Three weeks. Already, it had been three weeks since he set off on a quest. It wasn't a simple adventure. It wasn't a treasure hunt or any other voyage off into the unknown. For three weeks, it was all for nothing.

"He's not from here," he remembered someone telling him that.

"Sorry, I don't know him," others told him so.

Despite the disappointments, he never thought of giving up. It was one thing to be passionate about someone, it was another thing to be overly desperate to find that same person.

He thought back to that day, right before he started his three week journey. It was his twelfth birthday and he got the best gift ever from his mum and dad. It was one of those Polaroid cameras which printed the pictures he took right after the shot. His dad was a skilled photographer and the passion rubbed off on him. He loved taking pictures of almost everything. However, he liked taking portraits of people having a stroll at the park near his dad's studio the most. Before he got his own camera, he only worked with the lenses of his eyes. When he saw someone pass him by who got his attention, he blinked a few times before focusing on that one special thing that made the person stand out. Sometimes, his subjects smiled at him and he could only smile back. It was during those times when he got the perfect shots. He was a gifted kid, able to see beauty in a snapshot of time.

When, finally, taking his camera out for a stroll for the first time, he felt overjoyed and went on taking candid shots instead of waiting for those perfect moments when someone looked his way. It was click after click, picture after picture and he didn't even care at all. Taking pictures with a camera felt so much more different than doing the same with his eyes. He couldn't get enough of it.

It was that same fated day that he came across the perfect shot once again. Although, this time, the portrait easily topped the ones stored in his memory. As dramatic as it might have seemed, when he pointed his camera to a different direction, the person right in between his lenses looked back at him and smiled. It was a snapshot, but it seemed it wasn't only the boy's smile that he captured. Somehow, it felt like he was also the subject of a portrait shot from far away.

"Harry?" his dad called out, drawing him out of his thoughts.

"In here, dad!" he shouted.

"Any luck with finding who that boy is?" his dad asked as the man entered the room.

"No," he answered dejectedly. "Mr Morrison doesn't know him and even Mr Jacobs haven't seen him `round the park."

"You asked anyone else who might've seen him?"

"I can't think of anyone else and I've been asking people who always go to the park and others I don't even know!" he yelled, feeling frustrated with himself.

"You know the rule on talking to strangers, son," his dad reminded him.

"I know, but this is an emergency!"

"Is it?" his dad asked amusingly which earned him the sight of his son's annoyed look. "Well, listen. I've talked to Barry about this and I think he knows who the boy is."

"Barry?"

"He owns the ice cream stand by the park, remember?"

"Oh," Harry mused. "...but I don't like him."

"So you haven't talked to him?"

"He's creepy and old."

His dad laughed at him before saying, "Just because he's creepy and

old, it doesn't mean he's a bad guy. And he has very good eyes and memory so you should probably ask him."

"But..."

"This is an emergency, right?"

So, for the sake of this emergency, Harry went to the park once more and made his way toward the old man's ice cream stand. Honestly, though, he didn't understand why the man still sold ice cream at his age. Not that he was really old, but he looked creepy enough to scare away all his customers and most of them were kids. And he thought back to that time when the old man put strawberry syrup on his ice cream, but it turned out to be chilli sauce! It was supposed to be a joke, but...oh, how he despised the man.

"Yeah, he looks familiar," Barry told him, squinting his framed eyes at the photograph.

"You know him?" Harry excitedly asked.

"Not his name, lad," Barry told him. "...but I've seen him."

"Where? I mean...of course, at this park, but when did you last see him?"

"Three weeks ago," Barry answered, handing the photograph back to him.

It was useless information, Harry thought. Even he knew that himself. In the back of his mind, he started entertaining the thought that the boy wasn't from around here and was only visiting that day. Looking down at the photograph, he brushed the sides of it sadly while staring straight into pale green eyes. The portrait framed the boy's upper body, right down to the middle of his back. The boy's head was turned toward the camera and a small smile graced his face. It also seemed that the portrait captured how the breeze blew through the boy's dark brown hair. And, thanks to how the light shone on the boy, it gave his upturned nose an immaculate outline and his lips a gentle curve `round the most innocent smile.

"You see it now?" Barry asked, turning his attention back to the old man.

"Huh?"

"His lips, boy," the man said. "...if I'm not mistaken, that's strawberry syrup."

`Strawberry syrup?' Harry asked himself, looking down at the picture once more.

"If I remember correctly, that boy's a regular customer of mine. I don't know his name, but he went to this park almost every day."

"Really? Why didn't I see him often?"

"Maybe because you were so busy sitting all by yourself with that crazy look in your eyes?" Barry said. "I swear, lad, with how you carelessly blink at people, you'll scare anyone away who looks straight in your eyes!"

"And you're a creepy old man!" he countered, poking his tongue at Barry.

"Hn," Barry grunted, stifling a chuckle. "You want to know more about him or not?"

"Fine," he conceded, putting photograph down on the counter.

"Like I said," Barry began, "he's a regular customer, but I haven't seen him around since last three weeks. The thing about him is that he always buys two ice cream cones, but has no one else with him. The other one was for a friend, he told me. And he kept doing that almost every day."

"Why didn't you ask for his name?" he asked.

"I'm not interested in any boy's name, lad," Barry answered. "I sell ice cream. That's it."

"Why do you think he doesn't come here anymore?"

"I don't know," Barry said. "He's just one customer anyway. Now off you go, lad. I have some ice cream to sell."

After all that talk, there was still no progress. So Harry just stood up and left, carefully placing the photograph inside his backpack. Maybe he'd just wait for the boy to come back to the park. It was still morning anyway. He had the rest of the day to sit and wait.

"Why are you so interested in that boy?" Barry called out to him.

"Uhm...I...," he stuttered, feeling the light tinge on his cheeks.

"Don't bother," the old man dismissed. "Your dad already told me. He's looking for a model for his portraits, isn't he?"

"Y-yeah!" he yelled back.

As always, it was his dad that came to his rescue. If he had to tell the old man the truth, it would've been the most embarrassing thing in the world. How was he supposed to say that the boy was simply...beautiful in his eyes? That's just gay, he thought. But, he was indeed gay. His father knew that already and was understanding enough to even keep him safe from closed-minded people who only wanted to hurt and ridicule him.

As for why he always sat by himself, well, he had no other friends to be around with. He was a weird kid and he knew that - always so silent and chose to keep to himself. He wasn't a loner. He just didn't find anyone who he could talk to and not be weird out by him. He knew a few kids at his school, but it was summertime now so he had no one else but himself. He helped at his dad's studio to keep himself busy and went to the park for some...eye candies.

`Who are you?' he thought to himself, holding the photograph once more in his hands.

"May I sit with you?"

He looked up to the person who asked him the question and instantly moved over to one side of the bench. He wasn't sure who this kid was that now sat beside him, but he welcomed the company anyway.

"I always see you around here. Do you live nearby?" the boy asked.

"Uhm..."

"Sorry," the boy smiled at him. "I'm Marcus. I don't really live near the park, but...I've been staying at the hospital just a few blocks from here. My mum always takes me out for a walk on Saturdays and this place is just great. She's right over there, buying ice cream, I bet."

Sure enough, when Harry looked over to where Marcus pointed, a lady was laughing along with old man Barry. It seemed like the two adults were deeply engaged in their conversation.

"I'm Harry," he said, smiling at the boy. "I live at the studio just across the street."

"Cool," Marcus said, smiling back at him. "I'm 10, by the way. So you like to take pictures?"

"Yeah, and it's actually my dad's studio. I just got my first camera a few weeks ago and still practicing with it," he answered. "Oh, and I'm 12."

"It'd be cool if I could take pictures," Marcus thoughtfully said.

"You could ask your mum for a camera."

"We can't afford one right now," Marcus told him.

"Why not?"

"I'm still having my treatment at the hospital," the boy said as he took the cap off his head. "See?"

"You mean..."

"It's almost done, anyway. I'm up for my last chemo next week."

"I'm...sorry..."

"You should be glad, you know," Marcus smiled once again at him and the little kid even had dimples to adore his face. "It should be my last one, then I'll be all okay. Maybe I can take pictures with you one day?"

He smiled gently at the boy. Marcus looked so hopeful so he should be happy for the kid. Then, he took out his camera from his bag and handed it to him.

"Here," he said. "Point it at your mum and see if you can print a story with a picture."

"A story?" Marcus asked, puzzled yet excited as he held the camera. "Your mum's talking to that creepy old man," he said. "Maybe she's arguing against putting strawberry syrup on your ice cream or...I don't know. You can make up your own story."

"Cool!" Marcus delightfully said. He held the camera to his eyes and pointed the lenses toward his mum. Then, a few seconds after the clicking sound, the picture came out. He handed the camera back to Harry before looking down at the photo he took.

"You don't want to take some more pictures?" Harry asked.

"I want to take my next picture once I grow my hair back," the boy answered.

"Just...come find me here, okay?" he said.

"Okay!" Marcus said, before looking at the picture that Harry set down in between both of them. "Is he your friend?"

"No..." he answered. "It's just a candid shot, but it doesn't look like that at all. I mean he stared back into the camera."

"He smiled at you," Marcus pointed out.

"Yeah...," he sighed. "But I really don't know him."

"I do," the little boy said which earned him a curious and surprised look from Harry. "I think he's staying in a room down the hallway from mine...at the hospital, I mean."

"He does? You're not...kidding, are you?"

"Nope," Marcus answered. "I've seen him there a few times, but his door's kept closed mostly."

"Really?" he asked excitedly. Finally, a lead for him to follow.

"Mm-hmm," the boy nodded. "But...it's weird. I mean, I don't know why he stays in that room. Our wing's s'posedly for kids like me having the same treatment."

"You mean..."

"I don't think he has cancer or anything," Marcus said. "His hair is so thick and it grows a lot so he's not having chemo like me."

"You don't think it's a wig?"

"Nope. I know what a wig looks like and his hair isn't anything like that."

"So why do you think he's staying there?"

"I don't know," Marcus said. "...and I haven't seen him much lately."

Suddenly, old man Barry's words came ringing in his ears. `The other one was for a friend, he told me.' Maybe the boy wasn't a patient at the hospital. Maybe...it was his friend who was receiving the same treatment that Marcus had. Regardless, he now knew where to look for the boy in the portrait.

"Can I come with you and your mum to the hospital? I need to see him."

"Sure!" Marcus beamed at him. "I'll just tell my mum to tell the doctors that you're my friend who's visiting me."

"I am your friend, Marcus," he said. "...and I promise to visit you `til you get discharged from there. Then maybe you can visit me here at the park and we can take all the pictures you want."

"I will!" the boy exclaimed. "My mum's coming and look! She has two ice cream cones. The other one's for you, I bet!"

And so it was after both Harry and Marcus finished their ice cream cones that they all went back to the hospital. It wasn't really that far, just a couple of blocks from the park. In fact, the building stood taller that all the trees scattered down by the park grounds. On the roof by its entrance were the words St. Luke's Children's Hospital.

"This is my room," Marcus told Harry as the boy opened the door to his room. "It's not big, but it has the coolest window! I can see all the people down by the park."

Harry looked around the room and noticed that the walls were painted blue and had airplane stickers on all sides of it. There were some other decorations like football posters and a map of the solar system while several stuffed animals and action figures littered the boy's bed. Overall, it didn't feel like any old room in a hospital. Instead, it was a boy's bedroom.

"Come," Marcus said as he took hold of Harry's hand and led them both down the hallway. Then, stopping in front of a closed door, he said, "This is his room."

Harry should've felt excited that the boy he was looking for was just on the opposite side of the door. However, he didn't know what to say once he got to see the boy again. Would he just tell the boy that a supposedly candid snapshot led him here? His throat felt dry all of a sudden, but before he could even gulp, Marcus knocked on the door.

"U-uhm," he stammered as he came face to face with a nice looking lady. Although the woman held a curious smile, her eyes looked really strained and tired.

"Hi ma'am!" Marcus said. "I'm from two rooms up from here and this is my friend Harry. I think he wants to see your son."

"He's still asleep," the lady said. "...but he should wake up soon. Come in."

This room, unlike Marcus', had its walls painted with a darker shade of blue. Instead of airplanes and football posters stuck to the walls, all kinds of cars raced across it. The room didn't seem to have any windows, only a large curtain hanging by the wall. Right on the bed, along with just one stuffed animal, was a sleeping boy. Sure enough, it was the same boy in Harry's photo.

"It's not him," Marcus commented which made Harry look at him questioningly.

"What do you mean, dear?" the lady asked.

"It's not the boy in Harry's picture."

"It is him, Marcus," Harry said. "Maybe...you just don't recognize him without his wig?"

"No," Marcus insisted. "It's really not him."

"May I see that picture?" the lady asked.

Harry handed it to her and he noticed how the strained look in her eyes changed to something...gloomier. And it even seemed like a tear threatened to fall from her eyes.

"It's not him, right?" Marcus asked her.

"When...when did you take this?" she asked Harry.

"Three weeks ago, ma'am," Harry answered. "...and...uhm..."

"He always smiled like this, you know," she said. "...but..."

"Mum?" came the boy's voice who was now starting to wake up. "Who...who are they?"

The lady moved from across the room and toward her son, taking the picture with her. Then, after she wiped her cheeks with seemingly non-existent tears, she handed the photo to the boy.

Harry and Marcus just stood there, just by the foot of the bed. They watched the whole scene unfold before their eyes curiously. It seemed...it seemed that the boy was now starting to cry himself.

"Who took this, mum?" he asked.

"Harry, was it?" she said, looking toward Harry and he just nodded. "It was three weeks ago dear...right before..."

"Can I speak to them alone?"

"Of course," she answered while smiling sweetly at her son. "I'll just be out the door, okay?"

With Harry and Marcus standing by the side of the bed, it felt like the perfect time to ask for the boy's name or any introduction for that matter. However, the boy still held a sad look in his eyes while staring at the photo and it seemed inappropriate to take him out of that trance.

"Did my mum tell you that he always smiled like this?" the boy asked.

"Huh?" Harry said.

"See!" Marcus quipped. "It's not him!"

"Of course it's not me," the boy said, looking at Marcus. Then he turned his gaze toward Harry and said, "...his name's Foster. We were...brothers. I mean...he's my twin brother...was my twin."

"What do you mean was your twin?" Harry asked.

"He...he didn't come back one day. He was s'posed to bring me an ice cream cone, like he always did...but..."

"What happened?" Harry demanded, unaware of how his own voice sounded so desperate and afraid.

"That was when I heard the ambulance rushing out the hospital, but the siren didn't stop...it sounded so near and," the boy paused, looking toward the large curtain by the far wall.

"No..."

"He didn't come back...three weeks ago and he didn't come back," came the boy's muffled voice, sniffling and choking back the tears as he did.

~*~*~*~

It was a couple more minutes before he heard the distant siren of an ambulance. He didn't bother with it anyway. He knew that a hospital stood near the park so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Unlike the boy's smile, it didn't concern him at all.

~*~*~*~

"Thank you..."

"I'm...sorry..."

"You don't have to," the boy said. "At least I get to see him smile one last time."

"I...I think I should go now."

"Can you stay for a bit longer? I haven't even told you my name yet. I'm Luke, same name as this hospital."

"Ha-Harry," he said, extending his arm for a handshake. "...and my friend here, Marcus."

"You know how to bump fists right?" Luke asked and Harry withdrew his arm a bit before forming a fist with his hand and sharing a fist bump with the boy.

"Your brother had the most awesome hair," Marcus said all of a sudden.

"Of course he did," Luke said, feeling his own bald head. "My hair is cooler, just so you know...but..."

"That's how I can tell you apart. I mean, his hair grew longer every time I saw him and no wig can do that."

"Oh? Then why did you think it was me in this picture?"

"Harry did. I told him it wasn't you but he didn't listen."

"You thought it was me?" Luke asked Harry.

"You...uhm...he was your twin, right? You look a lot alike," said Harry. But now that he was in front of Luke, it came clear that Foster's smile formed around pinkish lips while Luke's was paler. And, Luke's eyes looked so much more strained than Foster's.

"No one could tell us apart," Luke said. "Except our mum and dad and some good friends, but...what really made us different from each other was...uhh..."

"...was what?"

"I don't s'pose I'll be showing you anytime soon. It's kinda...embarrassing."

"How?" Marcus asked.

"It's just...you need to look for it harder."

"I don't get it," Harry said.

"Maybe I'll show you some other time," Luke said, blushing as he did. "But...can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Why were you looking for Foster?"

"It's...uhm, my dad. I mean, he's looking for someone to take pictures of and your brother looked perfect enough."

"You sure it's just that?"

Just then, the door opened and Marcus' mum came in, telling her son that his doctor would see him soon. The boy excused himself and left Harry and Luke alone in the room, at Luke's insistence that they weren't finished talking yet.

"You know what's so cool `bout twins?" Luke asked

"What?"

"They know how each other feels about something. It's called twintuition."

"Really? That's so cool!" Somehow, the usually silent Harry felt comfortable expressing his thoughts.

"I know!" Luke excitedly said. "And...just now...I know what Foster's thinking."

"What's that?" Harry silently asked, seeing how shy Luke's voice sounded.

"He saw you that day. I know he did `coz of the way he smiled. And...this might seem awkward, but..."

"I'm listening."

"He was not just my twin. We were stupid, really. It's just...we loved each other...too much," Luke admitted. If it was up to him, he would've kept that a secret. However, it felt right to tell Harry about that. After all, Foster smiled at Harry.

"I'm not sure..."

"You must know what it's like to mess around," Luke interrupted. "You know...us boys?"

"Oh," came Harry's reluctant response, feeling warmth on his cheeks again.

"Don't tell me you're not doing that stuff!"

"I...well." Of course he didn't. What was a shy boy to do with other boys anyway? He wasn't interesting in any aspect at all and he didn't draw lots of attention on him which was actually great. However, that also meant that no one ever hung out with him for much too long. So there was little to no time to be messing around. And even with that little time he had, there was just no one who asked him or made a move like that. Don't forget that he was shy so he wasn't one to make the first move.

"At least you don't think of me as weird," said Luke, smiling sweetly at him.

"Actually," he paused. "I think I'm weird."

That caused Luke to giggle before asking him why he thought so.

"Coz I think...coz I think..."

"You like his smile, don't you?"

That just made him blush. Now, whoever said that silence means yes? Silence can mean a lot of other things! Right now, with how flushed his face was, it was only appropriate to say that a blush means yes.

"Can I borrow your camera?" asked Luke.

"Huh? Oh, okay..." said Harry, taking the camera out from his backpack. "How'd you know I brought it with me?"

"You like taking pictures. Your eyes just keep blinking and I think...I think that's cute."

Holding the camera up to his eyes and pointing it toward Harry, Luke thought it was really cool and even told Harry about that.

"It's the latest in the market, my dad said," Harry told him. Just then, he heard the clicking sound and... "Hey! Not cool!"

"You look good in this," said Luke after giving Harry the printed photo.

"Shit," Harry cursed lowly. "I look fat."

"Not fat. Just cute."

And that made Harry blush some more while another click sounded and out came another photo.

"Give me a heads up, will you!"

"That would just chase away your blush," Luke argued, smiling down at the picture.

For the rest of their time together, the two boys learned to laugh along with each other. In between those fits of giggles and laughter, the clicking sound of the camera never ceased. What was it they were taking a snapshot of? Well, they didn't know for sure. It just felt right with how they were able to pause time every now and then. When they both heard the knock on the door and Luke's mum came in to remind them that the doctor was coming before closing the door once again, Harry excused himself.

"One last thing," Luke said.

"Yeah?"

"Can you come again tomorrow?"

"Sure!" Harry smiled. "...and every day after that. `til you get better!"

"Foster told me something..."

"What?"

"Come closer," said Luke. "It's a secret."

When Harry leaned in his ear toward Luke, it wasn't a secret he heard. Instead, it was something else he felt. Warmth on his cheek, a bit wet perhaps. Still, it was a secret he would keep.

"He liked you," Luke whispered. "I think I do, too."

"I...uhm," Harry stuttered, looking straight into pale green eyes.

"Don't worry," Luke told him. "I'll show you next time why my brother and I were different. We don't share the same size on one place."

Was it his imagination or did Harry just see how Luke pressed onto his sheets, just above the boy's groin. Well...that looked interesting.