Non-Fiction

Non-Fiction

 

 

Jinki turned the page of the novel he was reading, thoroughly engrossed in all corners of his brain to each symbol printed in the book. The main character was learning a new lesson, a lesson Jinki didn’t expect to occur, so he tried to read as slowly as he could to fully grasp the reason for the lesson.

Jinki smiled as he read on, most comfortable as he thought this author was his favorite. The author was so intelligent that it almost made Jinki feel dumb.

He turned another page, sitting up on the sofa as he tried to get through as much reading as possible, growing even more excited.

But when he turned the page, and the last sentence was read at the middle of the paper, he realized the book had ended; like any other fictional world he read.

He read the last sentence over and over until he finally sighed, shutting the perfect book and placing it on his coffee table, running a hand through his black hair. He felt confused; he felt so satisfied yet so empty—like he always had when any other fictional world had came to an end.

This meant he had to go to the library and pick out another book. He only finished this one in a week and that was too quick for him.

But, it still felt good to come back to the real world. He liked everything he had in the real world—it was perfect, like fiction.

Jinki looked at the clock above the fireplace, finding it to be past a quarter to nine. He took a second look.

Minjung would be downstairs by now, cuddling up to him—he always liked a quarter to nine specifically because of that. She was rather romantic before bed because it always helped her sleep; and Jinki was particularly fond of helping her. Minjung was incredibly cute when it came to bed—like she was sixteen again.

When he heard the stairs creaking, he settled down, figuring she was just preoccupied with something. He was already smiling, the end of the book forgotten as he waited for her to step out into view in her light blue tank top and baggy black sweatpants.

Once she set foot out of the corner, Jinki’s smile partially dropped in shock.

She had those baggy sweatpants on, her hair up in a ponytail, her black framed glasses, and one of Jinki’s gigantic shirts . . .

Underneath her shirt was her stomach . . . expanded. To the fullest.

Jinki stared at Minjung as she gave him a quick glance before her eyes fell to the floor.

Minjung couldn’t be pregnant. He saw her earlier today—she was a skinny woman.

Minjung couldn’t be pregnant—Minjung . . .

  “Min,” Jinki readied himself to get off the sofa, completely concerned by the upset look on her face.

  “I . . .” she closed her lips, hands wandering over her stomach slowly before taking a step back, “I just wanted to know what it was like.”

He stood, slowly walking his way over to her, holding her face in his hands, forcing her to look up at him, trying to figure out her expression. She forced her face down, fingers curling over the thin shirt she wore.

Jinki didn’t force her to look up. He let his hands cover hers, holding hers, trying to get down to her level. She was depressed and all he needed to do was alleviate it somehow.

When he saw the tear drop fall and dampen a circle on the shirt, he moved again to force her head up, now looking at her tear streaked face, eyes red behind the frames, lips slightly quivering.

  “Min,” Jinki her face, “Min, it’s okay.”

She shook her head a little, her hands running over her stomach again before pulling them under her shirt, taking out what was a pillow underneath. She let it drop to the floor as the shirt became a straight line, Minjung no longer pregnant.

  “I want to know,” she whispered, staring at the pillow on the floor, “I want to know what it’s like.”

Jinki locked his jaw at her rough voice, feeling an ache in his eyes before pulling her to his body, Minjung automatically pulling her arms around him and sobbing into his shoulder. He kissed every inch of her he could in hopes of trying to help because his voice would fail him, and now wasn’t the time for failure.

This part wasn’t like most fiction where anything was possible; where there was always a sudden miracle around the corner, waiting for the characters to walk into it and smile.

But this wasn’t the fictional world—this was the opposite.

This was a world where a miracle wasn’t waiting.

  “Hey,” he whispered, rubbing her back, kissing her neck, “Don’t cry, it’s okay. You don’t need to cry.”

Her fingers curled into fists on his back, crying harder at his words, not believing a single thing, “It’s not okay! I can’t be like this! I can’t be so . . . I want to know . . .”

He held her tighter, pressing soothing words on to her neck, a little water in his eyes. He wanted Minjung to stop crying—he wanted her to be pregnant for her sake because she wanted it so incredibly bad. She wanted to have a family from her own womb, like all of her friends.

But Jinki couldn’t fix that. It wasn’t possible and he felt so useless that he couldn’t make Minjung at her happiest anymore because of her body. This wasn’t a fiction where superpowers could right the world.

  “One day, honey,” he promised on her skin, “It’s possible, I swear.”

She shook her head, “It’s not. No, it’s not.”

He pulled away, hands on her face again, looking deep into her eyes as he tried convincing her that a dream could be real, “I’ve never made a false promise.”

She shook her head again, closing her eyes and looked back down, kicking the pillow away with her foot, “I can’t have children and it’ll stay that way.”

  “You have to trust me,” Jinki grew closer, kissing her face, “You’ve got to trust me that it’ll be okay.”

Minjung said nothing, sniffing and forcing them back into a hug, hiding herself from him, apologizing in the smallest voice, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t,” Jinki said, holding her once more in spot, “It’s not something you can control. It’s not your fault.”

  “You married me,” she cried, clutching him, “We didn’t even know then. And now I can’t even do this for you.”

  “For us,” Jinki corrected, “It was never for me. It was for us. I’m not leaving you because of it, if that’s what you think. I believe there’s always a possibility. It’ll come. It’ll come.”

She sobbed again, stomping her heels in a depressing rampage as the words couldn’t escape from . Jinki kept talking lowly, whispering the happiest words he could manage, his own tears falling to his chin, wishing for God to grant her the power she wants.

  “I want to know what it’s like,” she repeated again hysterically, her clutch on his shirt weakening until her hands fell to her sides, “I can’t even know what it’s like.”

Jinki sniffed, wiping his chin before looking at her again, wiping the tears from her cheeks with a small smile on his face, brushing her bangs from her glasses before pressing his lips to her nose, “There’s ways, I promise. We’ll have one, one day.”

She said nothing, the sad look frozen on her face, denying every word he spoke, feeling her flat, baby-less stomach, the feeling screwing her up all over again, “I don’t like this. This isn’t fair.”

Jinki wanted nothing more but to put the smile back on her face like the superhero would to his heroin, for Minjung to stop crying and saying ‘It’s okay’ while really meaning it. Jinki wanted nothing more than to fix the little problem inside Minjung and try again. Try again. And again. And again.

  “We’ll keep trying because I’m not giving up on what we want,” Jinki vowed, putting her arms around his neck and picking her up by the legs, wrapping them around him as he carried her back upstairs.

She held on to him tightly, watching as her pillow-baby laid there in the living room, not crying ‘Mommy’ or ‘Daddy’. Not trying to crawl around the floor or up the stairs. Not making baby noises.

The baby down the steps was just a pillow. The closest thing Minjung could have as her baby.

Her eyes stayed glued on the abandoned pillow, crying for Jinki to go back down and pick up the pillow baby.

He did as she plead, going back down and crouching as Minjung grabbed the pillow and put it in between them tightly. His throat ached, now feeling the closest thing Minjung had as a baby on his chest.

He entered their room, placing Minjung on the bed as she clutched the pillow, hiccupping about almost everything unfair.

  “I want to die,” she softly cried, forcing Jinki on to the bed and curling up to his chest, “I don’t want this.”

Jinki held her tightly, bringing the covers over both of them, “You need to trust me.”

  “This isn’t another one of your fictions, Jinki,” she whispered into his chest, “This isn’t going to change.”

He pulled away a little, taking off Minjung’s glasses and putting them on the nightstand, once more taking away her tears, kissing her on the lips to quiet her down.

She shakily sighed, closing her eyes as one of her hands reached out for his arm, the other still clutching the pillow.

Jinki pulled back a little, foreheads still touching as he looked at her, “I’ll make it happen.”

She looked at him, blinking once before putting the pillow under her head and pulling them close, “Jinki.  Then try again. Now, please.”

A little startled, he caught her hand, “Now?”

She said nothing to him in response, staring at him with hopefulness in her eyes.

He wanted to break down, to cry about how desperate she was and how she shouldn’t have to be.

Why couldn’t they have been born in a book? A place where only one problem happened and the ending was the best? This wasn’t anywhere near an ending, but god, just let it be like one!

He gained the courage to get on top of her, staring at her as the tears fell from the corner of her eyes; his falling on her cheeks with a soft sound. He pulled her ponytail out, releasing her hair over the pillow before leaning down to capture her lips softly. She tasted like salt water and he wished the tears hadn’t fallen to . It was bad enough cries emitted from her; tears didn’t belong there.

He curled his fingers in her hair, pulling back and looking at her again. Her expression hadn’t changed, but her hands gripped the shoulders of his shirt.

  “I’m trying,” Jinki whispered, kissing her again, “We’ll keep trying.”

He trailed his kisses down her neck, his free hand on her fragile shoulder, her fists pulling him closer down to her.

  “Please,” she begged in a small voice.

The hand on her shoulder traveled to the hem of her shirt, pulling under it and held his hand over her flat stomach. She slightly gasped, almost whimpered, as she choked up again.

  “The next time I touch your stomach,” Jinki whispered, kissing her on the lips again, “It’ll have a little someone inside here.”

She was crying again, the hopefulness clear on her face, “It’ll be there. It’ll be there.”

Even though Jinki knew it was no guarantee if the baby was going to be there or not, he was still going to keep trying. He was going to keep calming Minjung down when she cried.  He was still going to love Minjung even if she couldn’t do this for both of them. It wasn’t her absolute job that she had to provide children. Jinki didn’t want her to feel the pressure of the awful job she was posed with for being female.

Jinki slightly smiled back, his tears dropping on her cheeks again.

If a fictional character could produce a miracle, maybe Jinki could do even better.

 

 

 

 

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Bluecassy7 #1
Chapter 1: This story is so realistic yet so sad...it won't always be happy ending at the end in the real life.
Good story ^^
This-Human
#2
Chapter 1: Onew is such a sweet guy and I just wish she'd understand that he didn't marry her for the sake of having children but because he love her and I know it maybe hard for her and all and I just hope things work out ( in my fictitious work it did and not only that but she had triplets...there now I'm happy lol)
xoxogossipgoat #3
Awh this is so sad :'(
zahliya1204 #4
Chapter 1: This fic is amazing. You are an amazing writer. I hope you can make a sequel from this one. It may be a bit angsty but hopefully with a happy ending. :))