Chapter Seven

Cancer. Hikou has cancer?

He stared at his best friend, his own misery clean wiped off the slate in that instant where time seemed to freeze. Hikou? This was the boy who had grown up with him, the one with whom most of his childhood memories revolved around. It was improbable. Impossible.

"What?" he croaked.

Hikou smiled softly and looked away. "It's…it's not that bad, Jun. Sure, it hurts sometimes, and then other times I just see three of you…"

No. Please, no.

"Does Kourin know?"

Hikou moved to walk past him, but stopped when they were shoulder to shoulder, pausing for a moment and bowing his head. "She doesn't. I—I thought hiding it from her would let me have some happy last days, you know?" He smiled mirthlessly, more to himself than to the other man. "It didn't work out very well, did it?"

"I'm sorry. For not telling you earlier. You're my best friend, Houjun."

He left.

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The streetlights reflected off the sleek red car as it passed noiselessly into the tunnel and came out on the other side, the orange glow bouncing off the unruly crimson hair of the driver.

As he drove around in his car, aimlessly, he noted that it was nearly five in the morning, and that the ache in his shoulders was not just due to the cramped position he had been too shaken to notice he was in. God…I still have to report for work in two hours… Grim resolution filled him as he realized he would have to write in for a change of post in order to avoid—no, he wouldn't think of him. I won't let you play with my heart like this.

Wearily, he guided the car into the side lane, leaning forward briefly to pull the keys out after winding the window half down. As he pulled the seat back and reclined uncomfortably onto the cushion he grabbed from the back, he closed his eyes, and the images he had been trying so hard to keep at bay flashed into his mind almost mockingly. Despairingly, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, praying that the tears wouldn't fall.

Shit…I'm all out of tissues already…

Have you been leading me on all along, Houjun?

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She opened the door tiredly, only to see the one face that had haunted her for the past nights.

"Houjun?" she whispered in disbelief.

It was five in the morning. He was ragged, and his shirt hung messily crumpled about his slumped posture. His hair was all over his face, tucked crudely behind his ears, and he looked up from the ground as she stood there in shock.

"Kourin."

"What is it?" she asked, alarm written on her face as she stepped forward and braced him. He was nearly falling, he was so tired. She could understand how he was feeling. Because she had not caught the best of sleep after she had fled from his apartment, either. Concern, mixed with a whirlwind of emotions, tore at her heart.

"There's something you need to know."