"Tae-eul... please don't make me do this," Rocco begged. He gave me his best puppy dog eyes, but I just laughed.

"You can beg all you want. I am not changing my mind," I replied, tossing him our makeshift basketball. He fumbled the catch.

"Please Tae, I am bad at this." He made sure to make his voice sound as sad as possible.

"With practice, you'll get better," I said, observing his deflated spirit, showing his defiance to even try. "You haven't even tried, so you can't assume." I smiled warmly and placed the ball in his hands.

I tried to back away, but he grabbed my shirt, pulling me back. "If you're doing this because of yesterday, I'm sorry."

"Rocco, stop whining and just throw the ball," I pleaded desperately. I had the same thoughts when he forced me to sit through all those chess sessions. With time, he will learn to love it like I did with those.

"Do you know what you've just asked me to do?" He retorted, resorting to resilience by the use of a mean attitude.

"Enough with the theatrics. Throw the damn ball," I shouted. I was growing impatient.

"You're not listening. My body isn't built for this type of stuff. What if I throw the ball and my hand cramps?" he asked, looking at it with a horrified look.

"Rocco..." I started, but he interrupted.

"Or worse. What if I end up getting a leg injury and never walk again?" he said, his voice growing wearier.

I breathed heavily. "That is highly unlikely."

"But still probable," he countered, as if he had just won the argument.

Suppressing a snide remark, I gritted my teeth and replied, "It's not like I am asking you to dribble or turn into an all-star player. I'm simply asking you to try and take a shot. All you have to do is aim and throw the ball."

"Do I have to?" He acted like I didn't say that last sentence.

"Yes. Now take the shot," I insisted, pushing him forward.

He turned around hesitantly and bounced the ball continuously.

"Anytime, Rocco," I spoke up.

"I know," he replied, looking away from me.

He held the ball in his hands for a moment and then began bouncing it again.

His hands were trembling slightly; it resonated with me a little. "That's okay. Take your time," I encouraged. He let out a nervous breath and continued bouncing the ball. "Today, Rocco. I need you to shoot that shot today," I said tiredly.

He took a stance as if he was taking a shot but then relaxed and started bouncing it again.

"For heaven's sake, take the shot," I said, feeling defeated.

He lightly threw the ball, and it landed in a nearby bush.

"Okay, that's okay. At least we know you can throw the ball," I said as I walked over to retrieve it. "Now, try again, but this time aim for the hoop." I infused my voice with encouragement and handed him the ball.

"Tae-eul, I suck at this," he paused and pushed the ball back into my hands. "We're just wasting time."

"Hey, the Rocco I know would never give up so easily," I replied.

"Yes, he would," he quickly defended.

"You spend all day playing your board games. How is this any different?" I asked.

"This is a different situation. These games require me to be physical, and that's not who I am. I scream non-athletic. Tae, I am built like a drumstick," he replied seriously.

I pursed my lips together, struggling to hold back a laugh. "I promise you, with a little bit more practice, you will be a pro. I can see the potential," I lied.

"Don't lie to me. I'm young, but not stupid," he replied half-hurt.

"I'm not. I can honestly see the true potential. You're like a tiny diamond in the rough."

"Well, thank you I-" he began, but I interjected.

"Like really rough," I insisted.

"I know." He opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off again.

"Like really, really, rough," I persisted.

"I know what rough means," he repeated, clearly taking offense.

"Like fresh from the Earth's core type of rough." At this point, I was just messing with him.

He adopted this sour look that made me want to laugh even more. "Tae-"

"Maybe even rougher than that," I said trailing away in thought.

He was done with me. "I'm leaving." In such a short period, he really got far. Those little legs of his could really move.

"Hey, I was joking," I jogged over to him and pulled him back. "Look who lost their funny bone now."

"I see this going wrong very fast." It took me a while to realize he was talking about basketball and not about our friendship.

"With me as your coach, nothing could go wrong," I said confidently.

Wrong would be an understatement for what happened next. The more we played, the worse he got. Somehow, he got worse with practice. His bounce game was another sad story. Halfway, I started to feel embarrassed on his behalf.

For starters, he was bouncing the ball as if he was in a fight. The entire time I stood there asking, "Who the hell pissed you off?" The amount of aggression he had was worrying. Every time I taught him how to do it, he would be okay for a minute, and then he would revert to normal. I'm starting to think he was right.

After even more failed attempts, I suggested playing a game of street basketball.

"I don't think that's a great idea," he said exhausted, his voice shaky, and his glasses clouded with sweat.

"Come on Rocco, it's just one game. You don't have to abide by all the rules. Give it a chance. You might find it fun." I gave him a wide smile to improve his confidence. Thankfully, he gave in.

As soon as the game started, I realized I made the worst mistake of the day. He was running with the ball the whole time. Because of this, he managed to have the ball ninety percent of the time. One would think he would at least score once, but no, Rocco was a special human being who defied all laws by missing all twenty shots.

During the game, he thought it was a good idea to switch to rugby, tackling me every chance he got. If that failed, he would resort to kicking my feet.

"This is fun!" He shouted after tackling me for the 900th time.

My butt was very sore, and I was out of breath. "Maybe for you," I said, brushing the dirt off. Somehow, this nine to eleven-year-old possessed the strength of a grown-up. "Rocco, I think it's time we end the game." Any more, and I would need a check-up.

He looked sad. "Noooo... I'm just getting the hang of it," he pleaded.

I raised a confused eyebrow; he must be kidding. "Are you, are you really?" I asked, rhetorically of course.

"You're the one who suggested it in the first place." He can't be serious. Blaming me was his defense.

"Yes. Thanks for reminding me," I forced a smile and rolled my eyes, walking away.

"You're just jealous of the fact that I'm now a better player than you," he boasted.

I bit my tongue, holding back an insult. "Sure, Michael Jordan. Can I go in now?" I asked.

"I don't appreciate your tone," he replied with a hint of rudeness.

"What tone?" I asked sheepishly.

"Don't play dumb," he replied all of a sudden.

"So-rry." He lost me.

"I will miss these moments," he said with a smile, changing the topic. This kid must be bipolar or something.

Nevertheless, I followed suit. "Awe really?" I asked, softening.

He stared at me with a blank expression. "No," he stated. My tongue yearned to respond, but I held it back. "I just wanted you to see how it feels to be on the receiving end of sarcasm."

I rolled my eyes and walked away. The words were a moment away from coming out. As soon as I was in my room, I took a shower and a nap. Rocco and I promised to meet up later. He said there was something important he wanted to talk about. Knowing him, it won't be as serious in the beginning; we'd start it off by insulting each other.

When I was done, I changed into something comfortable and left my room, making my way to the common room. I got the book I was already reading and took my usual seat in the far corner of the room, sinking into the wooden chair.

"What are you reading?" Rocco shouted, startling me.

I tumbled out of the chair like an idiot. "Owww," I cried out in pain.

"For someone who claims she likes horror movies and scary books, I'm shocked that I managed to scare you," he said half-smiling.

"You didn't." I picked up my book and sat back in the chair. "I knew you were there the whole time. I just thought it would be entertaining to see what you would do."

"Uhuh," he replied skeptically, "Anyways, what are you reading?" He asked again. I held it up for him to see. "Death?" He asked confused.

"It's about this detective who investigates supernatural deaths in graveyards." He looked scared.

"Why in your right mind would you read a book like that?"

"Why not?" I asked.

"And you say you worry about me. You spend most of your time either watching or reading about murder. I am sure you know how to get away with it at this point," he replied.

"You don't have to worry about anything." I smiled warmly, "As long as you don't get on my bad side, that is." I joked, but he didn't laugh.

"That's not funny," he replied with a hint of worry.

"I wasn't trying to be," I replied casually.

"For my sake, I'm going to sleep with one eye tonight," he replied.

The room fell silent once again, and I returned to my book. However, he was determined to bother me. He would lean in close to my ear to make weird noises.

I breathed deeply and turned to face him. "Can I help you?"

"Nope," he replied innocently.

"Okay," I returned to my book. Yet, the noises persisted. I put the book down on my lap and looked at him, suggesting, "Rocco, if you're bored, just grab a book."

"But I want to bother you," he whined.

"You are something else," I replied, turning back around.

He picked up a book and melodramatically groaned, ensuring it grabbed my attention. "I don't like these types of books. They are not fun."

"This is coming from the guy who considers playing board games all day fun," I replied.

"That's different. They require my full attention," he pointed out.

I held up the book he picked up. "And this doesn't?" I asked, hoping he would see the irony.

"You have a point there. But, I can't focus on this for a long time. At some point, I will get bored."

"So what do we do now?" I asked, putting my book down.

"You can continue reading; I'll sit here. I just want someone to keep me company." I felt a small pull in my heart that made me feel a little bad. "Lately, I've been feeling a little lightheaded," he continued.

Looking at him now, I can see he does look a little pale. The circles under his eyes looked a little darker than usual. "Get some rest; we can hang out later," I suggested.

"I did, that's why I'm here," he replied, smiling half-heartedly.

"This place is filled with so many other people; why choose me?" I asked.

"I did try to bother other people, but no one was in the mood for my silliness. So, I thought of the one person who would tolerate me." His smile grew, revealing the child in him.

I mustered up a smile of my own. "Thank you, I feel so honored," I replied sarcastically.

"Also, it wouldn't be as fun bothering them as it is with you," he added.

"Awe. Was that a compliment?" I asked, a little confused.

"No, that was an observation," he replied.

My mouth curved into a small smile, and I patted him on the shoulder. "Whatever you say."

"So, what do you want to talk about?" I continued.

"Anything. How's Melanie?" He asked. He noticed my smile fall. "You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he spoke softly.

"No, it's okay. You know her; I bet she is somewhere causing havoc. Pertaining to how she is, I wouldn't know; we haven't talked in some time."

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he said, his voice low.

I playfully punched him. "There's no need to be. It's not like I hate her."

He brushed off the subject and moved on. "Tell me a little bit about yourself," he said.

"Well, what do you want to know?" I asked.

"I know nothing except for the fact that you might be a murderer in the making," he teased.

"There's not much to know," I replied. "Aside from the fact that I love everything horror and thriller. I love reading, and that's probably it. How about you? Tell me something I don't know."

"Well, for starters, I love watching hockey," his eyes sparkled at the thought, utterly endearing. My smile widened.

I gasped and looked at him in shock. "But I thought you hated anything involving any form of physical movement."

"Unlike you, I don't hate anything; I just don't prefer them. Plus, I said I love watching, not playing," he defended.

"Well, that's one way to put it. Anything else?" I asked.

"My dream is to become an astrophysicist." His eyes gleamed even brighter, making my smile grow further.

"Do you even know what that is?" I asked.

"Do you?" He quickly replied with an attitude.

"Of course, I know," I defended.

"Do you really?" He questioned.

"Okay, maybe I don't know much about it in detail, but I do know what it is," I answered. I wasn't about to be schooled by a nine to eleven-year-old.

"So do I. I read about them in my books," he replied.

"That sounds cool. Maybe I will join you one day so that we learn together," I suggested.

"I'm not too sure about that. It may be too complicated for you," he replied.

"You're younger than me. If you understand, I will too," I replied.

"Do you even know anything about science?" he asked.

The insults just keep coming. "How can you ask that? Of course, I know things about science. I can even tell jokes," I defended.

He looked excited. "Say one." The problem was, I didn't have one.

"You hurt me too much, so no." I stuck my tongue out at him and smiled, turning to pick up the book once again.

"If you're just going to ignore me, I might as well go back to bed," he said, getting up.

"Get enough sleep for the both of us," I called out. Before he left, I added, "I hope you feel better."

"I hope so too," he mumbled.

I stayed in the library until dinner time. Carefully, I placed the book back on the shelf and walked to the dining room, opening the door hesitantly.

Instead of being met with instant chatter, I was met with dead silence and an empty room with no one in sight. "What's going on?" I thought.

I walked back into the corridor and searched for anyone, but again, silence. My stomach sank. Something was off. I passed through some rooms but still nothing. Then I quickly rushed to Ms. Thatcher's office, but she wasn't there either. Chills ran down my spine.

I ran to the entrance of the home and found everyone there. I let out a breath of relief.

However, they were all staring at something. I couldn't see properly, so I made my way through them, gently nudging people as I did. The further I got, the louder the sobbing got. The night got a shade darker.

When I reached the front, I realized why everyone was so sad. Before me was an ambulance with paramedics loading someone in. I crooked my head in an attempt to see who it was, and when I did, everything went silent. The blaring sirens faded into nothing, and I could feel the vomit threatening to fall.

Laying there on the stretcher, practically lifeless, was Rocco.

The one person I considered a brother wasn't moving. In my mind, I breathed, "This cannot be happening," as my breathing grew shallow. And then, before I knew it, everything went dark.

*******

I woke up slowly to the sound of a faint beeping noise. My eyes fluttered open, and I saw that I was laying in a hospital bed. Ms. Thatcher sat right beside me in a chair, half-asleep.

How I ended up here hit me like a headache. But, my mind was more concerned with finding Rocco.

I looked away from her and noticed that there was a tube connected to my arm, leading to a fluid bag. In my attempt to remove it, I accidentally knocked over a plant on the bedside table, immediately waking her up.

"Hello, Tae-eul," she spoke softly, her voice filled with drowsiness, "How are you? When did you wake up?"

"I am okay. I woke up a few minutes ago," I replied. My throat was dry and I needed some water.

"What are you doing?" She asked, shifting her gaze from mine to the hand holding the tube.

"I was trying to take this off. It feels uncomfortable," I replied honestly.

"Regardless of how you feel, you cannot take it out yourself. How about I get someone to take it off for you?" She asked.

I whispered a low, "Thank you."

She left the room for a brief moment and came back with a nurse and a bottle of water. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing as the nurse tried to take off the tube. Ms. Thatcher placed her hand softly on mine to calm me down. However, it didn't work. It felt a little forced. When the nurse finally left the room, I began to dress up.

"Where are you going?" Ms. Thatcher asked with a glare.

"I am going to find Rocco."

"Tae-eul, you fainted. That is not something to take lightly." I couldn't tell if she was genuinely concerned or irritated.

"I know that, but I just couldn't accept what I was seeing. The thought that he might die stirred up countless emotions and I couldn't breathe," I replied. Unsure of what to say next, she just kept quiet. "Ms. Thatcher, is Rocco going to be alright?" I asked in a low tone.

"Honestly, I don't know, but I am sure the doctors will do everything they can," she replied. She got up and walked out of the room.

"It's all my fault," I whispered. As tears began streaming down my face, I spoke, "If I hadn't forced him to play that stupid game of basketball, maybe we wouldn't be here. He tried telling me, but I didn't listen. My selfish, stubborn, stupid self."

"Blaming yourself will get you nowhere." Before I could utter another word, a soft knock came from the door, grabbing both of our attention.

It was a doctor. He looked towards Ms. Thatcher, asking, "Could we talk outside for a minute?"

"Yes, of course," she replied. "Do not go anywhere," she threatened.

Looking at them through the see-through glass, I tried to decrypt what they were saying. I was terrible at reading lips, so I mainly focused on their emotions and facial expressions.

The doctor said a few words and Ms. Thatcher's expression fell. My concern deepened. "What could he be telling her?" I thought.

She looked back at me through the window, our eyes locking. Her face was emotionless, and I couldn't tell what she was thinking. The doctor followed her gaze, and they both stood there, looking at me. After what seemed like an eternity, Ms. Thatcher finally walked back into the room.

"So...," I asked, trailing, "Is he going to be alright?"

"Well... if everything goes smoothly, he will be," she replied.

"What do you mean if everything goes smoothly? Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No." I could tell she was lying.

"Ms. Thatcher, please. If you don't tell me what is going on, I might never be at peace with myself." I could feel myself tearing up again.

She let out a low sigh. "Fine. When the doctors were examining him, they found something wrong with his heart."

"Will he be alright?" I choked on my spit.

"I don't know. Let's just hope for the best," she reassured me, wiping the tears with her hands. I was a little bit stunned by her sudden show of affection. So instead, we just sat there, in silence, waiting for any more information.

"Can I see him?" I mumbled.

"I will have to ask the doctor first." I gave her my best sad eyes. "I will see what I can do." She left the room once again in search of the doctor.

Closing my eyes, I reminisced all the good times we had. I smiled as each memory crossed my mind. I missed all of it, even the times when we were at each other's throats. There was a constant voice in my head telling me to find him myself. There was one problem though. This was a huge hospital, and any attempt to search for him would be in vain.

The sound of Ms. Thatcher walking back in brought me back to reality. I looked at her eagerly, hoping that she would say I could visit him. "What did the doctor say?"

"Rocco hasn't woken up yet; it's not a good idea," she replied. I fell back defeated. In the moment of silence, she spoke again, "But after endless begging and pleading, he finally agreed."

I jumped out of bed in excitement and hugged her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," I repeated.

She hesitantly hugged me back. "That's enough. Please don't make me regret it."

I pulled away and whispered a quick thank you.

"Get dressed." She pushed me towards a bag near the bed. I looked inside and saw a pair of jeans, a grey sweatshirt, and my stuffed cat. I quickly dashed into the bathroom and changed as fast as I could. I didn't care whether anything fit or not. All I wanted to do was get out of there and find myself by Rocco's side. Where I should've been, to begin with.

"I'm done," I shouted, practically breathless.

She quickly looked me over, "Good, now come with me."

I clung close to her as we walked through the hallways. There were so many people that I almost got lost even. As we neared his room, my heart completely sank. Seeing all the other sick kids made things even worse. If it was in my power, I would heal all these people. But then again, it wasn't up to me.

"We're here," Ms. Thatcher announced, drawing my attention away from the other children.

It took every ounce of willpower to resist rushing to his side and scooping him up. "Can I go in?" I asked the doctor.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. He is still asleep," he replied, looking at me.

"Please," I begged.

"Tae-eul, listen to the doctor. If he thinks it's a bad idea, then it is," Ms. Thatcher cut in. I looked at the doctor one more time as a tear went down my cheek, "Please."

He took in a deep breath and spoke. "Well, if you promise not to touch anything, I'm sure a few minutes won't hurt."

"I promise."

He opened the door for me, and I cautiously walked inside.

Rocco lay there, seemingly lifeless. The only sound filling the room was the rhythmic beeping of the monitor. I settled into the chair next to his bed, carefully taking hold of his hand, treating it as if it were an egg and intertwined his fingers with mine and held onto it for dear life.

His skin appeared pale, and his lips were a faint blue. I began to sob uncontrollably. "Hey youngster," I called out. "It's Tae. I missed you. You need to wake up for me. We have a lot of unfinished games to play," I chuckled lightly, "Plus, you never really told me how old you were."

I hoped to get a reaction but got nothing back. "Rocco, please be strong," I begged. "I need you here, even though you're a little annoying sometimes," I paused. "Okay, maybe a lot annoying, but I don't mind that at all. I'd rather endure a lifetime of your annoying antics than live without you. Please don't leave me, I love you," I whispered.

I turned away and looked at the floor. But from the corner of my eye, I could see that he was looking at me. I quickly wiped my tears to see more clearly. When I did, I found him still unconscious. "I'm probably hallucinating," I thought.

I looked away, and yet again, I could clearly see that one of his eyes was open. When he realized he had been caught, he immediately shut it, pretending to be unconscious.

I dried off the rest of my tears and stood up. "Rocco, I swear if you were awake this entire time, I am going to kill you," I stated.

No response.

"Rocco, I know you're awake," I repeated.

Still no response.

"Oh, so that's how you wanna play," I thought. "Well, I guess I must have been imagining things," I said as I prepared to give him the biggest wet willy I could. I moved as swiftly as a fox and carried out my plan. He instantly reacted.

"Ew, Tae," he said, pushing me away.

"I knew you were awake."

He brushed away my hand. "Did you have to do that?" He shouted.

"Yeah, I did. If you didn't act, maybe I wouldn't have. But honestly, I have no regrets," I replied, sitting back down.

"You just wait. As soon as I get out of here, I will enact my revenge," he replied with a playful smile.

"I'm looking forward to it," I replied, half-smiling.

He attempted to rise, but a wince of pain crossed his face. In a swift motion, I rose to my feet and gently supported him on either side. He lightly pushed my hand away, and I sighed. "I'm fine," he stated.

"Yeah, I know. I'm just making sure you don't attack me or anything," I replied, lightening the mood.

"How are you?" He asked.

"I'm alright. I've been better," I replied.

"How's your head?" He asked.

"Fine. Why do you ask?"

"That was a nasty fall you took back at the house. I wanted to know if you're feeling better after you fainted."

"How did you know I fainted?" I asked, taken aback.

He scoffed and replied, "Who do you think told the paramedics?"

"That was you?" I questioned. "That's not possible. I saw you unconscious."

"Correction, I had my eyes closed. I wasn't unconscious," he defended.

I looked at him skeptically and replied, "No. I'm pretty sure you were unconscious."

"I'm not even going to argue with you. At the end of the day, one of us will just end up looking stupid, and I'm pretty sure we both know who that's going to be," he replied.

"Yes, we do," I replied, smiling.

The room fell silent once again.

"Tae, I'm scared," he said out of nowhere, gripping my hand tightly.

I squeezed his hand in comfort and plastered a large smile. "Don't be. We've been through worse," I said.

"But-"

"But nothing," I took my thumb and wiped away the tears that had already escaped. "I need you to be strong, for the both of us."

"When did you become so positive?" he asked, "Are we sure I'm the one sick?" he joked.

I let out a tiny bit of laughter, and he followed suit. "In other news. I have a gift for you," I said, grabbing the stuffed cat.

"Really, let me see," he replied excitedly.

I rolled my eyes jokingly and held up the stuffed cat. "This guy has always been my comfort through tough times, and I thought that he would be better off with you. He will remind you of me when you miss me, which I know is inevitable, and he will get you through your surgery if you get nervous," I said handing it over.

He took the cat hesitantly and looked at me in shock. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Absolutely," I replied. "He's better off with you anyway. I know he's in good hands."

"Thank you," he replied, hugging the stuffed doll. My heart swelled, but I fought back my smile. "What's his name?" He asked.

"He doesn't have a name," I replied.

"Let's name him together then," he suggested.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

"I was thinking something that will stick and suit him," he replied.

"And original. Don't forget original. We need something that represents both of our characters," I suggested. We both looked at the ceiling, lost in thought.

"I know, how about Perry," I said.

"No," he stated blankly.

I trailed away in thought again. "Prince," I suggested.

"No," he replied.

"Pudding?"

"No," he replied.

"Tyler?" I asked again.

"No," he replied.

"Rain?" I suggested.

"No," he replied.

"Cupcake?" I asked frustrated.

"Are you even hearing yourself?" He asked.

"I am. Perfectly actually," I replied, smirking.

"'I think it would be better if you just stop suggesting," he replied, shaking his head.

"Well, I don't hear you suggesting any names," I replied with a hint of sass.

"That's because I took 'being original' seriously," he replied, equally smirking.

"You know what... nevermind," I replied.

The room fell silent again, and I waited for him to talk. After what felt like forever, he finally seemed to gather his thoughts. "Oh, I know," he replied, raising his hand, "how about we name him-"

"No," I replied, cutting in.

"That's not fair. You don't even know what I am going to say," he protested.

"I don't need to," I replied, smirking. There was no way he could just shoot down all my ideas and get away with it.

"You're a petty human being," he replied, half-smiling.

"I know," I replied nonchalantly.

"Just let me talk, please," he whined.

"Ugh.... whatever," I replied.

"Thank you," he replied sarcastically. "Now before I was interrupted, I was trying to say that I think we should name him Purrington," he suggested.

"Purrington?" I asked confusedly.

"Yes," he replied.

"That is what you call original?" I asked.

"It's definitely original. And I think it sounds way better than any of your suggestions," he defended.

I fell back in my chair and began laughing. "You can't be serious."

"I am," he said, not smiling at all.

"Rocco, that has to be the most ridiculous name I have ever heard. What are you, four?" I asked, still laughing.

"First of all, that's very mean. Second of all, all your suggestions weren't that great either," he defended.

"Yeah, but they weren't as bad as yours," I countered.

He crossed his arms and glared at me, "Well, I'm eleven. What's your excuse?" He asked rudely.

My laughter caught in my throat, and I glared back at him. I finally found out how old he is. "I hate you," I stated.

"We both know you don't. You wove me," he mimicked.

We looked at each other and instantly burst into laughter.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too," I replied.

Just then the doctor walked in and told me it was time to leave. Rocco had to be prepped for surgery, and I couldn't be there with him.

"Tate, wait!" he shouted as I exited the room.

"Yes," I answered softly.

"Take care of yourself."

"I should be telling you that."

"I can take care of myself. It's you who I'm worried about," he replied.

"Can I have one last hug before I go?" I stepped away from the entrance and practically ran back to him, enveloping him in a warm long hug.

"You can let go now," he chuckled.

I whispered, "Five more minutes." I wasn't ready to let him go yet.

"Tae, can you do me a favor?" he asked as I let him go.

"Anything," I assured him.

"Please take care of my chess set. I wouldn't want it to fall into the wrong hands," he requested.

"Of course. I will guard it with ny life, " I said, on the verge of tears again.

"I expect nothing less." He gave me one last smile as the nurses pushed him out of the room.

That night was the first time I felt a little piece of my heart disappear and I knew I never wanted to feel like that again. I was unsure of what would happen next, and I couldn't help but think of the worst.

Sadly, I might never know whatever happened after his surgery because as soon as I left the room, Ms. Thatcher dropped a bomb and told me I was being adopted.

Another messed up chapter of my life was about to begin.