Archive of Our Own ^beta

To Noah, who was probably sleeping away after all the fun yet tiring day playing in the amusement park.

(This is going to be a long letter, prepare yourself, Han Noah ^^)

I don’t even know where to start and I know you are going to call me an old man for this. But leave me alone, I want to talk about our start first. Mine, not yours, as a disclaimer.

For as long as Yejun knew, Han Noah had always been there in his life.

The earliest childhood memory he could remember, of his second or third birthday (this, Yejun had to check the album book again, but he was positive it was his third), was marked with the scene of another pretty baby reaching out his pudgy hand to poke his birthday cake with tasty strawberry fillings as he watched on. Though he remembered none after that particular scene with the rest settling into a wisp of a memory, it brought an unexplainable delight when it came to his mind.

Where his memory failed to remember the previous years, the well-preserved and cherished pictures in their family album helped Yejun to think of the moments he had forgotten. He and Noah lay side by side as newborns, playing in the sandbox together with dirt all over their faces, the blurry picture of them running around holding hands. It seemed that where Yejun went, Noah would tag along, and the opposite also applied to Noah.

Yejun had seen the same pictures framed in the walls of the Han family’s home. One that Yejun particularly loved was an old black frame hung by the side of the family picture. Proper and immaculate, school uniform new as both stood together to commemorate the first day of elementary school. He would look at it each time and notice the changes between them but also remarked on the persisting similarities with amusement twinkling in his eyes.

Nam Yejun and Han Noah.

Starting to grow into their skin, losing the youthful chubbiness to mold into something sharper and mature, on the cusp of adulthood. Yet still together, going in and out of each other’s bedroom without thinking twice of privacy, because what was privacy to a guy who had seen everything from the other? Eighteen years of growing up together and creating a comfortable space from the piece of the other until a trace of it was carried close.

The one others unconsciously sought when they couldn’t find one of them.

He raised his head slightly and sent a smile to the girl, tapping the beautifully decorated letter on the table. “I will give it to him. Don’t worry, I won’t say who it’s from.”

“Thank you, Yejunie! Please keep it a secret from him, thank you again!”

The girl was like a storm, barging and leaving all the same, though Yejun didn’t mind it. He found the entire thing adorable when the girl joined her group of friends and tittered with a flushed face. The wave occurring between the group when he waved his hand lightly to their direction only served to make him more amused.

“What got you smiling like that?”

The new presence plopped beside him, long arm reaching to rest on his growing shoulders with abandonment. Something tickled the back of his neck, navy hair moving from the treading fingers pulling it. All of which were done in one sequence of fluid movement, leaving no room to react nor think about.

Yejun pushed the letter toward Noah. “Here, prince charming. Another one for you.”

The blond made a curious noise, inspecting the envelope closer and turning it around. “No name again.”

“Will it be better if there’s a name?”

“Probably.” Noah cocked his head, then put the letter in his bag. “The answer will still be the same either way.”

“Still not interested?” Yejun inquired, shrugging away the playful hand pinching his ear.

“Nope. Not interested in romance and all that.”

Such a shame.

That thought appeared in Yejun’s mind more often than he wanted. The same reaction every time he heard Noah’s disinterest over whatever that was brewing in the air that caused their friends to be shy around the other gender, little giggles and nervous laughter. No inclination toward it, only glancing at others with aesthetic appreciation but never about owning and giving a label.

But such a shame, what, exactly?

A shame that such a good look, with his beautiful lashes and teardrop mole, lean and long legs, was gone to waste? A shame that his personality, taking over the room when he needed to be with encouragement that screamed kindness, was not targeted to a specific someone?

It was the echoes of their classmates, some adults gossiping when the intention to match Noah with their daughters ended with a refusal spoken freely, that Yejun heard enough to begin to internalize the idea. But Yejun never thought that such disinterest was something to be ashamed of. More than anything, he thought Noah deserved everything he decided and wanted, without disrespecting him as a waste of a good look, personality, just because he was too busy wandering somewhere else.

Yejun sneaked a peek at Noah. Slowly from the top of his head down to linger on the peak of his nose, once again, in his silence, reminded of the elegance that Noah carried in his entire being.

Deep in his heart, Yejun found himself relieved that he didn’t need to give Noah to someone else. Although he liked the idea of romance much more than Noah, Yejun lacked the interest of actually pursuing romance. If Noah liked someone and had a girlfriend, Yejun would be happy to celebrate it with him. Only, it would mean being in this cozy space alone when the space was built by them together, in the unspoken rule of sticking to each other.

Yejun never thought much about that. Of someone standing between them, their invisible thread slowly grew loose with the passing time, until they were no longer each other’s top of mind. Unjarring, for a change to happen in the routine and habits craved after years. He tried not to linger on it if his mind took him on that journey.

“Any letters today?” Noah asked leisurely, holding the weight of his head in his palm.

Yejun shrugged. “Not really, no.”

“No letters but confessions, got it.”

“Wrong.” Yejun bopped the other’s nose with the tip of his pen. “There’s nothing like that.” 

“How could that be? The perfect boyfriend candidate of the grade is sitting here without anything?”

“Yes, yes, I’m not mister popular.”

The scoff Noah let out was loud. “I know this strategy to downplay oneself for praise.”

Yejun rolled his eyes in reaction, unable to retort back without selling himself guilty but unwilling to be left without any last words. “Of course you do.”

The conversation tapered off like that. Yejun had no intention to continue with their batter, determined with the goal to read at least five pages of the History textbook, a preparation for the pop quiz the teacher liked to give as a way to start the class. It didn’t take long for the pages to be decorated with colors and neat sticky notes of reflection. He was halfway through the third page when Noah spoke again.

“Yejunie, you really are the perfect boyfriend anyone can ask for.”

“You are still on that?” Yejun bit the inside of his cheek, eyes glued to the page, left to right, backtracked for another left to right. He had to reread the paragraph again.

“Just my observation. You are smart, clean, have your own routine, and obedient.” Noah picked up his words again. “It helps that you don’t look half bad.”

“That last part doesn’t seem encouraging.” The blue head abandoned the idea of finishing his reading. Yejun thought for a second and slowly opened his lips. “I can say the same about you.”

Adopting the same position as the blond, Yejun laid his head down on his arm, his entire attention given to Noah. “You are so pretty. How can a guy be as good-looking as you?” His lavender greyish eyes tracked the familiar lines and shape. “But that’s not it. You are kind, hard-working, and committed. Especially committed to whatever you set your eyes on, never giving up even while facing challenges.”

Yejun breathed in. “Anyone will be lucky to have you as their boyfriend.” He truly believed in that; there wasn’t any room for hesitation or doubt about the rightfulness of uttering his confession.

So hurry up (what?)

“Oh—” Noah groaned. “What’s up with this talk? Two guys praising each other sincerely, it’s giving me heebies-jeebies.” He nudged at Yejun’s foot. “So what it means is we are both perfect boyfriends to each other.”

“It’s like that …” Yejun reconsidered his words. “Not self-proclaimed but that’s the general idea, isn’t it.”

“When you have a girlfriend, ask her what she likes about you, and see if I’m right. Between the two of us, you will be the one to find a girlfriend, settle somewhere else in the country after college, and get married first.”

“Who’s to say it’s not you first?” Yejun shot back.

“We will see then. I still think it’s you.”

“Really?” Yejun took a moment to ponder the possibility. He wasn’t even sure himself; they got along so well without any major fights all these years for a reason. They could be quite similar in the way they do things.

“Of course. Look, just wait for it. I’m reserving the right to say I told you so later.”

Yejun couldn’t help but shake his head. “That’s just you being usual, hey.” Then again, Noah had been saying countless I told you so since childhood. Perhaps his prediction this time might hit the mark too.

They didn’t talk about it again later. Almost forgotten, the way it was swept to the back of their heads. There were a few offhanded comments and mentions, but nothing like this, the musing of girlfriends, and wives, and future. They simply lived in the present the way they had always been.

By the way, two years have passed and I still remember that time when we went to buy some CDs after school. Let it be said that Nam Yejun remembers well, because even the thought of it still embarrassed me. Ya, Noah, how could you just surprise me between the aisles of CDs like that? I didn’t know I could scream that high… the shopkeeper came running to us because of my scream…

You even had the gall to laugh when the shopkeeper gave me an audition brochure for a vocalist spot in a rock band. He should have given it to YOU and not me in the first place. Didn’t he see the rock album CDs in your hands and the jazz ballad in mine?

(To make it better? Worst? I started to associate Butterfly Effect with that moment. I said it before but for real you’re not lying, the vocalist is CRAZY for writing and singing that song.)

You better watch out. One day I’m going to outdo you and give you the scare of your life.

Nam Yejun turned nineteen with a startled jump and bleary eyes. The room was blindingly bright to his sensitive eyes and it took some moments for him to collect his soul. Clearing away the discomfort in his parched throat, Yejun glanced at the clock to find 01:46 written on it. The suspect for the abrupt awakening stood by his bed, certainly looking brighter than Yejun who was woken up in the dead of the night.

“Happy birthday, Nam Yejun-ssi.”

“Noah-ya … it’s one AM …”

“First one to congratulate you.”

Yejun dropped back to his bed sluggishly. The smirk on Noah’s face definitely leaned more on catching Yejun by surprise than congratulating him. Last year, half a day went by before he said the words. He should learn to expect anything from his darling childhood friend.

“Then where’s my cake and candle?”

“No cake and candle,” Noah answered easily. “It’s too late, the cake is for later after we get back from school.”

Yejun groaned out loud at that, pulling his blanket up to cover himself from the light. “Oh my god, we still have school later. Turn off the light and get yourself comfortable, just sleep over.”

“Not yet.” Something tugged at his blanket persistently. Yejun didn’t relent. “Nam Yejun, stay awake for a moment.”

“What?”

The other shoved his phone to his face, almost blinding Yejun once more with the sudden brightness.

“Grandma’s looking for you.”

That was enough to send Yejun scrambling to sit up. His eyes widened in alert as he snatched the phone, noticing the bold Grannie❤ written on the screen with a picture of a healthy old woman smiling, the call timer below indicated a minute had passed by.

“Hello, grandma! Sorry, I made you wait!”

“Oh, Yejunie, I’m so sorry Noah is bothering you at this hour. I told that grandson of mine to visit you in the morning but he is …”

“No, no, it’s fine, grandma.” Yejun sent a scathing look to Noah. The blond didn’t even notice, making himself comfortable by pushing Yejun to the other side of the bed after turning the light off.

“Happy birthday, Yejun. Eat all your favorite foods today, live happily and healthily, okay?”

Yejun listened with an obedient hum. Grandma Han could speak eloquently when she wanted and hearing the elder blessing him with creative well-wishes was fun. Yejun didn’t even know there was a greeting like the one she mentioned.

“How are you doing, grandma?”

“Oh, everything is great here. It can get lonely here but my friends drag me out all the time for bingo and get together, you will think they have no family or grandchildren to care for!”  Yejun laughed. He thought Grandma Han wouldn’t be saying that if they traveled or went for a hike. “Do you have any girlfriend yet, Yejun-ah?”

“Not yet, grandma. I want to focus on university admission before having fun.” He pulled his blanket to his side when Noah began to hog it.

“Good, good. Don’t stress yourself out, the stories I heard about students feeling the pressure … It will work out for you, deary. I won’t bother you any longer, youngsters should sleep 8 hours. Hand the phone back to my grandson, Yejun-ah.”

Yejun waited until Noah finished the call to ask his question. “Is your grandma coming back to the country for the Mid-Autumn Festival?”

“If the doctor gives her a clear, she will.”

“Oh. Wait, hold on, your parents know you’re here, right?”

“Of course they know. Your parents know too.”

His ceiling glowed with green light from the plastic stars Noah stuck diligently. A shape of something, maybe a letter, a zodiac, when sleep eluded him, Yejun liked to play connect the dots with the bigger stars before drawing a line to the smaller ones.

“Noah-ya.”

“Hmm.”

“Six months left before we graduate.”

“... That’s right.”

“Have you started packing your stuff?”

“There’s still plenty of time.” Yejun let the other pull the blanket. “Are you going to nag at me?”

“No.”

He groaned in pain at the sudden pinch to his cheek, feel Noah nudging before letting go of his grip to tap it lightly.

“Why are you giving me that boiled dumpling look, huh?”

“Don’t make things up, can you even see in the dark?”

“How long have we been friends? I don’t need to see your face.”

Yejun kept his eyes up to the stars, not turning even when he felt the other’s gaze on him. There was a rhythmic cadence somewhere around his stomach, the patting suppressed by the thick comforter. When they were around five, Noah picked up this habit to lull him to sleep after seeing Yejun’s mom pacifying Yejun from his nightmare. Children’s nightmares were monsters under the bed or ghosts hanging in the closet, and adults dreamed suffocatingly of the unknown, of the lack of solution, of the future.

“Why are you sad?” Came the whisper.

He licked the bottom of his lips. Hesitant to speak, unsure if he was embarrassed or ashamed, or the combination of the two for his own feelings.

“You are leaving.”

“Not for long.”

“I know.”

Worlds of two. In six months, they would be separated by the vast sea and the clutter of islands. Where Yejun would be awake to prepare for his classes, his childhood friend would be sleeping after a day’s activity. When Noah first told him of the news, they had a year and a half by then and who knew time passed with a blink of an eye, leaving only six months that would fly by in the same manner till the day of his departure. It felt too sudden, overwhelming for Yejun who just celebrated his nineteenth birthday with Noah.

“It’s not that I’m not happy for you, it’s just that … it will be lonely … I guess.”

“Yeah, well, we never really stray from each other since we were young. This will be the first time.”

They descended into silence. The patting slowed down to a careless rub to the comforter, before stopping altogether laying its weight on top of it.

“There is still my birthday. I’m turning twenty before I leave, so you better celebrate it like my early coming of age ceremony.”

“I will bang pots and pans as an entrance to my visit to the nation’s princess.”

“You better not, Nam Yejun. I will leave you outside.”

A laughter broke out among them. Something small, languid in their breathing as sleep started to make itself known.

“Noah-ya.”

“What else, Yejunie.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

It felt like only minutes had passed since he closed his eyes after hearing Noah’s murmuring reply and opened his eyes to a proper wake-up call, it took some moments for Yejun to orient himself. His blond companion remained deeply asleep, even folding himself tightly into a fetal position for warmth. Yejun only woke him up later, face clean and breath fresh, shaking him by the shoulders to go home and change his clothes for school. 

Yejun was the kind of person who upon waking up, would maintain his state until nighttime when it’s time to sleep. His body’s internal clock was quite precise in maintaining his sleeping schedule. Noah, on the other hand, could hold his sleepiness until godly hours ,but when he finally succumbed to it, he would be dead to the world until he got his fill of sleeping time. The extra time Yejun afforded him barely helped him to maintain his consciousness. 

As a consequence, in lieu of having lunch, Noah opted to stay back in class and catch as much sleep before the lunch break ended. When Yejun came back from his quick run to the cafeteria carrying salads and sandwiches, the other was completely lost to the world.

“You are going to hurt your neck for real, this time.”

Setting everything down, Yejun went to draw the curtain and adjust it to block the filtering light. Although Noah had turned his head away from it, no doubt finding it unbearable, Yejun thought it wasn’t any less comfortable to have direct sunlight showering you. Only when half of the class was enveloped in a sleepy darkness that Yejun feel satisfied; he might need to draw them up again later but Yejun didn’t mind the work.

Today’s pick for salad was Caesar salad. Yejun had grabbed two portions, with one as many roasted chicken breast pieces as he could add and a tuna and egg sandwich for Noah. As for himself, Yejun had picked a ham and egg sandwich, tantalizing him into taking a bite as hunger struck. It wasn’t as fulfilling as having their lunch in the cafeteria, but better to tame hunger than spend the day starving.

As he cleaned his desk of crumbs and torn packaging, Yejun detected a movement from the periphery of his vision. The following groan was the confirmation he needed. Yejun had seen Noah waking up more than he had seen his own parents. Had his share of Noah’s long and uncontrolled yawns, heard his screech as he stretched his body tightly. They had both seen each other with cowlicks, crooked pajama tops and ugly pulled up pants. 

The thing was, Yejun had always thought Noah to be beautiful. Even way back when he heard others praising his childhood friend to be a beautiful boy and when he finally understood the definition of beauty itself. His opinion never changed nor wavered. 

But somehow, under the dim light as the action he had seen for years played out, Yejun thought this moment might be truest of all in showing Noah’s innate beauty. Seeing Noah’s slightly red forehead from where he pressed it on his arm, dropping eyelids as fog started to disperse in his vision, Yejun suddenly felt a jump in his heart. Never mind the swipe he made due to the small drool escaping or sleep lines on his face.

When Noah smiled, barely there, as he regained his consciousness and said, “Good afternoon.” with a raspy voice, Yejun knew it. Forgot all the vocabulary he learned in language class and left with the simplest words to convey the raw emotions he was feeling: a splendid tranquility that would stay inside him, lingering achingly until he longed to experience the same peace when he looked back on this moment.

When Yejun returned the smile, saying, “Good afternoon.”, his face reflected the same peaceful brilliance that brought out his beauty the way he had always seen written in Noah.

The world was, in that short moment, enchanting in their eyes.

“You didn’t bang pots and pans.”

“Do you want the police to arrest me for disturbance?”

“You said you would do it a few days ago on my birthday. Look at this guy, an unloyal man who cannot keep his words.”

Yejun snorted. “I can borrow Auntie’s pots and bangs now and bang them for you.”

“Are you crazy?”

“Now it’s me who is crazy?”

One look at the other and laughter burst out between them. It was a stupid argument, one of the many arguments they had when mouth was let loose without thinking twice. Stepping over the mess of clothes on the floor, Yejun flopped his body onto the bed, hand reaching out to grab a pillow to hold.

“It’s almost eleven.” Yejun offered uselessly.

“I’m already done, just rearranging the space.”

Yejun could never understand the science behind Noah’s method of organizing stuff. He was straightforward, within section and in a controlled manner. Noah gathered the entire mess to one spot then began there, like assembling puzzles at his own pace, going here and there but always getting the job done perfectly. In fact, Noah was one of the tidiest people he had ever known in life.

“Paca and Pojingie?”

The blond stopped his folding and looked around, unearthing another bundle of clothes and pants to create more mess.

“I’m just asking, let it be if you can’t— oh!” Yejun barely caught the plush toys sent his way, putting them down carefully with an affectionate pat to the fur. A baby chick and a llama joined Yejun in observing the blond. “These guys should be the last ones packed.”

“It will be too pitiful if they are squeezed at the bottom.”

“Do you know that Nara-ssi is moving away in two months?”

“I didn’t hear about that.”

“She is moving to her boyfriend’s place.”

“That rich but scumbag looking one?”

Yejun furrowed his eyebrows. “That’s not nice… But that one.”

“I thought so too.”

Yejun was distracted a few times in the midst of their conversation, struggling to keep his eyelids up. The scene of Noah calmly packing his stuff into the luggage was simple and repetitive, the low burr of his voice a fine companion that brought his mind to a state of relaxation. Without realizing, Yejun had burrowed himself into Noah’s flower-pattern blanket, discarding the pillow for Paca and Pojingie in his grip.

“Yejunie, are you sleeping over?”

“No… I’m not…”

“You look so comfortable though?” Laughter reverberated in the silent room, the blond tousling navy hair into another mess. Forcing himself awake, Yejun set the plush toys on his arms on the bed, then offered them to Noah after a moment of contemplation.

“On top of the luggage,” he said groggily.

“Thank you. I’m the one who likes to lie around, why are you the one sleeping first, huh? Sure you’re not sleeping over?” The other teased.

“No. I’m going home. You need your rest.” If they were together, it would take another three hours before they properly rest.

(It was harder to say goodbye the longer he stayed.)

Whispering in the dark hallway and trying to muffle his laugh when Noah accidentally made a clatter, it reminded Yejun of all the childish things they did with this hallway as the sole witness. There was a time when Noah had a brilliant idea of trying out a diy in the middle of the night, pulling Yejun around as they tiptoed to collect the ingredients, only for them to spill flour all over the kitchen later. They got scolded really badly for that.

“You came wearing those socks and sandals? Are you crazy?”

“We literally live side by side. It’s fine.”

For the past months since his birthday, Yejun had been standing still, trying to keep time in his reach with all its vividness. It wasn’t once or twice he questioned himself on the dramatics of his emotions; should it be as intense as anything like this, feeling the heart’s distance when the cause of this breathed by his side? Or was the entirety of his emotions simply a teenage whimsical of trying to recreate and achieve that perfect momentum of parting seen in television series or movies?

These questions came like harsh but silent beatings that more often than not left Yejun with a sense of shame. A possibility that his fantasy ruled his thoughts and actions in the real world, and another of drowning in the intensity, for what would he be left with when he could no longer feel the presence by his side?

The only blessing he could count and forever grateful for was they never haunted him in a moment like this, precisely when he stood still.

Cold started to bite on his skin but Yejun was unwilling to go on, feet rooted in place as he turned to see Noah leaning his weight on the door, crossing his arms with laughter twinkling in his azure orbs. Yejun’s breath stuttered with weight, he disliked the late hours for chasing him home. Disliked the inability to stay up longer.

Yejun parted his dry lips. “I’m going back now.”

“Eung— be careful.”

He looked down at his feet. “Go to sleep soon, tomorrow’s going to be hectic.”

“Got it.”

His mouth opened slightly, racking his mind for anything he might forget. There was none, he had said anything he needed to say before stepping out of the door. The only thing left to say was the ending.

“Rest well, Noah.”

“You too, don’t let bed bugs bite.”

“Then I’ll be going now.”

Each unit of the apartment was distanced by around ten steps from door to door. From Noah’s place to his own home, it took precisely twenty-five steps due to the design of the building. Yejun had struted back and forth this familiar distance enough that he could tell what step he was on if he was to stop suddenly.

So it was his sixth step when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Yejunie, see you tomorrow. Love you.”

Yejun bit his wobbling lips, gathering his composure to hide any shakiness and replied lightly, “Love you too. Good night.”

No matter how Yejun wished for it, time never waited for anybody. He didn’t want the dark to recede and for the sun to replace the stars, but Yejun was nothing to nature. His heart had been beating uneasily since he woke up, eyes kept straying to the clock, to his phone, counting even a passing minute like his life depended on it. He could barely push down his breakfast, left nauseous and jittery that you would wonder if he was the one flying abroad or Noah.

Around lunch time when it was reasonable to bother someone who was leaving abroad, Yejun couldn’t help it anymore and went to find Noah. His mother’s reminder to tell her if they departed for the airport lingered in his ears as he closed the door in hurry. Contrary to Yejun’s bumbling appearance, the Han family was so much more casual, almost like a regular Saturday as if their only son wasn’t leaving to stay abroad for some time.

“Are you allergic to not being around me all the time?”

“No.”

“He said no~”

“Eh, don’t tease your friend, Noah. Yejun just wants to spend more time before you leave.”

“That’s right. With how much you are allergic to fast response, who knows when I will hear from you again when you reach the place.” Yejun added with a cheek. The parents nodded in agreement.

“I’m not that bad. Every time you just happen to message me when I’m busy. I always reply to you!”

“Yes, thank you for your attentiveness~”

All Yejun could remember later on during their wait was the feeling of time moving too fast and too slow. No one liked to wait, hanging in the air midway waiting for the drop. While seeing Noah and his parents acting like usual helped give him a sense of normalcy, Yejun was oddly going around in circles trying to compose himself while tethering at the urge to explode. He was almost silent on the way to the airport, listening in with his left ear in and right out as Mr. & Mrs. Han reminded Noah to take care of himself, be careful of this, be careful of that, take care of grandma, call home when he could.

Seemingly noticing his mood, Noah made no attempt to say anything nor divert the attention to Yejun, accompanying him in silence. Perhaps, Noah too, could understand the melancholy radiating inside Yejun – after all, to Yejun it was only Noah, but for the blond, it was his parents, friends, and surroundings. He had much more to miss and it was this division that made Yejun guilty of reacting the way he was, preferring to keep it to himself as much as he could.

They ended up holding hands loosely until they arrived. Yejun didn’t know he could be so aware of the gap between his fingers when they pulled away, eyes drawn to the absence that clenched his heart. When Yejun peered up, Noah was looking at the distance between their palms, an indescribable smile appeared on his face before disappearing like it was never there.

The family had timed it so that when Noah reached the airport, he only needed to check in his luggage and proceed to the departure gate. The group made some idle talk, spending just a little more time, some minutes, in an attempt to ignore the mechanical voice reverberating in the airport and the fast-paced movement of travelers around. Prolonging the moment before they said their farewells and saw a figure slowly disappearing inside.

Yejun had only come to the airport twice in his entire life, both tagging along with Noah to fetch his grandma home. His perception of the airport hadn’t changed in the slightest from the beginning. There was the specific cold and recirculated air of an airport, feeling poignant of a journey ahead, of goodbye when he saw strangers with comfortable clothes or sharp suits around even when he wasn’t the one going. More so as he stood in front of the well-lit departure gate, he watched as Mrs. Han broke down in tears while embracing Noah, her stuttering the whispers of thoughtfulness and worry for her own child. 

He thought he held it well, feeling the stillness inside the sea of his heart as his eyes took in how tight Noah was squeezing Mrs. Han, the rare affection on Mr. Han’s face as he tipped Noah’s black hat playfully. When Noah raised his head to look at Yejun, his grey lavender eyes instantly glistened and tears collected at the corner.

“Ah, this guy,” Noah laughed, reaching out to embrace Yejun. “Nam Yejun is crying.” 

“You are crying too.”

“Did I?” Noah chuckled wetly.

“You do.”

There was no way to pinpoint the exact emotions spilling out from Yejun. None of them fit, a brush of everything from sadness, happiness, loneliness, excitement.

Noah pressed down on Yejun’s head. “Don’t get stuck on your thoughts too much, don’t be afraid.”

Yejun cried harder at that, wiping his face. “I should be the one to say that to you.”

“You don’t need to say it, I know. You have been nagging me since we were young.”

“I’m going to nag some more.”

“You do that,” Noah whispered gently. Though his eyes were wet and there were tear marks on his face, the smile on his face was anything but sad. “Be good to yourself, Nam Yejun.”

His toes curled inward at the sincerity, a little shy over the kind words that burrowed themselves deep in the privacy of his heart. Yejun was almost breathless by the love he had for Noah, from his excellence to his flaws, there was truly nothing that he didn’t love about his childhood friend.

“Don’t forget to say that to yourself … I will miss you.”

“You better be or else I won’t know you.”

In the year they turned twenty, Noah left for a pre-university program abroad as per his grandparents’ will while Yejun stayed, accepted to a prestigious university in the country. They began their adulthood alone, without the company of the other, the first time in their nineteen years going in and out of each other’s lives.

From taking fifteen steps, counting another ten left before suddenly turning on his heels, eyes looking to find a familiar blond hair, hands reaching out for an offer of hangout, Yejun had to adjust his immediate reaction without Noah in his life. The world didn’t wait for anyone. It would drag Yejun forcefully as the new chapter of life opened up, leaving him with no time to wallow. Yejun hated changing his routine but he hated it even more to be without any routine.

Yejun was anything but inadaptable, so it didn’t take long for him to settle into a new routine. University was a different league from high school. It offered freedom that he could only dream of, but it also demanded payment in his sanity and free time to laze around. Three years of education was razed down with lectures upon lectures, creating a new foundation in his mind though Yejun found the challenge to be exciting, a novelty that left him in wonder even after five months of it.

“How was the outbound activity?” Yejun cleared his throat, eager to drink some water to alleviate the thirst as he rubbed off the sleepiness on his eyes.

The other side sighed loudly to cause some crackle in their call. “I’m sleeping for two days. No more of this, I was never this tired until today.”

“It must be an experience, though.” The image of Noah preparing to rappel down a slope flashed in his mind. “I also want to try it out. Maybe.”

“Rappelling? You definitely gotta try that out. Beside, the photographer took a great picture of me.”

“He really did a great job.” The dusty ugly helmet didn’t affect Noah’s appearance at all. If anything, it was easily ignored for the safety rope wrapped around his body, making him look like a celebrity out of an action movie. “Are there no other pictures? I want to see.”

“Hold on.”

His phone vibrated in succession against the kitchen counter. The pictures Noah sent weren’t the same as the first one, more of a group picture with Noah on it, posed or candidly taken. His lavender eyes dimmed at the last picture of Noah and another student posing adorably, no mistaking their closeness with the way their shoulders brushed together.

“Looks fun,” he muttered, forcing his sight away and swiping the picture.

“I guess.” Noah made a thoughtful noise. “At least I was in the same group as Lydia.”

“Oh.” Yejun played his fingers on the cold kitchen top. “Lucky you. Didn’t you say before that you want to know her better?”

“I mean, we are in the same situation. I feel a sense of kinship with her.”

It doesn’t feel like that, Yejun thought to himself. It seemed like Noah told some things to Lydia before Yejun, and sometimes when Noah was particularly slow replying to his messages yet updated his social media, Yejun couldn’t help but feel bitter that Noah could spare time for a girl he had known for half a year but none for a friend he had known for twenty years. It was childish of him to feel jealous that Noah was closer to another person than him, so Yejun mentioned nothing about his thoughts. 

“It does get lonely surviving in a foreign country alone,” he conceded.

“Right, that’s what I said.”

Since Yejun was leaving for class and Noah was preparing to rest, their phone call wasn’t as long as they wanted. In around fifty minutes, Yejun was caught up with the things Noah got himself into, each story crazier than before that Yejun could only wonder at the cultural differences. The one red thread connecting those stories was the only girl that Noah spoke of fondly in his entire life. Always the same one since the gathering Noah went to not long after moving.

Lydia, Lydia … Lydia Kim.

He repeated the name in his head. She was pretty, long and flowy black hair, as tall if not taller than Noah. Kind smile with starlit eyes. Wondered if his name came up as often as hers when she hung out with Noah. Was he the faraway existence beneath the stories Noah told her, the way the girl was to Yejun? He didn’t know the answer. Brushed away the questions just as they formed to deny the truth glaring into him, of Noah and himself; he was unwilling to entertain the matter of the heart not belonging to him.

“Yejunie-hyung, good morning!”

Despite the moroseness clouding his heart, the smile formed easily at the cheerful greeting from his little neighbor. Out of sight, out of mind.

“Good morning, Bonggu.” Tapping at his own mouth to indicate the mask on Bonggu’s face, Yejun asked, “Are you sick?”

The little rosy head nodded, eyes rolling around expressively for his age. “Mom said it’s summer flu. But I still have to go to school …” he whined.

“Is that so? If you don't go to school, Eunho will be all alone.”

“No way!” Bonggu scrunched up his face before coughing into his mask. “He has many, many friends! Even the older kids know him!”

“That’s Eunho for you. Come on, I will walk with you.”

“Lassgo, hyung!”

Yejun was the only child in the family. His cousins were almost the same age as him if not older. The younger ones lived far away, some extended families that Yejun only saw once or twice a year. Bonggu for one was quite a shy and wary kid, taking some time to open himself up to Yejun, but once the floodgates opened his heart almost burst with aggression at the adorable things Bonggu did, especially when he copied Yejun. He didn’t know having a little brother to take care of was a joy of its own until Bonggu.

“Even if it’s hot.” Bonggu pinched his mask a little to breathe. “I won’t take off my mask. I don’t want to in– in– infect anyone”

“Good boy. Thank you for your consideration.” Yejun couldn’t help himself from picking Bonggu up to hug him and never letting go even when Bonggu started to struggle as his hold grew shaky.

In no way was what happened the next five days Bonggu’s fault. Even Yejun didn’t expect it, waking up with a throat as dry as the desert and each gulp caused a flare of pain. No matter how much water he drank and taking the preventive measure with throat spray, Yejun was coughing to his fist by lunch time. Much to his annoyance, it was the itchy and dry cough that he couldn’t stand, once or twice with a lull before another repetition; irritating to anyone who listened. When his classes ended, Yejun wasted no time going back and huddling under the blanket after taking a medicine, looking for warmth with the onset of chills trailing his exposed skin and relieving his body of the fatigue weighing close on his bones.

He was startled by the ringing by his side, wanting to ignore it if not for his ingrained habit to take the call in case it might be an emergency. Groping around for his phone and flinching at the cold, Yejun blearily pried his eyes open to see a familiar name flashing on the screen. Always there no matter what, he thought and accepted the call.

“Yo, yo, it’s check-in time.”

The silence trailed on and Yejun belatedly made a coherent noise to the greeting.

“Ya, you okay?”

“... Just a summer flu …”

“Oh, you are resting? Let me call you later— Wait, did you take your medicine?”

Yejun thought for a moment, barely staying awake to conjure up another response.

“Your parents aren’t home? Stupid question— Okay, okay, you go rest, I will call you later.”

Yejun didn’t know if he said his goodbye and ended the call or if Noah was the one to do everything for him. All he knew was when he woke up again later, his phone was discarded somewhere by the side and four hours had passed since he fell to bed. Several notifications were blinking when he reached his phone, some unimportant notices that he forgot to swipe off and the most recent one was Noah’s messages reminding him to eat something and take another medicine when he woke up. The small barrage of messages ended with the command to call Noah when he could.

It wasn’t often for Noah to ask him about that so frankly but since he maintained his casual and short replies, Yejun figured it wasn’t anything too serious so he took his time to follow the first direction and had himself a warm shower. It was under the blanket again, with the sign of fever setting in his body, when Yejun followed up with the last command.

“Feeling better now?”

“Don’t know,” Yejun yawned. “I feel like I might get a fever later on.”

“You are usually healthy … Why are you sick like this, so suddenly?”

“It’s the season, the season.” Yejun rubbed his feet. “Shouldn’t you be in class now?”

“Canceled so I’m back home now. Actually, I’m going for a run after this call.”

The sudden thought of exercising in his current state was enough to make Yejun pull his blanket closer. Everything his skin touched felt too harsh, all that sweat he could smell, stuffy summer breeze, Yejun wouldn’t survive.

“Happy workout,” Yejun muttered.

“When are you hitting the gym, Nam Yejun? You won’t survive if there’s a zombie apocalypse.”

“I have you to carry me. I have the mind to survive.”

“So you are the brain and I’m the muscle? Hey, I got both.”

“Then I will be your mental support. You can’t survive alone in the apocalypse, humans are born social.” Yejun turned the conversation back to the main topic. “Going alone?”

“No. With Lydia and other friends. She is crazy, if she puts her mind into it, she can reach pace five in no time.”

There was that name.

“Meaning?” Yejun ended the question with a barrage of coughs.

“Five minutes per kilometer. You try running too, Yejun, who knows you might like it.”

“We will see.” Yejun held the silence. “How’s life going?”

Same old, same old. Quite similar to Yejun’s life as a university student, living in the quasi state of being active enough in the faculty for people to remember him and one step away from being forgotten with how single-minded he could be. In the gap between the end of Yejun’s reply and waiting for anyone to continue, Noah whispered to the line.

“I think I like her more than I let on.”

It took a few tries for Yejun to comprehend the sentence. It had been a long time coming; Yejun knew Noah like he knew his own mind and had seen the signs that he pretended to be nothing. It started when Noah slowly allowed the other into his life, painting it with a slow and careful sweep of a brush, from grey to a colored one. In the cadence of his voice when he spoke of the other’s name that contained the honesty that he failed to hide. The clear different attitude and care he never showed to anyone, only for that one special person.

“Really?”

“... It feels like that.”

It truly is, like that, Yejun couldn’t say. “She makes you feel happy, doesn’t she?”

“Many things make me happy though.”

“Not the way she does.” Not the way I do.

“No … I don’t know.”

Yejun heaved a breath, the annoying itch grating on his throat again. “Take it slow, you have all the time in the world to determine how you feel.”

The other seemed to contemplate his words. There was no guessing on whether he would accept the suggestion or not, though it wouldn’t matter anyhow. With his brilliance and self-awareness, Yejun knew Noah would find the answer to his dilemma one way or another. This time, it just happened that Yejun saw the signs sooner than the other and guessing from the tidbits of stories Noah told, he could somehow know the endgame for this situation. 

It was an undeniable truth that Yejun couldn’t contain even if he wanted to. 

They talked some more after that, helping the other to navigate his feelings with teasing remarks and tattling about hints and tips he learned from binge-watching dating shows. A part of him, caged and struggling, demanded him to say no more but Yejun resolutely ignored it. He didn’t know how else to act except the way he was doing now, always there no matter what, the way they had known each other for two decades.

As soon as the call ended, all the strings holding him taut snapped and frayed at the ends, bringing in a listlessness that had Yejun wanting to close his eyes and sleep for as long as he could. As if worried that Yejun might forget, a fit of cough struck deep enough to leave him winded. Ah, this is crazy, he might as well laugh to himself at the situation he found himself in. Sick and heartbroken. What a combination.

It wasn’t a finger-snapping quick process for Yejun to reach the place he was now. It was the accumulation of the sweet and bitter, on their own and together, into a long thread spanning his entire life. Somewhere between the little talks they had at midnight and early in the morning as the distance made his heart fonder, it dawned to him that he had fallen for his best friend. There was no defining moment that brought him to that conclusion. It came as easily as breathing in the air, his heart said, it’s to be expected, while his brain asked, why are you surprised?

He could let the fondness grow under the facade of a childhood friend and kept his eyes blind to the fostering love but he couldn’t mask the disappointment of the heart at the hard, cold truth that there was no proper end to his affection and love.

“You really hit the jackpot with your first love, Nam Yejun,” he whispered to himself. 

Perhaps life sympathized with Yejun because in the morning, he didn’t feel like death had approached him and instead felt oddly energized. Though his cough might need a few days to treat, it was better than the body aching chills, and headache that Yejun was raring for a long walk to keep his mind off the persistent elephant in the room asking him to deal with it. It was his habit to take a long walk during the evening or night time with the silence and easy breeze, but for this one, Yejun could make an exception.

It was humbling to reflect on his feelings in deeper length, coming to the decision of keeping his will firm to lock up his feelings and keep up the thing he had been doing these months. He was dubious about whether the effort would be as successful before the revelation that Noah carried romantic feelings for another, but knowing he also had nowhere to go with his own feelings, especially loving the same gender, he knew it was doomed from the beginning. That was why he could go on ignorantly this whole time when his feelings started to change in nature.

The disappointment and sense of loss were imbued in every breath he took, keeping him trapped with his thoughts that Yejun might as well suffocate himself. His once slow steps gained speed and Yejun began to run, run as far as his legs could take him just so he could think of nothing except trying to keep his head up. His lungs were burning and he was panting like a dog, the stabbing pain over his ankles hard to ignore, and they pushed him further until all he heard was the rush of his blood and loud thumps of his tired heart begging for relief.

Only two minutes had passed since the agony started and he was heaving between his knees. Yejun knew this was going to punish him later when he rested properly, the ache might even linger until tomorrow, but there was a salvation to be found in those two minutes. Forcing himself to stand properly, Yejun began to walk again, pacing his breath and took off for another run. He repeated it several times until his knees knocked together with the exertion, completely drenched with his face flushed all over. Even though he felt like his lungs might collapse anytime soon, Yejun couldn’t help but understand why some people found running to be a stress-reliever. In those moments, he only thought about keeping his pace and being mindful of his breathing to keep going, no room for anything else.

He was correct in his assumption that he would be sore all over. Trying to bring himself up after a night's sleep was like electrocuting himself and he was waddling around in his steps trying not to falter. Without saying too much, Yejun sent a message to Noah with a crying emoji while reflecting on the challenge of running without any proper warm-up, before starting another torturous round of walking to the university for his classes with stiff legs. When he received Noah’s reply many hours later, Yejun could pretend that nothing had changed and they were the same Nam Yejun and Han Noah before they became adults.

People often said, once you know something you can’t unknow it, and when it came to the matter of the heart, the statement was even more undeniable. Yejun recognized that he might have a masochistic tendency since he disliked feeling at the edge while waiting for the other shoe to drop with an official title, yet the longer he stood on the edge, the easier for him to enjoy and get used to the desolation as he tried to stop his bleeding heart. Life went on and waited for no one, leaving Yejun in his hesitation on staying rooted or moving forward. Whether this masochistic feeling could be seen as him gradually unveiling the future within his control and making his decision, Yejun wasn’t sure. 

On a more positive note, running was no longer a thing that Yejun avoided like a rash reaction. He had started it as a way to forget and earned himself a new goal of challenging himself to be able to run for twenty minutes without vomiting everything inside his stomach. In addition to the note, to everybody’s surprise, his cough persisted for a month and half. Three visits to the hospital and none could point out the cause of his persisting cough so he went to x-ray his lungs for any abnormality. In the end, he could only try taking stronger medications and it was while running and exercising that his cough ceased to exist.

He had a plan today to go running with Yu Hamin, the guy that he talked to during his first unplanned run as they waited for the elevator together. They went from acknowledging each other while repeating their first meeting and in some instances seeing each other in the building gym or while out running, to making a plan to do some exercise together. Despite his younger age, Hamin was wise and patient, always around to help Yejun with his zero bone of anything physical-related, which Yejun was quite thankful for. It didn’t help that Hamin could be coquettish, almost like Bonggu, which endeared Yejun even more.

“Are we going to do it, hyung?”

Yejun panted. “Yes, on our last lap.”

“Are— Are you okay, hyung?” Hamin hid his breathless laughter. He didn’t say, ‘Are you sure you can do it, hyung?’ but Yejun heard it regardless.

“Less talking and more running.”

They had agreed beforehand on trying something new for a change. Where they came to a slow jog and walked for the last lap, this time, they were going to sprint to their fullest speed without stopping until the end to cool down. Though he was not in his prime today, Yejun had been looking forward to it since he was curious about how well he could fare so he didn’t back out. Counting down together to the last steps, Yejun shouted go! and they took off running like a bullet, Hamin slowly gaining his momentum to widen their distance while Yejun forced himself to keep up with the figure. His heels felt like he might be flying off the ground, never had his heart ever beat this vigorously in his entire life and Yejun was thriving in the moment.

As Yejun broke free from his restraints and closed their distance in a daze, he let out a loud shout at the excruciating squeeze somewhere in his lungs and there was a taste of blood at the back of his throat. Yejun forgot how to breathe, hyperventilating as something clawed inside him, and he broke into a series of coughs that had him bowing his back with the force. Distantly, he heard the alarmed voice of Hamin calling out to his name before futilely trying to prop Yejun up. Everything started to blur around him and he was numb all over, exhausted beyond anything and when a swell of itch tickled, Yejun let out a harsh hack and spat something to the ground, wet and thick.

He didn’t get to see what it was. The world tilted and turned dark in the second with a loud shout from Hamin to be the last thing he was aware of.

You said before that you weren’t interested in romance and all the jazz. Dead sure that I will be the one to fall in love first and get married. Look at us, who would have thought that Han Noah would be the one to have a girlfriend first? Now I get to say, I told you so, right?

You said, and I quote, that you finally taste the sweetness of love, patiently and impatiently nurturing the precious love you have for your girlfriend. You are brighter than ever, Han Noah. The most beautiful I have ever known in my entire life and I’m so happy that you get to experience such joy.

I completely agree, of your thoughts on finally tasting the sweetness. This is not me speaking from rose-tinted glasses after binging a romance tv series. All the time you talk about your feelings, I never tell you mine (even though we childishly promise not to keep things from each other). The truth is, after you went abroad, I fell in love. Hard. Like, dangerously hard it might kill me.

‘Hanahaki or flower-vomiting disease was an abnormal growth of flowers inside an organ, typically lungs, heart, and or throat, caused by an emotional upheaval typically associated with an unrequited love. As the name alluded, the symptoms of the disease were coughing up flower parts. If left untreated, flowers would begin to take root and grow by deriving bodily nutrients and oxygen from the body they occupied. Consult a doctor for any signs of petals from coughing or vomiting.

While unrequited love was the main cause of hanahaki, it had been reported that the disease didn’t affect some individuals with unrequited love. Researchers had been studying possible variables that might cause the derivation and what determined the seed of a flower to grow in each person, while looking for a missing link that might provide further development for preventive measures.’

Read more: A Case Study on Parasitic Behavior of Unrequited Flowers in Hanahaki Patients

Dying from loving too much. How was that for poetry?

The sharp, distinct smell of hospital disinfectant clung closely to him even when Yejun had showered right after he came back. If not for the lingering smell and Hamin’s pale face staring at him, Yejun would think waking up in the hospital emergency unit was a dream after running too hard. It wasn’t, it was real and Yejun had to be unlucky enough to get a disease for having unrequited love. Even in his wildest imagination, Yejun wouldn’t be able to conjure up such a scenario.

These past few days, surprise always awaited him when he opened his eyes that Yejun was almost scared to close them for another bad news. Even now, the memory kept replaying itself, of the angry conversation somewhere in the room and a harsh shush from the nurse to keep it down. Groaning in pain, followed by his parents’ gasp calling for his name. Hamin’s silence and fingers twiddled as he apologized for pushing him too much, even when he saw the petals Yejun coughed out and must have had an inkling of what it meant.

Yejun’s pitiful voice, asking his parents not to say anything about this to Noah, the Han family, and the following silence that ended with a weighted look and reply from his mom. No one said anything, no questions or answers, yet it remained in the room to haunt them; what next?

He wanted to feign sleep and let the ringing call pass. Would ignore the messages for days until Noah got sick of his absence and started to call his mom instead. It was only because Yejun didn’t like anyone to worry about him that he steeled himself to pick it up.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got into the hospital?”

“I’m already home,” Yejun murmured, trying to ignore the erratic beat of his heart. He hated the sharp scoff the other made.

“Do you know my heart almost stopped when my parents called me to say you earned yourself a trip to the emergency unit? Aish, Nam Yejun— I told you to be careful—”

“I know.” Yejun blinked his eyes rapidly. He missed Noah dearly, wouldn’t even mind the scolding if he could see Noah right now.

“What is it? Dehydration? Broken bone? Did you skip your meal before your run?”

“... The last one.”

Noah griped. “What am I going to do with you, huh? You cannot work out without any protein in your body. Ah, this is crazy, you ran until you fainted. Do you know what happened to people who fainted while working out? Nothing good, that’s what!”

Yejun had long pressed mute on the call the moment Noah started to rant, unable to keep his tears at bay anymore and cried to his pillow. Each reprimanding word dripped with worry that enveloped him like a toasty comforter, though he was one step away from being suffocated by the warmth and self-isolation.

“... Are you listening?”

Yejun wiped his eyes and cleared his throat before unmuting the call. “Yes, I’m here.”

“Why is your voice like that?” Noah asked in suspicion.

“Sleepy, yawned too much.” The other made an acknowledging noise, though Yejun knew the lie wasn’t completely sold. “Where are you now?”

“... Out.”

Yejun shot back. “Why is your voice like that?”

It seemed like the other was muttering something about this being the wrong moment, but eventually decided to say the truth.

“I’m on a date right now …”

Ah … Damn.

“What, why so shy? It’s with a certain Miss Kim, right?”

“Yes, yes, Mr. Romantic. I bet you are dying to hear how it goes.” 

“Who said so?”

“How long have we known each other, huh? You will be in the front row watching the show.”

“It’s you. I cannot go away and pretend to be blind even if I wanted to.”

“Just say you are nosy, Nam Yejun.”

“Whatever floats your boat. I don’t want to be third-wheeling your first date, so go enjoy, Mr. Han.”

“... But you sure you are fine, now?”

“The hospital let me off, I’m fine. Have a great night, Noah.”

“Don’t push yourself too much again, alright. I don’t think my heart can take it anymore if my mom called me with the same news.”

“You won’t even hear next time. Bye.”

The coughing started as soon as the call disconnected. Harsh and dry, something lodged inside his throat, forcing its way out that he could somewhat hear a resonance inside his ribcage. It tangled on his teeth and tongue and Yejun hacked out one last cough, wheezing to his palms as he gathered his bearings. Found something tickling his lips, only to see wet yellow petals sticking to the skin.

“Hah… fuck.”

Yejun didn’t know how he fell asleep in the first place. He knew his cough lasted the entire night that he woke up with a slight chest pain. Petals in small or wide shapes, yellow, purple, blue, white, bathed him in colors and spilled to the wood flooring. Yejun glanced at the scene and felt the overwhelming urge to vomit pass, unthinkable of how flowers could grow inside his body, perhaps his chest, lungs, or throat, something unnatural that shouldn’t be there in the first place. Still, giving a last look to the flowers, Yejun wearily moved to his table, pulling out the drawers one by one searching for something, before changing his target to his wardrobe. 

With a small dusted gift box in his hand and fresh clothes adorning his body, Yejun began to pick up the fallen petals and store them inside the box until everything was clean from it. For a short moment, he stood silently in the middle of his room, gripping the box with eyes unseeing, and put the box inside a drawer no one would look at.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” He headed straight to the kitchen without looking at his mom who had stayed over for a night, pouring a glass of water in a daze and finishing it with one gulp. Staring at the kitchen sink, Yejun raised his hand to wipe away the dampness blurring his vision, rubbing it red while letting out a long breath.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t elaborate on what and for what. There was a hush in the air and Yejun didn’t have the intention to break it.

“Noah called you?”

“Hmm.”

“Where are you going?”

“... For a walk.”

He could feel the contemplative stare brushing his back as he changed his indoor shoes for slippers. His movements were deliberate and unnatural, waiting for a response. If his mom asked him to stay, then he would stay at home. But if she said nothing, Yejun would open the door and walk until he was sick of it.

“Be careful. Don’t tire yourself too much, Yejunie.”

“Okay. I’ll be going first, mom.”

Yejun remained outside his apartment. In a month, he wouldn’t be able to walk or run outside freely like this anymore as the weather started to get cold with the approaching winter. With a moment of decision, he sent a message and decided to make a detour one level below before going out for a walk. The person he wanted to see stood like a deer in headlights when the elevator dinged and parted the steel door, letting them meet halfway.

“Hyung!” Hamin reached for his hand, grasping it within his large palm. “Are you okay?”

“I heard that question more than I needed to these past hours.” Yejun managed to crop up a smile. “I’m fine. Accompany me for a walk?”

“... Come on, hyung.”

The high school student followed obediently in the direction Yejun chose without asking any questions. There was no direction at all; for once, Yejun strayed away from his regular path and took a path he seldom or never walked on before. There was a narrow bookstore filled to the brim with books, old and vintage from the look of it. Three steps later he would find a quaint bakery that only served pick-up or takeaway orders, the brownies gooey and the banana bread moist. They continued on their path until they reached a public park with children screaming and running around in glee, their parents by the side ever cautious looking without intruding on their space.

“Should we sit over there?”

“Sure.”

“I’m sorry. It must have been scary when I fainted suddenly,” Yejun said somberly.

“No, no. Why are you apologizing, hyung? I should have …” The black-haired teen trailed off, pursing his lips and withdrawing his gaze from Yejun.

“There’s no way for you to know it beforehand. I didn’t even know about it until I woke up in the hospital.” He knocked on the wooden bench thoughtlessly. “God knows what would happen if you weren’t there. So, thank you. And sorry.”

“Hyung, is it … no, never mind.”

“Hanahaki.” There was a sharp inhale beside him. “Crazy disease.” Yejun leaned on his back, slouching until his nape settled comfortably on the backrest. “It’s my childhood friend, you know. He studies abroad, so I haven’t actually seen him for almost a year.”

Yejun had initially thought it would be hard to talk about it to anyone, let alone to someone he was only recently acquainted with. When he tilted his head, Hamin was observing him without any hint of pity or judgment and that was enough to persuade Yejun to continue talking.

“The distance doesn’t matter. He is a man whom I have known for my entire life.”

It was almost deliberate the way Yejun offered up that information. He could say nothing about gender, but something inside him wanted to test it, to at least hear a validation for his love in its rawest form and not restricted to the social norm. It would be a lie to say that Yejun wasn’t afraid. He was terrified, curling his fists tightly and feigning nonchalance, looking anywhere aside from Hamin. If the other wanted to, he could easily beat Yejun and tell anyone around that a gay man was hanging around the public park.

“Then he must be really special for you to talk about him like that, hyung.”

Yejun pursed his lips, shoulders dropping down as he inhaled the clean air. No matter how much he tried to conceal it, there was no hiding the relieved smile peeking out from his lips.

“He is. A person fitting to be my first love and someone I don’t mind dedicating my love to.” At this point, it seemed like a useless effort trying to tamp down his coughing when he thought of Noah. “Sorry.” He discreetly shook the petals off his hand. “Hamin, do you watch romance movies or dating reality shows?”

“Not really, no.”

“Not all of them, but usually one of the conflicts that appeared between the couple stems from fear. Fear of trust, fear of pain, the disappointment. I can understand it when the story plays out to me but I can never truly understand it when I have never been the one standing there.”

“But now?”

“Now, I understand why some people say love is scary, fear it.” Yejun covered his eyes, trying to find peace in the dark. “It feels right for me to love him but I’m scared of the future. What should I even do in this position?”

Maybe he was too young and idealistic to hold on to the thought of his love. He was the only one holding it within his palms, piecing the broken pieces together with each disappointment and hope that he couldn’t help but entertain each time. His choice was simply to die with flowers embodying his love while disfiguring his body as a price or to root it away until nothing was left. For Yejun, to choose the latter one would be like a betrayal in regards of Noah, breaking the beautiful glass of the heart to become dust in the wind. To what degree did he mean when he said he loved Noah with his entire being, when he could easily get rid of it?

“I know it’s childish. Even some part of me thinks of myself as foolish to even let myself get lost at the crossroads when there is only one rational choice to make.” His lips trembled and Yejun wept silently into his hands. In the months he realized he loved Noah, it never brought him the confusion and doubt the way it was now, if only, if only, maybe, maybe, there was never ending of them. It was unfair to hold him at gunpoint and at the back was a high cliff waiting for him to slip. Would his love be this heavy if there were no threat to his life? Or would it be all the same even without the disease, a year from now, two, five, when he forced up a smile at Noah’s happiness, knowing it wasn’t caused by him?

Feeling a tightness in his chest and a crawling sensation over his throat, Yejun scrambled to stand up, holding his palm over his mouth as he staggered to the public restroom. With laboured breath, Yejun bent over the porcelain sink and retched out, hearing the buzz in his ears as he tried to stabilize himself with Hamin’s help. It was no longer only petals this time but there existed a half-bloomed flower, white with pretty pink lining the edges, paper-thin with sheen mucus clung to it like a protective layer.

Hamin was a constant beside him, holding him close and wordlessly offering a handkerchief he carried around. Somewhere out there, children were still screaming like a banshee, parents never stopped their chattering, it was easy to get lost in the noise as he slid down to the floor and cried his heart away, until his legs were numb and tears caked his face. His eyelids were puffy and dropped heavily in exhaustion, yet interestingly enough, Yejun found consolation in being able to express his grief and thought the pain to be bearable for now.

“Thanks for being here with me, Hamin-ah,” Yejun whispered. “Sorry, you have to see something like this when I only asked you to accompany me for a walk.”

“Hyung, it’s okay. Are you feeling a lot better now?”

Yejun collected his emotions. “I do, somehow. Let’s go back?”

A few hours later, what little peace he gained from vomiting a half-bloomed flower disappeared with a single post. A path of petals was made on the floor, leading to the door before gathering there as Yejun defeatedly retched to some random shirt he could reach to suppress the noise. It was sharp this time, scratching his throat with a taste of iron, and he listlessly dropped his body to the ground. There was a trail of blood drying on his hand when he made the move to wipe his mouth and nose, smearing it worse that Yejun just gave up halfway.

Picking up his phone, Yejun pressed the voice note button and chuckled wetly. “For once, you are wrong in your prediction. I expect a confession story later when you finally remember me. Say hi to your girlfriend for me.”

He didn’t know what to feel anymore, couldn’t tell if the stabbing pain somewhere in his chest was from vomiting so much or his heart breaking because Yejun started to see it as one correlation. Didn’t know what to think as his thoughts jumped from one to another, confusion steering his consciousness and leaving him empty. When he raised up moments later, it was to carefully pick up the flowers scattered around.

Yejun couldn’t bear to throw away the flowers, even now with red staining the petals. No matter the cause of such deadly flowers taking hold of his heart and bringing only pain, they were honest, they existed. They were the embodiment of his love for Noah, and even with pale lips and shaking hands, Yejun could never fault the beauty of his love. How could he hate it, when Noah was the sweetness of his childhood, a stable support during his transformative years as a teenager, and now, welcoming adulthood with experience nothing like others? Yejun knew Noah as long as he knew himself, that his soul might as well belong to the other for it.

Shame, was another thing. Shameful of the jealousy he felt instantly when Noah told stories of Lydia and earlier with a post of something private, his fingers touching lightly to another smaller and slender fingers saying all it needed to say without words. For the reluctance hidden deep inside his heart even when he wished for Noah’s happiness. His flowers were the beauty of his honesty and love, but it was marred with these distasteful emotions … shame … that while he didn’t throw the flowers away, Yejun couldn’t bear to show it to the world. Hid them all inside a gift box after drying them the best he could, a secret to himself and his parents, to any prying eyes that seek to undo him completely with this shame.

In between Yejun trying to keep his life from falling apart and surviving the year, a sense of estrangement slowly crept in between him and Noah. It wasn’t like Yejun made a deliberate choice to stay away and he knew it was the same for the other. With their distance, most moments they had together were made up from the little pockets in their lives when they needed a breather; in the morning before classes, on the bus after a tiring day, a quick chat before another outing. Nowadays, there was a rush of activities happening around as people ran around trying to do as many things as they could before the year ended for another start. Yejun wasn’t spared from it, even if he opted himself out of half of the offers.

A year ago if someone asked Yejun about Noah’s whereabouts, he could answer it easily and even if he was wrong, it was most likely some simple things that he didn’t mention. Today, the only answer he could give was maybe. Maybe he was studying, maybe he was busy with his community activities, maybe, maybe, Yejun only knew the other was busy and nothing else. From the beginning, Noah wasn’t that active in social media; he was, in the early days of living in a foreign country, finding everything unique and interesting. 

He was almost gone from Yejun’s life with his absence and Yejun could only hold on to their memories instead of making a new one. He could only get a tidbit of it, another slow response, another promise of, “Let me call you later” but the call never came. Every time they finally had time to themselves, it would always be the same repetitive stories about strict lecturers, classes, and little fights he got into with Lydia.

Not that Yejun could say anything. He didn’t even have any stories to offer to begin with. Just as the winter turned everything into white nothingness, Yejun found himself becoming detached from the world. The little moments of joy that he could have were taking Bonggu and sometimes Eunho out for an outing, hands always full with the two active kids, but Yejun wouldn’t wish for anything else. Or when Hamin came to visit, with all the funny stories and impersonations that he mastered, bringing a peal of laughter that had Yejun coughing petals.

There were times when Yejun found himself reaching for his phone, starting a message and typing out his feelings, only to delete it for another word that seemed superficial or too needy. The bitterness of his insecurity about where he stood in Noah’s life, begging pitifully for an answer just to relieve the discomfort. He thought about how Noah could spend the entire day with his girlfriend but was unable to spare even a minute to reply to his message. Always a day or two late, leaving Yejun staring silently and hopelessly.

And Yejun understood. Lover and childhood friend were two separate things. He wouldn’t like it if Noah went into his relationship half-heartedly, no matter how much he wished it was him himself in that relationship. But sometimes … sometimes Yejun wanted to be selfish. Because one reply and Yejun would render his misery as irrelevant. One call and Yejun became the happiest man in the world.

The flowers continued to bloom and his gift box was exchanged for a bigger wooden box. 

There wasn’t much space left in the box.

Yejun cocked his head, playing with the dry petals and thumbing them. He had become quite familiar with these guys, knowing each of their kinds and the meanings. There would be a new addition to the bunch, which bloomed earlier after Yejun finished his classes, slightly squeezed from putting them in his bag. 

It was a miracle that Yejun could even endure a day in the university. He could feel himself deteriorating each day, his body no longer able to hold its warmth longer and always swaddled up in layers of clothes. When it got too cold, his lungs whistled that the first time it happened around Bonggu, the kid thought it was a party trick. Knowing the sign before another blooming, covering his mouth and looking for the nearest restroom, those shouldn’t come naturally as it was now.

It was getting harder to pass the day without feeling pain. It was getting easier to numb the pain and feel it without thinking much.

Noah 

Expect a surprise on your birthday [17.49]

It might be earlier [17.49]

Or later [17.49]

Keep your eyes peeled [17.49]

You are turning twenty [17.50]

Enjoy your youth while it lasts (smirk) [17.50]

A week until his birthday.

Closing the lid of the wooden box, Yejun gazed in no particular direction before packing his clothes and essentials into a navy duffel bag. His heart was pounding uneasily, waiting for something to happen even though Yejun had no idea what he was expecting. It continued to thump the entire way, standing out in the bustling station and presence of strangers and Yejun felt so alone even with the noise surrounding him.

It only slowed down when he heard the familiar voice telling him to wait and the door opening up to reveal his mom’s surprised face.

“Yejunie?” Her eyes fell to the duffel he carried. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re visiting? Come in, oh, baby, you are all red in the face!”

“I figured I might as well surprise you.”

“You should have told me so I could prepare your room! This kid, really!” Yejun hugged his mom tightly, nuzzling his cheek on top of her head. “Go sit quietly, I will fix you something.”

“Mom, it’s fine. Why are you moving around so much? Let’s just sit down together and watch your historical drama.” 

“You are as cold as a block of ice! Sit!”

With a cup of tea warming his fingers and the comforting scent of his childhood home invading his senses, Yejun felt a wave of tranquility settling inside him. No matter how much Yejun made his apartment his own space, coming back to his parents’ place always brought a different kind of peace, evoking the nostalgia of carefree childhood memories and the love that raised him until today. With university-related responsibilities holding him and Yejun trying to hide his situation as much as he could, he hadn’t visited his parents in weeks. He almost forgot how relaxing it was to be around them.

“You lost so much weight.”

“Hmm, really? I eat a lot.” He also vomited half of it.

“... The flowers?”

Yejun locked his eyes on the drama playing on the television. “Still there.” Wouldn’t be gone, wouldn’t get better.

“What are you going to do, Jun-ah?”

“... I don’t know.”

A long sigh escaped his mom’s lips. “Mom just wants you to be happy and live well, Yejun.”

“I know.” 

More than anything else. How his parents made it their way to call him daily no matter how short the duration was. Every time they visited, his mom would bring boxes of side dishes to make sure he wouldn’t starve himself. The same worry was clear in their eyes and the weight on their shoulders when they thought Yejun wasn’t paying attention.

“You don’t need to hide.” 

His mom told him later after Yejun came back from the restroom, flushing any evidence except for the flowers he kept inside his baggy sweater. His mom didn’t stop her movement of serving dinner on the table, hearty meals that brought forth the appetite that had long disappeared a month ago. Yejun didn’t move from his spot, eyes wide staring at the woman with a hint of fear inside them.

“It makes it harder for me, for us, Jun-ah.” The navy-haired lady cupped Yejun’s face, thumbing on the prominent cheekbone. Her Yejunie was called dumplings for his chubby cheeks even when he grew into an adult and now they were gone.

“What if something happens when we cannot see you?” She trailed down to hold Yejun’s hand. “You are always cold these days. Even with the heater on and dressed up warmly now, you are cold.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you …”

“I know, you have always been too considerate of us. But you are our son—” his mom rasped. “We cannot watch you wither away and do nothing, Yejun-ah.”

Dinner passed quickly without any fanfare. Despite the lightness of their conversation, there was an undercurrent of somberness that stopped Yejun from speaking much and instead stayed as a loyal listener who offered appropriate interjections. He could barely taste the salt and spice in the dishes but nonetheless, Yejun enjoyed them a whole lot for the texture and smell. Once or twice, he had to force himself to sit down and not excuse himself, hiding his face to the side and crumpling the blood splattered tissue before his parents could ask. 

His mom offered him another tissue and his dad slid a glass of warm water toward Yejun. This time, the silence was almost unbearable.

It seemed that the Han family noticed his visit because they came over right after dinner to check up on Yejun. They knew that Yejun hadn’t been well these past few months but the details surrounding it had missed them completely, so they bought lots of traditional herbs and products known to cure chronic coughing and boost immunity. It was an excuse that his mom provided for them and Yejun was all too glad to repeat it with his own lips, trying to ignore the flash of guilt shadowing him for the lie. They didn’t stay for long when they noticed the fatigue radiating from Yejun, leaving with a reminder for Yejun to come visit more often.

When it came to the Han family, it was always a whole set. Yejun wasn’t all that surprised when someone called him, not even half an hour after the family left.

“You went back home?” The corner of his eyes crinkled unconsciously at the exaggerated tone from the other side.

“Eung— it’s been a while and there are no classes.”

“Even though I told you to keep your eyes peeled for your birthday present?”

“It will arrive on the same day or later, I won’t miss it.” Yejun was quite familiar with Noah’s habit of buying a gift after all.

“You are that sure?”

“I am that sure.”

“Is your cough getting any better?”

“Aah … it doesn’t.” The cough came at the perfect time to prove his point. “Don’t know when it will get better.”

“Ya, is this really okay? Coughing for such a long time… since summer?”

“It’s not like we can find the cause for it.” Lie. “Only possibilities, but it’s not as bad as before, I think? No more vertigo, at least.” Half lie.

“How are you? I miss you a lot.” The words slipped past his lips so easily that Yejun almost regretted before he remembered that such words were nothing for them, having been traded in and out of each other.

“Of course you miss me.” Yejun could get drunk from that familiar laughter. “Life is ganging up on me but ah! I got to meet my favorite bodybuilder in the supermarket! Isn’t it crazy? Ya, Nam Yejun, you should have seen the muscles on his body. Oofftt—“

He threw his head back in laughter, could imagine the starry look on Noah’s face as he racked up his courage to get a signature or a picture. “Did you get some tips from him?”

“Bro, he followed me back. He DM’ed me earlier asking if I’m going to the gym today.”

“So sudden? You guys are best buddies? Unbelievable.”

“How do you think I feel? It feels like a vivid dream.”

This wasn’t any stolen moment. They talked for hours after quite a time, talking about every topic that popped up in their heads. Though they lived a completely different life, Yejun was relieved that it didn’t distance them further and instead made the conversation much more exciting. Yejun guessed it simply had to do with how easy they matched each other and the history they shared in between that allowed them to be this carefree.

Acting like there was nothing wrong; and it was for Noah.

Loneliness came crashing when the room lapsed into a stagnant silence. Yejun wouldn’t mind going for hours of call again, even when they said nary a word and only heard the rustling sound of them minding their own business. As long as he knew the other was there, Yejun would be fine with anything. The sudden cut off was awfully horrible and the walls surrounding him only brought back the reminder of when they were Noah and Yejun, instead of Han Noah who lived abroad and Nam Yejun the childhood friend of Noah. His room had been tidied up some time ago when he started to live on his own, but it didn’t erase the marks they left in this room.

It could be his heart couldn’t take it anymore or maybe it was a retribution for concealing the truth from those who loved him dearly. His vision flashed black and white, followed by a bitter swallow that settled heavily at the bottom of his stomach. The air, instead of breathing life to him, was suffocating; it left him gasping and his body forgetting how to breathe. Nails biting into his skin, Yejun was struck with panic and fear as the thought of the end began to haunt him.

At last, when Yejun could barely stand the pain any longer, he lifted his fist up and hit his sternum repeatedly until the flowers were vomited and soaked the floor with blood and saliva. In the midst of the macabre display was a collection of blue forget-me-nots, the testament of his love.

In that moment, all he could think of was the mesmerizing blue while he mourned for the loss of innocence, of allowing his parents to see this harsh sight of their only son lying beside his vomit of bloody flowers.

He completely lost his sense of taste two days after that.

Yejun couldn’t begin to understand in his mind how his lungs affected his taste buds. The explanation offered by the doctor only made a little sense that Yejun couldn’t be bothered with. It was the least of his worries when he lay uselessly in the hospital room, the second visit after the entire debacle with his disease. Not when he nitpicked everything in this room; the annoying beeping sound of his sound monitor, the noisy wardmate that talked with an outdoor voice, the boring white surrounding them, and the blasting aircon above his head.

His hands were always cold, no matter how much he tried to warm them up and wore gloves to preserve the heat. 

Do you see this part? This is the part without flowers. About 75% of your lungs were covered with unreciprocated flowers.

Yejun picked at the thread of the blanket, mind flashing to the aghast look on his parents’ faces and the silent weeping that broke out after. He remembered forcing his mouth open to ask the question, not wanting to face the reality yet needing to hear it for whatever reason he had that time. At the rate they are growing, two months, the doctor said.

Only two months to live before he turned twenty. What a joke. Life really told him to end the year with a bang.

In the silence of the room, as his breathing whistled brokenly to accompany the playing television, Yejun’s gaze lingered on his mom sitting by his side, crocheting. He noticed the sunken cheeks, a day-old clothes on her body, and Yejun belatedly realized how thin and small his mother’s wrists were. Nothing like his.

It weighed uncomfortably on his gut, churning it upside down with anxiety that Yejun wanted to detach himself from this bed, this room, his own skin and brain, and knew nothing about everything, even his own name. Even when he averted his gaze to look at the window outside, his thoughts stayed on it.

“Jun-ah, look, it’s almost done.” The gloves were beautifully crocheted, neat in lining and soft in material. His mom took his hand tenderly, sizing the glove playfully to give an illustration on how it would look on Yejun’s strong hand. “Just a little bit more, then you can warm your hands.”

She looked proud of her project, beaming widely as she patted Yejun’s hand a few times. Yejun always thought that when his mom smiled, she was the most beautiful woman in the world, the crowfeet and laughter lines only served to emphasize the pure joy she felt. The sight of someone you cherished being happy would bring the same exhilaration to you, and it was the case with Yejun.

Only this time, the sight brought heaviness to Yejun.

His light lavender eyes dropped to her wrist again, following to their hands, bony fingers clasping against his youthful ones like a precious thing.

It used to be his mother’s palm covering him like the wide sky. The simmering emotions inside spilled over, bringing fresh tears from the corner of his eyes. Sorrow threatened to drown him, leaving him breathless no matter how much he tried to stop the cruel waves. A sob racked through his body and he bit his lips uselessly, painful moans escaped with the tears lining his cheeks. 

“What’s the matter? Why are you crying?”

Yejun let the other wipe his tears away, before pulling it away to hold his mom’s hand. Now, he was the sky, covering the rough but loving hand beneath his palm.

“Mom, I’m— I’m scared,” he choked out. “I don’t— I don’t want to—”

Only now, looking at his mom, Yejun thought there had never been a poignant reminder of his mortality like this moment he was relieving. Terribly small and short-lived, the threatening noise of the heart rate monitor beeping quickly with the way he grasped for his breath akin to a knife to his neck. About to turn twenty with the scent of antiseptic as his companion, and he was going to die if nothing stopped the spreading roots from embedding themselves deeper, taking until there was a bed of bloody flowers in place of organs. 

There were a million things he hadn’t done. Going to the concert of the singer he loved. Travel around the country and settle somewhere for months. He had promised Hamin that he would be cheering him on at his national championship. The kids, Bamby and Eunho waiting for him to go to the zoo. Yejun had grown quite attached to those fellas, taking them under his wings like they were actual siblings.

If he were gone, who would take care of his mom and dad?

His lips trembled so badly that no other words could form themselves. Instead, Yejun covered his face, uncaring of the tears wetting his palms and snot collecting on his nose. He wished to be a kid again, awfully wishing his mother’s palms were big enough to cup his entire face and hide him from the world like many years ago when the horror movies scared him badly.

He was near his breaking point. The flowers had already claimed half of his body; Yejun was painfully tired, from the constant coughing and the emotional turmoil he had been keeping at bay. And when the itch appeared again, something sly before going full force, Yejun wanted to hate something for once. At anything.

The flowers forced themselves out, spilling red to the pure grey blanket and drops on Yejun’s hand. Yellow, the color of hope, chrysanthemum, often offered during memorial services. Yejun could only balk out a laugh, shoving away the flowers to the floor without sparing a glance. He did not wish to keep these flowers, an omen foretelling his bleak future, there was no reason to keep such unfortunate things by his side.

The older woman glanced at the fallen flowers and said nothing, reaching out for a tissue to wipe the blood on Yejun’s hand, now no longer holding only drops but a mark from where Yejun wiped his mouth with it. Yejun was met with resistance when he tried to take the tissue away to do it himself, the woman shrugging his hand again and again until Yejun relented and let the other do as she wanted.

It was no longer warm here. Yejun opened his mouth to say something but in the end, no words could encapsulate the guilt and misery in his heart for putting his own mother through this situation.

“It’s okay, Jun-ah.” She murmured, taking another tissue to wipe Yejun’s nose, telling him to blow into it. “It will be alright.” She said, pushing aside his messy bangs and patting his hair.

“It will be alright.” She repeated. Her voice trembled and broke.

Yejun squeezed his lips shut, trying to hold back his sob as he reached to hug his mom. Their crying was accompanied by the quickening beat of his heart monitor. Somehow, it felt like a countdown to the days he had left.

They cried until nothing was left. Broken laughter was shared to lighten the mood, even though they were aware there was no such miracle in the ward. It was almost time for the visiting hours to end, the nurse had come knocking reminding his mom of it. Yejun didn’t want to let go, gripping her hand tightly as a plea to stay just a little longer until he fell asleep. With a sad smile, his mom kissed his forehead and started to pack her things up.

When his mom moved to throw away the flowers, Yejun reached out his hand. “Just leave them be.”

He held on to his mom’s eyes until she nodded in assent, reluctant but not saying anything to discourage Yejun from picking up the flowers himself. Wishing him a goodbye and a promise to see him tomorrow, Yejun watched her disappear into the hallway with the slide of the door.

“I’m such a fool,” he whispered to himself.

His eyelashes were damp with tears. Yejun disliked this nauseous feeling, a stone on his heart while his stomach churned with intensity, leaving him breathless. Putting his palm over his mouth, Yejun slowly drew in the air, trying not to aggravate himself and let it pass. He knew from experience after coughing up the flower this badly, that nothing would come out even if he forcefully retched into the toilet bowl. 

With a semblance of composure, Yejun reached down to the flowers, holding them carefully in his palms as he staggered to the toilet. Putting them down in the sink, Yejun turned the faucet and began to wash away all the blood from the flowers. Unhurriedly, never using any force when dealing with a persistent stain, straightening any crooked petals with the tip of his fingers, gently. Washed it until they were pure and beautiful, a stark contrast against the blinding white sink.

In the end, Yejun still kept the flowers.

Chrysanthemum, yellow, life well-lived as a remembrance, but also carried honesty and fidelity.

He was unable to throw such flowers away.

I’m sure you have heard of rooting surgery. With your condition, there might be a side effect in loss of memory for the one you love, but again, it’s a possibility. There are patients with their memories intact though there are changes in how they perceive their memories, since rooting surgery is meant to root out the romantic love. I would suggest you to go on with this, but the choice is yours, Nam Yejun-ssi. Consider this option within your comfort.

That night, in the privacy of his thoughts, Yejun wondered whether his mother had ever thought of asking him to go with the rooting surgery instead of suffering alone and dying young, but holding it back for some reason. It certainly came like a fool’s act, a just adult holding on and suffering from his first love when he barely knew the world.

Yejun wasn’t stupid. More so, his mom. Even without her saying anything, Yejun knew his mom was aware of who the flowers bloomed for. Never once did she say anything about it nor tell anyone about it, and that made Yejun love her even more. He knew it wasn’t an act of negligence on her part or enforcing too much freedom at the risk of his own life. They both knew that, before Noah was his first love, Noah was his closest friend, someone whom he had grown up with. That it was hard for Yejun to separate that while feeling too much on both sides.

The whole night, Yejun could barely catch a sleep. His mind was muddled with thoughts and questions. He thought of his parents, Noah, the Han family, and the people in his life. He was terribly scared of dying so young and alone. In the midst of his thoughts, the crisp noise of something broke him out of reverie, finding the paper cranes Bamby and Eunho had folded for him leaning crookedly by his bedside. The vibrant colors stood out even in the night time, the cranes made up of patterned paper to simple color. They were bent here and there, but the flaws made the display look even more dazzling to Yejun’s tired eyes.

Yejun loved Noah with his entire life. Maybe he was too young to think of anyone else, but Yejun knew it was a sure thing with Noah deep inside his soul.

Yet, Yejun also loved life. He loved them equally, that his life was tied to his love for Noah.

Because the truth was Yejun missed taking long walks with only music in his ears as he contemplated life and trivial matters. He missed the spice on his tongue instead of dull-tasting foods and warmth spreading through his body instead of constant cold. Yejun was as curious about Noah as he was about life. He wanted to know if the beauty of the neighboring island was as depicted by the television show the nurse put on. Curious of the foreign language he heard distantly spoken by another patient sharing his room. 

Slowly, the distant memory of a stranger talking in a train came to him. Isn’t the love of someone willing to die for another heavy? Shouldn't it be that if you love someone, you live for them?

This was it, wasn’t it? All those months trying to convince himself to be rational and go with the rooting surgery were met with failure. It was funny how a fragile paper crane could do a better job for him.

It was because Yejun loved Noah so much that he wanted to live longer and grow older together freely. In the same way, it was his love for life that allowed him to finally let go of this unhealthy entanglement and put a new vibrant color on his love for Noah, untainted by grief and pain. They were inseparable, had always been, because Yejun couldn’t remember the start of his life without Noah nor did he ever imagine the end of his life without Noah.

His last flower wasn’t an omen. Yellow for hope. Chrysanthemum for a life well-lived. It was grim, yes, but the same way a tarot card could hold negativity, it could also hold a positive message.

A hint for a bright future, instead of bleak.

You will scold me a lot for never saying anything about this. Even going as far as asking my and your parents to keep this a secret from you. This love I have should be no one’s responsibility but mine to bear. I blame no one for it, not even myself, for it, because there was nothing wrong about loving someone.

It’s not that I love you that caused me pain, I would like to think now. I’m simply unlucky and chosen among so many hopeless romantics out there. Life, right? After all, hanahaki isn’t a simple disease that strikes anyone with unreciprocated love. So there, that’s the bitter truth of life.

It’s because of you that I gained the strength to make my choice, Noah.

“Are you afraid, hyung?”

“Who, me? No, I’m not.” His navy hair swayed with a gentle shake. His palms were cold to the touch and even with the room blasting with aircon, Yejun could feel sweat soaking his back, bringing chill unrelated to the room temperature.

“You will be alright, hyung.”

“I hope so.” Yejun wiped his hands on the blanket. “I hope it goes well.”

“It will go well, hyung. Didn’t Bonggu and Eunho fold paper cranes for you?” Not a thousand, a hundred at most, clumsily folded by small hands with determination and care. “There’s no amulet as effective as that.”

“You are right,” Yejun chuckled. “… You have to bring the package to me later, Hamin-ah.”

“It will be the first thing you see when you wake up from the anesthetic, hyung. In fact, I have it with me now.”

“Ugh,” Yejun batted his hand sloppishly. “No spoilers or I will curse you with my eyes.”

Hamin broke into a grin. “You are doing too much, hyung.”

"I'm not."

“Oh, hyung … I initially thought it wouldn’t be right to say this, but I think it’s fine now.”

“What is it?”

“Happy birthday, hyung.”

I'm scared.

So scared that I don’t even want to write anymore and just throw up.

I wish you were here, dearly, teasing me for crying but always finding my hand to hold. I’m so so scared, Noah …

I don’t want to forget you.

But. I miss you and I will be missing you. See you when I see you, Noah.

Noah 

Happy birthday, Nam Yejun! You’re an adult now! [15.41]

Had you opened your gift? [15.42]

Amazing selection, isn’t it? As expected, I have a good taste [15.42]

I hope you are always happy wherever you are, Yejun. I’m glad that you were born and that you are here by my side [15.46]

The things I did and the choices I made, you gave me the courage to do them [15.47]

Happy twenty birthday, Yejun [15.47]

“Yejun-ah, it’s almost eight now. Aren’t you going?”

“Yes~” Yejun replied, clicking his pen with a flourish as he finished writing. “I’m just getting ready.”

“Then hurry up, they are leaving for the airport soon!”

“Okay, just a minute!”

There was a flutter of movement as Yejun got ready, brushing his hair carelessly to avoid looking too messy, though it only served to make him look lazier. It didn’t help that he decided to roll with his oversized sweater and loose pants. His pupils strayed from the clock to his hands busy tying the drawstring of his pants, back and again, and with a last look to the mirror, Yejun opened the door and left.

In the middle of the study table, conspicuous among the books and a monochrome study lamp, lay a jar of glass filled with dried flowers. They came with a variety of shapes and colors, carefully preserved without minimal damage that one might mistake for fresh flowers from a distance. A cork sealed the opening tightly; to take the flowers out would mean the risk of being chipped or even breaking the precious glass.

Brilliant under the sunlight and glimmering in the moonlight, honest feelings held on until the end of time.

P.S. : I’m alive (this sounds so ominous but it’s all dandy!)

I don’t know how to explain it to you because even words escape me when I try to think about it. I remember you in all the entirety but the image isn’t as defined as it used to be, as I remembered it before. Something inside me disappeared along with the flowers. The intensity that caught my breath, I struggle to remember it the more I wake up. My body is adapting, part of me still resists the change and sometimes my brain tries to fill the void that gave the specific fingerprint of sense and taste to the memories of you.

I love you, never will there be a day when I don’t, but I also love this liberating love inside me.

So this is it. A letter written by Nam Yejun to Han Noah. A letter that will never be sent, perhaps will be the last in my life. The end and the new beginning, full of splendour with you, always, in it.

If I can be selfish… maybe in another life… ah, nevermind.