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In Wemmbu's dingy apartment– with walls plastered in posters and pictures he doesn't recognize, and a bed messy with blankets and laundry– floats Eggchan and his newly acquired consciousness.
"Wemmbu forgot about me," slipped into Eggchan's mind as weightless as his own body.
Eggchan's next thought was how the hell he could even think. He's dead. He remembered dying on that hospital bed, cold and motionless, letting death cradle him like the mother he never deserved. It felt peaceful, satisfying, and yet scary at the same time; he imagined it's what riding a roller coaster feels like, or introducing himself in front of a full class on the first day of school he never attended.
He didn't remember what happened before he let himself go. There's something empty in his memory, a gap he doesn't quite understand. But the terrifying moment of dying had stayed apparently clear; the tips of his fingers that no longer tingled, his limbs that had gone slack and eyes so utterly heavy to lift.
Egg's barefoot feet touched the ground, but the cold tiles didn't make him shiver anymore. His hands moved, yet he didn't feel the wall he's holding. His mouth opened, his throat rumbled, but nothing came out. Nothing was heard. Eggchan wasn't quite sure.
What Eggchan was sure of, was the fact that Wemmbu had forgotten about him. Because the demon only phased through his figure when Egg tried to touch him.
He supposed it was natural; they're mortals, memories fail everyone with age and Eggchan was only a few pages worth of Wemmbu's very long life. It was bound to happen, he will never blame his friend for it.
It still didn't soothe the heavy ache in his heart.
Wemmbu came out of the bathroom with wet hair still dripping to his shirt and a toothpaste stain on his cheek. The demon had grown taller; now able to touch the tip of the doorways and the shelves above the kitchen for some bowls and utensils. Eggchan walked near him, hopped on to the counter like a kid and watched him crack two eggs into a bowl, then observed him opening a pack of instant ramen and enjoyed the way boiling water pops and sizzles.
It has been a while since he saw real food being made; well, as real as the noodles Wemmbu was boiling. At least this time, Eggchan knows it doesn't taste bland like straight up sludge and goop
"Yo, you're making it wrong," Eggchan commented. "You're not even putting vegetables anymore."
Wemmbu didn't respond. He doesn't see Egg nor did he feel his attempt to kick the demon's feet in annoyance.
The finished noodle almost slipped into the sink when Wemmbu tried to strain it. Giggles erupted from Eggchan's throat. This time, there's no remarks on how bad his humor was or a yell from Wemmbu to help him. Wemmbu simply sighed and saved the rest of the noodle back into the bowl.
"Wow, you're really broke, huh…"
This is a very sad breakfast, Eggchan concluded. Which was ironic, Eggchan never ate something better than the poor attempt of a meal Wemmbu is currently making, but even he knows it's a little pathetic. The jello Minute used to give him seemed a little better than this.
(That's a lie. Eggchan would rather dangle someone over a pit of molten lava to have a single taste of instant ramen during his time alive.)
The chair scraped the floor when Wemmbu sat on it. Eggchan sits on the only other chair that was available. There's a neon rainbow colored sticker on the table, and a few scratches that resemble a fire symbol and hearts. If Eggchan hadn't known better, he'd have thought Wemmbu got it free from a dumpster– actually, maybe he did. The table wiggled with its unbalanced legs as Wemmbu took his first bite of his breakfast for the day. He had to admit, it looked delicious, even with Eggchan's lack of experience.
If this was taken out of context, Eggchan would be known as the weirdest guy ever, because he's watching his friend eating an instant noodle with the interest of a scholar reading into a newly created theory on some fancy historical research. Eggchan observed the wrinkles Wemmbu now have, the bags under his eyes, his hair that had gotten longer than just touching his shoulder and his taller stature. Everything he knew about Wemmbu had changed.
In the end, Wemmbu ended up growing taller than Egg. The angel wondered if he were still alive, in some universe where they had pitied him and given him a better chance, would Eggchan still be taller?
If he were alive, would he stay at this exact same apartment as his best friend?
Egg would have definitely fixed this stupid table. He'd clutter it with books, and tidy up the bed Wemmbu left unmade and messy. Eggchan would remind Wemmbu about the toothpaste on his cheek, and laugh at his noodle straining method, bother him to add at least some greens into the meal and eat the cheap breakfast together– side by side, alive, and real.
Alive, and real. Alive. Real. Alive– that's not something Eggchan is currently doing, he can accept that, but real?
What makes someone real in the first place?
Eggchan once read that memory was what makes someone a person; somewhere between reading some biography of a famous other dead person or those weird fantasy fiction Minute gifted to stop him from reading such topics unfit for his age. Experiences they share, activities done together, stories made with each other; it builds character, strengthens bonds– and Egg had barely done any of those.
Eggchan had barely done anything in his life.
"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?"
"That's a dumb question," Wemmbu answered, a lifetime ago, knife in his hands and cut up apples in his other. The ears were still unsculpted.
Eggchan smiled, hiding the dull thumping in his head and he read back the book in his hands.
"Bro, at least this dumb question is a famous one," Egg rolled his eyes.
Wemmbu laughed, the dimples in his cheek showing. "It still doesn't make it any less dumber, Egg."
"Maybe," he shrugged weakly, "I'm just curious bro. Can't a guy ever have a question?"
"If it's not stupid, sure."
Maybe it is a stupid question, and Wemmbu was right for the first time ever.
With a clink, Wemmbu left his bowl in the sink, dirty and filled with other cutleries Egg guessed was probably a week old already. Eggchan would have washed it if he were alive and real, he had always hated mess.
Wemmbu had never cared when his hospital room got messy after a scare; with medicines placed haphazardly, tests done over another, time passed by his eyes faster than the beeping of the monitor Eggchan remembered in blurs.
Mess was just Wemmbu's middle name, right after violence and his utterly poor attempt at being a nonchalant guy. Egg snorted at his own joke.
Wemmbu would laugh at it. Maybe with a dry scoff mostly to keep him entertained, though it's a laugh anyway. This Wemmbu doesn't do that anymore; he looked tired despite waking up late, sluggish even if he had just finished eating breakfast, not energetic even with the cup of black coffee he's currently slurping into.
This is weird, for Eggchan to have a front row seat of watching Wemmbu's daily routine outside of hospital visits. He had joked once that the demon doesn't have a life outside of Eggchan. But now, looking at the claustrophobic apartment, Egg wondered if his jokes had been insensitive all this time.
In his whole sixteen years of living and in his death, Egg had done nothing but make things worse, hadn't he?
Wemmbu walking past him broke the angel out of his stupor. His cheek was cleaner now, and Wemmbu was crunching through an apple. The demon shrugged on his jacket, pocketing a phone Egg hadn't seen before and reached for the door handle.
"Yo, where are you going?" Egg asked. Wemmbu stayed silent, not saying a word the whole morning. Eggchan decided that maybe taking a walk with his best friend was the second best thing to do while being dead.
"Wear your scarf," Egg reminded him. Wemmbu jingled his key, there's a sunflower and fish keychains hanging off of it.
"I'm going too," Egg stated. Wemmbu clicked the door lock instead, walking down the stairs, and to the outside world where Egg had never been to before.
Outside looks cold, in a good way where it could be felt and seen and enjoyed by everyone but Eggchan. The angel had guessed he wouldn't feel it, just like the table and the chair and Wemmbu's apartment floor. When his bare feet stepped on the white snow, it didn't sink the same way Wemmbu's boots did. It didn't crunch when he followed him through the busy sidewalk. His breath doesn't create fog the same way Wemmbu's does.
The world acts like Eggchan was not supposed to be here. A simple footnote nobody reads at the bottom of the paper. The plastic wrapper of a straw; just as he expected, Egg had barely made it to the first page before he was wiped clean.
Wemmbu had forgotten him, after all. That had been the number one theory.
There's an ache in his heart at the thought– unlike the one he experienced numbly in the hospital. It didn't send blinding and shock through all his nerves, yet at the same time, his brain convinced him it was worse. A pain Eggchan hadn't truly felt until his time on earth was over.
He never knew being forgotten could feel this painful.
Wemmbu kept walking, Eggchan stopped; letting the world fade around him just like he had all those years ago.
The world keeps spinning, Eggchan stays sixteen.
***
When Eggchan first heard he was dying, it felt like a joke. A really bad one, not even he could save it from the booing of the invisible audience standing under his imaginary stage.
His body was failing, that he knew. Each of his limbs aches everyday, food barely entered his throat before he threw it all out again. Sometimes, it even hurts to open his eyes as if the sun was directly staring at his cornea. But the constant therapy and new medicines had given him hopes that he could stand longer than a few minutes and go back to that one playground he and Wemmbu used to play in.
The hope that maybe, by some miracle, Eggchan could be a normal kid again.
The vision was shattered in a matter of seconds. Minute stared at him with pity and guilt and everything else Eggchan read in the dictionary under the 'awful feelings' category. As if the doctor were the one to curse him this weak body, and puppeted the world to doom his soul. Minutetech wouldn't, of course, that just meant the doctor was wrong.
He must be. He should have been wrong. He—
"I'm sorry," Minute said, final and clear.
Eggchan hummed and reread the paper as if the words could magically edit itself.
The angel had just reached fifteen. He had clubs he wanted to join, school recess to annoy Wemmbu in, colleges he wanted to write an essay for a scholarship to. So many dreams to reach, only for a simple diagnosis and a yellow folder in his laps to tell him otherwise.
What a cruel world it is, that something so thin and flammable that Egg could easily fold into a paper airplane and toss it out the window, had so much weight in his numb hands.
There's no tears running down his cheek, though. Egg thought if it was the medicine that made his head hazy and unfocused, or just the part of him that had already seen this coming and acceptance was the only stage left for him to act on. There's nothing more to it, nothing less. It was always going to end like this.
"Huh," slipped out of the angel's mouth instead. Monotone and dry as his throat. "What do I do, then?"
Eggchan doesn't remember what the doctor replied with. He guessed it was something boring again, with complicated words he definitely knew the meaning of and even more motivation to try and survive a little longer like he could choose to die.
–yet all the angel could think of was a vibrant purple and a stupid dimpled cheeks.
Wemmbu would be mad if he told him, he thinks. Maybe he would finally slap Egg square on his cheek, instead of denting his own palm with crescent shaped scars from his sharp nails– only to then leave the room with his tail lashing behind him. Egg would be able to take it, he decided. The angel had pestered him enough about the apples and school, and Wemmbu is a fragile one.
Like the vase on the table side, his family's relationship, and the world giving up on him. It's not like Eggchan hadn't given up on himself, too. One could only take so much before getting tired of the same dance and tricks everyday for the past years.
Eggchan was tired. He has been tired.
When he dies, he wondered if Wemmbu would remember him as the sickly, weak annoying nerd he has to visit everyday instead of the child he used to be.
When Egg died, he wished his friend would forget about him.
***
"Why did you visit me everyday?" Eggchan asked Wemmbu.
Wemmbu fixed his gaze on the phone in his hand, thumb mindlessly scrolling through something Egg had never seen before. The train's redstone and magic rumbled under their feet. The angel didn't feel the tremor travel through his body like it used to, and the seat kind of phased when he tried to sit on it. He had to do weird adjusting to make himself sit next to Wemmbu.
"Do you have games there?" He pestered the demon. "Can I play? I want to play Tetris, or Sudoku. You used to suck at Minesweeper. I bet I can still beat you there."
But even through his rambles, Wemmbu was still focused on the screen, and Eggchan found himself bored. He gazed at the window instead. Nature and buildings whizz past him in blurred motions that remind him of watercolor paintings. There's a field of sunflowers that went by faster than Eggchan would have liked, and then a school with children playing on the yard, then more wet, empty fields and the bright sky that told him winter was slowly ending.
"Wemm, look, the snow is melting around here," he mentioned absently. The rumbling of the train was the only one to answer his observation.
The train let out a loud grunt when they entered a tunnel. The carriage was dark, glass rattled, startling Eggchan with nothing reflecting on the window other than the few passengers left and Wemmbu's broad back that will never face him.
It's weird to be so alone where the world doesn't even see you. It's weird to be here.
Why is he here in the first place? Why isn't Egg in some weird afterlife his family used to brag about? He doesn't remember anything else other than the day he was supposed to pass away. There were no giant golden gates awaiting for him in the sky, no playing in the clouds, no Rejoice to talk with despite the phantom feeling of holding his hands.
He blinked, and suddenly Wemmbu became an old, boring, depressed adult.
With nothing to see outside of the window, Eggchan changed his focus back to Wemmbu, who was now putting earbuds to his ears. The wires are taped up with different colors, and the demon struggled putting it into his phone for a few seconds. Eggchan huffed with a laugh when he finally managed to put it in, and Wemmbu sighed with relief as he sagged deeper into the chair.
The angel copied him, leaning back to the seat he could not feel and resting his head on Wemmbu's tall shoulders.
The carriage was dark. Egg could barely see anything now.
"I miss you," Eggchan confessed. "I miss us." The train trembled with his voice.
Wemmbu didn't move when Eggchan pushed further into the one-sided hug. The angel only buried his face deeper into his shoulder, hoping for some sign that he could still feel. Hoping for a miracle that he knows will never come.
Eggchan would have never said this outloud, and he had regretted it. He regretted not telling Wemmbu that he couldn't sleep whenever Wemmbu left. He hated himself for not telling his friend more of the silly stories of the hospital or how much he actually appreciated his company and the apples he always brings despite peeling them in an annoying way.
"I know I acted tough and nonchalant and cool, but I was really scared, y'know?" He mumbled. His voice didn't come out mumbled by Wemmbu's old jacket, but it still didn't make it any less easier coming out of his throat. "The tests were scary. The medicines were scary. The doctors were scary. Everything was painful and so, so scary Wemmbu. I was scared– I was so, so, so scared."
"This is scary. I feel so alone. I'm scared of being alone," Eggchan whimpered.
Eggchan felt cold again. It wasn't the chill like the winter wind or when he and Minute went to the hospital garden every once in a while– this cold was painful, like icicles stabbing through his guts and ice freezing his throat. Eggchan had always hated the cold. He closed his eyes and tightened his fist and hugged himself to keep the nonexistent body heat from leaking out like a poorly working sponge. It doesn't work. It's dumb. Eggchan is stupid enough to think that.
Maybe he deserved to die, after all.
The train rumbled again, low and heavy. The tunnel felt never ending. Everything was dark, Eggchan couldn't see nor feel anything else other than to hear the sound of redstone grinding over rails and the ground and–
Wemmbu got up, surprising Eggchan as he fell flat to his side on the seat where his friend was just sitting. Eggchan grumbled over the fact that Wemmbu didn't warn him they were stopping here, then remembered he can't exactly see him anyway. So he picked himself up and continued following his friend.
Eggchan still felt cold, even if the sun was shining outside and Wemmbu was opening the zipper of his jacket, sweat beading on his forehead. Maybe this is just a ghost thing, and wondered why he had felt the same way long before he had even died.
Where are you going?
They were walking through familiar roads now. The station felt the same despite it looking decrepit. The forests had started to grow green again, leaves slowly growing between the bald branches and Eggchan questioned himself on how he knew about it when he hadn't been here before. The road was filled with holes and mud. Puddles splashing under Wemmbu's boots while Eggchan hopped lightly above one stone to another, as if the mud would even affect him.
They passed a broken down bus stop, then a wilting sunflower field, then a few closed up shops with falling roofs and cracked signs. He nodded politely at the strangers who couldn't see him, and pet a cat that tried to touch his invisible hand– before it meowed and ran away when Wemmbu took notice of it.
What are you doing?
Wemmbu stopped at the edge of a wooden walkway, his posture rigid and tails curling into itself. The wooden road leads down to a staircase and onto the sandy ground and the beach. The demon just stayed there, watching the waves roll into the sand and take each grain of it back to the sea. The seagulls cawed around them, the sky was still a weird, dull blue, the wind was messing up Wemmbu's hair. Eggchan grumbled that the demon didn't even bother to tie them up.
Where are we?
They're at the beach, that was obvious enough, but it didn't just feel like a location Wemmbu would visit. This place was at least three hours away from where Wemmbu's apartment was, and Eggchan didn't think that his friend was the adventurous kind. He used to groan and whine when the school forced him on a road trip, talking about how useless it felt and he'd rather spend his time with Egg in the hospital instead of tiring his legs walking around a zoo.
Eggchan thought Wemmbu was just lazy, back then. He still is lazy, looking back to his messy apartment and piling up dishes, but now that Egg has nothing else to think about, maybe it was just Wemmbu's way of caring for him.
What a silly realization Eggchan had just thought of. The only time you notice just how important something is, it's always when you have lost it; like Wemmbu, their childhood and Egg's life.
It felt like a century when Wemmbu finally moved. His steps felt heavier as it creaked on the wooden floorboards, dragging himself to do this. As if visiting this place was a punishment of sorts that reminded Egg of a hazy memory of when he used to go to school and saw Wemmbu standing in front of the class with one leg– same face scrunching, same fists tightening, same tails coiling.
Why are you doing this?
Eggchan followed silently behind him. His steps were lightweight against the ground and the sand didn't sink when he stepped on it– his feet didn't feel the expected grains of sand in between his toes and Egg frowned at the lack of sensory he's still experiencing.
Wemmbu kept walking, to the incoming tides and the heavy waves.
It looked scary.
Eggchan is so, so, so scared.
Don't go, Egg wanted to beg. Don't leave me, don't go there, you'll be swept away. You'll leave and you'll never come back. Don't go.
Wemmbu can't hear him. He will never hear his jokes, nor mock his nerdy interest, or even pinch his cheek until it's red and stretched and they both would laugh at it together. His friend had forgotten him– Wemmbu no longer thinks of Eggchan.
If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?
What if it did fall? What if the tree was never going to be found? What if Wemmbu didn't bother to look back into that dense forest and never saw the rolled over log on the ground– what if he doesn't notice the dry leaves and the rotting bark and the sickening smell of sap bleeding to the ground?
The sea was louder– louder than the seagulls' endless singing, the creaking wooden boards, the train engine, Eggchan's attempt to speak. They're bigger– with waves carving its name through cliffs and taking back everything and anything into its infinite depth of nothingness but the blue reflection of the sky.
The sea takes everything, it takes everything, it takes– it will take Wemmbu.
Eggchan will be alone again. Just as he had been born; in a house too big for him and suits ironed too perfectly and a family who wouldn't bat an eye over a single of his feathers. He'll stay being that one sickly kid who could never fly and bleed too much and one where people had wasted their good investment on
Eggchan will be alone. He'll stay alone. Even through his birth, his life, his death.
Eggchan is—
"Eggchan! I miss you!"
The angel snapped his eyes open before he realized he had closed them.
"I got a new job, and I like it this time! I applied to volunteer at your hospital! I finally washed your cardigan yesterday! I finally got through winter!"
Wemmbu yelled to the sea like a kid Egg remembered him to be. He cupped his hands around his mouth, and his voice cracked once in a while.
"I brought my own coffee maker last week! I cleaned your gravestone! I finished the book you told me to read! It– it lowkey sucks– but I finished it!"
If Eggchan could still breathe, it would be stuck in his throat, and then erupt in a bubbly laugh with tears beading on the edges of his eyes. But Wemmbu could, so he took a deep breath, and kept going.
"I brought sunflower seeds for spring! I painted the pots blue! I fixed the plushie you used to always bring to sleep! My apples are better now!" Another breath, another yell. "Flame and I do tournaments sometimes! And– and Parrot doesn't annoy me as much anymore! Spoke still, kinda– but he's cool! Sometimes Minute and Jaden visit me too!"
"I miss you, Egg, I miss you so much!"
His yell echoed through the vast sea. It bounced off the water and the cliffs and the cloud before it fades into the world; like it was delivering the message to the ghost standing right beside the demon. Finally, Wemmbu dropped his hands to his sides, and took his time catching up with oxygen. His eyebrows drew on themselves, his mouth holding back in familiarity.
Then, he heard something smaller and more fragile under the demon's breath.
"I miss you," Wemmbu whispered. "I don't think I'll ever stop missing you."
He said it quietly, as if Wemmbu wished to keep this one message close to his heart selfishly.
It was at that moment where Eggchan broke like a fragile vase; on the sand that doesn't leave a trace, the water that won't wet his feet, tears running down his cheek with no hands to help him wipe it away. Wemmbu kept his gaze to the sea, unaware of the way his dear friend crumbled and wept over the future he can never reach.
"I'm sorry," Eggchan sobbed, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Wemm. Thank you. Thank you– I'm sorry."
Egg wanted to hug Wemmbu. He wanted him to pat his head and let him play with his purple hair until the sun went down and the apples were gone from his plate. He wanted Wemmbu to bandage his knee again, to comfort him when he felt so alone, to play with the drifting joysticks then laugh at stupid jokes.
He wobbled his way to his friend and hugged him. It was loose and awkward, looping his shorter limbs around Wemmbu's body and buried his head into the crevices of his neck. It didn't make him warmer– it didn't feel like anything– but Eggchan felt better. Like the sea's gentle waves and the bright blue he always liked and the calming nice breeze.
Wemmbu hugged himself, and if Egg was allowed to dream once more, he'd pray that the demon was hugging him back too.
"I miss you too. I love you. I'm sorry I miss you." Eggchan repeated with snot in his nose.
Egg is a selfish angel when angels aren't supposed to be selfish. He didn't want this moment to end, he didn't want to be alone, he didn't want his friend to ever forget him and he had never wanted to die.
What a fool Wemmbu was to befriend such a selfish angel, but the stupid part of Egg was glad the demon did. He would never regret talking to Wemmbu on that playground– Egg will never regret being his friend.
Eggchan wanted to live with Wemmbu. He wanted to be alive. He wants to live. He wants to live. He wants to live.
"I want to live. I'm sorry, I want to go back. I'm sorry," he cried.
Eggchan wants to live. He weeps as the tips of the toes that didn't reach the sand slowly fade– with the sea and the setting sun.
He wants to be the light between the leaves that wake Wemmbu up in the morning and the butterfly that perches on the sunflowers he'll be growing. Eggchan wants to be the cat that curls around his legs. He wants to be the cold water that the demon drinks after a nightmare. He'll be the warmth of the scarf when winter comes back, the breeze that cools him in the summer, the king-sized candy bar he'll get at parties– he wishes to be the best friend of Wemmbu in all of the universe that exists.
And when all the angel could feel was just his face– wet with tears and his heart beaming with happiness– his eyes locked with Wemmbu's. Eggchan didn't have time to question if his friend could see him all snotty and tired and just the same as the one he had watched being buried all those years ago;
Eggchan's time here was up.
Relief washed over the angel like the waves that reflected the glowing sun drowning into the horizon. Satisfied, he smiled; wide and stupid.
"Thank you. See you later, Wemmbu."
With the glow of the sea, once again, Eggchan vanished from the world.
***
"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?"
"That's a dumb question," Wemmbu answered. The ears of the apple bunnies in his hands were still unsculpted.
Eggchan smiled, hiding the dull thumping in his head and he read back the excerpt in his book.
"Bro, at least this dumb question is a famous one," Egg rolled his eyes.
Wemmbu laughed, the dimples in his cheek showing. "It still doesn't make it any less dumber, Egg."
"Maybe," he shrugged weakly, "I'm just curious bro. Can't a guy ever have a question?"
"If it's not stupid, sure."
Eggchan sighed, "okay, what's a not-stupid question, then?"
Wemmbu paused, the knife hovered over the apples with no tremor in his hands.
"Hm, okay I'll ask you a better question,"
The demon faced him, a smug smile aimed at his sunken cheeks.
"Do you think we're friends in every universe, Egg?"
Eggchan widened his eyes, surprised that his friend could ask such questions.
The angel scoffed with humor. "That's a dumb one, there's no proof the multiverse exists."
"Wh– okay, but like, doesn't it sound cool?"
"I mean," Egg paused, "kinda…?"
"Okay, so like, if it is real, would you still think that we'd be friends in each of those universes?" Wemmbu said animatedly. His hands busied itself with another slice, muscle memory at this point.
Egg sighed exasperated. "Like, I guess bro."
"So your brain can still think."
"Wh- dude? What is that supposed to mean?"
"You answered your own question."
"That's not how it works!"
"Okay bro, just– Like, okay, then let me spell it out for you," Wemmbu hopped onto the bed, the springs of it squeaking under their weight. "If a tree falls, then it falls. So what if there's no one to hear it fall?" He shrugs carelessly, swinging the knife around.
Egg sinks back into his bed. Wemmbu was right, somewhat, but it wasn't what he had expected. The angel was about to open his mouth when Wemmbu suddenly continued, "but…"
"Like, I think that it still affects its surroundings. The ground would probably miss the shade, and the animals would lose the fruit it used to make. Just because no one saw it fall down, doesn't mean it left no impact. Sure, the world still spins, but it didn't mean the tree didn't fall."
Eggchan was speechless, staring at his best friend who was just raging in a game of Minesweeper a few minutes prior.
Oh, Eggchan thought. He left it at that.
He'll let Wemmbu be right this time, a small part of it was because he might actually be right, and more so that he wants to savor this rare moment of Wemmbu being sincere and a little vulnerable.
Minute's news from a few days back hangs heavy in his head. He choked it back down.
Eggchan would miss Wemmbu. He would never stop missing him for however long he has left. He'd miss the apples, the gaming sessions, his rambles, the plushies. He'll miss being alive, that was inevitable, so he'll try to enjoy this moment while it lasts.
Apples rot, sunflower wilts, summer ends, and Eggchan will die.
"Okay," he accepted it.
Wemmbu snickered, and shoved an apple slice into his mouth. "Okay?"
Egg had to chew on it and bite the head part so he could answer his friend. He swallowed it carefully this time. "Yeah, okay."
Okay was enough. Okay means good. Okay was what Egg would settle for. His dear friend smiled with the dimples and the neverending mischief in his eyes Eggchan prays would never fade.
Outside, spring had begun. The leaves near his windows are back to green, there's flowers blooming in the garden underneath the windowsill, and Minute would let him walk around the hospital garden around this season. Wemmbu would return to school again, Eggchan would spend most of his days buried deep into his books, the apples would be less sweeter.
Eggchan will be enough.
"Okay."