Chapter 12

Ever since then, without Beomgyu, time began to pass with less and less significance to Yeonjun.

Had it been years since the last time Beomgyu smiled at him? Was it a year—or two, or three? Or had it just been months? Incidentally, was it also just yesterday when they kissed? Because to him, it sure felt like it.

He used to count the days until he and Beomgyu would visit the park together again; but now, the concept of time no longer existed to him. Days began to blur into one, months beginning to feel like they stretched into eons. If a supernatural being waltzed into his life just to tell him that he'd been stuck in his own personal Hell loop this entire time, Yeonjun would very much believe them.

He remembered less and less of his own high school life. He paid less and less attention to things around him that didn't pertain to Beomgyu. He would often catch himself subconsciously comparing people he met to the younger, scolding himself in the process. He knew that he had to carry on living his life without Beomgyu, because that would be what he wanted.

However, that was much easier said than done; and with the way Yeonjun still thinks about the younger in every waking moment of his day, he knew he wasn't doing a particularly good job at that—much less the daily visits, and the paper hearts. In hindsight, if Beomgyu had to wake up to all the hearts he'd been folding, Yeonjun might just collapse on the spot from embarrassment. The scenario played out better in his head.

That is, again— if Beomgyu wakes up. Yeonjun stopped himself just before his train of thoughts could descend any further.

This time as Yeonjun slid the ever so familiar hospital door aside, to his surprise, Soobin wasn't there. Must have been a first. He's usually always here.

And why was the lack of Soobin's presence making him more anxious than usual? Has being alone with Beomgyu always been this nerve wrecking?

Or was it something else about their current situation that Yeonjun refused to address?

Wordlessly, he closed the door behind him, staring at the only other person in the room—to call him a person now felt like an overstatement—the motionless body laying on a bed that suddenly looked too massive for his petite frame. Beomgyu always had a smaller build, but had he gotten thinner over the years?

It was the first time that Yeonjun allowed himself to take him in, for all that he was in his true condition without his optimism tainting his perspective.

As he stepped closer, he noticed how Beomgyu's skin was now almost as ghostly white as the bedsheet beneath him, fingers thinner than they used to be. The hollow of his collarbones were so frighteningly prominent, each curve and dip distinctly outlined. The bags of his eyes were dark and sunken, cheekbones hollow, like he'd lost sleep in days although that was the only thing he's been doing. Yeonjun found that ironic. His soft peach colored cheeks were now an ashen mauve. Yeonjun's heart twisted.

Beomgyu looked too sick; too pale for his liking. It was as if life was being continuously drained out of him through the countless tubes and wires attached to his body, when they should have been doing the opposite. Even his normally fluffy hair had lost its shine and volume, thinning out in frail strands and split ends.

The only thing serving as an indication of life at all was the way his oxygen mask would fog up with every subtle rise and fall of his chest. It was the only thing comforting Yeonjun's fragile heart, and even that façade was beginning to crumble.

It was at that moment that it finally hit him.

Beomgyu was living on borrowed time.

Would live even be the appropriate word, when in fact he was barely living at all—and just surviving? His life barely hanging on by a thread, like he was perched atop a cliff; ready to tiptoe and freefall at any moment?

In that case, wouldn't this be a life worse than death?

Reality crashed down onto the older like ferocious ocean waves, its tides pushing and pulling at the remnants of his sanity; taunting him with the ghost of his own despair as each second passed. For the past couple years, Yeonjun had caught himself blankly staring at Beomgyu's eyes—his favourite feature—hoping for it to blink, twitch, shift, move, anything; he would take even the lightest flutter of his lashes. But his hope led him onto a dead end, as even that amounted to no avail.

Yeonjun would normally holler at the top of his lungs upon arrival in order to signal Beomgyu of his presence; but this time he was achingly silent when he took the boy's hand in his. Was it due to the fact that Soobin wasn't here, that he didn't find it in him to put up his usual pretence?

Every single day after the first time he saw him, Yeonjun always told himself he would walk in with a smile. That he would only say happy things and be as normal as he could, to bring the younger boy a sense of normalcy—like nothing really ever changed.

He realised just now that nothing about this was in any way normal. He wondered if Beomgyu realised too, and was pitying him this whole time.

The thought pricked his eyes with unshed tears. With a shaky inhale, he squeezed the latter's hand, bringing it to his cheek. The look in Yeonjun's eyes as he stared at Beomgyu was laced with the epitome of pure agony and desperation. It hurts now, just to look at him.

"I miss you," he weakly whispered as the first tear cascaded past his cheekbones, right onto Beomgyu's index finger. "I miss you so much, Beomgyu." He pressed soft kisses onto the younger's fingers, not noticing the stream of tears falling from his eyes.

"Come back to me. You've been playing hard to get for a little bit too long now, don't you think? You're making hyung sad now… What happened to going to the park every birthday? I still need to take you on that Ferris wheel again, they renovated it. My birthday this year was so not fun without you. I'm seventeen now… Can you believe it? We were ten yesterday."

Silence. Not that he was expecting anything else; but that lingering trace of hope festered inside him like a parasite, refusing to leave his mind. "You're missing out on so much. Would you really want to spend the rest of your life in this room? I never took you to be such a boring person." He tried his best to ramble through his tears, his own defence mechanism going at work. Those words were spoken in more favour of his own comfort than it was Beomgyu's. He wondered if the younger boy saw through him at one point.

"God, this is pathetic," He groaned, his free hand reaching up to wipe his tears. His hold on the younger remained clasped tight—as if Beomgyu would fade away as soon as he let go. "I haven't cried in front of you ever since we were, what, twelve? You have to promise not to make fun of me for this when you wake up, okay? Don't be so horrible." He chuckled to himself, trying to regain his composure—not that it would matter anyway, since Beomgyu couldn't see him. Still, he tried.

As he attempted to stabilise his emotions, he picked up the familiar pastel paper from a nearby cabinet, fingers automatically starting the routine that had been drilled into him. "Anyway, today's TMI." He cleared his throat, his voice already transitioning back to what he liked to call his 'lying to the principal' voice. "I'm at the end of my junior year. Next year will be my last year of high school, can you imagine? The school offered me a scholarship to do an exchange in the United States for my last year. See? Your best friend is so smart. I'm practically an English genius, I'll have you know."

Then, he paused, waiting for the 'and did you accept it?' that never came. He should be used to it by now, but why would the silence still leave him with a pang of disappointment that only continued to expand each time farther than the first?

"I know you're wondering, so I'm gonna cut to the chase. I said no. Don't be mad at me, okay? You can yell at me about this later." He defended himself, although there wasn't anyone that would speak up right now, anyway. "I know, I know. I'm so stupid. God, I can almost hear your nagging voice. So annoying." He chuckled humorlessly, suddenly wondering how long it had been since he'd heard the younger's laugh. A newfound fear of never hearing it again suddenly implemented itself inside him.

He placed the now finished paper heart on the younger's bedside table, trying to form a proper sentence without jumbling on his words. "Hey you know, between you and me…what—" he started, only to stop moments after to make sure his voice wasn't shaking. "What if I did take the offer and leave you behind? I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I did. I can't—" He gripped the side of the hospital bed, knuckles white as he tried to steady himself to no avail. "I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if that happened."

"I just,'' he started, gulping. The nervousness was back in his voice, and he prayed that Beomgyu couldn't sense it. If he did, he didn't let it show. Well, not that he could.

"I can't bring myself to leave you. Never again. I made that mistake once, and it cost us—all this. I can't bear to think how I'd be halfway across the world from you, unable to visit you everyday… What if something happens, and when it does, I'm not by your side?" His eyelashes fluttered with his rapid attempts to blink away his tears, aggressively biting down his lower lip to refrain it from trembling.

"What if when you wake up, and the first face you see isn't me? I wouldn't be able to handle that." He lightly shook his head as an attempt to get rid of the thought. He knew better than anyone else that contemplating on what-if's would do him no good, yet he somehow couldn't stop. "I promised to be by your side for the rest of your life. When we were on that tree, remember? And I said you'll always have me. Guess what? Your hyung is a man of his words." Then, elaborately, he pressed his lips against Beomgyu's pale hand; planting soft kisses to each and every knuckle.

"He will never leave your side, ever again."

What Yeonjun failed to consider at the time, he would later on learn, was how he only thought of the possibility of him leaving Beomgyu's first—yet never the other way around.

So naturally, he wasn't the least bit prepared when that scenario began to grow more and more plausible—even more than he would have liked. One day, it was all going to crash down on his shoulders like the earth had folded in on him, engulfing him whole until he was left with nothing but skin and bones; and not even that lingering spark of hope he's been desperately holding onto would remain by his side then.

He just had no idea the day would come so soon.