Lately, Hyunjin had been wondering more and more what would happen when he was gone. Would his suffering end there, turning into nothingness like himself? Or would he be reborn, to once again learn some lessons he hadn't learnt in this life? Or perhaps on the other side he will meet his loved ones and never be parted from them again? Such a silly, sentimental thought, but even on it Hyunjin could not trust: even if there is a better world somewhere beyond our understanding, where there is no pain and suffering, and only love, among his loved ones it is her who will not be there. Because he is not her loved one.

Coughing, Hyunjin sat up on the bed, feeling a burning sensation in his throat, and when something wanting to remind him of itself touched the base of his tongue, he nearly twisted with a gag reflex, but he held it back, already used to it. The attack eased as Hyunjin coughed up a pair of snow-white petals into his palm. So snow-white that the scarlet droplets on them seemed almost black in the semi-darkness of the room. It was a bad sign, he knew that, but he wasn't frightened or surprised. Hyunjin knew he was dying, and he hadn't been expecting anything good for a long time now, just letting these beautiful colours slowly envelop his lungs, growing through them and getting closer and closer to his exhausted heart.

He gently caressed the petals with his fingers. It's funny. That damn disease hasn't killed his love of flowers, even though they were literally killing him.