, his enthusiasm infectious, while Binnie chimed in with ideas for the album that made Jisung smile despite the ache in his chest.

Each laugh and each cheer just made him remember the distance growing between them and the truth he held even more.

“We can go home now if you’re feeling too sick,” Binnie asked, concern lacing his voice as he studied Jisung’s face.

“I’m fine,” Jisung replied, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. “Just a little tired, that’s all.”

The boys exchanged glances, and for a fleeting moment, Jisung wondered if they could see through his facade. But Chan just nodded.

“Alright, just make sure you take care of yourself. We need you to help produce this album.” Chan said with a wink, and Jisung nodded with a chuckled, the hollow promise hanging in the air.

“Hey, but—do you think you’ll feel better by tonight?” Changbin asked, eyebrows in a frown.

Oh, right. Jisung had forgotten about their plans, ironic considering that just the day before, he’d been buzzing with excitement. Now the heaviness on his shoulders threatened to smother that spark.

“Yeah, I mean, I promised I wouldn’t miss it,” he replied.

“It’s okay if you do. I can just tell the others-” Chan started, but Jisung cut him off.

“No, it’s fine, hyung. I want to go.” His voice was firm, laced with a desperation that surprised even him. 

He truly did want to go; he wanted to cling to the normalcy that felt increasingly fragile. He wanted to live his remaining days as he always had, wrapped in the warmth of his normal life.

But perhaps that wasn’t the only reason driving him.

After all, Minho was going to be there.

❀.ೃ࿔

The club lights shined bright against the darkness of the room, casting vibrant hues that danced across the walls, each pulse synchronized with the thumping bass that filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, alive with laughter and music, contrasting the cold, quiet night outside. 

He navigated through the crowd, searching for the familiar faces of his friends and feeling a flutter of relief when he spotted Felix’s bright hair.

“You’re here!” His arms wrapped around him in a comfortable hug.

“I am,” he chuckled, the sound almost genuine.

Soon after greeting his friends, an unknown beverage was hastily thrust into his hand, the music blaring loudly enough to drown out his anxious thoughts.

“Minho isn’t here yet?” Jisung asked, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.

“Oh, he stayed in the practice room working on a choreography, so he’s gonna be a bit late. Did he not tell you?” Felix sounded puzzled, as if the very idea of Minho leaving Jisung in the dark was unfathomable.

“I guess he must’ve forgotten, haha,” the chuckle sounded fake even to him. 

Minho always texted him—like clockwork, effortlessly, an unspoken agreement to share everything. It was what best friends did.

As the night wore on, each drink was a desperate attempt to drown his worries, the alcohol burning down his throat as he tried to forget the creeping sense of loneliness. But then, a hand wrapped around his shoulders. He turned to meet those familiar eyes, and in that instant, the noise faded away. 

He would never grow tired of seeing those eyes.

“Hey, there,” Minho said, a smile illuminating his face, and Jisung felt the world shift beneath him.

For a heartbeat, he was lost—mesmerized by the warmth of Minho’s gaze, and the way his eyes sparkled. 

He wanted to believe those smiles were reserved just for him—a secret treasure meant only for his eyes. But deep down, he knew better. The reality was far more complicated, and as much as he longed to be selfish, to claim them entirely for himself, he wasn’t in a position to ask for such a thing.

So he settled for dreams, for fantasies that played out in the quiet corners of his mind. But he knew that once his eyes opened and he woke, it would be only that: a dream. 

Dreams were all he had to hold onto.

“Hey. You’re late,” Jisung managed to say, his voice steadier than he felt.

Minho sighed, the sound light and airy. “Yeah, sorry about that. I was practicing some of the choreography. Chan told you already, right? He said he was telling you today. You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you, I almost spoiled it, but I wanted it to be a surprise.” His laughter rang like music, lifting Jisung’s spirits even as the tension coiled tighter in his chest.

With Minho smiling in front of him, he hesitated, savoring the warmth of the moment. But the reality of his situation weighed heavily on his heart. The petals threatened to choke him if he didn’t run now.

“Wait here for a sec. I’m gonna go pee,” he said, the words tumbling out as he turned, moving quickly through the thrumming crowd, desperately trying to ignore the curious glances that followed him. 

The bathroom was dim, the air thick with the scent of cheap cologne and echoes of laughter. He covered his mouth, feeling the petals clawing their way up his throat.

In the bathroom, he hesitated before kneeling in front of the toilet, but the urge to purge himself overwhelmed him. He spat out the petals into the bathroom and watched them swirl away.

“Hanahaki? Same,” a voice broke through his thoughts as he emerged from the stall. An unfamiliar guy leaned against the sink, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Too obvious?” Jisung asked.

He ignored the question, “How long?”

“Three years…”

“That’s a long time, I’m sorry,” the stranger replied, his tone sympathetic yet resigned.

“You said you had it, too, right? How long?” 

It was strange—the sudden want to connect and to know someone was going through the same thing. It was strange but also comforting.

“A year, maybe more. I don’t keep count,” he shrugged as if the number meant little.

Jisung sighed, their reality settling uncomfortably between them. 

“It’s fucked up, isn’t it?” The stranger continued, “We have to deal with a killer plant growing in our lungs for what? Something we didn’t even choose?”

“Are you getting the surgery?” Jisung asked, the question hanging in the air like a heavy cloud.

The stranger paused, running a hand through his hair. “I’m still thinking about it. A part of me doesn’t want to give him up, but it’s going to kill me sooner or later if I don’t stop feeling like this, so… I might not have another choice,” he said, with a hint of bitterness. “You?”

“Nah,” Jisung replied.

“Wow. So you’ve just completely given up, I’m sorry”

“It’s fine; I’m… fine,” Jisung insisted, though the words felt hollow.

Silence wrapped around them, the kind that felt heavy and oppressive. Finally, Jisung broke it, “I have to go—now.” He was about to leave when he realized something, “I didn’t get your name,”

“Mingi, you can call me Mingi,” The boy smiled.

“Jisung. Sorry,  I have to go now, or they’ll look for me, but I really hope it works out for you, Mingi.”

He just gave him a sad smile and a wave before they parted ways. 

Jisung hurried back to where he had left Minho, but the familiar spot was occupied by random strangers. Had he moved? Maybe he had been in the bathroom too long and got impatient. 

He scanned the room, searching for a glimpse of his friend.

Oh.

There he was, standing near the bar, laughing with what he could see were two incredibly gorgeous girls. Minho’s charming smile was directed at them, his eyes sparkling in a way that made Jisung’s heart ache.

He would be lying if he said that in the past three years, he hadn’t at least once thought that his feelings were returned. He had dared to believe that perhaps Minho felt something deeper, that the time they spent together, the laughter and the lingering touches, meant he was special to him. 

But moments like these shattered that fragile hope, forcing him back to earth. He might be Minho’s best friend, but standing there, watching him interact with someone so effortlessly captivating, Jisung felt small and insignificant. 

He might be Minho’s best friend, but he wasn’t special.

The warmth of their earlier moments faded, replaced by the cold reality. He swallowed hard, the petals in his throat reminding him of the love he could never voice, the dreams that would remain just that—dreams.

“Jisung! There you are! I’ve been trying to find someone; god knows where everyone is. Hyunjin is completely out of it,” Changbin said, struggling to support Hyunjin, who was leaning heavily against him. “I’m taking him home.”

Changbin said his goodbyes and soon was out of sight. 

Seeing Changbin and Hyunjin, Jisung felt a twinge of envy. He tried not to feel that way, but the constant reminder of what was unattainable for him hurt him to no end. He loved his friends, but he envied them for having the one thing he could never have; the very thing that could save his life.

“Hey! I saw Changbin head out. Did he leave already?” a voice startled him from his thoughts.

Jisung jumped, surprised by the sudden appearance. “Yeah, he just took Hyunjin home,”

“Sorry for disappearing on you, but, do you remember Soojin?” Minho’s eyes sparkledt.

Jisung’s eyes opened wide, “Oh my god, of course I do!” He exclaimed, a smile spreading on his lips.

“She came while you were gone and was telling me about her girlfriend, she was also there. She was so nice, Sungie. I almost went out to get you so you could meet them, but then they said they were leaving, and I couldn’t.” He gave him a sad smile.

Jisung giggled, and his heart warmed at Minho’s antics. “It’s okay. What else did you talk about?”

Jisung had known their friends for a long time, but he had known Minho even longer. He had known him since high school, unlike his other friends that he had met in college. But back then, it wasn’t only Minho and Jisung; it was Minho, Jisung, and Soojin.

They were always together and promised to always be until, of course, life happened. Minho and Jisung decided they were studying at the same college, but Soojin had other plans. Time passed, and slowly, the communication disappeared.

Minho continued talking about his conversation with Soojin and Shuhua— her girlfriend. 

Jisung felt the tension begin to ease. With Minho beside him, he found a temporary escape from his worries even if he was also the cause of them.

He found himself caught up in Minho’s joy, forgetting his own worries. It was like a superpower Minho had—with him around, Jisung could momentarily erase every doubt and fill his mind with thoughts of only him.

“Glad to see you back to normal,” Chan teased, suddenly behind them.

Minho furrowed his brows and turned to Jisung.

“I was feeling a bit sick in the morning,” he explained.

“You didn’t tell me,” Minho said, concern lacing his voice.

“It was nothing serious,” Jisung reassured, though the heaviness in his heart remained.

“Anyway, I just wanted to say I’m heading back to Lix’s, so don’t expect me home,” Chan said, turning to Jisung, who nodded in response.

It was extremely late, and he could feel the tiredness in his bones. He understood why his friends were starting to leave. Minho must’ve noticed his expression and offered, “Wanna get out of here?”

And, of course, he accepted. He would go anywhere with Minho.

The night air greeted them like an old friend as they stepped outside, the chill wrapping around Jisung, a stark contrast to the warmth of the club. The dim streetlights cast a soft glow, illuminating the path ahead, but for him, it was Minho’s presence that truly lit up the darkness.

“Where to?” Minho asked, a playful glint in his eyes,

Jisung shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

They walked side by side, the sounds of the club fading into the background, replaced by the gentle crunch of the frozen leaves beneath their feet. Jisung stole glances at Minho, the way the cold air made his breath visible, the way his laughter danced through the night, filling the silence with warmth.

“Do you ever miss high school? When we were just dumb teenagers who didn’t know anything?” Jisung suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

Minho’s expression softened, nostalgia washing over him. “Sometimes, but our life now isn’t so bad,” He nudged Jisung playfully, trying to lighten the mood.

“Right,” Jisung agreed, but he didn’t mean it. 

As they wandered through the quiet streets, the burden of his unspoken feelings felt heavier over his shoulders. But as he looked at Minho, laughing and so alive, he swallowed the thoughts again. Some things were meant to remain unvoiced, he thought, as fleeting as the snowflakes that fell around them.

“Hey, do you remember that time we got lost on our way to that concert?” Minho chuckled, shaking his head at the memory. “We ended up at that weird diner instead.”

Jisung laughed, the sound genuine, a balm for his troubled heart. “As if I could forget that. I still can’t believe you ordered that disgusting thing with the pickles,”

Minho chuckled alongside him, “Hey, someone had to order something, or they were kicking us out,” He defended, grinning.

Jisung snorted, “You could’ve ordered anything else. And! I remember you made Soojin eat it as well! I had to hold her hair as she threw up. I’ll never forget that,”

Minho threw his head back, laughing. 

These were the moments he cherished the most, the ones he would miss the most as well, all because everything he craved was just beyond his grasp, like the stars they used to wish upon.

“Jisung,” Minho said suddenly, his tone shifting to something more serious, pulling Jisung from his thoughts. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” Jisung replied, his voice barely above a whisper. The sincerity in Minho’s voice tugged at his heart, but he could never share the truth.

As they continued their walk, the snow began to fall more heavily, “We should get a cab,” Minho suggested, and Jisung nodded.

Some things were beautiful precisely because they were fleeting. 

He would keep his feelings hidden, tucked away like the petals in his throat, and wait for them to take him away like they intended to do the second he realized his feelings. 

The transient nature of such feelings made them all the more precious, a bittersweet reminder of what could never be yet always remained a part of him.

❀.ೃ࿔

The following days didn’t get any better—not that Jisung expected them to. 

Black dots would occasionally cloud his vision, and dizzy spells washed over him like waves, threatening to pull him under. He found himself carrying a bottle of water everywhere, hoping it would ease the discomfort in his throat, making the burden a little more bearable.

He couldn’t afford to feel like this—not now. Not when he was supposed to be working himself to death at the studio alongside Chan and Changbin. The pressure was mounting as they worked tirelessly on the album, a project that could change everything for them. 

Each note, each lyric felt like a stepping stone toward a future they had only dared to dream about.

They were all trying their best to achieve the highest quality results, pouring their hearts and souls into the music. This wasn’t just another job; it was their chance to break through, to open up doors they had only glimpsed from afar.  They could barely breathe (some more literally than others).

With each passing day, he fought against the physical toll his feelings were taking on him, determined to contribute to something greater than himself. He needed to keep going, to keep up with Chan and Changbin, no matter how heavy the weight in his lungs felt.

They couldn’t screw this up. The thought haunted him, fueling his resolve even as the petals threatened to suffocate him. Jisung took a deep breath, reminding himself that they were in this together. They were a team, and he would do everything in his power to ensure their dreams didn’t slip away.

A week into it, the arrangements for all the songs and most demos were finally completed. If they stayed organized and kept the momentum going, they could wrap up the recordings by the end of next week.

Apart from the exhaustion, It felt too good to be true.

The studio was littered with multiple coffee cups, each one a testament to the long hours they had poured into their work. 

An electric clock overhead blinked at 1:36 AM, its relentless ticking showing how late it had grown. Changbin had left a little earlier, his phone buzzing urgently with a call from Hyunjin that pulled him away from the music.

“It’s late, Jisung. We can continue tomorrow,” Chan said, stretching his arms as a yawn escaped him.

With a nod, Jisung stood up from his chair, the weight of exhaustion settling into his bones. He gathered his things slowly, reluctant to leave the warmth of the studio. 

He was a little hesitant every time he left. 

Those moments spent creating felt like a getaway from his emotions, but at the same time a way to push them all out without questioning.

He walked toward the door and glanced back at the scattered notes and the fading melodies. A part of him wished this would last forever.

The walk to Chan’s car was enveloped in silence, only broken when they settled inside, the hum of the engine filling the void. 

Chan let out a long sigh as he slipped into the driver’s seat, turning to Jisung with a genuine smile that radiated warmth. Despite the late hour, Jisung could feel the happiness emanating from him, a brightness he truly hoped would never be dimmed. If anyone deserved that joy, it was Chan.

But of course, the world had other plans.

As Chan was parking the car, a discomfort that brought tears to his eyes made itself present, a roughness clawing at his throat

He banged the car door shut with more strength than he probably should have—he would make sure to apologize to Chan later—and ran. He dashed up the stairs, grateful his apartment was only on the second floor, but with each step, breathing became harder.

“Jisung!” Chan’s voice called from behind, but he couldn’t slow down. 

Jisung was losing the fight against his body. He couldn’t hold it any longer. His mouth felt stuffed with petals, and dark spots danced at the edges of his vision, making it hard to focus. He needed the bathroom—fast.

He burst through the apartment door. Just a little further, just a little closer and he could spit everything out. 

He didn’t make it in time.

His vision blacked out completely, and his body hit the floor with a thud. Unconscious, he opened his mouth, letting the metallic taste of his emotions spill out, pooling on the floor beneath him.

Chan was right behind him.

❀.ೃ࿔

When Jisung finally opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his bed, the familiar surroundings feeling surreal. He scanned the room, praying what had happened was a nightmare he awoke from.

A soft knock on his door shattered the stillness.

“We have to talk.”

The weight of Chan’s words hung in the air. Jisung swallowed hard, his throat still rough.

He closed his eyes, mentally preparing for the conversation he had been avoiding since day one. This moment had always been inevitable; someone was bound to find out, and now it was here, knocking at his door with a seriousness that felt all too real. 

Jisung took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He could hear Chan shifting outside.

He knew he couldn’t dance around the truth any longer. The petals he had kept locked away had always threatened to spill over, it was only a matter of time before they unraveled everything he had tried so hard to keep hidden.

He reached for the doorknob and walked out. Chan stood there, concern etched on his face. 

He led them to the kitchen and signaled for him to take a seat. He turned around and opened one of the cabinets in front. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound was the gentle clinking of the cup as Chan took it out.

After pouring hot tea, he slid the cup across the counter towards Jisung. Jisung stared at the steam curling upwards, then shifted his gaze back to Chan, who now stood with his arms crossed, a serious expression on his face.

Jisung took the cup and looked at it again, he couldn’t look Chan in the eyes right now.

“Explain.”

To Jisung’s surprise, Chan’s voice cracked. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Who is it?”

Silence.

“I think you already know,” Jisung replied, voice a whisper, a knot tightening in his stomach.

At his answer, Chan passed a frustrated hand through his hair, clearly grappling with the reality of the situation. 

He did know.

“How long?” 

Jisung paused. “Three years,” he admitted, his voice so low he could barely hear himself.

Even without looking directly at him, Jisung could feel Chan’s shock radiating through the room.

“Are you suicidal, Han Jisung?”

Jisung finally raised his eyes to meet his, “I don’t want to die, but... the thought that it’s for him... it keeps me at peace,” Jisung said calmly, choosing his words carefully to avoid provoking a harsh reaction from Chan.

To his relief, Chan fell silent, his expression a mix of disbelief and sorrow, as if the weight of Jisung’s words had rendered him speechless. Finally, he managed to exhale, “...you’re crazy.”

“Dying at love’s hands isn’t so bad,” Jisung continued, a bittersweet smile gracing his lips. “I’ve made my peace with it. You should, too.” The warmth of his smile only deepened Chan’s heartbreak. 

“There has to be a way.” Chan insisted, desperation creeping into his voice. “Wait, I think I’ve heard something about surgery. Can’t you get that?”

Of course Jisung had thought about it, but he always arrived at the same conclusion.

 “There are a lot of risks, and…” He paused, gathering his thoughts before admitting, “I love him too much to forget about him.”

“So what? You’ll continue to suffocate until you die? Until that plant inside you kills you?” Chan’s agitation was palpable now, his frustration boiling over. “Why don’t you try telling him?” 

Jisung turned to look at him with an incredulous expression.

“The only thing that would change is the one thing I’ve been trying to prevent. He will never look at me the same; he’ll hate me and never speak to me again”

“You don’t really believe that, do you?”

Jisung hummed. “So unless you somehow get him to fall in love with me…” He knew he shouldn’t use sarcasm given the gravity of the conversation, but he couldn’t help it; it was an unserious suggestion meant to lighten the mood.

Chan’s expression shifted, a spark igniting in his eyes. “I just have to make him fall for you… right…” 

Suddenly, his whole demeanor changed; he wiped his tear-stained cheek where a drop had fallen and straightened himself. “I can do that.”

Jisung stared at him, disbelief clear on his features. 

He scoffed, “Don’t waste your time. If it was meant to happen, it would’ve happened,”

“So, you want me to let you die? Walk out of here and pretend nothing’s happening?” Chan’s voice rose.

“Maybe,” Jisung whispered.

“You know damn well that’s not going to happen.”

The room fell into silence. Jisung’s tea was now cold.

“You know you have to tell the others, right?” Chan finally broke the stillness.

“Please, don’t tell them,” Jisung shut his eyes tightly.

“And then what, Jisung? Let one of them find you lying dead on the floor one day, completely unaware of what happened?” Chan sighed, frustration and worry in his tone. “You wouldn’t do that to them.”

Jisung lowered his head, resting it in his hands. Chan was right, and the realization stung. “I will tell them, just—just not now.”

“If not now, when? Do you know how long you have left?”

Jisung didn't answer.

“Exactly,” Chan pressed. “You either tell them by next week, or I will.”

 ❀.ೃ࿔

He went to Felix first. 

“I just don’t understand what he wants, like-” Felix ranted, his frustration spilling over as they sat at a little table at their usual coffee shop. Jisung munched on some cheesecake, listening intently as his friend vented about his relationship with Chan—if it could even be called that.

“He really likes you, Lixie, it’s obvious,” Jisung reassured.

“I know he likes me, he just doesn’t act like it sometimes and it stresses me out. I know he has work, I understand, I really do.” Felix’s eyes were wide with exasperation

Jisung looked at him.

“I do! What I don’t get is how he can ghost me for a whole day! You don’t see Changbin doing that to Hyunjin and they have the same work!”

“Chan just gets more caught up in it, I’m sure that if you ask him, he’ll tell you,”

“Of course, you’re on his side; he’s your roommate,” Felix shot back.

“I’m not on his side! I think he should talk to you, but if he isn’t doing that, then you should talk to him,” Jisung insisted.

Felix rolled his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah.”

Jisung snorted, then shifted the conversation. He didn’t want to talk about relationships right now. “Hey, how are things going with the group and the choreo? Minho didn’t tell me much.”

“Oh my god, they’re the nicest girls ever!” Felix exclaimed. “They’re all so cute and amazing dancers, though, some do flirt with us a bit—with Minho more, which is funny because they’re literally banned from dating,”

“They flirt with you guys? Isn’t that… unprofessional?” Jisung raised an eyebrow, surprised by the casual nature of it all.

“Nah, we’re like friends now, so we don’t really care,” Felix replied, taking a sip of his coffee, his tone light.

Jisung’s mind still raced.

Minho didn’t care that girls flirted with him? He had known Minho for a long time and was aware of how private and professional he was about his work. The sudden shift in Minho’s demeanor puzzled him. When had he changed?

Trying to shake off the thoughts nagging at him, Jisung focused on Felix’s animated descriptions of the girls and their dance practices, but a sense of unease lingered in the back of his mind. He couldn’t help but feel that time was slipping away faster than he had anticipated.

He suddenly remembered the main reason they were here today.

“Hey, Felix…” Jisung picked at the skin around his nails, a nervous habit he had developed over the years.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation he had rehearsed countless times in his head. “I-”

The loud buzzing of Felix’s phone interrupted him. 

“It’s Chan,” Felix exclaimed, his eyes going wide with surprise. “I have to answer.” Without waiting for a reply, he swiped to answer the call, his full attention shifting away from Jisung.

Jisung sighed, feeling the opportunity slip through his fingers. He could tell him later; there was always later, but the weight of that thought was heavy. He tried not to show the frustration he felt, even though his heart raced with urgency. He hardly had time from work as it was, and he still had five people to tell.

Felix’s chatter on the phone faded into a muffled background noise as Jisung’s mind wandered. He watched his friend, a smile plastered on his face as he spoke to Chan, and felt a pang of envy mixed with sadness. Felix was so carefree, so wrapped up in his own whirlwind of feelings, and here Jisung was, about to shatter the very foundation of that joy with his own troubles.

What if he never found the right moment? What if he lost them all before he could even explain? Chan was right, the thought of leaving them in the dark, of them finding out too late, gnawed at him.

Felix finally hung up, his face alight with excitement. “Chan wants to meet up later! He said he has something important to say!”

Jisung forced a smile, but inside, he felt a tight knot of anxiety. “That’s great, Lix,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “What about?”

Felix shrugged, “No idea. He just said it was important. Maybe he finally wants to talk about us?”

“Maybe,” Jisung replied, though a part of him felt the weight of impending news pressing down harder. He had to tell Felix soon; he couldn’t keep this secret hidden for much longer. But as he looked at his friend’s hopeful expression, he wondered if he could bear to shatter that hope just yet.

He tried telling Seungmin next, knowing that the perfect opportunity was just around the corner. Seungmin was coming over to JYPE for some demo recording sessions he was in charge of, and Jisung planned to seize that moment

“Hey, Jisung.” Seungmin greeted.

“Hi, Minnie, you ready?” He asked as Seungmin got into the booth.

“You know I am.”

They got to work, the music filling the room and momentarily distracting Jisung from his thoughts. He watched Seungmin as he focused on the demo, the way he poured his heart into every note—every note he himself had written with only Minho on his mind. 

“Hey, let’s grab some coffee,” Seungmin suggested, breaking Jisung from his thoughts. “We can talk about the session and if you want to change anything.”

That was the perfect opening. He could just tell him over coffee and get it over with.

Just as they reached the café area within JYPE, they were interrupted by a flurry of activity. A few staff members rushed past them, clearly in a hurry, and a couple of other trainees joined in.

“Wow, what’s happening?” Seungmin asked, glancing around.

“I don’t know,” Jisung admitted, feeling the moment slip through his fingers once again.

“Should we check it out?” Seungmin suggested, his curiosity piqued.

Jisung hesitated. This wasn’t how he had envisioned telling Seungmin would go. But as they mingled with the crowd, he realized his chance had vanished for now.  

With Hyunjin, it could go differently, he thought. It didn’t. 

“Oh hey, Jisung! How are you? Good? That’s so good to hear! I heard you haven’t been feeling so good; I’m glad to see you’re better!” Hyunjin rambled on. He enveloped Jisung in a tight hug, the warmth and comfort of it momentarily soothing Jisung’s frayed nerves.

“Did you come to see me? I’m sorry, but I have to head out right now, we can talk later, bye!” He said, flashing a bright smile before turning on his heel and disappearing down the hallway. 

Jisung stood frozen in front of the apartment door, the echo of Hyunjin’s footsteps fading into silence. The moment had slipped away yet again, leaving him feeling more isolated than before. It somehow had gone even worse than the other times; he couldn’t even utter a word.

He leaned against the doorframe, frustration bubbling up inside him. How could he keep letting these opportunities pass? It was like the universe was conspiring against him, pulling him back every time he tried to open up. Jisung felt a swell of emotion—anger, sadness, and an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness.

“Why can’t I just say it?” he muttered to himself. Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself away from the door and turned to leave. 

Jeongin. Yang Jeongin—how could he ever dare erase that boy’s smile from his face? 

Jisung had planned to meet up with him for lunch. 

He spotted Jeongin at a table by the window, his smile radiant and inviting. Jisung’s heart swelled with affection for the younger boy.

“Hyung!” Jeongin beamed, his eyes sparkling. “I was worried you might cancel again.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” Jisung replied, sliding into the seat across from him.

Just as their food arrived, however, the café door swung open. A group of their friends burst in, laughter and chatter echoing around them. Jisung’s heart sank as he recognized Changbin and a few others making their way over.

Jeongin’s face lit up at the sight of their friends. “I hope it’s okay I told them to come.”

Jisung felt trapped as the table grew crowded. As the conversation bounced from one topic to another, he found himself fading into the background.

As the lunch progressed, Jisung forced a smile, joining in on the laughter, but inside, he felt a growing sense of isolation. 

When the lunch finally wrapped up, Jisung felt exhausted. “I’ll talk to you later, Jeongin,” he said, standing up and giving a small wave to the group.

“See you, Hyung!” Jeongin called out, his voice bright and cheerful.

He tried the last person he wanted to tell, next. 

Changbin was like an older brother to him, and the thought of how he might react filled Jisung with a mix of dread and anxiety. He didn’t want to imagine the disappointment or the worry that would cloud Changbin’s face. 

But right now, as he sat beside him in the studio with Chan in the bathroom, he felt like another chance like this wasn’t likely to present itself again. 

“Hey, hyung,” Jisung began, taking a deep breath. The sound of the recording equipment and the distant chatter of the people with them faded into the background, leaving only the two of them in a bubble.

“Yeah? What’s up?” Changbin replied, glancing over with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

Jisung hesitated, his heart racing. “I’ve been dealing with something… something serious,” he started, his voice low and shaky. “And I really need to tell you about it.”

Changbin’s expression shifted, a hint of concern replacing the casual demeanor. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

“I know,” Jisung said, swallowing hard. The words felt heavy on his tongue. “It’s just… I don’t want to worry you.”

“Jisung, you’re my family. Whatever it is, I’m here for you,” Changbin reassured him, leaning closer, his eyes searching Jisung’s face for clarity.

“I-” He tried to speak, but no words were coming out. “It’s… complicated.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands and placed his elbows on the desk.

“I’ve known you for years, Jisung. Nothing you say will change the way I see you or how much I care about you. You don’t have to go through anything alone, and if you don’t want to talk now, I’ll hear you out whenever.” Changbin said, his tone more serious now. 

Jisung felt his eyes sting.

But before he could respond, the door creaked open, and Chan stepped in. If he felt tension in the air, he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he approached with a smile. “What did I miss?”

Jisung’s heart sank. Once again, he had missed a chance.

“Nothing much,” Jisung said, his voice strained as he diverted his gaze. “Just talking about the session.”

“We should probably get back to it,” Chan replied. He moved to set up the equipment, leaving Jisung and Changbin in a moment of silence.

Jisung felt the tension linger, the unfinished conversation hanging heavy in the air. As they resumed their work, he couldn’t shake the feeling of regret. He had let another chance slip through his fingers.

❀.ೃ࿔

As he lay in bed the next day, a thought came to him—Why was he so fucking stupid?

The realization hit him hard, and he felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He grabbed his phone and called his friends.

It was never that hard to find a moment to tell them; he had just been purposely avoiding it. 

He had been dodging the truth for so long that his brain shut down automatically whenever he was faced with the idea of opening up. It was never that hard to just call them and tell them to meet up. 

That heavy feeling of anxiety, knowing he had to tell them either way, started to affect his sleep, he wasn’t having that.

He scrolled through his contacts, his finger hovering over their names. He had enough of this mental tug-of-war.

He hit call on Changbin’s number. The ringing felt agonizingly slow, but he held on. 

“Hello?” Changbin’s voice came through.

“Hey,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Can we meet up? Like, soon? I need to talk to you about the thing I wanted to tell you yesterday.”

“Of course, is everything okay?” 

“Yeah, just… Can you call the others? You can come over,” Jisung replied, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

“Sure. Give me a sec,” Changbin said, and Jisung could hear him shuffling around. A few moments later, Changbin replied, “Okay, I’ll text them now. At what hour?”

“Like at four is fine.”

“Sounds good.”

“Wait, just one more thing—don’t tell Minho,”

Changbin was silent for a few seconds before answering, “…Okay.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

As Jisung hung up, he felt a wave of nervous energy wash over him. This time, he wouldn’t back down.

❀.ೃ࿔

Jisung didn’t want this afternoon to be dramatic or sad. 

Sure, he was about to tell his friends that he was dying soon, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t have fun, right? Jisung had made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t let the gravity of his situation overshadow the time they spent together. 

Before heading out, he had texted Chan to let him know their friends were coming over. Jisung stepped outside, the cold air hitting him as he ventured onto the street. 

He didn’t go out walking to the crowded streets often—the thought of an episode striking while he was surrounded by strangers made his heart race. He envisioned himself fainting on the sidewalk, the scene playing out all over the news. 

His outings had become limited to a nearby coffee shop, a cozy little restaurant just down the way, and Minho’s apartment. He kind of missed the feeling of being carefree.

Before, his friends used to joke that he and Minho were basically roommates instead of him and Chan. He had practically lived at Minho’s place, dropping by every day. Now, he only made the trip on Saturdays, when they could carve out time for their weekly movie nights. It had become a precious routine to Jisung, but it wasn’t enough to fill the void he felt from being so distant.

He missed being so close to Minho.

Arriving at the shop he was looking for, Jisung took a moment to collect himself before stepping inside. 

He was going to try and make things a little fun. As he walked through the aisles, his eyes roamed over the shelves lined with expensive alcohol bottles, each one glimmering under the soft lights. Even if his friends weren’t in the mood after, maybe the alcohol would help his friends swallow the pain away, and dull the edge of the news he was about to share. 

He paused in front of a particularly striking bottle of whiskey, hummed to himself, took it, and grabbed a few bottles of beer as well. He wanted to create an atmosphere where they could talk, laugh, and maybe even forget, if only for a little while.

Once he had made his selections, he headed to the counter. He paid for the alcohol, feeling a strange sense of normalcy. This was something he could control.

As he stepped back outside, the cool air hit him. Jisung took a deep breath and began walking. 

He glanced at his phone; the time signaled that his friends were probably already at his place. It felt like a blink later when he found himself standing in front of his apartment building. He climbed the stairs, swearing he could hear laughter echoing through the walls.

He opened the door, setting the drinks on the counter with a soft thud. He walked to the living room. His friend’s laughter filled the place like sunlight, but he couldn’t keep finding excuses to keep quiet.

He had enough.

“I have Hanahaki.” he blurted out and slumped his body on the couch.

The room fell quiet. The laughter faded into an eerie stillness as all eyes turned to him, wide with shock and confusion.

“What?” Felix asked.

Jisung could feel their eyes on him; he didn’t want to see the worry etched on their faces, but he knew he had to continue. “I’ve had Hanahaki… for a while,”

No one said anything, Jisung took it as a sign to continue.

“I thought I could handle it, but it’s getting worse. I’ve been hiding it from you all because I didn’t want to worry anyone, but… it’s too advanced now.”

Changbin moved closer, his brow furrowing. “Jisung, this is serious. Have you seen a doctor? You need to-”

“Stop,” Jisung interrupted, shaking his head. “I know what you’re going to say but I’ve made my choice,”

The room felt tense. He could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. Everything felt too real all of a sudden.

“Is that why… Minho isn’t here…?” Hyunjin softly asked. Jisung answered with silence.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Jeongin asked softly, his voice breaking the heavy silence. “We’re your friends. We would have been here for you.”

“I thought I could just deal with it on my own, I was wrong,” Jisung admitted, shame washing over him. “I’m sorry, I really am,”.

“But, wait.” Felix let out a breathless laugh but eyes were bright. “What are you talking about? You’re not—you’re not dying, silly. You can’t be, you can’t die, you can’t—die,” he repeated over and over, now clinging to Jisung's shirt.

“How did you even hide it from us?” Seungmin asked, “How did we not notice?”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” Jisung replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought it was just a phase. I thought if I ignored it, it would go away. But it didn’t. It just kept getting worse.”

“Worse how?” Changbin pressed, crossing his arms as he tried to process the gravity of Jisung’s words. 

“Blood, dizziness, amongst other things…” Jisung admitted, the shame flooding his cheeks. “At first, it was just a petal here and there, but now it’s entire blooms. It hurts. It feels like I’m suffocating, and I can’t breathe without thinking about him. It’s like my heart is literally breaking.” 

The room remained silent.

Felix’s grip on Jisung’s shirt tightened as he buried his face against him. “There must be something we can do… there has to be—you can’t—you can’t.”

“Felix, please,” Jisung said softly, reaching to stroke the back of his friend’s hair. “It’s not that simple. I’ve already made my choice. I don’t think I’ll be able to fight this for long, I’m tired.”

“Hyung, you’re not alone in this,” Jeongin interjected, his voice steady despite the tremor Jisung could hear beneath it. “We’re your family. We’ll figure this out together. You don’t have to face this on your own.”

“Exactly,” Chan spoke up, stepping forward. “You’re not allowed to give up. We’re going to support you no matter what. If you need help, we’ll find it. We won’t let you go through this alone.”

Jisung looked at Chan. “There’s nothing you can do…” He whispered.

“Stop thinking that way!” Changbin said, his voice rising slightly. “We’re not going to let you think like that.”

“Tell him,” Seungmin calmly suggested, catching everyone’s attention. “What? Why are we crying? This issue has a very clear solution.”

“Yeah, if he actually returned my feelings, which he doesn’t,” Jisung replied, feeling the familiar sting of disappointment.

“I think everyone apart from this dumbass can agree that what Minho feels isn’t exactly friendly,” Seungmin continued.

Felix finally pulled back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Wait, that’s literally true.”

“Just—please try it,” Hyunjin urged, taking one of Jisung’s hands on his own. “We all know Minho. Even if there is some unlikely, out-of-this-world chance that he doesn’t return your feelings, he would never—ever—hate you. You’re his favorite person.”

As he looked around the room, Jisung saw the look in his friends’ eyes. And weirdly, he allowed himself to hope. 

“Okay,” he said, his voice shaky but resolute. “I’ll try. For all of you.”

That felt like a conclusion to the conversation he spent long years of his life avoiding.

“I brought a bottle of whiskey,” he whispered, breaking the silence that had settled over them. 

No one answered, and he briefly wondered if it was inappropriate to mention it at that moment, but Changbin’s “Take it out.” made the worry vanish.

❀.ೃ࿔

The next morning, Jisung felt like he was on the brink of death. His friends had left at the crack of dawn after indulging in an unhealthy amount of alcohol, and despite that, his body refused to let him rest.

He groggily opened his phone, squinting at the bright screen that displayed the time: 8:27 AM and only one text saying, “Don’t forget movie night.” As if he ever could. With a sigh, he shut his phone and hurried to the bathroom.

Once inside, he leaned over the toilet, coughing violently, the sound echoing in the small space. He barely bothered to keep silent anymore; the discomfort was too intense to mask. Following his routine, he flushed the toilet and moved to wash his teeth.

As he brushed them, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dark circles under his eyes and a pale complexion met his eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder how he would make it through the day.

He still had to pop up to the studio to check some things with the album, but after that, he was completely free. Completely free to let his overthinking overwhelm him.

The clock struck exactly 5 PM when he made it out of the studio and exactly 5:30 PM when he arrived at Minho’s apartment.

He knocked on the door twice.

“Sungie!” 

Jisung smiled. “Hyungie!”

As they settled into the living room, Minho asked, “Do you already know what you want to watch?”

“You know what I’m going to say,” Jisung teased.

“I do,” Minho replied with a grin.

“Do you really want to watch that? Even though we’ve seen it enough times to recite it backward?” Jisung giggled.

“Would it make you happy?” Minho asked.

“Maybe,” Jisung admitted, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Then yes. I would watch Howl’s Moving Castle as many times as you want, as long as you’re happy,” Minho joked.

Jisung chuckled, his heart fluttering at the thought. “Well then, I guess that leaves us no choice.”

“Howl’s Moving Castle it is. As long as my baby’s happy.” Heat rushed to Jisung’s cheeks at the endearment. He knew Minho was joking, but the affectionate term sent his mind racing.

They settled on the couch as the movie began to play, Jisung sitting a friendly distance away from Minho.

Minho seemed to have other plans. He scooted closer, their shoulders brushing together, igniting a warmth that spread through Jisung’s body. Minho threw a leg over Jisung’s, prompting him to turn his head. Their eyes met, locking in a gaze.

He was so close and so warm.

That’s when it happened.

He didn’t even have time to choke out an excuse. He felt light on his feet as he sprinted to the bathroom, urgency propelling him forward. Kneeling in front of the toilet, he let the remnants of his fate escape him; his body wracked with coughs that felt like they were tearing him apart from the inside.

He coughed and coughed. The now full-sized flowers scratched his throat as they came out, a painful reminder of the love that had choked him for so long. Once the relentless coughs subsided, he let out a heavy sigh, the sound echoing in the stillness of the bathroom.

Spreading his legs out across the cold bathroom floor, he rested his head on his hands, feeling fatigue wash over him like a tide. Dizziness swirled in his vision, but he knew he had to get back to reality. With one final sigh, he braced himself to lift off the floor.

But there was no air.

Panic gripped him as he gasped, lungs screaming for oxygen, the tree rooted in his lungs making it impossible, its branches suffocating his breath. The more he struggled for air, the harder it became, and despair clawed at his throat.

If this was the end, he thought, then let it be filled with the love that had once ignited his soul, even if it was never returned. He would leave behind a garden of petals, a testament to a heart that dared to dream.

He closed his eyes. He embraced the fall with open arms, ready for the plummet. But it never came.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” a shaky voice whispered in his ear, the sound wrapping around him like a thin blanket. His body felt too weak to respond, his eyelids heavy and reluctant to part.

He had been convinced he was dead, so why? Why was the world so cruel to present him with this image when he was finally going to rest in peace from feeling?

As he slowly blinked open his eyes, he was met with Minho’s tear-stained face, red and puffy, eyes wide with fear and concern. That was the last thing he wanted to see—the reminder of all his unfulfilled desires, the embodiment of the love that had brought him to this moment.

“Jisung,” Minho choked out, his voice trembling. The panic in his expression broke Jisung’s heart anew, and he felt the weight of his own emotions crash over him. Minho was here, and despite the pain, despite the petals, he was alive.

“God, you stupid idiot,” he sobbed against his chest, the grip on his body a bit too strong for the frail boy in his arms. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jisung didn’t know how to answer, the soreness in his throat making it impossible to form words. Instead, he mustered the strength to lift his hand, cupping Minho’s cheek gently, wiping away the tears that flowed freely.

With Minho’s shiny, swollen eyes locked onto his, Jisung felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He didn’t know what he could do to earn Minho’s forgiveness. He could see the hurt etched in his features, and the weight of unspoken words hung heavily between them.

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispered, closing his eyes as his own tears began to fall, mingling with the ache in his heart.

“I thought you knew… I thought you knew…” Minho murmured through broken sobs, his voice muffled against Jisung’s chest.

Maybe Jisung’s hearing was failing him, too. He could hardly grasp the meaning behind those words.

“Knew what?”

Minho shifted, lifting his head to meet Jisung’s gaze, the earnestness in his eyes cutting through the haze of pain.

“I love you.”

Three words. Three words he never expected to hear aimed directly at him. Three words echoed in his mind, a distant memory he had buried so deep he had forgotten how they sounded.

A cold bucket of icy water was suddenly dumped on Jisung’s brain. “What…?”

The smile that broke through Minho’s tears was a fragile one, but it illuminated the depths of his heart. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time. I thought you knew; I thought you were just too shy to tell me.” He lowered his head, tears continuing to fall.

Jisung’s heart raced, a tumult of emotions crashing over him. He had spent so long nursing his own feelings in solitude, convinced that they were unreturned and unworthy. 

“You love me?” he repeated as if saying it aloud could make it any more real.

“Yes,” Minho breathed, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. “I was so scared that I would lose you without ever telling you.”

At that moment, everything shifted.

The pain in Jisung’s chest seemed to ease, replaced by something hopeful. The petals, the blood, the suffocating fear—it all felt less daunting now. He had been so focused on his own suffering that he had failed to see the love that had been right in front of him, waiting patiently.

“I—I didn’t know,” Jisung stammered, his heart swelling with a mix of relief and longing. Jisung felt a rush of warmth flood his chest, and the world around him began to fade. “I’ve been so scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of losing you, scared of what this all meant.”

“You don’t have to be, not anymore.” With Minho’s words wrapping around him like a lifeline, Jisung felt his heart begin to mend. 

Jisung leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Minho’s. “I love you, too,” he breathed, and in that moment, the world felt right again.

Minho moved his head a bit, but he couldn’t tell if it was him who kissed him first. 

It felt like a long-awaited dream finally coming true. A rush of heat surged through Jisung's body. He deepened the kiss, feeling his breath on his skin as he pulled him closer. It was a mix of urgency and tenderness as if all the longing they’d held back was finally unleashed. 

In that kiss, he felt all his feelings come to life, and it was everything he hoped it would be.

❀.ೃ࿔

The alarm buzzed and buzzed. 

Jisung opened his eyes, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings.

“Sorry, did my alarm wake you?” 

He looked at his phone. 

10:31 AM

He smiled.

Before he could respond, Minho shifted, his body suddenly draped over Jisung’s. 

“M’sorry for waking you,” he mumbled against Jisung’s neck, snuggling impossibly closer. Jisung instinctively wrapped his arms around Minho, feeling a rush of warmth and comfort.

“Mhm,” he sighed contentedly into the embrace. He could never grow tired of this.