5. With you

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Kim Yongsun

There was no time for a large, grandiose wedding. We knew this of course, however bitter and harsh the truth was. But still she gave me all she could and I wouldn't have asked for anything else.

Our wedding was a small occasion as we wished, a simple affair with just the two of us and the priest, in a vatican style church.

The day we got married Byul held my hand as I got ready, her thumb carressing mine in small, gentle circles. “I'm sorry this is all we can do, baby.”

I looked her in the eyes, enjoying the way her eyes searched mine earnestly, and I saw the love in hers as vivid and evident as the spherical moon in the dark night. “I wouldn't have it any other way,” I assured her, leaving a small peck on her cheek.

She left to get ready when I told her for the umpteenth time that I would be fine on my own. Perhaps I knew already, even then, that there was no way I could be happier than this.

And that scared me more than anything else.

Later, when I entered the church, walking between the rows of pews I found my eyes unable pull away from Byul. She stood five feet away in front of the priest, dressed in a smart black suit, her beautiful silvery hair tied back in a low ponytail. Then she saw me, and her nervous expressions turned into one of amazement, delight, then, simple love, pure as the snow that blanketed the ground on a winter morning.

And I didn't need a mirror to know my expression then was a exact reflection of hers.

“I, Moon Byul Yi, promise to love Yongsun through sickness and times of difficulty, to have and to hold her from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; till death do us part.”

I repeated my vows, my eyes seeking her earnestly.

“Do you, Kim Yongsun, take Moon Byul Yi as your lawfully wedded wife?”

I look shyly over at Byulyi. A small smile danced on her lips, a stray hair resting on her cheek.

“I do.”

“Do you, Moon Byul Yi, take Kim Yongsun as your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

The priest smiled, “Now before the law, you are pronounced wives. You may exchange kisses.”

The priest moved back, and it was as if we were opposite poles of a magnet, drawn to each other inexplicably.

When our lips touched, it was a promise. A promise of mutual trust, of eternal commitment. I knew then that living without her was impossible.

When we made love that night, everything was said with a gentle touch, a shuddering sigh, a kiss. Asking, receiving. Giving and taking. And when she came, it was like the moon had ascended, gentle and loving and kind upon the earth in its stupor.

She never stopped kissing me, even after, as I felt my breathing shallow, as I fell asleep, exhausted by the day's events. (Maybe just exhausted by the past few months of worry) And I knew that when I woke up it would be beside her, and that the other side of the bed would still be warm, filled by her presence.

And we'd be alright.

For the next few months we lived happily, spending every breathing moment we could together. But then the troubled breathing that plagued her in her sleep kept me awake at night, sometimes I would feel the bed shift as she got up to use the bathroom. She’d cough, hack her lungs out, before pulling long, shuddering breaths in and compose herself.

I would pretend to be asleep just so she wouldn’t worry about me, or feel embarrassed for showing me all her vulnerable spots. But maybe it was just me who couldn’t bear to ask her then, to put all these pent-up feelings into words, for fear that when they were spoken, they would come true.

But these episodes increased as the days passed, and each got more intense than the other. And I knew there was no way around it anymore.

“Baby…” I called her affectionately, my heart breaking at the sight of those dark rings under her eyes that had made themselves more and more obvious as time went by. I stood by the entrance to the kitchen, watching her frail figure go about making breakfast.

“Hm?” she answered absentmindedly.

“We need to talk,” I said, walking towards her, before enveloping her in a back hug.

“What about?” she asked, turning around, and I could see her hamster-like cheeks were adorably stuffed with scrambled eggs that she had taken some of while cooking.

“You know, I think we need to talk about your condition,” I said, hesitating a little when I saw a look of what seemed like hurt flash across her delicate features, “and what it means for, you know,” I gestured at the space between us, “us.”

Her expression morphed into one of vulnerability, and sombreness, “What about us, Yong? Does it tire you to see me in this state? What are you implying?”

I quickly put my hands to her chest to calm her down. “It’s not that, Byul. You know I love you, and I always will.” I reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “But we need to talk about your condition, and how I can help you through it.”

She was silent, staring down at her feet.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re so far away, like you’ve built this wall between us that I can’t cross, bottling up your feelings inside where I can’t see.” I say, taking her hands gently, “We are a team, you know, a match made in pink, remember? You don’t have to keep this all to yourself.”

Then her mask cracked, and she revealed herself to me.

“It was hard, y-you know,” she sobbed, sinking down to the floor, hiccuping, “I kept hoping if we just didn’t talk about it, it wouldn’t be real.” She gestured to her chest. “That this pain wouldn’t be real.”

I embraced her, my hands drawing smooth circles between her shoulder blades.

“And I wanted it to stay like this between us forever, but it- this thing wouldn’t let me,” she continues, her voice losing more and more clarity each passing moment.

As we sat there that day I wanted so much to be strong for her, to be strong for the both of us, but I found myself crumbling on the inside, a dull throb invading my chest.

A bit later after I tucked her in bed, a fitful sleep eventually settled upon her, and I found myself sitting on the floor at the foot of our bed, absentmindedly a stalk of roses she had given me the week before. Before I knew it, I begun plucking at the petals.

“I love her, I love her not, I love her, I love her not.”

Petals fluttered to the ground, spiraling and in slow-motion, until I came to the last petal, and my tears started to fall.

“I still love you.”

[A/N] Hi guys, sorry for such a long wait till this update I've been overseas and I only just got back but here's a chapter for you guys. Thank you for reading :")