It starts with a sniffle, seated in the dentist’s lounge. Chorong, flicking through a magazine, adjusts her reading glasses and throws Eunji a look as she blows her nose.

 

“What?” Eunji asks. “I’m fine.”

 

Chorong nods, choosing to believe her.

 

In their car, Eunji sniffles again. She tries to hide a cough from Chorong by taking a sip from a cup of hot coffee, while they wait for the light to change.

 

“Eunji-” Chorong starts.

 

“I just drank too quickly,” Eunji lies. Chorong has the grace to not mention that she only took a sip when she was already coughing.

 

Once again, Chorong just looks at her worriedly.

 

She drops her off at work. “Have a fun day, baby,” Chorong quips and Eunji narrows her eyes. They're glassy and her skin pale. The joke fails to bring any of the usual lightness in Eunji's eyes but she bends down to kiss Chorong anyways, all snuggled up in the driver’s seat.

 

Eunji can claim to be fine all day long, but Chorong has the gift of perfectly functioning eyes, and ears and hands. When she touched Eunji’s arms earlier, they were as cold as ice. But some things never change; she absolutely refuses to admit she’s sick like a general refusing to admit defeat after a eons-long campaign.

 

It was like this five years ago when they were perfect strangers. It's still the same now, all this time. Back then Chorong didn't know . Didn't know her. But now they’re engaged, which obiviously nessescitates more knowing than Chorong has ever dared to dream of.

 

But Chorong lets her be. For now.

 

Eunji returns hours later, knocking on the door to Chorong's office. She hands Chorong that burger she’s been craving for days now.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

"Perfect," she says and sounds the exact opposite. She collapses on squeaky armchairs in the corner, closing her eyes and stretching out her legs.

 

"Meung," Chorong begins again, like earlier in the car.

 

"I'm not sick," she says, her voice scratchy. "I'm fine. Do you need me for anything else tonight?" Chorong shakes her head. No. 

 

"I'm going to bed then," Eunji says, clearing . It results in a cough. "Don't say it," she threatens, glancing at Chorong. "Good night."

 

"Night."

 

Chorong shakes her head in amused disbelief. She turns away from the paperwork piling up on her desk, work forgotten for tonight. Instead, she gathers everything she will need in five to ten minutes. Chorong is prepared. In the next room, Eunji sneezes and coughs, sniffles and coughs some more. A miffed '' reaches her through the wall. Chorong lifts her cup of tea from the countertop as she passes through the kitchen to their bedroom, and knocks.

 

"Rong?" Eunji asks, her nose as red as Rudolph's. Chorong's first instinct is to wrap her up, keep her warm and safe. She knows that Eunji loves when she does that. Although she’d probably die before admitting it. Stubborn like a mule. But she loves Eunji. she loves that she thinks she can fend off a cold by denying she has one. Chorong loves that she lets her in, humors her when she hands Eunji a box of tissues and cough syrup. Chorong loves all of her, no exceptions.

 

"How did you know?" Eunji mumbles, no longer hiding from her. Her nose is runny and her ears beet-red. Chorong knows she's running a fever without having to check.

 

"I know you." Chorong says softly. "Come on, let's get you to sleep." Eunji lets her lead her, shaking with chills.

 

"Would you believe me if I said I'm fine?’’

 

"No way, Meung" Chorong says with a smile. "People who are fine don't act like this."

 

Eunji sighs with a grand air of finality and hides her face in her pillow. "You should stay away from me. You're only going to catch this too."

 

"I’ll have to promise to stay with you through sickness and in health in a few months anyways. Kinda weird if it would change now." It would never change. How many of Eunji's I'm-not-sick-Chorong colds have they gone through? For how many has she not been around? It doesn't matter. Chorong’s here for her now and won't ever leave. There are worse things on this planet than sharing a cold with the love of her life.

 

"Did you bring tea?" Eunji asks in a baby voice.

 

"Of course I did."

 

She sighs. "I don't like being sick."

 

"I know, Meung." She pouts at Chorong. 

 

Chorong has to turn away for a moment to hide her smile. "Here, take your Tylenol and I'll make you another tea. We'll get you fit again in no time."

 

Eunji grabs Chorong’s hand. "I hate this," she says again, her voice deep and scratchy. "But at least I have you." It sounds like a question. Chorong touches her warm cheek and Eunji shivers.

 

"You do."