A chill swept through the entire first floor, like the cold wind that was rustling in the stormy night outside. Wirt shivered. There was something about the building that never felt right. He wasn't quite sure if it was distinct smell of chemicals, or the constant beeping of the machines that covered the walls. Or maybe it was the just the time. He never liked these types of building during the daytime, but it was half past 11 on a Tuesday night, which, to Wirt, gave off a whole new level of creepy.

He looked around the dark hallway in disgust. Everything gave off such a sad vibe. The nurses, the "get well soon" balloons and the sick children laying in their beds. And with this thought, Wirt determined he would never step foot in a hospital ever again.

The 15 year old refused to be in his brothers room, even though his family insisted he should spend as much time with Greg as possible. Wirt knew why, and with that in his mind, he sat in the hallway.

He could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatting from his relatives trying to keep Greg in good spirits. He knew that was completely unnecessary, because Greg was never in a bad mood. No matter what he had to go through in the past year, Greg never failed to keep a smile on his face.

To Wirt, thinking that Greg needed to be cheered up was just insulting, but he would never say that. He would barely say anything, in fact, and instead just collect all of his thoughts into poems in his journal, which rested on his lap.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. It was his mother. She had gotten a lot older this year, and Wirt could tell. Her hair had greyed and thinned. The bags under her eyes never failed to show, and her smile had faded. Wirt cringed at the sight of her, reminding himself that this wasn't just a bad dream.

"Wirt, honey," she said. "Your brother really needs you to come in and talk." Wirt knew there was no way out of this. He stood up and walked to the door, the anxiety building up in his chest.

He opened the door and saw his brother, which again, made him cringe. Wirt sat down at a chair adjacent to his aunt and uncle, both of whom had puffy, red eyes. He looked at Greg, and immediately felt the urge to cry. Greg was so skinny. It seemed as though every bone in his body would rip through his pale skin. And his eyes, the most blue Wirt had ever seen them, were lit up with glee as he saw his older brother. But no matter how hard he tried, Wirt could never distract himself from Greg's bald, shiny head. No seven year old should ever have to go through something like that.

He then looked around the room. Wirt had seen it before. It was a big room, that is, big for a hospital room. It felt smaller, however, with all of the people in it. Every single one of the chairs was filled, with more people left to stand. Everyone loved Greg. Wirt wondered who would show up if he was in that situation.

His eyes then directed to a table in the back, filled with brightly wrapped presents and big balloons. Wirt thought it was useless. He knew Greg would never get to play with these.

"Hi Wirt, O' brother O' mine!"

"Hi Greg," Wirt chuckled. Though Greg did lose his hair, the pep in his voice never failed to show.

"Aw rats, I was just telling Jason Funderburker about what happened during my last chemo, and now I'm going to have to tell it all over again!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's ok Wirt. I can tell you! So, I said that I had eaten a whole lot of watermelon, and then I threw up, and my throw up was red! And it even smelled like watermelon, too!"

"Ew, Greg. Can, can we talk about something else?" Wirt would give anything to change the subject.

"Aw, let your brother talk," said their grandfather. "I love his stories, they remind me so much of your mother!"

"I did have quite the stories, didn't I," laughed their mother. "But anyways, do you want to continue, Greg?"

"That's ok, but can I talk to Wirt all by myself?" He asked. Everyone went quiet. Wirt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear what his brother had to say, but it was the sheer thought of looking at him for more than five seconds. It made him so sad, to see his brother in such a state. Wirt thought of how Greg used to dress, and how he had once worn a teapot on his head for an elephant costume. He smiled.

"Oh, um, of course, sweetheart," Their mother said. She had a way of showing what she was thinking before even saying anything, and by this one comment, Wirt knew immediately that she was not on board with this plan. But what mother would be, knowing that they have one last night to spend time with their son.

Then she turned to Wirt. "Please don't be too long, and call me in if anything happens." Everyone slowly got up and filed out. After the last bit of people left and closed the door, Greg turned to his brother.

"Wirt, I want you to come sit with me," Greg said, shifting over and moving all of the wires, connecting him to the machines. Wirt hesitated, but got up and sat next to his brother. Greg had been unrecognizable these past few months. The constant chemotherapy had taken a toll, and the once active kid was now incredibly weak, like a feeble old man.

"Hi Wirt. I know you haven't really wanted to see me these past few days, but I want you to tell me the stories of the unknown," he said. Wirt rolled his eyes. Ever since him and Greg had ventured to The Unknown last fall, Greg had asked to tell the story of all of their adventures within it. The story was often long and complicated, but Wirt knew better than to complain. Not this time.

He began by telling him what had happened that Halloween night, and then how they fell over the garden wall, and met Beatrice and danced in the harvest and sand about potatoes and molasses (Greg would do the honors of singing that part) and every little detail of their adventure. Greg closed his eyes and listened to each and every word, and it was easy to tell which part he like the best, because a big smile would stretch across his face.

"Ha, thats my favorite part, the one-" Greg was interrupted by a sudden cough. Wirt said nothing of it, until it continued to progressively get worse. Suddenly, he heard a loud, repetitive beeping from one of the machines. Wirt's heart skipped.

"Um, uh, Greg! Stay right there! I'll, uh, I'll be right back," Wirt said in a hurry. Greg laughed as he thought of how he could possibly get up and go anywhere, but that wasn't what Wirt meant. He ran to the door.

"Mom!"

The rest of the night felt like a blur. He remembered the nurses dashing in and checking on Greg, his crying mother holding Greg's hand and Wirt, who stood motionless at the foot of the bed, his face turning paler by the second. Wirt thought he was going to throw up.

But Greg didn't panic. He didn't cry. He didn't whine, complain, sulk or lose hope during his entire battle. And now, only now, Wirt was realising that he had never appreciated his brother for the courage he gave. Tears ran down his cheeks as he ran to Greg's bedside, grabbing his arm.

Greg didn't hesitate one second when his brother came to give him the biggest, best hug he had ever received. He smiled his big, wide, amazing Greg smile, the one Wirt hadn't seen in a very long time.

Greg knew why his brother was upset, but he knew that Wirt would not be alone. At least, not for long.

Suddenly, Greg felt exhaustion that he had never experienced in his whole life. He leaned back on his pillow and breathed slower and slower. He felt like he wanted to just take a long nap. Everything felt colder. The sounds faded.

"Into the Unknown," he breathed.

The beeping went silent.