CONTENT WARNING: Possibly triggering for those who find medication and mental illness or the topics that circles around that concept unsettling or hard to read. There is, as I have previously warned, an unnamed illness but this time also unnamed medication. Imagine it for me because I do not know anything (in depth and credible knowledge, all i know is what people can search) about mental illness so... yeah.

A/N: Interactions really do inspire me to keep sharing. Literally someone commented on this and I made it my personal GOAL to update this first. This isn't even me coming back here fully. Just 0 self control to be honest.

The incessant beating of her alarm- Byulyi sees red then tastes green.

She’s sick to her stomach, weak on her knees, red in heat and body sweat. Her temples- her brain felt like it was compressing on itself, trying to be smaller- to shrink out of existence. Or possibly her skull was closing in her brain, bracing for-

She stumbles like a drunkard in the kitchen. She needs- something- a medicine- what the hell cures searing headaches at… 4am?

Byulyi’s brain wasn’t running, she just let her body solve the problem. Muscle memory, help her.

Cupboard-

Left of the sink and closest to the refrigerator-

Above her stash of canned- black coffee.

Medicine- pills- she finds a box of ibuprofen grabs it like it was the solution to her emotional turmoil. Several things fell in her not-so-smooth but very-much-swift motions. Several things like…

A pill minder…

A pill cutter…

Some not-so-freshly but not-opened medication refills for… Jung Wheein.

Her brain’s attempt on severing itself after a very vivid dream of red beats, green beeps, and a girl falling, halts.

Ceased at the name on the medication refills. Ceased at the sight of listed medications. Ceased at… the thought of never noticing that before.

And they lived together- been together- for what felt like forever.

The ibuprofen was shoved to the side- isolated- ignored.

Wheein was spending her normal day like… normal.

But not quite… as usual. She doesn’t -miraculously- have any work due nor any responsibilities for her art curator side hustle. The art gallery’s closed, she has no need nor energy to paint or really visualize anything.

No. Of course not. She can’t.

How does one visualize anyway?

 

She only ever visualizes a memory when she’s crying. She only ever visualizes one memory anyway.

The movie date. On -apparently- Moon Byulyi’s birthday.

The laughable Titanic movie. On the date she never really… knew- remembered to be important.

The-

“Innie, be honest. If I were Jack and you were Rose, would you let me hug you on the same plank so I don’t freeze to death?” Byulyi, whispers again. There really wasn’t anything that important happening in the credits- this isn’t Marvel.

“Nope.” Wheein responds with a pop. She could feel Byulyi deflating. “If you hug me and we both stayed on the plank, it would sink and we would both die. If I were Rose, I wouldn’t even be on a plank.”

“What? You’ll befriend a narwhal and save us both?” Byulyi, completely joking now, retorts.

“Yeah. Exactly.” Of course Wheein knows how to respond to silliness. Just add more. More reasons to be happy, to laugh. She answers Byulyi- they laugh, tonally different looking compared to the other moviegoers.

“Wheeinie, we should take a picture-” They’re both out of the theater as Byulyi looks around for a good spot.

“Here!” As Byulyi was seemingly extending her neck for the perfect shot, she felt a pull-

A strong force- then suddenly she’s looking at Wheein posing next to a standee- a cutout of Jaws. A shark with… a christmas theme? Is that… even right?

It must be, given how Byulyi kept taking shots of Wheein posing with it, in unbridled- childlike enthusiasm.

Byulyi can’t help but fall even further in-

Wheein might be addicted to replaying a memory- that actual past of hers- theirs in her head. She's daydreaming about a certain moment in her life. She knows how true it is with the social media post her phone has been frozen at since she woke up.

It might be a bit twisted too… because each time she replays it- each time she daydreams it- she cries. She’s left sobbing, red from eyes to cheeks to ear, head a bit hurting, but ultimately and maybe a bit insanely, happy.

Happy at the thought of progress.

Happy at the thought of… finally feeling emotions.

Happy at the feeling of tears going down her cheeks.

Happy at the feeling of tears finally replenishing her dry eyes.

Happy… at the feeling of familiarity in something she can visualize- finally see in her mind.

That’s normal, right? Is it normal to like crying? Is it normal to replay the memory of the picture you see? Could she do that before?

She should ask Byulyi questions more often, it was so worth it.

Sure, the nervous wreckage was absolutely nerve-wrecking. But the pay off was too good. So comforting. So real. So warm- addicting, even.

It also didn’t slip her mind that- well, they sort of kissed. Not sort of- they actually kissed.

Ggomo’s such a good wingman- wingcat? Whatever. Her prince did her a favor. She didn’t even k