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When Matthew arrived at the cafe he adjusted his nasal cannula behind his ear before stepping inside. Matthew wasn’t surprised his match was already inside, he was the first to message and eager to meet in person. He had picked a table blanketed by sunlight near the window. The cafe buzzed with life and laughter a stark difference from Matthew's bitter mood. Gunwook shot up as soon he noticed Matthew, wiping his palms on his cargos and offering his hand.
He looked down at Matthew, “Nice to meet you!” That big gummy smile was the same as in his profile photo. His cheeks were naturally flushed and his dark hair peaked through a beanie.
“Bit strange meeting someone like this don’t you think,” Gunwook chuckled as they settled into their seats. Matthew nodded, squirming against the warm chair. “But exciting!”
A few months ago on his way out the clinic for the last time, a nurse had shoved a pamphlet into Matthew's hand. “It's gonna be hard but find one thing to smile about.”
Last Connection the scream glowed back at him. A chance to meet someone terminally ill just like him. A chance to make a superficial connection. The mouse hovered over the ‘Apply’ button. At that moment it was one of the dumbest things he could’ve done, he heaved a sigh as he right-clicked.
“So, are we supposed to compare diagnoses now, or is there a ‘getting to know you while dying’ pamphlet I missed?” Matthew asked, focusing on a stray crumb on the table rather than meeting Gunwook's eyes.
Seemingly unfazed by Matthew's dry humour, Gunwook chuckled as he mentioned skipping morbid formalities. Matthew’s eyes shot up to meet Gunwook’s, a flicker of genuine surprise momentarily erasing his blank expression. No one ever pushed back against his bluntness; they usually got the hint and retreated. But not Gunwook… He stirred their conversation into a stream of stories about his hobbies and how much he enjoyed exploring places and learning new things. Gunwook had a passion for life that even his illness couldn't extinguish. While some hobbies had become too difficult, he clung to them, adapting and finding ways to stay engaged even when his body protested. While Matthew found it difficult to relax—his anxiety a constant hum beneath his skin—he couldn’t deny the strange pull of Gunwook's genuine warmth. It was as unsettling as it was comforting.
As they stood to leave, Gunwook asked to meet again. Matthew’s stomach lurched. He should say no, things are easier that way. But something in Gunwook's eyes made it impossible to refuse.
“...Sure,” the word a reluctant surrender. But he was already coming up with a plan; hang out with him sometimes—he’s human, he gets bored—but don't get too close. Should be simple enough.
𝜗𝜚
“I’ve always wanted to bring someone here,” Gunwook greeted him at the botanical garden’s entrance, his excitement palpable. He leaned on a cane covered in stickers. At first, Matthew ignored every buzz of his phone but, to his dismay, that nurse's words rang in his head every time a notification from Gunwook appeared on his screen.
“More often than not I can’t get through the whole garden without stopping to rest but it's just so beautiful I keep coming back. And I thought maybe you’d enjoy this too.”
Matthew felt a wave of anger wash over him as he realized Gunwook had brought him to a place that held special significance for him. His anger wasn't directed at Gunwook—he just couldn't reciprocate the energy Gunwook needed. Gunwook's attempt to make this more than superficial was what Matthew wanted to avoid. The fact that Gunwook chose to share this experience with him , of all people, left a bad taste in his mouth.
Despite the self-hatred that gnawed at Matthew, the sights in front of him were breathtaking. Shades of greens and pops of reds, oranges and yellows unfolded before his eyes. Bushes were shaped into things Matthew wouldn’t have imagined and butterflies danced around them. It was almost enough to distract him from the tank of oxygen he had to tug around everywhere he went. Gunwook shared facts about everything he could as they took their time walking through the space. He sometimes cut himself off to share another fact, and it went on like this for a while. As they explored the garden, they paused often, catching their breath and resting their weary legs. Eventually, they wandered off the main path to a wooden bench tucked away amidst a grove of trees overlooking a peaceful pond.
Gunwook sank into the bench with a huff. “I hope that wasn’t too bad for you.” He spoke between breaths, his tone light as if nothing in the world could weigh him down. Despite his diagnosis of metastatic testicular cancer, Gunwook carried this unshakable brightness that baffled Matthew. If he was honest, it made him jealous.
Matthew recalled their conversion from a few nights ago, the quiet honesty in Gunwook’s voice as he shared his story. “It’s stage three,” Gunwook had said one evening, the light in his eyes steady despite the weight of his words. “They caught it late when I was nineteen—by then it was already in my lungs and liver. I’ve done it all. Surgery, chemo, immunotherapy. It’s been about two years, none of it worked.” He’d taken a breath, lighting his tone. “So, I decided to stop the treatment. I’d rather spend my energy actually living rather than stressing over something I couldn’t change.”
Matthew waved him off. “I’m fine. I would be more worried about myself if I were you though.”
Gunwook shrugged. “I push through.” He set his cane to the side and rolled his wrist. “This place is worth it.”
Matthew’s eyes followed a pair of swans. Yeah, the pain was worth it.
𝜗𝜚
Finding himself surrounded by art supplies again felt strange. Matthew had blurted out his abandoned passion for drawing after Gunwook's persistent questions to know more about him. He had once yearned to be an artist, but pessimism had extinguished his creativity and inspiration. Gunwook had immediately suggested an art day in the park, something easily manageable given their conditions. Though unsure what to draw after so long, Matthew found his inspiration sparked as he watched Gunwook’s brow furrow in concentration while colouring. Cute .
Gunwook peered over the table, "So, what'd you draw?"
"Nothing," Matthew replied, his voice jumping an octave. He instantly regretted speaking, especially when Gunwook's face lit up.
Gunwook moved to Matthew’s side of the picnic bench. Before Matthew could protest, Gunwook had reached for the sketchbook and flipped it open to the drawing.
"Hmm, this looks a lot like me, doesn't it?" Gunwook grinned, his eyes twinkling. “He’s even drawing my jellyfish!”
Matthew’s ears burned. "Well, it's not. So," he mumbled, looking away. Gunwook laughed, somehow sounding nostalgic like an old song, stirring something bittersweet and warm in Matthew’s chest.
"I personally don't see the resemblance," Matthew added looking at the rusted monkey bars.
Despite his annoyance, Matthew couldn't deny the satisfaction he felt. Gunwook had unlocked something within him—a part of himself he thought was lost forever. And while it scared him a little, it was undeniably nice to feel the pull of his old passion again.
𝜗𝜚
“You stuck my drawing to your fridge?”
Matthew’s cheeks went hot. He was already nervous to have someone over for the first time since his parents passed. The night before he was overtaken by anxiety, wondering if he should uninvite Gunwook. Now he was embarrassed Gunwook noticed he displayed his drawing. “You’re right, I should’ve tossed that thing.”
Gunwook clutched his heart dramatically, “My gift?”
“It looks like a kid drew it.”
“Hey!”
Matthew was serious; Gunwook's jellyfish drawing did resemble a child's artwork. But he liked it and that jellyfish was Matthew’s first piece of home decor as an adult.
Golden light poured in through the window bathing the living room. They settled on the couch for a movie marathon. Matthew sat in the corner, his oxygen tank perched beside him. Gunwook sat nearby, despite all the vacant space on the couch.
“You know what we should do?” Gunwook said suddenly, raising his voice above the movie.
“What?”
“A road trip.” Gunwook said sitting up a little straighter, “Just us two. We would drive along the coast, and we could stop at diners for greasy food and stay in motels with questionable wallpaper—”
“Gunwook,” Matthew interrupted, his tone flat.
“Come on,” Gunwook pressed with a smile— tempting . “You could see the ocean, breathe in that salty air—”
“Stop,” Matthew said, a little sharper this time.
Gunwook blinked. “What? Why?”
“Because that’s not going to happen, okay? I can't do that. I can barely walk to the mailbox without this damn tank. And you're talking about road trips? And never mind yourself.”
“I just thought—”
“You don’t think, Gunwook!” Matthew exploded, standing abruptly. The action made him wabble and Gunwook reached out to steady him. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice, “You don't get it. People live their whole lives without thinking about breathing. Me? I have to think about it every second. I have to plan my life around this goddamn machine.”
Gunwook opened his mouth to talk but Matthew cut him off. His voice cracked as he spoke, “And the worst part is, I don't even know why. I don't know what I did wrong.”
The first time the doctor said “progressive scarring,” Matthew had laughed. Not because it was funny, but because the words were so foreign. His doctor listed possible causes for his Pulmonary Fibrosis, workplace exposure he couldn't remember (not possible, he was fifteen and jobless), a genetic flaw they couldn't find, he’d stopped listening after they listed “bad luck” as a possibility for why his lungs were failing him. What difference did it make? He was fifteen. His life wasn’t supposed to need reasons yet.
Gunwook stood up in front of Matthew. “I do get it, you know that,” he said quietly. Gunwook reached out, his large hand engulfed Matthew’s. “And you didn’t do anything. You didn’t get sick because you did something wrong, you didn’t deserve this. And you’re probably right, would I even be able to handle a road trip? How about something more local like an aquarium? That’s salty water right?”
Gunwook was thin and tall with wide shoulders. But he looked small as he clung to the sleeve of Matthew’s crewneck, his eyes wide as they walked through the aquarium's glass tunnel. Fish and other aquatic creatures swam around them as their scales simmered under the artificial light. While Matthew forced a blank expression, he couldn’t help but find Gunwook’s reactions endearing.
"Jellyfish!" Gunwook exclaimed, leading Matthew towards a large tank. Inside, jellyfish pulsed and danced, glowing vibrant pinks, greens, and purples. Gunwook’s grip tightened around Matthew as he babbled excitedly, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to share his observations with Matthew. He’d been attached to Matthew’s sleeve since they stepped into the aquarium. Matthew found himself comparing Gunwook’s clinginess to the otters they’d seen earlier, who held hands as they slept to prevent them from drifting apart. Matthew took the opportunity to lean his head on Gunwook—he felt a bit guilty using Gunwook’s thin frame for support but felt drawn in. Gunwook didn't resist, a soft exhale escaping him as Matthew's weight settled against his shoulder. This moment sparked something dangerous in Matthew’s head; for the first time in a long time, he thought maybe he didn't need to be alone. Matthew eased up and looked at Gunwook who had jellyfish swimming in his irises. He liked Gunwook more than he thought he would. But that scared him. He straightened up, his gaze flickering to the glowing jellyfish, the way they pulsed reminded him of lungs expanding and contracting. Of breaths taken and breaths lost. He blinked as a memory surfaced, unbidden but sharp.
At nineteen, he’d sat alone in a wheelchair in the lawyer’s office, his body exhausted from copious amounts of trail medications. A will was placed in front of him like he had the energy to care when his parents were dead and he was drugged up. The apartment was his now. His parents were fortunate enough to be able to pay many months in advance. The lawyer’s words faded into the background as he thought about his mom’s smile while she cooked dinner, the way his dad always promised, “Things will turn around, kid.”
If only they knew he gave up on treatments.
The ache in his chest had been unbearable. Left alone in an apartment much too big for one person, he began isolating himself from people and his passion for art. The treatments weren’t working like they should and he was contemplating stopping them altogether. He needed to be okay with dying young. So he avoided anything that would remind him of the life he couldn't have.
He’d be okay with dying young….because that was the only option.
Gunwook kept the facts coming as they continued touring the aquarium. At a tank of eels, Gunwook yapped about how cool it was that these unique creatures could produce strong electrical discharges to stun prey or ward off threats. Envy coursed through Matthew's veins, I wish I had that ability, not to hunt, but to reinforce the barriers he put up. As Gunwook turned to face Matthew his enthusiasm dimmed a little. His gaze softened holding a tenderness Matthew hadn't experienced before. Gunwook’s smile fell as he searched Matthew’s face, making him self-conscious. It was then Matthew realized, that he'd spoken his envious thought aloud—and his voice had sounded pitiful.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Matthew grumbled.
“You don’t have to—”
“Don't worry about it!” Matthew quickly shot him down. Matthew pulled them towards a tank where visitors could interact with the fish. The fish immediately brushed against their fingers when they dipped their hands into the water, causing Gunwook to grin from ear to ear. Matthew couldn’t stop himself from staring at Gunwook’s warm smile. He had never been this captivated by anything before. Not even the glowing jellyfish could top the way Gunwook’s smile entranced him. He was completely absorbed in the sight. Matthew felt a tug at the corner of his mouth as he watched Gunwook laugh.
“Oh my god! Matthew... you’re smiling! I’ve never seen you smile before,” Gunwook giggled like he had won a prize.
A wave of self-awareness washed over Matthew. He cleared his throat, forcing the smile off his face. He didn't want to admit that for the first time in what felt like forever, he was truly happy. Because for Matthew, happiness was one of the scariest feelings.
The sun dipped below the cityscape, casting long shadows across the patio where Matthew and Gunwook sat quietly. Gunwook ate a sundae from the aquarium ice cream parlour he got on their way out.
“You have a pretty smile.” Gunwook broke the silence with his soft voice as he eyed Matthew.
Matthew’s stomach flipped. “Your shark sundae is melting,” he replied flatly, wishing he had also got an ice cream to distract himself, but his stomach wasn’t feeling up for it.
Gunwook licked the melting ice cream from his hand. “You don’t have to pretend so hard when you're with me, no one is forcing you to be here. This isn’t a mandatory part of dying…I think you crave this as much as I do.”
Matthew looked away. He did. He could only blame himself for his excitement when Gunwook asked him to hang out. He went back and forth with himself, cursing his body for being drawn to Gunwook while his mind told him to retreat. Faced with Gunwook’s unwavering affection, Matthew wondered if his walls were more like a prison. Instead of keeping people out it locked him in.
Matthew walked Gunwook to his doorstep. They lingered for a moment, Matthew didn’t want to say goodbye yet—Gunwook made him feel warm, even on this chilly night.
“Today was exciting, wasn’t it?” Gunwook’s voice sounded somewhere far off. “I feel high .”
A playful smirk tugged at the corner of Matthew’s lips. “I think that’s your medication.”
“I think it’s because I like you,” Gunwook’s voice was almost a whisper, yet it hung heavy in the air. He examined Matthew, his gaze so full of a tenderness that made Matthew’s breath hitch. Silence fell between them. Matthew stared wide-eyed, internally fighting against the wave of affection staring back at Gunwook.
Don't let yourself want more, echoed in Matthew's head—but it wasn’t working.
A strand of Matthew’s dark hair blew across his face in the wind. As Gunwook reached out to brush it away, Matthew instinctively moved to do the same, their fingers brushing for a fleeting moment. The unexpected touch had Matthew’s stomach erupting with butterflies for the millionth time that night.
As Gunwook leaned in, Matthew was glued in place, paralyzed by a mixture of anticipation and dread. Gunwook closed the gap between their lips. Matthew stiffened, his hands instinctively balled into a fist. The first touch of their lips was hesitant, a feather-light pressure that sent a jolt of electricity through Matthew's entire being. Gunwook’s lips were soft, their warmth lingering even after he drew back slightly. Matthew's mind screamed at him to leave. It hasn’t quite yet caught up to his heart.
And then, as if a dam had broken within him, he melted into the kiss. His hands unfisted and reached up to wrap around Gunwook’s neck, pulling himself closer. The kiss deepened, filled with awkwardness, which he attributed to his lack of experience, but the feeling was euphoric. Matthew surrendered to the intoxicating pull of his emotions, allowing himself to acknowledge the depth of his feelings.
Matthew pulled away moments later, gasping for air as if he'd been underwater too long.
The familiar sensation of dread crept up on him. Matthew stepped back. “You should probably go inside.” His throat closed.
Gunwook's brows furrowed, concern and longing painting his face. “Matthew, wait—” he started, reaching out as if to bridge the sudden gulf that had opened between them. Matthew flinched away from Gunwook's touch, his gaze suddenly unbearable.
What was wrong with him? He couldn't let himself want this —want more .
“Go! It's getting cold,” he barked through the lump in his throat. He was already backing away, putting distance between himself and the man who had somehow managed to break through his walls. Before his brain could process it, he was running towards his home. He could hear Gunwook calling his name in the distance, and although it hurt he couldn’t stop running until his lungs burned with exertion and he was coughing blood.
By the time Matthew reached his apartment, everything ached. He could blame it on his failing body, but their kiss; an explosion of the accumulation of his feelings, was also the issue. He was lightheaded and a suffocating tightness wrapped around his chest. His heart hammered against his ribs, begging to be set free, as hot tears streamed down his face. He clutched his chest. Sobs from the pit of his stomach strained his body, echoing through his silent apartment. All those years he spent building up those walls, blocking people from getting in because that made coming to terms with his fate easier, finally accepting he was going to die and convincing himself he was okay with it. It was all for nothing.
𝜗𝜚
Matthew hid in his apartment for days, crying and wallowing in self-pity. The kiss had dug up a part of him he thought had been safely buried under years of detachment. He liked kissing Gunwook, but it left him furious—at himself, at the years he’d spent pushing people away. And for what? He was falling apart over a kiss. He hated that he had let himself become this weak over someone who was supposed to mean nothing—and worse, that he saw his feelings for Gunwook as a sign of weakness. He couldn’t face Gunwook, couldn’t face himself.
Gunwook gave Matthew the space he clearly needed. But after a few days, he reached out, apologizing profusely. His messages were gentle, understanding, and unrelenting in their sincerity. I overstepped , one text read. I’m sorry . Matthew ignored him at first, but each message chipped away at his defences. After some time, he cautiously agreed to meet with Gunwook.
Matthew sat on his couch waiting for Gunwook to arrive, his foot bouncing nervously against the floor. The apartment was quiet, except for the hum of the refrigerator. His mind wandered, unsolicited, to another time he’d sat in silence, his life on the verge of another irrevocable decision.
At twenty-two, Matthew had decided to stop the treatments. The medications had been crueller than the disease, offering promises they couldn’t keep. He’d sat in the clinic that last time, staring blankly at the doctor as she talked about his other option, eyes and voice full of pity. He didn’t want to try anything else, and he let her know.
“I guess your final option is to make peace with it,” she’d said, her tone gentle but matter-of-fact.
He did. Didn’t he? But peace wasn’t what came. Just the cold, sharp edges of loneliness.
That night, a few months ago, he’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling as his words echoed in his head: You’ll be okay with dying young. You have to be. You don’t need anyone when you’re going to die soon anyway.
It had felt like truth at the time. But now, a few months later, sitting in the same apartment his parents had left him, he wasn’t so sure.
A knock at the door pulled Matthew from the memory. He exhaled shakily, pushing himself to his feet. He invited Gunwook in and they shuffled to the living room.
“I’m sorry I kissed you like that, I just got too caught up in everything—so happy with the way things turned out. I was so excited about Last Connection. I just needed a friend—needed someone . Someone who understood what I was going through but wasn’t obligated to be around me. I finally found you, Matthew and it felt amazing. I got carried away and now I can feel you slipping through my fingertips.”
“I just… never expected things would go this way. I never expected to have feelings for you. And every time you made me happy it was followed by this dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach.” A lump formed in Matthew’s throat. “But it’s all my fault so don't apologize. I put myself in this situation knowing full and well all the shit I put myself through to accept that I’m dying. I just can’t help but think I did that all for nothing…”
“Did what?”
Matthew’s cheeks burned with shame. “Isolated myself… from everyone and everything.”
“Accepting your dying shouldn’t mean you don't get to have people in your life, Matthew.”
Matthew burst into tears unable to hold it in any longer, “But it’s easier that way.” The words ripped from his throat, raw and desperate. “Being around you makes me want more …And all my life I've been scared of wanting . It starts with wanting a friend then something more and all of a sudden I'm hoping there's some miraculous cure that will save me. Then I'm back to that scared fifteen-year-old who had his life ripped from him.”
The admission hung in the air, leaving Matthew feeling exposed. He hated himself for his vulnerability. Wanting things had always felt like a betrayal of his reality.
“I wanna go on road trips, and kiss you in sketchy motels without worrying about oxygen or medication refills. I want to think about forever without it feeling like a cruel joke,” Matthew said between erratic breaths. Gunwook pulled him in and Matthew was too weak to fight it. “Gunwook, I want a future. But I don't get one,”
Gunwook held him till he calmed down, it must’ve been uncomfortable to stand for that long, but he never let go. “Would it be better if I left you alone?” Gunwook’s voice was quiet, almost strained.
Matthew shook his head against Gunwook's chest. “...I don’t want to be alone, I never did…but I’m scared. I don't know what to do.”
“We could take it a little at a time. Day by day, even hour by hour. I’ll take anything if it means I can see you. Spending time with you has been the highlight of my life. I don’t want to stop seeing you until I'm physically unable to keep going.”
Matthew pulled away slightly and looked up at Gunwook. His brows knit together, “...Day by day?”
Gunwook nodded. “Little by little,” his voice came softly. “Embrace the fact that you’re scared, you've been through a lot. But we have such little time, so don’t limit the things you can experience… Don’t let fear rob you of the joy you deserve. You’ve survived so much, Matthew—more than most people could even imagine. That kind of strength is rare, and it’s yours. It’s okay to want things. You don’t have to do this alone anymore, I’ll be by your side for every single moment, no matter how small or fleeting. And if you’re scared, I’ll remind you that you’re allowed to feel that way, as long as you keep letting yourself live.”
“And what happens when our days run out?”
“Then at least we’ll know we didn’t waste them.”
He still had doubts, but as he leaned into Gunwook’s embrace, the weight of his fears felt just a little lighter. He was ready to stop running from what he wanted. Ready to take the first step toward something more.
It felt like a lifetime ago when Matthew thought signing up for Last Connection was the dumbest thing he could have done—now, he couldn’t be more thankful that he had clicked “Apply.”