Oh these times are hard

Yeah they're making us crazy

Don't give up on me baby

Sana didn’t remember much from the subsequent days after the accident, due in part to her concussion, in part to the anesthesia used for her surgery, and in part to the multiple sedating pain medications. The japanese went in and out of consciousness, hearing snippets of conversation around her, recognizing the voices as those of her friends and family. 

Whenever she was lucid enough, they would talk to her, about anything and everything. Except for that one thing. At first, she didn't know why she would awake with a heavy feeling in her chest that made it hard for her to breath, but whenever she managed to stay awake long enough, she would remember it. She would remember that Mina was gone. Mina, her best friend, was gone. And that she was behind the wheel when that happened. And initially, that realization was so shocking and striking to her system when it came that it caused her to shake and writhe uncontrollably until her nurses gave her enough sedating medications to calm her down.

She always felt Dahyun's hand close over hers just before she lost the fight against unconsciousness. 

Slowly, eventually, she awoke knowing that Mina was gone. This knowledge left her in a state of numbness and muteness that was more worrisome than her shaking fits.

When she was finally discharged from the hospital after another week of treatment, she left having gained a cast and a set of crutches, but having lost so much more. 

Sana spent most of her days in their apartment, mostly in bed at first, though she did paint occasionally. She rarely left the apartment, blaming the inconvenience of the cast, so all of her friends took turns visiting her and organizing gatherings at her place. For all of this, Sana was thankful. She really was. She knew that everyone was trying their best to help her forget what happened and feel back to normal. 

But the more they tried, the more she was reminded that everything was not normal. One of the most important people in her life was gone. Forever. And while she knew she should feel lucky for having survived the accident with just a fractured bone, and for having such a supportive group of friends, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She just wished that they would all leave her alone. Because all the effort of pretending to be happy and normal when she was so clearly not was extremely tiring and emotionally exhausting.

After the fourth such gatherings in as many weeks, Sana finally had enough. Euigeon had just suggested that they all go to watch the latest ‘Avengers’ movie that had just been released that weekend. Everyone agreed enthusiastically. When they turned to ask what she thought of the plan, instead of nodding, which she had planned to do, Sana shouted at everyone that she had enough of this and asked for them all to leave her alone. 

She then marched, with as much ferocity as she could muster while limping with her cast (not much), to her room and slammed the door, leaving Dahyun to apologize to everyone and see them out.

She felt horrible after her sudden and unwarranted outburst, and so had to spend all of the following week calling everyone to apologize to them individually. Everyone was understanding of course, but the outburst had its intended effect – people no longer organized gatherings for her and left her alone unless she sought them out. Which, aside from Momo, Jihyo, and sometimes Euigeon, she didn’t.

It was a different story with Dahyun. Since the moment she came home from the hospital, Dahyun was there for everything she needed, in her own very Dahyun way that showed Sana in no uncertain terms that Dahyun understood her almost better than she herself did. Dahyun did not hover over her, instead giving her the space they both knew she needed to deal with this. She helped Sana maneuver around the apartment without having to be asked, but also allowed her to do what she could by herself. Furniture and wires were repositioned in subtle ways that would reduce tripping accidents. The remotes were always within reach. Cups and dishes were suddenly rearranged for better access. The fridge and cupboards were always full of all of her favorite foods. Sana often awoke to fresh paint supplies set up next to an empty canvas. She did all of this, without being asked, and without being thanked.

Dahyun made no demands of Sana. She did not force her to talk about what she was feeling, because she knew Sana wouldn't. She knew (hoped) that Sana would seek her out when it was time. And in the meantime, she would continue to be the rock she thought Sana needed.

Dahyun was hopeful after a month that things were improving. Sana had had her outburst, which she hoped was the emotional release she needed. But then another month passed, and another, and still nothing changed. 

Well, Sana did have her cast removed. So she was able to physically return to her daily routines with less help from Dahyun. But if anything, this just led to less interaction between the two of them. Sana refused to talk to anyone about Mina, but as time went on, she seemed to want to talk less and less about anything, especially to Dahyun. What little they said to each other now consisted mostly of daily niceties, of “how was your day’s” and “fine’s” and “I bought your favorite mandu from Myeongdong” and “thanks, but I don’t feel like a mandu tonight.” (Dahyun also noticed with mild interest that Sana never wanted to eat her favorite foods anymore.)

As Sana became more and more withdrawn, Dahyun began spending more and more time at Chaeyoung’s place, both to seek out her advice and for company, as sullen Sana wasn’t much company these days.

“I don’t know what else to do, bro. I’ve tried giving her everything I know she likes, everything I thought she likes, and even things she might not like. It seems like nothing interests her anymore.” Dahyun leaned forward on the kitchen counter where she was seated on a barstool, placing her forehead onto the palms of her hands. Chaeyoung stood in the kitchen facing her.

“Sana-unnie is grieving, Dahyun. She has never faced such a traumatic incident in her life. Maybe this is just her way of coping.”

“I know. I thought that as well. I am giving her her time and space. But it has been three months, Chaeng. She is almost fully recovered from her injury and has resumed all her normal work and activities and even regular outings with friends. But she still . . . she still doesn’t say anything more to me than daily hello’s and mandatory recounts of our days. I feel like she is slipping away, and I don't know what to do about it.”

“Have you tried talking to her about this, about what you are feeling?”

“No . . . I don’t know if this is her way of coping, like you said. I don’t want to make it worse.”

“Are you hoping Sana-unnie will just snap out of it one day and everything will be back to the way it was?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe? Will it?” Dahyun looked up at her smaller friend, a hopeful expression on her face.

It pained Chaeyoung to see her best friend like this. Her best friend, who usually radiated light and love and confidence, now reduced to the bundle of melancholy and uncertainty and exhaustion in front of her. Chaeyoung was fiercely protective of Dahyun, though she did not often express this. 

Chaeyoung wanted more than anything to shield her Dahyun from all the pain that came from living and loving in this world, because Dahyun surely had had more than her fair share of pain, having lost her parents at such a young age, thus making her work harder in the coffee shop.

She wanted to wrap Dahyun in her arms and tell her everything will be okay. Chaeyoung took a deep breath before answering her.

“I don’t know, Dahyun. But I know how much you love Sana-unnie.  Believe me, I do. And I know Sana is going through a lot right now, but I have faith in you two. I have never seen anyone love each other as much as the two of you.”

She paused, before adding, “I know you’re trying to be strong for Sana-unnie, but you have to think about yourself too. I know you, Dubs. You care so much about others, often at the expense of yourself. But the way you are going, holding your emotions inside like this, putting all your needs secondary to unnie’s, it’s not sustainable. Something’s going to give if you keep doing this.”

“Don’t say that, Chaeyoung.”

“You know what I mean. Just think about yourself sometimes, take care of yourself, okay?”

“We’re going to make it work. We’ll make it through anything. I love her. That’s all I need to know. That’s all she needs to know.”

Chaeyoung nodded in solidarity with Dahyun’s sentiments, her best friend who was so sure in her love for Sana. But she couldn’t help the furrow in her forehead as she thought about how, maybe, for the first time in their three-year relationship, their love for each other, which had gotten them through so much in the past, might not be enough.

She truly didn’t want her intuition to be right, for those two’s sake.

But it was.

Oh these times are hard

Yeah they're making us crazy

Don't give up on me baby

Sana knew what was happening (how could she not?) but she couldn’t do anything to stop it. She couldn’t stop herself from feeling the deep guilt she had for simply existing when Mina didn’t anymore. Mina was gone, and she was behind the wheel when that happened. Her guilt and sorrow burrowed so deep within her that it scarred her entire being and sense of self.

She didn’t know who she was anymore, outside of her guilt and sorrow. She tried so hard to be the Sana she remembered, that her friends remembered,a ball of happiness and joy,  but it all felt like an act. She felt like she was an actress playing the role of Old Sana before the accident. She said what she thought Old Sana would say, did what she thought Old Sana would do, but she couldn’t feel what Old Sana would feel, not for anything, not for anyone. It was so exhausting living this way.

But then there was Dahyun. She knew she loved Dahyun. She loved her so much, but it was so hard. It was so hard because Dahyun’s voice was the last thing she heard before her entire life as she knew it figuratively ended, before her link with Mina was so suddenly and traumatically severed. Now, whenever she heard Dahyun’s voice, no matter how hard she fought it, her mind would flash back to her last moments with Mina and she would relive that horrible incident all over again. In order to cope with that, to not be reduced to a quivering mess every day, she found herself limiting her interactions with Dahyun more and more.

She saw Dahyun’s face fall every time her requests to go out, to do something together, were denied. She saw Dahyun try unsuccessfully to hide with makeup her eyes that were swollen and red from crying silent tears at night. She saw the light slowly drained from Dahyun’s naturally bright persona until she too became like how Sana felt, like a rainy day with no end in sight.

And it hurt her so much to know that she was the cause of this. And to know that she couldn’t help it, that she couldn’t change it. She didn’t think she would ever be able to get out of whatever this was, but she knew she couldn’t continue to drain Dahyun like she was doing. It wasn’t fair to her. Dahyun deserved better. She deserved better than Sana.

She decided to do it one night four months after the accident. During one of their now commonplace take out dinners where few words, and fewer looks, were exchanged. Sana found Dahyun quite tired after her shift at the coffeeshop.

“You deserve to be happy.”

Dahyun stopped eating at the sound of her words. She put her chopsticks down deliberately before turning to look at Sana, determination in her eyes.

“We are not doing this, Sana.”

“It will be for the best. I see how I am making you feel. It hurts me so much to know I am doing this to you, but I can’t help it. I can’t change. I don’t know how. We don’t both need to be unhappy. You still have a chance to be happy.”

Dahyun didn’t bite. Instead, she reached out and placed her hand on top of Sana’s, initiating physical contact for the first time in a long time. “You will get through this. We will get through this. Together. Let’s fight for us, Sana.”

Sana raised both her hands in anger, flinging off Dahyun’s in the process. “But that’s just it, Dahyun! I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to keep feeling this way anymore. It’s enough feeling my own sadness. I don’t want to feel responsible for yours as well.”

Dahyun was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you have been feeling more burdene