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White, that was the colour they chose for their wedding reception. Taehyung looked into Jimin’s eyes and thought just how much he looked like an angel... Maybe that was why this happened. Maybe it was all his fault for that one thought, because soon after Jimin would become one.
Jimin’s hand rested behind Taehyung’s head, his fingers laced into his soft brown hair, it meant affection and adoration, and his own hands were on Jimin’s back, full of support and strength...
Was it foreshadowing of what each would need in the next few months to come? Where the colour red took over their life, white having been turned dirty by the blood and tears, the nightmares and realities merged into one. Red was going to be at the back of Jimin’s eyes, on his hands, on Taehyung’s lips from the chaste kisses to his lover. Scared of this one being the
last.
One moment Jimin was there, in the reception hall, surrounded by all the people he loved, celebrating the togetherness of a unity that no one could have ever prevented. He would cough a few times on Taehyung, duck his head and blush, a quizzical expression forming on his new husband’s face. He would apologise to Taehyung and say “I will be right back,” between coughs, “my throats scratching.”
The tears would cloud his eyes as he rubbed at the stench of blood from his hands. Feeling like a criminal; someone who had taken all of Taehyung’s happiness away from him. And on a day that was meant to be their most memorable.
He didn’t want to search up what coughing up blood meant, he wasn’t stupid. The past few weeks of aches and pains, shortness of breath and sudden weight loss he had noticed, the blood was a written confirmation of his fate and Taehyung’s. If this had happened a few hours ago he would not have uttered the words “I do” with so much conviction and love. He would have left Taehyung for a better future, to live his future out with someone who wasn’t dying.
But alas, fate had taken its toll.
He would ask the person who came in, a teenager with a petite figure, shocked at the sight of the groom in the bathroom painted in red, if he could burrow his shirt, promising that he would return in a few minutes with a replacement garment. There was no way he could go out and not be noticed, he was one half of the most sought out person of the day; it was his wedding day after all.
“I accidentally drenched my white shirt with the hand wash, I am so nervous Taehyung!” he would lie, as Taehyung would kiss his forehead, and believe him, they never lied to each other.
There was not anything you could possibly hide from a lover who knew you since you were 11 years old. Passed the early teenage awkwardness to the emo phase in the middle. The later few years where the world opened up to its shocking reality and into their early twenties where they were finding themselves for who they truly were. Both had seen each other through it all, really.
Amidst giggles and finger guns, both would walk out of the room, flowers being chucked at them from their friends, their parents crying near the front of the hall.
Jimin would force himself to forget what had occurred in the bathroom, lose himself in Taehyung’s touch for the night, kiss him like it was his first time, call his name out as if it was the only thing his lips had ever learnt to say.
Their honeymoon week was all Jimin could give Taehyung in terms of happiness. It was the most he could do to not break down every time they made love or kissed or remotely touched. He was struggling, and he needed his best friend, soulmate and now husband to heal him.
Whatever the term healing meant to a dying boy anyways.
Jimin’s heart dropped at every cough, his breath caught at every pang of pain that shot through him every so often. He washed his hands more, wondered if Taehyung felt his weak body under him when they made love, was afraid that Taehyung would taste blood on his lips not too soon, or on his fingers, when they were deep inside of his mouth.
A week was the most he could last trying to hide a part of himself that would take over, the baddies that would eat him from within. His own cells turned against him.
The eternal optimist he was, he would lightly, with a small laugh tell Taehyung that they needed to see a doctor when they got back home. After they had settled in for the night and their honeymoon abroad a happy memory: so at least in Taehyung’s mind, it was untainted by the illness that would take over the rest of their time together.
Taehyung would jolt up from under Jimin, lift Jimin’s face to his own and ask with worry “what was the matter, my love?” Taehyung knew Jimin had changed, had felt it all week long, how could he not when he knew Jimin better than he knew himself?
But he was giddy, in seventh heaven to be married to the most beautiful person the world had been gifted with, he thought Jimin’s agitation, and persistent cough was a side effect of some cold or the other. They had been very stressed for the few weeks leading to their wedding. They had wanted a perfect day, and according to Taehyung, it had been. Taehyung had mistaken the metallic taste of Jimin’s lips, tongue and mouth to that of the latter biting his tongue, Jimin did it absentmindedly at times.
Oh, how wrong he was.
Jimin would see his future fall apart on the ride to the doctor’s, crumbling and turning to ashes. He would look ahead and will the tears back. He was not going to cry, he was not going to cry he was- He wiped at the tear that threatened to escape before Taehyung noticed, afraid of giving too much away too soon to Taehyung.
He was scared of what was to come.
They were still classified as “newly weds” and yet, a week into their marriage, Jimin was going to take away and strip Taehyung of everything that he had dreamt of.
How was he supposed to forgive himself?
Jimin thought he was the biggest optimistic but of course his husband would prove him wrong. He wouldn’t even falter on his belief that Jimin was totally fine, “we are in 2019, people are surviving cancer more than ever” he would beam, this wasn’t anything to be worried about. He was sure that their country was one of the most progressive in terms of treatment, and “Jimin you’re the strongest person I know, you can kick those cancer cells ass!” his grip on Jimin would be just a bit too harsh, a pain springing on the now paper thin Jimin.
They did some of the tests that day, and would return in a few days time for the results.
As the pair turned away, the doctor and nurse would share a grim look, they saw cases like this every day and yet, it never got any easier...
The two boys would change rapidly over the next few months. It was a given in the oncology wards; to see people come in as one and leave completely altered, and it wasn’t just the patient. It was every person they were connected to, be it closely or not.
“You’ll be fine baby,” Taehyung would whisper between kisses, “I won’t let harm touch you.” Jimin’s weak gaze would falter, and Taehyung would lift his face up, and kiss him once more. He was determined to be the shield that kept Jimin from any arrows shot his way. The only problem was the arrow was wedged in every one of Jimin’s cells, ready to tear him apart from within. There wasn’t much that his soulmate could do now, but to let him go slowly.
Taehyung shaved his head, leaving a sleeping Jimin in bed, the night that his hands came away with a clump of Jimin’s soft brown hair. He saw tears streaming down his cheeks as he looked at the mirror at 3 a.m and tried to not cut himself as his hair fell to the floor.
He was angry at the universe for what Jimin was going through; wanted to replace him. He wanted to be the one that was dying; because what was life without the man you loved the most?
Taehyung wore baggy clothes before Jimin needed to start wearing them. They bought things in two; one for the each of them. If only Taehyung could share Jimin’s pain, he would have accepted it all without question. He would watch Jimin grip onto his arms as he struggled to get up from the bed, how he would lean onto Taehyung after he vomited out everything inside of himself.
The first week of treatments was always the worst, they would fall into routine, would learn which week was tolerable and when Jimin needed re-admission. Taehyung’s sleep grew as light as Jimin became in his arms. He needed to be there for his dying husband no matter what, sleep was the least of Taehyung’s concern.
Jimin’s parents would ask if he needed a weekend off from being Jimin’s caretaker, having read about “carer’s fatigue” from the dozens of leaflets the oncology ward had sent them home with.
“I can’t take a break from jimin, he is an extension of myself. My better half.” he wanted every second of Jimin’s time.
On one of the more difficult chemotherapy sessions, the lengthier ones, Taehyung would drive to the nearest cliff his city had, one where you found it hard to hear your own thoughts because of the rush of water hitting the rocks. It was Jimin’s favourite spot to unwind. And he would scream into the ocean. He would fall to his knees and cry until his head felt light. His head thrown back, he would ask the heavens what he had done to deserve the pain that he felt eating away at his core. Why was this the fate he had been born with?
Jimin would spot a little girl of 4 across the cubicle from him, and that night Taehyung would break the rule of not being allowed to share the patient’s bed. He would grip onto his skeleton thin husband as he struggled to breathe between sobs. Jimin’s hand would grip tightly onto his t-shirt, his nails digging in. Taehyung’s hand would hold the trembling boy, his own tears gushing out like a broken dam. Jimin would look up, hold Taehyung’s gaze and whisper, “I just wanted to get to be a dad, Taehyung-ah.” and everything that had held Taehyung up until now would give away. Like the ground floor of a building giving away and the rest crumbling on top.
“I dont want to be an astronaut or the first man to live on Mars. I just wanted something closer to home, closer to my own flesh and bones. I just want to be a dad, can you make that happen? I-”
Jimin would be unable to continue his sentence, his weak frame would give away, his lover would fumble in the dark for the emergency buzzer by the bedside, and a wave of people would take him away, tear Jimin from his arms, to be saved. His cheeks would grow hot, at being unable to do anything for his dying partner. At never being able to do anything to ease his pain.
Taehyung was not a religious person, but he would wander through the hospital corridors, a sign reading “prayer rooms” and he would kneel in front of each and every room, praying that, even if Jimin didn’t have 80 years to live, he would at least live to become a father. “Take all my life, but plea-se,” he would sob, “please let Jimin live long enough to become a father.”
Before Jimin’s chemotherapy begun, as per the hospital policy, they had collected his sperm sample. It was an option given to every patient his age, and Taehyung had been adamant on it being done. So as Jimin recovered from this fall, they went on and used it.
“We’re going to be dads?” Jimin would beam up at Taehyung, this joy would keep him going for the next few months. He did not know of how small his chance of living was, how Taehyung had fought with every staff on the ward for this to go ahead. How he had seen Jimin’s consultant shake his head at Taehyung’s wilfulness.
When Jimin went into remission during the 7 month of their daughter being in the womb, Taehyung found himself hopeful of a future which he had tried to bury many a times; where he and Jimin had a family and lived like any other ordinary married couple. He felt a seed of happiness growing in his chest, but he dared not think too ahead in the future, knowing very well how likely it was for life to kick him in the stomach every time he tried to get up.
So, in secret, he let the flower grow within him, like their daughter was growing elsewhere in somebody’s womb.
They went baby clothes shopping, it took them months to get everything they wanted. Jimin was too weak for most things and shopping was his worst enemy. He would sit down on platforms where mannequins showed off the latest clothes for the season, fighting to breathe but never giving up. Taehyung would put the basket of clothing by Jimin’s foot and sit besides him, let Jimin rest his head on his shoulder until he was strong enough to continue.
Taehyung learnt that people were generally kind to the dying, so they were usually able to cut through most of the lines at shopping malls. Where people gave them big smiles and Taehyung grinned back. It would have been easy to be bitter; to be angry that everyone else got to live a normal life whilst his and Jimin's was anything but that. And yet, he learnt from Jimin to fight back. Not let the world be coloured in angry red because of what fate had landed the two in. Jimin was a fighter, he had lived far longer than the initial time frame that the medical team had hesitantly given them, and Taehyung couldn't be prouder.
Jimin pointed at a little toddler who was sat with at least 12 different shirts pulled around her, both her parents desperately trying put back whatever she dishevelled and yet being unable to match her speed.
"Will our baby do the same Taetae?" he asked, hope flashing in his eyes.
"Yes, yes she will, if she has your determination then I cant see her doing anything but that." He found Jimin's hand and gave it a squeeze.
Taehyung swallowed hard, praying to whoever would listen to let Jimin live long enough to see their daughter running around, causing havoc. Jimin leaned into Taehyung's side, burrowing into him for warmth. No matter what he wore, he was always cold. Always in need of the warmth of his husband, the one who he would inevitably leave to the coldness of the world.
Jimin wondered what scared him the most; the unknown that waited him or the broken boy he was bound to leave, and now with another being that would be bound to him. They were sat on a park bench, the soft glow of the morning sun making Taehyung's face look irresistibly beautiful.
"I'm scared we made the wrong decision taehyungie, what if you years later you want to move on and can't because our baby will always be your responsibility?"
It was easy to be angry at Jimin, and yet Taehyung knew he had to be the calmer one of the two. "You think that I would ever want to move on from you?"
"We're only 24, you have the rest of your life to live, of course you will need to move on."
Jimin stopped himself from shuddering, he couldn’t let Taehyung know how much the words cost him. But he was right, wasn’t he? Taehyung couldn’t live alone for all the years that he was destined to live. It would be selfish to want anything but for Taehyung to move on, love someone else, marry another man. Jimin bit the insides of his cheeks.
"I will love you even after your last breath," Taehyung turned his face to meet his husband’s, his one and only love.
"But you ha-" he was unable to finish, because Taehyung's lips were on his, as light as a feather. Jimin felt himself draw closer, grip onto the sides of Taehyung's summer coat, and lose himself in Taehyung's softness. There was never any use to arguing with him.
On the day their daughter was due to be born; Jimin was not an inpatient of the oncology ward, and yet they let him crash in the relative's room every few hours. There is a saying that the oncology wards have the most kindest souls. But the truth was, they had to be; what with the universe handing their patients the short end of the stick, at every go.
Jimin wanted himself and Taehyung to be there when their daughter came to life, to be the first to hold her. Taehyung was adamant to make it come true, he never left Jimin's side for a second, but did have his phone set up so that he was able to see whatever was going on in the labour ward. They had decided with the mother of their baby and the nurses that this was how they would make sure that Jimin and himself got to be there just in time. Jimin was in no way healthy enough to sit in delivery unit for the long hours that it took for their daughter to arrive into the world. And thus, just a few minutes before she was born, Taehyung found himself running, with Jimin in his arms, across the hospital wards that had become his second home.
The children's hospital was a building of its own, and the oncology ward was on the other side, and yet Taehyung ran, knowing that hospital porters were always way to busy. And no one would ever lend him a wheelchair for his Jimin-ssi without him having a hospital band on him.
Taehyung's lungs were on fire by the time they reached the long corridor, at the end of which was their daughter nearly being born. Jimin reached his hands up, cupped his lover's cheeks in them and looked into his eyes. "We're going to be dads Taehyung-ah." He said matter-of-factly, and it was enough to give Taehyung the energy to carry on. To meet his daughter that was a descendant of Jimin, made of his soulmate’s flesh and born. An extension of Jimin that he was leaving behind for Taehyung to continue living for. Their beacon of hope was at the end of the corridor waiting to be held, and loved and given meaning to.
Taehyung’s arms wrapped Jimin from the back, he stood pressed into the smaller boy, as they were handed their firstborn. His chin rested on Jimin's, his arms enclosing both him and their daughter.
"She is beautiful," he whispered into Jimin's ears.
"She is ours," Jimin sighed.
They took her home hours later, and for the first time, Jimin and Taehyung felt complete. They were no longer just a duo, a pair, a set of lovers; no, they were a family now. Just the three of them.
The next few weeks were some of the toughest for the new dads; having a newborn is already hard on its own, but with Jimin's unpredictable health, it was like walking uphill with rollerblades on. Jimin had sworn that he would not let the grief and sadness that wafted through the oncology ward touch his new, untainted baby.
They had the help of both the set of grandparents for whenever Jimin had appointments to attend, tests to complete, treatments to be had. He would get fidgety when the clocks rang their next hour and he was still away from his new-found anchor for living. Taehyung would put a hand on his thigh, to stop Jimin from wasting his energy on tapping it rhythmically. He would rub his back, "she will be okay, Jimin-ah, breathe, please," he would say. Jimin would look up, hold Taehyung's gaze to calm himself.
"I feel weaker with every minute I spend away from her Taehyung," Jimin would say, tears threatening to spill.
"She wants her dad to be healthy, so you will wait patiently and get this treatment done with, okay?" Taehyung didn't want to be stern, but for the sake of all three of them, he had to be.
When their daughter was 4 months old, Jimin went back to the hospital, he was at his worse and Taehyung was sure that he would come home widowed.
Taehyung was tired of having to be the strong one, the one who not only had to cope with all the pain himself but shield Jimin and their new daughter from it all too. It was taking too much out of him. He held his daughter in his arms, tried to smile at her, pretend that one of her father wasn't battling for his life that very moment, writhing in pain and agony. Morphine infusions being his only solace.
But then he was crying, holding the tiny form in his arms and begging her to somehow or the other make her dad better. "You are a miracle, please do something, anything, but don't let him leave us, I cant live without him.” He confided in his little bundle of joy. She only snuggled further into his chest but it was enough strength for Taehyung to know that she was trying her best, that she would pull her dad from the arms of death and bring him back. Of course she could, she was his flesh and bone after all.
She would squirm out of his arms and go to Jimin, who would try and make space for the little thing to be put next to him, amidst the wires and pumps set up to keep him alive. Concoctions being drilled into him to fight off death for just that bit longer. Taehyung would watch, trying to embed everything in his memory before he knew he would stop having the chance to create new ones with Jimin. He would leave the ward with his entire hand filled with pinch marks; every time his mind drifted off he pinched himself to remind himself to live in the moment, where his Jimin-ah also lived. Just for a while longer.
Their daughter was nearly 1 years old, she was waddling everywhere and causing chaos in her wake. It was all that Jimin had ever wanted to see and he felt thankful to the stars above that he had been given so long to live. And yet, Taehyung was begging every god out there for Jimin to be free of the shackles that held him down. For him to go against all odds and live till he was 90 years old. He didn’t want just this lifetime with Jimin, but every lifetime that came after it. Even if he had the chance to be with Jimin for an eternity, he would think it too less.
As they lay in their garden, on a blanket, with their daughter asleep between them, Jimin reached out to place his hand on Taehyunhg's. "You won't let her forget me, will you?" He was crying, tears soaking into the soft material under him.
Taehyung didn't look at his husband, he kept on staring at the thin strip of moon that was playing hide and seek between the clouds. He felt his heart being shred into pieces.
Tiny, tiny pieces.
It physically hurt him to inhale, his airway felt like it was lined with broken glass.
Jimin was sobbing now, his knees drawn into himself, his face buried into their one-year-old daughter's hair.
"I don’t want to die Taehyung, I don’t want to leave you two."
This was the first time Jimin had uttered those words out loud since being diagnosed. And it was what broke Taehyung beyond repair.
He felt himself undone. He did not think there was any more strength left in him to console his soulmate. So he reached out and bought the two of his most beloved closer to him. He didn't cry, because the pain he felt couldn't be translated to tears, anymore. It had transcended that.
They had their happy times. When they went to the park and Jimin rolled down the hill with their daughter encircled in his arms. Taehyung being at the bottom of it to catch them, bringing them back to safety. The way the three laughed when chasing pigeons in the city centre, "so many!" their little sunshine would shout. Or when their toddler wore Taehyung's shirt, tried to run to Jimin when Taehyung pretended to be mad and tumbled mid-way, laughter erupting from her only for it to be echoed by her two dads.
When she threw her tantrum and both of her dads had to hold her as she tried to go straight for the floor. "I wonder where she got this hot temper from," Taehyung would say, rolling his eyes.
"I got it from my dad so it was bound to be passed on." Jimin would grin.
“Now I wonder who she learnt to eat with a pout from," Jimin would complain, she was taking an hour just to finish breakfast and they had a lot on their do-list for the day.
"Hey! It makes things taste better, okay," Taehyung would say. "Keep eating baby, don't listen to papa's criticism."
And then Jimin was dying.
Amidst all the happiness of the little family, they had not seen death standing by the door, reaching out his arm to enclose Jimin in. To shroud him and bind him to the other world; one where Taehyung and his daughter would not be allowed in.
Taehyung sat by Jimin's bedside, his elbows digging into the cheap hospital mattress. The white bedsheets easy to crease under Taehyung's weight.
"I want another child, Jimin" Taehyung whispered.
"But I am-" Jimin began, talking seemed to take more energy than ever before.
"I know, but I want it to be yours," Taehyung pleaded.
"Taehyung, no," Jimin started, he had to pause every so often, he didn’t know he had become this weak. "You can have your own children," another shallow breath. “Don’t do this to yourself," Jimin thought his husband was out of his mind.
"You won't accept my last request from you, Jimin?" the younger boy begged, he needed this the most. He wanted something else in this world that belonged to Jimin. That anchored him to the world that he himself was being forced to leave before his time.
"I don’t want another child if it's not yours, I would never be able to give it the same amount of love if I knew it wasn't connected to you somehow. Please Jimin-ah."
So Jimin nodded. He knew where Taehyung was coming from, he understood him like no one in the world would ever come to understand. They were soulmates after all.
"I love you papa,” would be the last thing Jimin heard from his daughter as she buried herself into his side and fell asleep early on in the night. Near sunrise Taehyung would climb onto the bed, knowing that Jimin was taking his last breaths.
"I will meet you on the other side, my Jimin-ah," Taehyung would say, placing his lips, for the last time, on Jimin's. And as the sun made its first appearance of the day, Jimin would pass away quietly. A smile on his lips at the happiness that he had managed steal from the cruel world and everything it held.
Taehyung's only function for the next few months was to calm their crying daughter, to hold her as she repeated, incessantly, "where is my papa?" Knowing full well she was not yet ready for the answer.
Taehyung became a robot, he didn't cry, he didn't scream. He just lived for the sake of the daughter that Jimin had left behind.
Years later, Taehyung would still wake up in bed and search for Jimin. He would still whisper Jimin's name, as if in prayer, at the start and end of every day.
A few years later, the second child of Jimin and Taehyung was born. He was a smaller version of Jimin, the same chubby cheeks, small hands, clumsy gait. And so Taehyung lived for the sake of his two children.
Taehyung taught them that the painted skies were Jimin's doing, the sun only shone because Jimin had wished it to raise. The summer breeze was kiss from their other father. Both grew in the presence of Taehyung, and yet when asked the name of their parent it was always: "Park Jimin and Kim Taehyung."