Jowa. Kasintahan. Minamahal. Iniirog.

 

Words that translate to lover, this way or another. Each more romantic than the last. Something everybody wants to obtain, though many struggles to maintain.

 

Those who are the epitome of picture-perfect couples are not immune to this virus. Behind the blinding smiles and cheerful laughter are tear-stained cheeks and dull, weary eyes.

 

No matter how well they can put on a show for their friends and family, the relationship stills crumbles when all they do is rip each other’s throats apart, enclosed within four white walls.

 

They become distant, physically, mentally, emotionally.

 

 

Pag-ibig

 

It simply translates to love

 

This is all Son Chaeyoung thought about ever since Myoui Mina walked into her life, witnessing all her truth, and quite literally at that. It was the first time the young artist went to the university gym that late, so she expected that no one would be there besides herself.

 

Boy was she wrong.

 

In all honesty though, the dancer’s presence was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing, for Chaeyoung slipped and twisted her ankle, bruising it pretty badly. And a curse because a pretty girl just saw Chaeyoung , sitting on the dirty bathroom floor with shampoo duds all over her face.

 

She won’t admit it, but she was definitely crying.

 

 

Paraluman

 

Muse/Compass

 

Every great artist had their personal inspiration. Something to lead the ideas out of their mind and into the world.

 

John Everett Millais had Elizabeth Siddall to be his Ophelia. Gustav Klimt had Emilie Flöge as his partner until death did them part. Patti Smith was to Robert Mapplethorpe as Yoko Ono was to John Lennon.

 

Son Chaeyoung likes to think that she’s good at what she does, but not enough to be considered great… yet. Though, nevertheless an artist is not without their muse, and Myoui Mina was the perfect fit.

 

If only she could submit any and every variation of her girlfriend’s portrait to be graded, the last year of college would have been much easier. As easy as it could still get at least, considering having the Japanese girl there made things way better than they were before.

 

Chaeyoung found arms supporting and guiding her even long after her ankle healed.

 

 

Hiraya

 

Fruit of one's hopes, dreams, and aspirations

 

It’s cheesy, yes, but for Chaeyoung having Mina is like a dream come true. She likes to think that the girl is what awaited her at the end of the dark murky tunnel she called life.

 

Wet and ever flowing were the tears at night, like the dirty waters. Pungent and nauseating were the spilled alcohol and cigarette smoke, like the trash that floated. Black and silent was the closet, like the sewers.

 

After years and years of hoping and praying to anybody listening, Chaeyoung felt like her pleas were answered when Mina held her hand, kissed her wrist, and whispered the saving words that got her out.

 

 

Kundiman

 

Love song

 

They say countless symphonies are heard, sparks fly, and the world gets brighter when you’re in love.

 

That feeling of euphoria hits you like a freight train but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The impact gets you flying in the clouds, lightweight and devoid of troubles.

 

It tugs on your heart strings and press on your emotions making your heart beat to the sound of the drum. All these coming together creating a harmonious balance with each note a moment, each chord a day, each measure a memory.

 

Chaeyoung is a very sentimental person, every little thing has its meaning and importance. Give her iced coffee, she’ll stick by you through out the day. It’s your birthday, she’ll give you handmade gifts with a personal letter.

 

Her friends would about it, for fun’s sake of course, but doing so still had the ability to dampen her mood no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that it’s petty nonsense.

 

Mina’s the only one that truly appreciated her quick tiny crafts ‘cause she did the same. Especially at the beginning of their relationship when they used to celebrate the 8th of every month. The couple would give each other gifts, the more sustainable the item the better.

 

What’s more sustainable than a self-composed song? Chaeyoung would like to know so she could use it next time, but since the artist sang to her girlfriend, the tradition stopped.

 

Relationships aren’t all blue skies and butterflies, no matter how much we strive for it. There will always be the time for grey clouds and heavy rain.

Mina and Chaeyoung has their own fair share of days sailing through troubling weather, but at the end of the day they still manage to not sleep with heavy hearts. Not until recently, that is.

 

Time has been scarce; distance began to grow. Mina was aware of the thick, suffocating blanket of tension that has been enveloping them for a few weeks now. It’s especially tight around her neck and heavy on her shoulders.

 

Chaeyoung on the other hand seamed to be fine. Oblivious to the oncoming nimbostratus behind her as she looked up at the bright morning star. The smile on her face never fading, her dimples ever present.

 

No matter the days and nights that they find themselves fighting, of Mina airing her concerns and strife, Chaeyoung simply took it, sat down and listened. She’d let Mina finish, say something quick, and it’s all over.

 

It’s a cycle, again and again it’s just the same. They never truly resolve an argument, they just put it in a box, shove it away, and stumble on it another time.

 

Now, Mina has had enough.

 

“Chaeyoung listen to me please!”

 

“I am!” She replied, a smile permanently planted on her face.

 

“No, you don’t understand this is important.” Mina kept pacing around their living room, repeatedly shaking the nerves.

 

“Okay, it’s important. Tell me then.” The seriousness in Chaeyoung’s voice would have had the older fooled if she didn’t hear the sipping from an almost empty cup.

 

Don’t get the wrong idea, Mina loves Chaeyoung, so so much that it’s disgustingly cute. She’s not one for small talk, but if you ask her about her girlfriend, it’s a whole seminar. Her heart has never felt so full before the small girl took shelter in it. It’s intense, passionate, and oh-so true.

 

That is why "Let's do couples therapy.”

 

It was the first time in weeks that silence took over the flat. Mina stood in front of Chaeyoung, biting on her nails. The latter staring back up with the smile never faltering, but her eyes glistening.

 

“Why need therapy? Why not talk to me?” The younger tried to act cute, attempt at a joke to yank the grip around .

 

Mina couldn’t help but sigh, this is exactly how she expected it to go.

 

“Screams scare me. I hide when things get too loud.”

 

Slowly, Mina lifted her head up from her palms. Chaeyoung’s dimples turned into a frown, her large orbs no longer shinning, they trembled.

 

“I’ve learned to avoid it, tone it down in my head, block it.”

 

Chaeyoung chose to stare at the floor instead, ripping her gaze from Mina’s.

 

“Ignoring things became a habit. I didn’t know what else to do about the situation.”

 

Neither moved from their positions. Mina was too afraid to speak.

 

“I know, I should’ve been more open about it. I should’ve told you that those things happened. I just didn’t want you to worry more than you already do.”

 

“Chaeng”

 

Mina was cut off by the other’s embrace. “I’m sorry”

 

 

Paghilom

 

Healing

 

“How are you today, Chaeyoung?”

 

Physical scars fade, they heal fast. Band aids can cover the cuts, the gash. Alcohol burns, hurts you more before it helps. The big ones heal longer, the smaller faster, both visible to eye, easy to track and notice.

 

“I’m feeling better.”

 

Memories stick, they imprint. Unseen to the world, hard to grasp. They leave muddy foot prints in their wake, hard to clean and leave marks.

 

“Anything exciting that happened this week?”

 

Unlike bruises, there are no ointments or creams for the wounds opened by years of fear. Silent days and violent nights. The blood spilled from stepping on broken glass compares not to the tear-stained pillows.

 

Healing is a tedious, continuous process; it takes time. It’s hard, but worth it. No number of hours spent sitting on a chair though, of remembering and entailing could equal the effect of your smile every time I come out.

 

I get through it cause you’re here, you’re with me. You didn’t leave. You didn’t give up.

 

“We’re getting married.”

 

And you promised that you never will.