It was a tiny hand clasped at the very hem of his nurse coat that made Soobin stop in his tracks.

Yet another tranquil Sunday morning at the hospital cafeteria came, uneventful as always. The male was holding a tab in one hand, heading back in after finishing a round of check-ups at the courtyard. Not many patients were inside, save for a few children finishing up their breakfast and some elders in need.

Upon feeling the tug, Soobin immediately turned, coming face to face with the owner of the hand. It belonged to a small girl—young, rather pale, her frame frail. Soobin made a mental note to ask for her name so he could put in a word or two with her nutritionist later.

She had hair that was as dark as night, silky like black jade. Her eyes were wide and round as they stared straight at him—almost alarmingly big in proportion to the rest of her tiny features. Her frame was dressed in a plain white dress, oddly ambiguous. But then again, this was a hospital gown.

The child had a Peitero duck plushie in her free hand, possessively clutched to her chest. Her fist was oddly clamped, and only then did Soobin realise there was something else poking through the gap of her stout fingers.

“Hello there,” he flashed her a warm smile, quickly crouching down to meet the child’s eye level. He was rewarded with a shy one in return. “How can I help you?”

“Mister nurse.” Meekly mumbled the girl, eyes wide with a hint of curiosity in them. They were clear as day as those obsidian orbs blinked at him. Soobin’s crinkled. “I… I found something.”

“You did? Would you like to show me?” Soobin hummed, eyes gazing at the girl’s clamped fist, waiting for it to unturn. And so it did.

What laid in the girl’s palm, however, made his expression shift.

Clutched in the middle of her small hand was a crinkly paper heart. Neatly folded, but with edges worn. It wasn’t an uncommon sight for him, but for whatever reason, his guts told him that Soobin recognised all too well just where this particular one came from.

“Oh? Where did you find this?” He tried to keep the smile plastered on his face, unstretching his own palm to hold the child’s.

The girl fidgeted, shifting her weight between her feet; reluctant to answer—like a child afraid of reprimanding because she was caught doing something she shouldn’t be. “It’s okay to tell me, I promise.” He added, for extra reassurance which he was certain she needed.

This sparked a glint of hope in her eyes. “I found this in the room next to mine! There were so many! It was like a Barbie movie, mister nurse!”

Soobin’s heart dropped.

A heartbeat too late, he inquired, his voice wavering just in the slightest. “What’s your room number, little one?”

“554!” Chirped the child, and something unreadable flashed across Soobin’s usually bright visage.

“You went in there?” Said Soobin, his cheerful tone from earlier completely absent.

“I-it was unlocked.” Fumbled the child, her grip on the plushie tightening. She was looking away now, and the hand situated on top of Soobin began to tremble.

The room is never left unlocked. Then, how...?

Nevertheless, Soobin cooed, shaking his head and reaching out to stroke her back; something he was trained to do to comfort children. “Shh, it’s okay. It’s alright. Why don’t we return this to where it belongs?”

She meekly nodded, putting the crumpled paper heart in Soobin’s much larger palm. Soobin carefully held it, like he was afraid it would break under the gentlest of touches; and put it in his coat pocket.

Long time no see.

He then stood up, took the child’s hand in his, and began walking.

“Mister nurse, why are there so many hearts in here?”

Fluorescent lights began to flood the room after he flipped the switch. Soobin had let the girl come in ahead of him before he slid the door close.

The room was exactly just as they’d left it three years ago; in which Soobin never let anyone, himself included, enter it since. Just being here alone made his body feel like it was being torn through a time warp. Inhaling a deep breath, his eyes finally flickered up to take in his surroundings.

It wasn’t anything different from other hospital rooms. The bed was perfectly made. The sheets were white—so were the pillows, the floor, the ceiling, and just about anything else. Almost the entire room was adorned in white. Nothing was unordinary.

Except, for the masses and masses of origami hearts—all in different colours—filling the entire space to the brim everywhere one would look. Colours rippled in bright paper hues through his field of vision; left to right, up to down. It was taped on the wall, much so that there was barely room for the white paint to peek through. Strings and strings of them were hung up across the ceiling in multiple rows, criss-crossing like bedroom lights decoration. It was by the bed; on the nightstand, on the pillow, and carefully spread out on the sheets.

Soobin could perfectly recall how he was right there, taping the hearts onto the wall, tying the strings, scattering them on the sheets—three years ago, like it was just yesterday.

The little one carefully sat down on the chair right by the bed, but Soobin lifted her up and put her on the mattress. Her tiny frame was huddled by the sea of origami hearts on the sheet; the sight was oddly endearing, but heart-wrenching to him for reasons the male would rather not address.

The nurse sat himself down on the bedside chair, pulled it closer, and handed the child a random heart he picked up. Then, he started. “Have you ever heard about the origami hearts tradition in the hospital?”

Taking the heart, the child excitedly inspected it, nodding in glee. “Yes! My mama told me that when someone leaves the hospital to go to heaven, we all fold a paper heart for them! Like this, like this!”

“That’s right,” chuckled Soobin. The pure, innocent excitement of a child almost single-handedly brightened the morbid ambiance of this room, something that no one was able to accomplish for countless years to come. Soobin found it highly ironic. “But do you know how it started?”

The girl shook her head, handing her paper heart to the Peitero duck so they could inspect it together. This alone tugged at Soobin’s heartstrings.

“Well, then. I’ll tell you a story.” He cleared his throat, and the child looked up at him with the brightest eyes in the world, waiting for him to go on with her lips shaped into a perfect ‘o’.

I wonder if you sent her into my path. As a sign.

“It started here, in this room. From a boy who used to fold a paper heart every day for his lost love, hoping each one he makes will take him closer to the day those eyes would open again."

Unfortunately for him, that day never came.

“Hyung, look here!”

Yeonjun was in the middle of climbing down a tree, the end of a random grass plant tucked between his teeth when he turned to look. “Beomgyu, what are you doing?”

“Come quick, or the wind’s gonna blow it away! Look!” The younger boy still exclaimed with glee, sounding way too excited as he crouched in the middle of the field, hands cupped protectively around something.

Yeonjun let out a small laugh as he jumped down, walking over. In the middle of a tall grass field, Beomgyu mysteriously looked even smaller. “What is it?” He inquired as he squatted down next to him.

With a bright grin, the boy in question unveiled his hands, revealing the item he’s been carefully shielding from the afternoon spring breeze.

They were two perfect dandelions—white as snow, round as textbook circles, not a single flake out of place.

Beomgyu noticed Yeonjun staring in awe as well and giggled as he gently plucked the flowers, handing one to the former. “Here! Did you know that when you see dandelions, you can make a wish before you blow them, and they’ll come true?”

Yeonjun’s brow arched. Beomgyu didn't look like the type to be interested in things like that. “Really? Are you making this up?” Yeonjun mused, looking at the younger with a questioning gaze that was half teasing.

“No! An uncle told me once. Quick quick, close your eyes and make one. Let’s do it together.” Beomgyu waved around his free hand, his excitement barely contained. With a smile still plastered on his face, he squeezed his eyes shut—so excessively tightly that wrinkles started to form. If Yeonjun found it endearing, he didn’t let him know. He only spared a second to stare at Beomgyu, smiling fondly to himself before he too closed his own eyes.

What he wished for, he'd rather take to his grave than admit aloud.

'I wish to always spend tomorrow together with you, until the end of forever.'

When he opened them again, Beomgyu’s were no longer closed. Those doe eyes were now staring at him with anticipation; like he was waiting for him to complete making his wish so they could blow them together.

Yeonjun let out a small chuckle, a nod signifying the green light Beomgyu was awaiting. The latter’s smile turned impossibly brighter before they both blew at their dandelions at the same time.

“What wish did you make?” Yeonjun nudged him by the shoulder, the remains of the dandelions scattered around them like miniature snowflakes.

“Hyung, I can’t tell you! Or it won’t come true!” The younger looked away, a small pout forming on his face.

“Aw, but you tell hyung everything,” Yeonjun pressed, tackling the younger male down onto the field. Beomgyu only whined but showed no signs of restraint.

The sun was high above them. The breeze was warm yet gentle. In the distance, Yeonjun could hear birds chirping. Dew drops made their clothes damp as they rolled about in the field, but neither of them seemed to care. Giggles filled the quiet of the park; it was as if only the two of them were present in this vast, vast world.

They were ten.

When they turned eleven, Beomgyu took him here again—on a chilly September evening, where the breeze no longer held the comforting warmth of a peck like it would a March afternoon. Yeonjun still remembered the dew drops caressing his cheeks when they last visited.

Now, he only pulled his turtleneck higher, the wind ruthlessly ravaging through his hair. Beomgyu was by his side, a hand clasped tightly around his; wearing a white beanie and a bright yellow sweater. Yeonjun noticed that his beanie had cat ears and snickered. How adorable.

“Come quickly!” The younger male ushered, dragging him by their intertwined hand. Yeonjun only yelped as he tried to keep up. The breeze blew more mercilessly this time around, and he could taste his hair in his lips as he lightly shuddered.

Beomgyu finally stopped once they arrived at Yeonjun’s favourite spot of the park—a giant maple tree. They sat, and only then did Beomgyu let go of his hand to dig into the basket he’s been carrying. Yeonjun’s palms felt oddly empty in the cold, and so he tugged them under his sweater to get rid of the chill.

“Hyung, do you know that they’re going to renovate that part of the park over there into an amusement park?” Beomgyu spoke up, his tiny hand pointing. Yeonjun’s gaze followed, and surely enough, he already saw a Ferris wheel; standing tall in the middle of the eerie dusk, its bright lights in glowing contrast against the dark of the night.

“Does Beomgyu want to go?” He spoke up, noticing the light wash of colour appearing on the younger’s face at the third-person address. He always knew Beomgyu was fond of being referred to like that ever since they were toddlers, but didn't realise it would still have the same effect now. “Stop calling me that, I’m not five anymore!” He retorted, but the crimson hue was now evident on his visage. A heartbeat after Yeonjun was done with his fit of giggles, he spoke up in a timid voice.

“Beomgyu doesn’t like tall places.”

“Mm,” hummed Yeonjun, slinging an arm over the latter’s shoulder. “Hyung knows. We can look at it from afar, then.”

Beomgyu nodded silently. A second later, he produced a small box in his hands, pulled right out of the basket. Yeonjun’s favourite grin was on his face once again as he stared at him in anticipation.

“Look what I got you!” Singsonged the younger boy before he hurriedly put the box down, reaching to pull out other things from the basket. “What’s that?”

Beomgyu only smiled cryptically, not answering. Clutched in his hands now were a candle, a lighter, and a bunch of plastic utensils; he quickly scattered them in his lap before disassembling the paper box. Yeonjun’s eyes widened slightly.

“Your birthday cake, silly.” Said Beomgyu in a playful tone, the lack of honorific intentional based on Yeonjun’s deduction; yet he paid it no mind. The younger now proudly handed him the cake, practically shoving it into his arms—which a mildly flustered Yeonjun diligently took.

“Carrot cake, your favourite. I asked my mum to help me make it! I think I did a pretty good job, don’t you think?” Beomgyu asked with a triumphant grin as he put a candle in the middle of the cake and pulled out a lighter. In white frosting, Yeonjun could barely make out the handwritten ‘Happy birthday Yeonjun hyung’ on top of it. Beomgyu usually had neat handwriting, so this could only signify the struggle he had with the decorating process.

The mental image of Beomgyu putting so much effort just for him put a fond smile on his face.

“You made it, really? Are you lying to me?” Yeonjun remarked, a sly smile on his face. What he didn’t tell Beomgyu was that he hoped the chuckles from their dry mouths could cover the sound of his own heart beating, rapidly against the constraint of his rib cage.

“It’s your birthday, I put in my all! How dare you question Beomgyu!’’ He pouted, intentionally utilising his baby talk advantage. Beomgyu, too, was aware of just how much the older adored this pet name of sorts.

“I, Choi Yeonjun, vow to never question Choi Beomgyu ever again for as long as I live.’’ He spoke, voice dramatically deepened. Beomgyu just huffed at the tease, attempting to light up the singular candle amidst the strong evening breeze.

In between the banterful exchanges and muffled giggles, the two boys sang a very unsynchronised, off-key take of ‘Happy Birthday’. Yeonjun later would realise that the reason he was only able to focus on Beomgyu—even though it was supposed to be his birthday—would signify more than he’d ever let on.

“Alright now, time for you to make a wish!” Chimed the younger. The cat ears on his beanie were flopping along with the wind, the brightest smile adorning his face. For a moment, Yeonjun was convinced that the orange glow emanating between them was coming from the younger’s smile, and not the birthday candle.

Humming, Yeonjun closed his eyes and did as he was told.

'I hope to always see you smile like this, until the end of forever.'