When Saturday arrives, Jonan could sit upright and welcomes his classmates, a small crowd of 20 people. They bring flowers and fruit for him as well as words of sympathy.

Or pity? He wonders.

They're just looking at me like I'm an animal, Jonan thinks. Like when someone sees a crippled puppy on the streets. He desperately wants to believe that's not true and that his classmates care, but when faces he barely recognize show up, he's not so sure.

"I agreed to this," he mutters to himself when the teacher sets a bouquet in his hands and murmurs something he doesn't catch.

Only when his friends get to talk to him is he finally assured. Even if his friends from cross-country do not understand him, Oliver will understand him, who is one of the last people who greets him.

"How's it going?" Oliver sits side Jonan on the bed and grins lightly, but his complexion holds a hint of sorrow. Oliver rubs his broad nose to keep himself from frowning.

"I can't say that I'm fine." Jonan doesn't lie this time as he raises his leg in a cast. "But I'm glad to see you again."

"You know I heard..." Oliver looks away and takes a deep breath, deciding not to ask further. "Hey, you know, you're alive that's all that matters. Without you, I don't know..."

Jonan stops listening at this point. All he can think of is "you're alive," "at least you're alive." His hand clenches under his hospital blanket. What's the point of living if he's not in one piece, if he will never feel the wind on his face, the frosty morning air piercing his lungs, if he won't be able to run? 

Oliver rests his hand on Jonan's shoulder. "I'm just glad you're here."

He thought maybe Oliver would understand him. Maybe he's wrong.

When Jonan looks at Oliver, Jonan seems frail, deathly pale under the hospital lights, strands of hair framing his face unevenly, dark circles that hint blue, settle under his eyes.

"I'm not as glad to be here," Jonan says at last, voice a whisper.

"I understand your pain" is the first thought that comes to Oliver's mind and the first words through his mouth, and he regrets it immediately.

Jonan's expression drops. "No, you don't understand."

Their conversation drowns inside waves of sluggish noise in the air as other students, who had already given their greetings, look through their phone, discussing what to eat during lunch or which movie to watch later that day.

When Oliver quiets, Jonan can hear them. Couldn't they at least not talk in his face? 

Jonan's parents, Mr. and Ms. Shun stand on the side of the room, talking to his homeroom teacher. They are tired. Ms. Shun had taken the two weeks off to take care of Jonan, and it took all her power to remain temperate. Mr. Shun still holds himself responsible for everything, but he hides his grief well from his daughter and son. His wife is the only one who sees him weep, late at night, when both people believe each other to be asleep. Jonan's little sister, Amelia, obediently stands beside them, unable to process everything, but she understands that her brother is sick. She is the only one who notices Jonan turn away from Oliver, the guy who comes to their house every so often.

This is when Jonan sees Gabriel at the door behind his parents. He stands up in a fury, forgetting his legs. He stumbles as a shock rips up his leg, and Oliver catches him before he falls.

"Hey, are you alright—"

Jonan pushes him away and glares at Gabriel, who now stands in front of his bed, in a gray hoodie, eyes darting around frantically. 

"You knew something didn't you?" It was more of a statement than a question. 

"You knew something!" He grasps the neck Gabriel's hoodie. "You knew something!" His hands tremble, from anger, from fear.

Gabriel doesn't answer. Everyone was looking at him, and the same sick feeling crawls back. He should've never come here, he should have stayed at home and died in the darkness.

He needed to tell Jonan the truth, but he couldn't open his mouth. He didn't even have the strength to escape.

Time slows.

Jonan shouts at him, shaking him back and forth. Gabriel can only focus on Jonan's dark, messy hair and red-rimmed eyes as Oliver pulls him back, and his parents rush towards them.

Next thing he knows, he's pressed onto the ground, his hoodie choking him.

"TELL ME!"

Mr. Shun finally pulls Jonan away. "Jonan what are you doing?"

Jonan stops struggling and stares at his father defiantly, but keeps his mouth shut. 

The nurse helps Gabriel up and quickly escorts him out of the room. It's cooler and quieter outside, with no one in the hallways except for a doctor walking towards the elevator. Gabriel takes a shaky breath, and his legs soon stop quivering.

"Are you hurt?" she asks as she closes the door.

Gabriel nods, even though the back of his head throbs.

She sets a hand on Gabriel's back. "Don't take it personal alright? Some patients become agitated easily." She smiles comfortingly. "Sometimes, we can't all control our anger."

"No, Ms." Gabriel shakes his head. "Jonan had every right to be mad at me."