Drip.

Something is dripping from upwards, and crashing against the black floor.

Drip.

Drip.

The echoes of the sound never seem to end, each time the sound turning louder, heavier, unbearable to listen to.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The noise is hurting her ears. She wants to open her eyes, get up from wherever she is lying and turn off the noise. But she can’t. Her body feels so heavy and she’s exhausted. She doesn’t know the cause for it, but she is both mentally and psychically fatigued.

She’s lost a part of herself. She feels different – heavy, with a touch of light.

“Taehee,” her name echoes through the dark.

The woman murmurs something and manages to cover her ears with her hands. She allows her hair to fall like a curtain over her face, in a try to close out that painfully familiar voice. Why are tears threatening to burn her cheeks?

“Taehee, wake up.” The voice says again, a mixture of tenderness and ice.

She doesn’t want to do that. She knows he’s there, as she feels his eyes graze over her skin, like needles piercing her, like matchsticks tearing at her flesh. He’s there and he won’t leave anytime soon. But for some reason, she doesn’t want to face him.

“Please. You have to wake up.” His voice is pleading, and he’s unable to close out the hurt.

At that, she opens her eyes and rolls over on her back. Taehee notices how she lies on a bed of icy water, her dress drenched. And black. Everything around her is black.

“Why?” Her own voice echoes through the abyss of the lost memories. Why should she wake up?

“Because,” and the voice is closer, as if he’s whispering into her ear, “he needs you right now.”

She knows who needs her. But she can’t really process the symbiotic relationship quite yet. She needs someone else at the moment.

Jongin. She needs Jongin.

“What about you?” She asks, while moving her head to the left, where she’s thought him to be. Her hair gets further drenched.

But he’s nowhere to be seen. Only a flash of grey, like an old, worn photograph, where not even the black or white can be seen. The paper has turned a sickly yellow, soon to disintegrate.

Jongin is leaving.

“Don’t you need me?”

A pause, and then he speaks again. And Taehee figures he must be inside of her head, hiding in the black. Why else would he choose to be unseen?

“Always and forever.”

And just as she is about to say something, the sound is back, soon turning into noise. The noise clears out, becoming the echo of a thin voice. The voice of a child.

“Mommy, I’m scared!”

✢

Taehee’s eyes open in a start, and as she rises from the bed, great pain fills her stomach, and, still not used to the feeling, she cries out. When touching it, and noticing she’s empty, panic washes over her like cold water. She’s about to hyperventilate, when big hands rest on her shoulders and her sight is focused on the tall man with short black hair and pointy ears.

His big and round eyes are red and splotched, with black circles digging under the skin. He looks so bad, so tired.

“Chanyeol.” Taehee says, with her voice coming out tight and dry.

Immediately, a hand leaves her shoulder, and the following second, a big glass of water appears in front of her. The woman takes the water immediately and drinks it in one go, despite the man’s warnings.

She needs another couple of moments, until she calms down, and realizes what is going on around her.

“The baby!” She cries out, mixed feelings dwelling inside of her heart. She has to know what has happened to her son, but at the same time, she is afraid of the potential bad news.

She’s gone into premature labor, her careless behavior endangering the life of her son. If something has happened to him, she…!

“Hush, Taehee-ah. He’s alright.” Chanyeol says with a shaky voice, as he gently pushes her back against the pillows.

Taehee needs a while to process the words, and she looks at him again, with widened eyes.

“Is he, really? You’re not joking, are you? He’s safe and sound, isn’t he?!” Had she always been such a worrywart? Or are these the motherly feelings everyone talks about, but few feel?

 “Yes, Taehee. Jongmin is fine. He’s healthy and strong, like a warrior. He’s won his right to be alive.” He explains with a small smile, despite his deep frown.

A relieved sigh leaves her lips and Taehee closes her eyes. Yes, everything is alright. She didn’t harm him. But then…

“Where is Jongin?” That dreadful question leaves her lips, and Chanyeol does not know what to say.

So he buys some time, averting her attention from him for now. “Let’s visit Jongmin first, shall we?” And he turns to the wheelchair, pushing it next to the bed.

Taehee wants to question his motive, but stays silent and allows him to lift her in his arms and place her in the wheelchair. Chanyeol also covers her legs with a blanket.

The hallways are silent and the smell of medicine makes her scrunch her nose. She’s always hated the hospitals. But at the same time, Taehee realizes that it’s nighttime. It’s so quiet and dark. When asking about the time, Chanyeol informs her that it’s a little past four in the morning.

“For how long have I been out?” Is her next question. She feels so weak, so unfamiliar in this body.

“A couple of days.” It’s supposed to be normal for a woman who’s given birth to need time to come back to her senses. Although in Taehee’s case, it was a forced procedure and well, she had a lot of recovering to do.

“Why isn’t Jongin here? Have you contacted him yet?” He should be back by now. Why isn’t he at the hospital?

“Later.” Chanyeol says grimly.

And as they arrive at the pediatric section, Chanyeol stops by a huge glassy wall, with tiny beds, similar to cradles. There’s also an incubator in the far end of the room, with one