White. 

Walls, floors, sheets, robes, and the emptiness of it all. Jeongyeon should have been used to this, used to seeing the nothingness painting every inch of her day. But she never does get used to it, never gets used to the soul-less taste of mornings and nights, and the rampant, incessant, pleas of not today, not now, not ever.

Nobody gets used to it.  

Jeongyeon knows.

But she tries.

The color represents one thing but everything to Jeongyeon. A constant reminder of the inevitable and all that comes along with it. Jeongyeon is aware, well aware for months now, and tries to set those aside and put up a strong front. Enough not to let the pain slide through her, enough not to let Mina notice the agony, the hopelessness of not being able to do anything but watch and wait.

And Jeongyeon waits, waits and waits. 

It never is easy. One thing Jeongyeon learns, and it takes a toll on her. On anyone, surely. And Jeongyeon musters up the courage to make it seem that it is, at least while Mina is beside her, while Mina looks at her, while Mina tries her hardest to make it look easy too.

“Hey..” voice is soft, gentle, hardly intruding. Jeongyeon doesn’t look up, knows who right away. “How is she?”

Jeongyeon feels a hand on her shoulder, “I wish I knew, Jihyo.”

“Have you slept?” Jihyo takes a sit next to her. Jeongyeon doesn’t answer, only tightens her grip on Mina’s hand. “Jeongyeon, you need to rest.”

“I’m okay.”

She isn’t, hasn’t been for months now. But Jeongyeon is in no position to be otherwise. Not when the only thing she could do now is to be okay. 

“It’s fine not to be, you know that.” Jihyo’s voice stern, but laced with worry. 

Jeongyeon knows that. But what would it do at this stage anyway? It’s insufferable either way. The pain doesn’t get lighter, doesn’t make it bearable. And the ache that comes with it is still torture. Breaking down has never been the option. Not to her at least. 

Mina doesn’t get to see her fall apart. It’s the last thing Mina needs to see right now.

Jihyo rests her hand on top of Jeongyeon’s, “Take care of yourself too. At least do it for Hana…”

The guilt hits her instantly, and the half that stays still slowly falls apart. The mention of her name brings both joy and pain to Jeongyeon. She has been selfish, and unfair to Hana, and she’s aware just how much. Expecting a little child to understand something she shouldn’t be worrying about at a young age. 

Jeongyeon lets out a sigh, looks up and turns to her side, eyes landing on Jihyo’s “How is Hana?”

“Asking questions. But Sana’s doing a great job keeping her distracted.”

“Good.. Is she eating a lot?”

Jihyo simply nods at the question. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I-”

Jihyo hushes her, wrapping the same hand around Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Nobody expects you to know how to do these, Jeongyeon. I don’t think anybody knows how to. And I understand the choices you’ve made. But you need to take care of yourself too.” Jihyo’s face softens, “We’re all here for you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“I know. I know.” Jeongyeon exhales, a small smile creeping on her tired face. “I just want to be here whenever she wakes up.”

Jihyo doesn’t say anything anymore, fully understanding any waking moment throughout this ordeal is the only thing her friend could hold onto right now. 

The room falls silent, the sound of Mina's steady heartbeat echoing throughout the four pale walls. The beat isn’t melodic, but plays a tune that somehow calms Jeongyeon out, appeasing her worries and leaving her hopeful day by day.

 

 

Jeongyeon watches as doctors and nurses rush past her, tending to the woman lifelessly by the stretcher. She doesn’t get to move, her knees hardly holding up. She stands there, looking as her world slowly crumbles before her.

Mina was smiling moments ago, hands wrapped around her as she blew kisses. Today was their anniversary. They should be painting the night with stories of their past and drawing plans of their future over a bottle of wine and a plate of medium rare steak. But they never get to do it. They never even get to trace a line.

Now Mina doesn’t hold a smile, doesn’t have her hands wrapped around hers and doesn’t get to blow kisses.

Jeongyeon wishes all for it to be a nightmare. But she knows they don't get to hurt you this much. And the faint sound of Mina’s heartbeat hurts more than any nightmare could.

x

Jeongyeon barely understands the doctor as he explains the situation. It is all getting too real for her, and too fast. All she could get are pieces of things she dares not to accept; Mina’s sickness, months or a year at most to live, small margin for survival and that Mina knew this all along.

The truth hurts, stings in a way Jeongyeon hasn’t prepared for and the betrayal that comes with it worsens the pain a lot more.

But Jeongyeon doesn’t get mad. Has no time to get mad. And the only thing she gets to do as she enters the room and sees Mina by the bed holding up a smile, is to ask “Since when?”

Mina shifts her eyes down, “four months ago.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.”

“THAT-” Jeongyeon’s voice raises but stops, calming down as she continues, her dismay evident in her tone, “that is not for you to decide.” 

Mina is used to seeing the love of her life all smiles, bright and confident. But none of it is in front of her right now. And the sight hurts her more than Mina had expected.

“You don’t get to decide this on your own, Mina.” Jeongyeon’s voice cracked by the end, a sound Mina never liked hearing. 

“I’m sorry. But I’m fine, Jeongyeon. I’ll be okay.”

“What about me?” Jeongyeon quickly asks, her face casting a disheartened look. “What about us, Mina? What about Hana?”

Mina doesn’t speak, watches as Jeongyeon walks closer and sits next to her, her hand brushing the strands on her face then resting her palm on her cheek. 

“You don’t get to give up on us. I won’t let you.”

Mina’s never been optimistic about her situation when she first knew about it. Never gets to when all words and results pointed to one thing. So Mina doesn’t get to be positive, doesn’t get to expect more than what has been presented.

But with Jeongyeon’s hand on her, words thrown like a warm embrace, and eyes in a hopeful gleam, Mina suddenly gets to believe in the tiniest chance of it going differently.

Mina looks at her, her smile softening as she succumbs into the warmth of Jeongyeon's hand, “Okay.”

x

Then it begins. 

Her sickness isn’t mild, isn’t concentrated in one area, but has spread throughout the parts of her body.

And Jeongyeon could only watch her reeling in pain. How Mina’s hair starts falling a few therapies later. How Jeongyeon shaves Mina’s hair off, and how she shaves her own- with Mina finding confidence and reassurance in that simple gesture.

“Why did you-”

“You’re not alone in this.”

“You’re stupid.”

“And you’re beautiful, Mina.”

The process is never easy, they know, never expect it to be anything but that. And Jeongyeon understands the days crying, days lashing out, and days giving up. But Jeongyeon is certain she will not let go, will not stop holding on nor surrender her words of hope, reassurance and safety. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore!”

“Stop, Mina.”

“You don’t have a clue what I’m going through!!”

“We’re also struggling.”

“You’re struggling?!”

“Yes! It’s all of us! Me. You. Hana! And I can’t let you give up on us, Mina!”

-

“I’m scared, Jeongyeon.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to die.”

“You’re not. We’ll get through this. I promise.”

“There’s a lot of things I haven’t done yet. I… I want to see Hana grow up.”

“And you will. You get to nag on her clothes, tell her she’s grounded, hear stories about her first love. You’ll be there through all of it, Mina.”

Words are futile. But words are the only thing Jeongyeon has for now. The only thing she could hold onto when everything seems to fall apart. Because they are falling apart, block by block, one dream after another.

And the longer she stays there, the harder it gets to find the words to believe in.

Jeongyeon have seen these in movies, read them in novels, but none teaches you how to handle it, how to control the fear that comes with it. Her fear is one thing, the only thing, and it's dark, settling deep within her, restless and cold. And it simply terrifies her. 

So they choose to believe those words. They let themselves believe it. They had nothing else to believe in anyway.

 

 

A hand moves slightly and a soft murmur catches Jeongyeon’s attention. She sits up, and watches as Mina’s eyes slowly open. Jeongyeon’s heart warms at the sight and let’s her hand run through Mina’s shaved hair, down to her cheeks, gently caressing her soft pale skin against her.

“Hey beautiful…” Jeongyeon calls out with a smile.

Mina let out a soft chuckle, her voice hoarse, “You’re such a sweet talker.”

"Well, you are. And I won't get tired telling you just how much."

Mina lets out a weak giggle, the sound warms and scares Jeongyeon at the same time. 

The mixture of emotions are weird, she's been having these kinds of emotions since then, happy and sad, hopeful and scared, and Jeongyeon tries to find a balance between the two but eventually realizing there isn't really. 

Because Jeongyeon has been swinging between those emotions behind Mina's gaze. 

“Jihyo came earlier.” Jeongyeon tells her, thumb her wife’s forehead. “Sana’s pregnant. She wanted to tell the news herself.”

Mina smiles, adjusting herself from the bed and making a space for Jeongyeon to take.

Everything comes naturally. It doesn’t take a word for Jeongyeon to understand the gesture as she slides herself into Mina’s side, the younger cuddling closer, her head laying on Jeongyeon’s chest. 

“You smell.”

Jeongyeon chuckles, her breath grazing Mina’s head, “I’m pretty sure it’s you.”

But neither pulls away.

“Our princess is eating well.” Jeongyeon says after a while, then pulls her phone out, scanning through the pictures Jihyo sent her, “This was her yesterday.”

Mina looks through the screen, smiling wider as she slides through the pictures of her child, happy, full of life, and then it starts; the feeling of longing, yearning, missing and the simple thought of not being able to be there for her.

“She’s been drawing a lot lately.” Jeongyeon adds, unfolding the paper for Mina to see.

Mina takes it, running her finger through the colorful portrait her child had made. The sketch perfectly depicts them, how her child funnily took her time drawing little Ray and how she made sure Jeongyeon’s hair reflects the correct shade. They’re happy, and Mina is happy but the longing feeling stays, and quietly bursts into tears a little second later.

Jeongyeon hears it, tries her best not to let her own fall. The sound is all too familiar, all too same, and no matter how many times she hears it, it always doesn’t get better- it never gets easier.

Her heart aches once more, and the feeling of helplessness surges.

“I wanna go home...”

 

 

The little bundle of joy came unexpectedly into their lives. It wasn’t planned, and they weren’t prepared for it when it happened- when they suddenly found themselves nurturing a barely year old baby into their home.

Parenthood didn’t come naturally for them. It took days before they learned how to properly change diapers, a couple more when they understood the meaning behind the baby’s gestures, and a few more when they finally found their footing with sleeping pattern