-Non omnis moriar-

The sound of sirens still rang Jongin’s ear, alarming him that none of these was a dream. He was indeed sitting on one of the built-in chairs outside Ilsan Public Hospital‘s Emergency Room. Beside him was Lee Jaebeom, and next to him, his father, who both ran straight upon receiving Jongin’s call.

Blood stained Jongin’s shirt and hands, he was still shaking in fear. He remembered the impact of the collusion. It was so fast, Jongin wasn’t able to even see the plate number of the car that sped off. Luckily, there were other witnesses who were able to snatch a photo. But Jongin didn’t care, none of it mattered. There lying on the concrete ground, covered in blood, was Jae. His Jae. Everything else was a blur.

A loud thud was heard after one dreadful hour. It was a nurse rushing outside, not even recognizing them. He came back five minutes later carrying two blood bags in his hand and then heading back towards the operating room.

“Excuse me!! What’s going on? What’s happening?” Jongin cried out, his fists curled into balls, but to no avail. The nurse went straight to the room.

A couple more hours, and they only waited. Jongin didn’t realize, but he found himself praying. Perhaps to her, or to Him. He wasn’t sure, but he was asking for help. To bring Jae back. His Jae.

She didn’t do anything wrong. He shouldn’t have lied. Jongin loves her. He loves her. When she wore that Sunday dress the night of their milkshake date, because she couldn’t drink coffee anymore, he knew. When he kissed her after he walked her home, and she tasted of strawberries and him of mint, and it was perfect, he knew. When she invited him to her house, and he felt her paintings, the heavy against his fingertips, he knew. Prior to that, when she almost tripped down the stairs at Lee Jaebeom’s house, and he held her waist and there were electricity everywhere, he knew. When she spoke of his name for the first time and he asked Jae to repeat it, desperately, like his life depended on it, and she did, he knew. Even in his dreams, he knew.

“She’s stable.” Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, a Doctor under the name Cha Jin Wook stated. He looked young, ranging between early to mid thirties, but he already has that unemotional tone every doctor, Jongin knew, has.

“But she’s in a coma. From what we observed, the patient is suffering from a post-trauma caused by the physical impact. We will be transferring her to the ICU, after which, you may see her. May I know who’s the relative here?” Doctor Cha ended, and then almost instantly bowed recognizing the presence of the eligible Doctor Kim. Lee Jaebeom then introduced himself as a guardian, and thanked the young doctor for his hard work.

“Jongin, get your clothes. I’ll check on here until you return.” It was Jaebeom. Wrinkles over his brows manifested all the years of physical labor, he looked older than his actual age.

“I… I can’t leave her. She might wake up—She might not—“ Jongin choked on his words. His throat felt like fire burning. If he didn’t lie, and told her the truth; if he wasn’t a coward thinking that pursuing Jae meant forgetting Joo, then perhaps none of this would’ve happened.

There was a heavy weight that rested Jongin’s shoulder. Although heavy, it was somehow comforting. “Jongin, I’ll drive you.” It was the voice of his father—not the voice of Doctor Kim—empathizing, thoughtful, appreciative, respectful, promising.

“She won’t wake-up soon. You’ll see her when she does.” The older patted his back, calming Jongin and he let him. They weren’t the typical father and son, they both knew it’d take more than that one phone call for the two of them to how they were, but they were alright. He could use a father once in a while.

Jongin grabbed the first shirts and first pants he could get, a combination of those that were hand-washed from room service and those he found folded in a chair, not so clean but usable. Snatching his car key, he dialed his father’s number, telling him to drive back to Seoul because he needed to do something before returning to the hospital.

Rows of pinks and whites and yellows welcomed him in an instant, he has never remembered these tulips blooming this beautiful before. They were almost shining through the rays of the sun, dancing through the strong blow of air. When he felt droplets of liquid on his arms, crossed against his chest, he realized he was crying. No actually, he was mourning. Today was Joowon’s fifth death anniversary, and also the first time he actually visited her.

Among these soils are her ashes, scattered through the calm blow of the wind, as Joowon’s wish. Joowon wanted to die beautiful, and this was her most creative idea. Jongin remembered laughing because even until the end, she was crazy, but he couldn’t agree more.

“Promise me, you will live, Jongin. You will love again. You are goodness and your heart is strong and full of love.”

“I’ll just miss you. My heart would only know how to miss you.” Jongin buries his head under the crook of her neck—he was all sorts of tired. He knew she was down to the last grains of her hourglass.

“If you ever miss me, just remember me through the tulips. I will grow within them. Not all of me will die.”

“I’m sorry Joo, I was so late.” A sharp exhale to calm himself, but Jongin could still taste the saltiness of his unshed tears. Arms now dangling on both sides. Thankfully, he was the only person in the area. He looked like an insane person talking to the air.

“To tell you the truth, the reason I returned was not because I’m keeping my promise... I came back because I was afraid. I was so afraid, Joo,” his voice was softer, almost a whisper. It sounded like he was both praying and asking for forgiveness. A confession, four years in the making. “I was starting to forget you, and it scared me the most. I couldn’t. I thought coming here would help.” There was a soft sound vibrating from the breeze, and he felt it kiss his cheek.

“But I still did. Each night, thoughts of you become more blurry than the last. This morning when I woke up, I couldn’t picture you even for a second.” The windows of his eyes were burning, he was about to cry again. For the first time, he was being honest to Joowon. He couldn’t remember him being honest to her, or even to himself. All he remembers were his lies, and how they became the only truths he knew.

“I’m sorry, Joo. I’m sorry, I let you down.” A soft thud was heard when his knees touched the ground. He could feel the wind at the back of his neck, on the side of his cheeks, in between his fingertips.

“And I wanted you to know that I’ve met Jae. She’s the one who got your heart, Joo. I only knew about it today.” He was still kneeling, his eyes in the direction of pinks and whites and yellows. A sad smile plastered on his face.

“The funny thing is that I’ve met her before I knew she has your heart. She’s funny, she’s creative. She’s loud. You know how loud people give me headache.” He chuckled, remembering the times when Jae ordered him around or when they strolled around the streets of ilsan, and Jae talked about things Jongin didn’t know—like how fleeting the formation of the sky is. ‘They don’t look the same way twice’ she said, her smile giving light to the dark cloud surrounding his heart. Around him, he could hear the chatter of the leaves of the trees dancing to the music of the wind.

“She wants a lot of things—music, arts, dogs, words. She’s too much, Joo. Sometimes, I can’t handle her.” There was a pause before he continued, “But I can’t lose her, Joo. I never thought anything could hurt me again. I don’t know what to do. If she leaves me too, I don’t know if I can live with the pain. I—I can’t live without Jae.” He sobbed, like a child losing his way home. He heard his own cries that echoed through the vast land, and the howls of stray dogs sympathizing.

Then he felt the breeze again, at the back of his neck, on the side of his cheeks, in between his fingertips, at the curl of his eyelids, at the sensitive skin of his ears, everywhere. He felt the peculiar warmness under his touch. An embrace of a promise, too comforting that Jongin questioned if it even happened, or if he was hallucinating. It was a different kind of breeze. It was warm, but it was fast. And Jongin knew who it was.

The hospital-sponsored calendar standing on the faux mahogany bedside desk next to Jongin’s bed reminded him that two days have passed and still Joowon hasn’t woken up. The dextrose, being her only sustenance, obviously made her skinnier than she actually was. Two days without the sun also helped even-out the tans on her skin, slowly blending back to their natural color.

The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins

It was quarter after three in the afternoon when Jongin was reciting to her words of Edgar Allan Poe. Jae loves words. He recalls her confessing about her fantasy of becoming a good writer, “But that’s just one of my many frustrations. I speak with my paintings instead.”

Half past four when Jaebeom visited them, a basket full of fruits in hand. When Jongin insisted of staying beside Jae, Jaebeom didn’t ask him anything.

“When I first met Jae, I recalled feeling at ease. That kid’s very appreciative; she kept on visiting me for the next two weeks as her sign of gratitude. I told her it was Joo, not me. I thought our communication would end there, but every autumn she’ll call to visit and insist on helping me tend Joo’s tulips.” Jaebeom said, a fatherly smile tugged his wrinkled face as he continued, “Well, technically, I did eighty percent of the work. But knowing she’s there, made everything bearable, you know.” Light chuckles filled the room, and Jongin recalled the time Jae asked for his help, but he ended up doing all the work instead. Typical Jae.

At five, Jaebeom bid Jongin good bye. He pushed Jae’s blanket closer to her neck, and planted a kiss on her lips.

“Jongin?” At half past six, Jae finally woke up. Jongin raised his head from the book he’s reading, Clockwork Angel by Cassandra Clare. He remembers how her eyes turn into crescent moons and glitter with life when she narrated the life of her favorite fictional characters. Wanting to understand Jae, he figured out reading her favorite book was a start, and now he’s down to the last two chapters. She has a very good taste.

“Jongin.” A weak smile curled her lips. Jongin rushed to her side and wrapped his arms around her.

“Jae! Jae, you’re awake.” There was a restrained cry in his voice, but Jongin was more relieved than anything else he was feeling. He pulled away after a minute, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. In front of him is Jae, her eyes wide open, and a sweet smile on her lips. This is Jae, alive and awake. His Jae.

He wrapped his arm around her again so tightly, never wanting to let her go. “Jae,” he sang her name with the sincerity from his mind, his heart, his soul. He felt his hair rise the moment he felt her arms return his embrace. And Jongin couldn’t let go. He doesn’t want to. If he could stay like this forever, he would. If he could intertwine their souls together, he wouldn’t think a second anymore.

“Jongin? What happened?” she whispered his name, still wrapped in his embrace.

“I love you,” that wasn’t an answer to Jae’s question. It was the answer to his. His denials, his restraints.

“We live and breathe words. People say actions speak louder, but I think words are equally as important.” he recalled Jae. His Jae who loves words, the power words can do, and the sincerity of the people actually using them. And Jongin was never good with words.

“I love you, Jae. I love you.” He repeated like a broken CD player. In that moment, those were the only things he was capable of saying. Those were the only words that matter.

Those tulips were not the promise he needed to grant Joo. Jongin pulls away, there were tears in Jae’s eyes, and he quickly wiped them all. He sees his own reflection in those pairs of hazel eyes staring back at him. They were always clear and honest.

“Promise me, you will live, Jongin. You will love again.”

I am worthy. I am deserving. He thinks—he believes. Jongin will live.

And that's a wrap. Three years in the making. This has been, by far, the story that I am most proud of. Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I did. Love always and forever, inlovewithcheesecake.

"We live and breathe words" is a William Herondale quote from Clockwork Prince by Cassandra Clare's The Infernal Devices trilogy (You guys should read all of her books. She's my favorite author by the way. I love you cassie <3)

"The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins” This one's from Edgar Allan Poe's short story The Premature Burial.

Chapter titles are lifted from various latin phrases I Google-d.