Henry

I watched the shadows his eyelashes cast against his cheekbones, searching for any twitch or flutter of an eyelid.

In a way, I felt so stupid. Was I holding onto false hope? Was I indulging myself with foolish lies because it hurts less than facing the truth?

I didn't even want to begin thinking about how my life would be if he was gone. It'd been different enough in the past month without him. Every day felt like I was drowning in quick sand, torturously slow as the temptation of defeat seduced my aching legs. My life had begun to feel incredibly small and unimportant in the mess that was this toxic new world that I never thought I'd have to live in.

We waited and waited. Chandler's parents came when they could after work, and his brother Sam too. They were losing faith, and fast. I saw as hope bled from their eyes in the form of tears, leaving an empty hollow that could no longer be filled. The head neurologist tried to keep everyone positive and cheerful, but there was only so much he could say until it became a repetitive mantra that was clearly sugar-coated and delivered out of pity.

I absentmindedly scratched at an itch on my collarbone as I stared at his motionless body, heartbeat picking up slightly when I thought I saw his eye twitch. I stared for a moment longer, getting up from the chair that seemed to mold to my body with how often I'd been sitting in it, and leaned forward, examining his face closely.

Nothing. I must have imagined it. I haven't slept well in ages.

I jumped when my phone chimed, ripping me away from my dazed thoughts. I sat back down and pulled my phone out from my jean pocket, glancing at the screen with tired eyes. The notification was a message from Chan's mother. My eyes widened in surprise as I hadn't heard from her in about a week. She'd stopped visiting as frequently as she used to.

'Hello, Henry. I hope you're doing well. It's Friday, so I'm assuming you're at the hospital?

- Eunsoo'

A slight smile formed on my lips at the fact that she still signed off every first message in a conversation she initiated with her name as if I wouldn't have her contact saved in my phone after being best friends with her son for the last decade. It made the slight frustration I've been feeling toward her due to the lack of her visiting Chandler subside a bit. Maybe I was being judgmental. I'm sure it's easier for her to focus on work right now rather than sit around in a cold, sickeningly plain hospital room all day staring at her youngest son that just might never wake up.

Hell, everyone had their own way of coping. Mine just happened to be sticking around when I probably should be home sleeping, not staying here long after visitation hours had passed staring at Chan as if he would disappear if I looked away for just a second too long.

I replied a quick 'yes' and watched as three dots inside a speech bubble immediately could be seen at the bottom of the page as she typed. Seconds later,

'Great. I'm on my way to pick up some food before I head on over to the hospital. I hope you haven't had dinner yet, I'm bringing you some.'

I sat back and sighed. It wasn't that I didn't want to see her, but it was her reaction that I dreaded. I know she'll walk in with a smile, only leave with hasty tears running down her cheeks.

I sent back a polite 'thank you', and let my eyes fall shut for a moment. The screen of my phone was bright in the dim room of the hospital, the only source of light being the lamp that was on Chandler's right.

It hurt to see others just as affected, if not more, by this situation than me. A constant, nagging pain was always in my chest, and it felt like a ton of stones were weighing down my stomach. I have no appetite, no reason to laugh or joke or do anything that once made me happy.

It's terrifying to realize just how much of an impact one person has on the lives of those he touches. It's terrifying to realize just how much I love him; more than he even knows. To him, I'm surely just his childhood best friend; someone he's grown with and learned with and loves, platonically. As a brother.

To me, he was so much more than that. Sure, I always loved and adored him as a friend and as family, but I also yearned for him in such an intimate way that just thinking about it too much makes me feel sick. It felt like I was the antagonist in the fairy tale- a wicked witch trying to poison Prince Charming.

I'd never be able to tell him how I felt. I wouldn't want to screw things up. I know how these things go; I've seen it in the movies. I remembered, when we were in high school, Chan and I had gone with a couple of friends to see some Romance movie about a nice girl that fell in love with a guy, but she never told him how she felt because she didn't want to ruin their friendship. The man ended up getting a girlfriend, and after a couple of years, he got married. The girl never told him how she felt, and she regretted it for the rest of her life.

Chandler was pissed. He'd scoffed and expressed how ridiculous he thought it was that she never told her love interest that she liked him. I tried to explain to him that she was scared and that the small chance of her friend feeling the same for her wasn't worth the risk of losing him forever. In her mind, having him by her side was good enough, even if it was platonic on his side.

I could never forget the second he looked over at me, the right side of his face illuminated by the screen rolling end credits in the dark theatre, "You don't know what will happen unless you come clean and give it a try. I mean, who knows? Maybe things will end up a lot better than expected." I'd looked away, coughing uncomfortably and brushing off his words. I still felt his eyes boring into the side of my quickly flushing face until he finally looked away with a small, cocky smile on his face.

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The memory still made my stomach flip. It was like he knew something; something that neither of us had directly said out loud, but knew.

I'm sorry, Chan. Just like the girl defeated by fear in the movie, I'm a coward; too afraid of losing the one I love. If I can't have you in my life as my lover, I'll take you as my friend.

It was probably just wishful thinking, anyway. Surely, he was strictly talking about the characters in the movie and not anything else.

I glanced at the clock hung up on the wall opposite of me, and stared as the second-hand ticked and tocked, reminding me that time is the only thing seemingly certain to keep going, long after we're gone. Chandler's fate wasn't known, and my happiness was basically in his hands without him even knowing it. It felt horrible.

My phone buzzed again in my lap, but this time it was a steady, repetitive beat; a phone call rather than a message.

My brows furrowed as I reached for the device, confused as to who would be calling me this late into the evening. Mrs. Lee couldn't be here already, could she? She'd just messaged me minutes ago saying she was going to pick up the food.

My eyes squinted as they read the words illuminated on my screen, before I sighed and stood up from my chair, exiting the room.

I picked up and held the phone against my ear as I leaned against the cold wall of the hospital's corridor.

"Henry," the soft, comforting voice filled my ears and forced me to let out a long, heavy sigh that I hadn't even realized I was holding in until now, "How are you doing, darling?"

"Hi, mom," I voiced softly into the speaker, "I'm doing okay," I lied. I didn't need her to have any more stress than she already did, "how are you? How's the flower shop doing?" I listened as she rambled on about how the business has been buzzing lately and couldn't help but grin at the sheer passion in her voice. She always adored everything that had to do with gardening and flowers, saying how it was such a blessing to be able to give something life and watch it grow. I was more than happy that she was able to pursue this hobby as her career.

She eventually concluded her little rant, "So," she paused, voice slightly weary before continuing, "How's Eunsoo and Jiwon holding up? Oh, and Samuel?" I sighed quietly as she inquired about Chan's parents and brother. What was I supposed to say?

"They're doing alright, I suppose." I stated, "As 'alright' as you can be when your son and brother is lying unconscious in the hospital for the eighth week." I heard her sigh from the other end of the line, her breath coming out slightly shaky. I closed my eyes tight, fingers running through my slightly unruly hair, and trying to brace myself for what I knew was coming next.

"Baby-" she started, voice pleading, "listen to me. I know that this is so, so incredibly hard for you," her voice cracked, emotion choking the words and breaking them, "but, you're going to do the right thing. Neither I nor can anybody else tell you what the answer to this is, only you can find it." She paused, taking a deep breath to calm herself, "Chandler chose you for a reason. He knew you'd do the right thing."

I couldn't stop my eyes from welling up with fresh, salty tears. I cursed myself inwardly. Even after months of crying, I still wasn't strong enough. You think I'd have nothing left to cry, at this point.

"I know, mom." I lied to appease her, trying to clear the emotion from my throat and hastily wiping at my eyes as my bottom lip quivered uncontrollably. I certainly did not know that what I was doing by holding on so tight was saving or torturing him, "Thank you."

We chatted for a few more minutes, her trying to cheer me up and lighten the mood by cracking stupid jokes- something she's always been great at. It always worked, too.

"Mom?" I asked into a moment of comfortable silence that we'd both been basking in, just listening to each other breathe for a moment, "Mrs. Lee is going to be here any minute, she's bringing some dinner for us."

"Oh?" She asked, delight evident in her voice, "Well, don't forget to thank her for taking care of my boy! I miss her and the family, hopefully I'll be back in town soon so we can all see each other. Enjoy your meal, my love. Don't forget to text me when you're home!" I laughed at her worried tone, amused by how she still treated me like a kid. As her only child, it's not surprising that she treats me this way. I'd always appreciate her caring so much, even if it seems a bit overbearing at times, "I love you."

"I love you too, mom." I ended the call and let the back of my head rest against the cold wall behind me. The hallway was empty, devoid of any bustle that it usually had during the day. It was quiet and lonely. It made my heart hurt for those that didn't have anyone to visit them. Not everyone had someone to look after them.

I pushed myself off the wall and used the sleeve of my sweater to wipe any remnants of my tears away before walking the few steps back to the pristine door- the one thing blocking Chan off from the rest of the world. It was like he was being preserved, time still moving forward, but his body just sort of numb in an in-between realm.

My heart ached inside the confines of my ribcage as I slowly stepped toward his sleeping body. He always looked so peaceful, like he was only taking a nap and would be up any moment to ruffle my hair playfully and throw an arm around my shoulders, asking what we should get to eat for dinner. After all, Friday's were always our dedicated day to each other- or, as Chan loved to jokingly call them, our 'slumber parties'.

I allowed a gentle smile to bloom onto my lips, eyes going soft as I looked at him. He's always so beautiful. Even if he didn't have those charming eyes, that perfectly messy raven hair, and that wolfish grin; I'd still love him all the same. As long as he was still the loving, caring, goofy, and insanely supportive Chandler Lee that I knew, I would always love him.

I walked closer to him, stopping just at the side of his bed. I grasped one of his slightly cold hands, taking it into both of mine. I rolled his fingers around in my palms, using my warmth to soothe his stiffening muscles. I massaged his palm, using both of my thumbs to dig deep into the tissue of his hand, taking extra time to relish in the way his skin felt on mine.

I glanced down at his face once again. I gulped nervously, eyeing him and watching as he clearly was still lost in the realm between sleep and consciousness. I looked back to his hand that I was cradling in my own and slowly brought it up to my face. I closed my eyes, grimacing as I thought.

'Is this wrong? Am I taking advantage of him just because he doesn't know what's going on- because he's stuck in this endless abyss of sleep?'

Before I could let myself think even further, I pressed my lips gently to the back of his hand. My cheeks flushed at the intimacy. How pathetic? He wasn't even aware of what was happening and I was freaking out like a schoolgirl.

The downy hair there tickled my lips slightly as I pressed them to his wrist and left mouth at his pulse point for a moment. I sighed into his familiar smell that I knew all too well, savoring it and dreading every second that I heard pass from the clock across from us on the wall.

His natural smell, no cologne or body soap or aftershave, was a sinful mix between boy and musk, but always had a soft undertone of something sweet- like honey. It was like his voice, his body, and even the way he moved- heaven and hell all wrapped into one. It was Boyish and deep, but dripping with a sensuality that everyone wished to drown in- including me.

I let my lips part from his skin hesitantly and peeled one eye open to assure myself that, yes, he was still unconscious and wasn't looking up at me with that knowing smirk, as if saying 'I knew it all along'. I slowly brought his hand back down to his stomach, wishing time could just freeze for a moment so I could hold onto him this close for a bit longer. I squeezed one last time, just for good measure; just in case he could feel it and know that I'm still here.

Just as I was about to let go, my heart skipped a beat. My pulse quickened in my chest, a cold sweat racing across my skin and shock whipping through me like a harsh winter breeze.

My hands slightly shook as my mouth went dry, lips falling open in awe.

What was that?

I swallowed thickly as my breath came out in shaky puffs; unsteady, and quivering. I squeezed his hand a second time, this time tightening for a second longer.

A moment passed, the room deathly silent apart from my own pulse drumming loudly in my ears.

My heart stuttered as I waited one, two, three seconds- and then it happened again. I was sure of it, I hadn't been imagining it.

The large hand that was enveloped in mine, long fingers wrapped delicately around my own as I'd left them, squeezed back.