It was cold.

Cold, like ice lingering on the skin too long and burning as it's pulled away.

Momo thought it would be easy. Thought it would pass over in full tilt. But nothing prepared her for the pain. The pangs. The hollow feeling left inside her, screaming every once in a while just to remind her it was there. That the void needed to be filled. Her belly was a drum, each twinge a thump to her lifeforce, banging loudly the way her mother would knock on watermelons to make sure they were ripe.

She her side, curling her body inwards in the hope that warmth--God, any warmth--would find her. It didn't. The night was long, and dark, and cold, and the darkness did not care for her pain.

A loud, jarring growl resonated throughout the near pitch-black room. Momo winced, the creeping pang of hunger crawling through her stomach. Eyes screwed shut, she waited it out until it finally, finally passed.

She sighed, eyelids fluttering shut. It had started out with an itch, but one that came from the inside, a feeling that her fingers couldn't reach. Two days in, that feeling had turned to pain, but not the pangs she had been promised by her seniors. It was a more empty pain, like the ringing after you hit your head on something: the moment where everything hurt yet was strangely clear at the same time. However... it wasn't all bad. There were the sleepless nights, sure. The exhausted days, too. But then there would come one beautiful, shining morning where she woke up and could feel that she was lighter than the day before. She clung to that moment like it was her only lifeline.

The night, she knew, was the hardest part.

Once more, shooting pain penetrated her body, this time bringing forth a small shriek Momo couldn't muffle, even when she slapped a hand to . Her eyes went wide, her whole form quivering. The silence droned on... then came the lump in . Tears pricked at her eyes, and though she fought them with everything she had, she didn't have much. At least, not anymore.

Sobs wracked her small, fragile body. It hurt. It hurt, it hurt so much. And the quiet, dire question spilled out in front of her: Am I going to die?

Die, die, die... the darkness whispered to her. Here, alone on this petrifying, terrifying night, would she draw her last breath? Her gasps had been coming in faintly for enough time now, and with each sob came an airy lightheadedness. Death sat in the bed next to her, staring her right in the eyes, and she was scared, so, so scared because this was it, this was the edge of the cliff and she was going to fall, she was going to fall and never come back.

In these torturous moments--the moments she feared would be her last--all she could do was strive to recall what she had last said to those she loved...

"Goodnight, Mom."

"Have fun, Chewie!"

"Jeongyeon! Stay safe!"

...But no matter how hard she searched, she could not remember it all. What did she say to Sana before she flew to Japan? Did she text goodnight to Hana? And Chaeyoung--had she told her she loved her? When was the last time she even said that to anyone?

Answers did not come. All she found was what she would say if she could see them now. Something along the lines of, "I love you. I really love you. I think I'm dying, and I love you."

She balled her fists and clenched her teeth, another moan escaping her despite her efforts.

No one was in her room, she knew that. So to the darkness, her chapped, dry lips weakly parted, and she revealed all she wished, all that she desired on this cold, relentless night. A tear fell down her stone-like cheek. Her sweat-soaked hands gripped the sheets fiercely. She whispered, for all the emptiness to know, her one want.

Her heart was racing, a mournful panic coursing through her. All she could hear was its beat pounding in her ears. All she could see was the darkness.

Then, a sliver of light cut through the inky haze. Through the deafening noise, somehow, she heard a name.

Her name.

"Momo?"

Her body remained still. She knew that voice deeply, profoundly, intimately. Did she dare peer at the bedroom door?

Before she could decide, Mina's face appearaced above her. Momo stared at her, still unable to move. Mina's hair was a mess--most likely a result of her pillow--and the tiniest trace of drool was strung across her chin. Yet somehow her warm eyes were alert, brows furrowed in concern. She called her name once more.

"Are you okay?" she asked. It seemed her eyes finally focused on her as they trailed now the frail girl's form. "Momo..."

The fear that had pierced Momo's heart had left her stricken with a paralysis that she couldn't seem to shake off. She blinked, simply boring at Mina for an eternity. Mere seconds ago she thought her life was at its end, and that thought was still deeply ingrained in her.

Momo's eyes, which were so bright just two weeks ago, had fresh tears springing in their corners. Mouth agape, she stuttered briefly. "I--" a sob broke through "--I'm so scared, Mina."

"Oh, Momo," Mina murmured, a heartbreaking shakiness to her voice. She reached out and took Momo's hand, squeezing it tightly as if proof of her empathy.

"I..." Momo said, quiet. "I don't want to die." She inhaled sharply. All at once, she broke down. She weeped harshly, each cry tearing through until she could scarcely breathe. Her words tumbled out of her frantically. "I don't want to die! Mina, I--I don't want to die, I'm not ready to die, I want to live! I..."

Mina took Momo's head into her hands, pressing their foreheads together. She softly pleaded, repeating Momo's name over and over to reassure her, to calm her down. Her fingers traced meaningless patterns against her face in smooth, soothing motions despite the panicked, desperate way Momo was gripping Mina's arm, nails digging into her skin.

"Breathe, Momo," she whispered. "I'm here. I'm here. You're okay." Silent tears were rolling down her cheeks but her voice remained steady. "You're okay, Momo."

Momo gasped for air. Her tone was on the verge of hysterical. "I'm not gonna make it. Mina, I'm--"

"Yes, you are. You will live." Mina's voice was breaking. "You will live, Hirai Momo. You have to live..." She took Momo's whole body in her arms. "Please live. Please live..."

Momo wrapped her arms around Mina. For all she knew--and in the moment, she didn't know a lot--Mina was the last thing tethering her to this world. The last thing keeping her from death's embrace.

"Give it to me," Mina said, "your burden and hunger and pain--give it all to me, even if it's just for right now. I'll hold it all, because tonight I need you to live. Make it to morning. Just make it to morning and you'll be okay."

For once in her life, Momo didn't believe Mina. She was going to die. It was cold and she was going to die.

Yet... Mina brought warmth, even if it was only a little. And Momo let that warmth consume her. After all, dying in Mina's arms was better than dying alone.