-Mors ultima ratio-

Jongin spent the next few days back at Ilsan tending the beds of whites and pinks and yellows with Jae helping him, but mostly just ever politely telling him what to do while being a chatty companion. They talked. Or rather, she talked—a lot. It was unusual, but Jongin didn’t mind. In fact, Jongin found himself always wanting to hurry back at Jaebeom’s place to listen to her and get to know her.

For one, he learned that Jae loves dogs. But for some reason, she could not take care of them. Most probably because she’s too lazy, or so Jongin thought.

Jongin also learned that she loves to immortalize her emotions, experiences, and people through painting. She showed him her paintings once, when Jongin went over to her house because it was late and he was man enough to insist on walking her home so that he—more than Jae—could get a good night sleep knowing she was safe. So Jae invited him in for juice and a slice of Mr. Chunji’s chocolate decadence, and that’s when he saw the deeper part of her. He saw the , the lines and the colors on all the once upon a time plain canvasses.

Jongin, like any other educated man, must’ve known that artists won’t like their paintings being touched. But he still did otherwise. Even when Jae handed him his glass of orange juice, he still did. He always had the little curious kid inside him that might never grow up. But she didn’t say anything about it. Jongin thought she was either too polite to lecture him the proper etiquette of appreciating art or she simply didn’t mind.

He liked how the colors felt under his fingertips. He liked how he could sense that some are heavier than the others. As if Jae would’ve wanted people to know why she specifically put emphasis on certain parts, how she wanted people to understand the real emotions she felt while painting them. Like her paintings hold secrets and people won’t really understand until they take a greater leap and literally feel them. He could almost see Jae with her hair tied-up in a bun, face and hands made-up in acrylic paints with a paintbrush dancing gracefully, and sometimes swiftly, in between her fingers.

 A Second Life. Jongin read the words in a whisper. It was a simple painting. A singular pink tulip with white ribbon carefully tied on its long stem. It was very different with her other paintings, as all were too heavy. It’s a painting that could easily get lost in a sea of her other paintings until you touch the . It looks simple. Too simple.

When Jongin looked from the painting to her, he saw the slightest crimson coloring her face and her eyes round and full of familiarity. She looked like she’s trying to get something out of him—perhaps a memory?

There was just this random day, in between tending tulips and cracking jokes and breathing the smell of morning sun combined with autumn air while stealing awkward glances between black and dark brown eyes, when Jongin asked if she would like to grab some coffee.

“Not now, Some uh, other time? Well, I mean, if you’d like of course.” he corrected himself almost immediately and she laughed at how bad Jongin is in asking her out.

Unsure whether or not he has been politely rejected, black eyes eagerly looked at brown eyes. “I don’t drink coffee though. I used to… but now I don’t.” She said, apologetically.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be coffee. Would you prefer milkshake?” he was ever persistent and she’d adore him even more. Was there any other man who could make her feel this way? It’s not just butterflies. Her stomach is a whole damn zoo.

Her laughter filled the morning air. Jongin swore he never thought he’d hear something so beautiful again. Her eyes mirroring life and her smile gracing the rays of the sun, Jongin breathed the beauty that is her.

Shaking her head, a grin formed Jongin’s lips. “Tomorrow, five o’clock.” she replied, smiling. If feelings would’ve spoken for themselves, no words were ever needed to understand what it was.

She grunts. Loud. Louder. The sheen of sweat and the lines on her forehead and the white of her lips are the constructive evidences of her agony and long-term pain. She tries to hold on, for as much as she could and Jongin felt guilty but how can he stop being selfish when her existence is the only thing that makes him want to wake up every morning?

“Hold on Joo. Hold on…. Please—“ too many hands of the medical team halted him to stop. He didn’t even remember seeing their faces. ‘You can’t enter’ the emergency room ‘Please wait here’ and ‘We’ll do everything we can’ they tell him. So he nods, and they all left in silence. The tears began to run down his cheeks, because what could have happened if he was a minute late? He tried to shrug the consequences of those dreading possibilities as he tried to calm himself down. Sitting on one of the built-in metal chairs, Jongin was alone under the confines of white walls, with the silence and his fear as his companions. And he waits.

For the next eight hours, Jongin waited. He was now accompanied by Jaebeom who came rushing the moment he answered Jongin’s call.

“Want to know a secret?” He heard the elder man say. To him, it sounded like something the man would’ve said after practicing on how to say it a million times. Jongin looked at the elder with thoughtful recognition, he nodded for him to continue. “Fathers would give everything just to see their daughters be their little girl again. It’s painful to see them happier in the arms of another man.” They both chuckled.

“I guess it’s a fair point. You can hate me for that.” Jongin remarked, as he raised his crossed arms on his back and rested his head on them.

“I did feel the slightest hint of jealousy, but I never hated you. Not even a bit.” The elder man said, both of them looking straight at nothing in particular.

“If anything, I feel sorry. You’ve had enough problems in your hands. Young love wasn’t supposed to be this hard.” He finished as he cried out a heavy sigh.

“Joowon, I’ve never seen her so happy. She’s fighting so hard and it’s not because of me. But—“ he choked, a tear fell on his left cheek. “if you ever feel like running away from all of this, I will understand.”

“I never felt burdened, sir. You don’t have to feel sorry. I don’t. Taking care of Joo… it’s a very easy thing to do.” Jongin said quickly, with absolute conviction in his words. He knew he needed to hear himself say, to proclaim his love for Joowon like it was The Word, like their love is as sacred as any religion. So he continued.

“I love her. I love her so deeply, my younger self would’ve smacked me right on the face and tell me how unheroic I am for not running away when running away was what I’m always good at. But I feel a sense heavier than responsibility, and funny as it sounds, it all boils down to the weight of my feelings. I won’t give up on her. No. I won’t give up on us.” Jongin was almost out of breath but he felt like a heavy lump in his chest disappeared and Jaebeom nodded and said no more. They both understand, even in silence. Young love wasn’t supposed to be this hard, but sometimes it is and Jongin was never lucky.

Jongin’s hands intertwined Jae’s as he walked her back to her house. A simple but modern one-story bungalow located a few blocks down the center of Ilsan. One train and three bus stops away from Jaebeom’s place.

“This is me.” She uttered, free hand cleaning invisible dusts on her sunflower Sunday dress. She took his breath away the moment he saw her enter the door through Fifty’s Diner. Her hair brushed down, a messy braid articulately set at the side of her forehead. Dabs of pink were visible on both sides of her cheeks and a slightly darker shade emphasized the shape of her lips, and Jongin fought the urge to envelop her in his arms and kiss her then and there. He would not want her to do something in front of too many people, if she doesn’t want to. She might not even like him that way, anyway. Or does she?

“Goodnight, Jongin. Thanks for today.” Jae said looking down at her shoes, the light emanating from the moon and the streetlamp above them busted the darker crimson coloring her cheeks. Jongin figured she doesn’t want the night to end as well.

Lifting her chin up with his right hand, dilated dark brown orbs magnetized his. It must’ve been some sort of unexplored gravitational pull, but the next thing he knew, her lips tasted of strawberries and his tasted of mint.

“Jongin, I want to get out of here.” There was more effort in her breaths now. Her lips paler than paper and her eyes more often closed than open. Jongin wanted to share some of her burden, but it wasn’t the easiest thing to do and that crushes him more. He never wanted to give her up. Ever since he decided to love Joowon, her life was his.

“We both know my body doesn’t respond to medicines anymore, these medicines delay my death maybe, but I can’t… it hurts everywhere. It hurts too much.” She told him honestly, caressing the side of his face. He couldn’t respond, his eyes were swollen from crying. How could he let her go?

Jongin lifted his chin to meet her eyes. With trembling hands, he fixed the strands of her hair that somehow covered the left part frame of her face.

“You troublemaker, we can’t get out of this place. But would you care for a breather?” he gently asked, forced smile planting his face. Joowon’s soft chuckles were heard, she never thought someone could refer to her as a troublemaker. And although her skin was bleached out from all the chemotherapies, her eyes didn’t seem to lose their shine. She was happy.

She was as light as a feather, Jongin was too careful he might end up breaking her bones. He wanted to end her suffering, but how? Can he ever let her go?

“I would’ve wanted to see the tulips, they would’ve full-bloomed beautifully by now.” Jongin heard her say and even without looking he was positive there’s a curve forming her lips.

“I’m sure they do. I'll snatch replicas of your babies at the market tomorrow, you still love yellow?” he reverted and she nodded as she smiled at him with eager eyes.

“Ahhh, today is such a perfect day.“ She watches everything with awe, as if she’s seeing things for the first time. She even adores the sun gradually setting down over the cosmic horizon, but Jongin could only see how unaesthetic the sunset looks today. He has seen quite a lot of sunsets in this life and he knows for sure, this one isn’t as picturesque as the others.

“It is.” He lied, but Joowon couldn’t hear the dishonesty in his voice. Jongin was becoming a better liar nowadays, he could tell her the sky is green at dawn and she might even end up believing. But he needed those— the lies. He needed the comfort of telling her she’s going to be okay, not because a miracle would happen and all colors lost will return and paint Joowon’s body one day, but because maybe, if he repeats it over and over, he might actually believe in them too. And he needed to. Jongin needed his lies so he could endure living for another day.

“Tell me, what’ll make you the happiest than you’ve ever been? Tell me and I’ll grant your wish,” Jongin asked, he knelt in front of Joowon who was now carefully seated on her wheelchair, her bones truly visible under the paleness of her skin.

“If you would be asking me what I want, to be the happiest, then you’ve already granted it.” She calmly responded, sincerity embracing the remaining colors that left her eyes. “You are my happiness, Jongin.”

He shut his eyes for he couldn’t bear to look at her anymore. He didn’t deserve to experience this. He was supposed to be the one who’s dead, but why? Why should it be Joowon?

“But I would like to ask you one last thing…” she said, a subtle melancholy in her voice.

“Don’t say anything you don’t mean.” He responded as he lowered his head and placed it over her lap. He still couldn’t face her. She chuckled bitterly, while her hands played the strands of his hair. When was the last time he had a haircut? Joowon’s heart sank. Because of her, Jongin couldn’t even take care of himself.

“I wish you, to let me go… Promise me, Jongin.” Restrained tears started falling from the corners of her eyes, they make it harder for her to continue. And she could feel the heavy breathing of Jongin’s chest, and the sound of sorrow he didn’t try to conceal anymore. He was crying. His guards were down. He was a complete mess. And this further broke her heart, knowing she was the one causing such pain.

“Jongin, you have no idea how happy you’ve made me feel. I was alive, but when you loved me—when you came and stayed, I felt invincible. I was the healthiest because more than being alive, I was actually living.” She continued while Jongin fell silent. It’s easier said than done, how can he?

“My mind and my body are never the closest friends, I guess. So, I need you to let me go… I need you to move forward and never look back. Jongin, I need you to live. Really live.”

“I will.” That was the last of it. Jongin didn’t say another word, as tears continuously fell from the windows of his eyes. Today's curtain call consisted of the expansive horizon despite the concrete jungle of Seoul; culumbus clouds reflected the reds and oranges of the bidding sun combined with the violets and blues and greens of the east sea like splattered water colors.

It was a perfect 11^th day of September, and tomorrow he will bring her flowers.