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“Go.” Eunchae whispers, nudging Kazuha’s arm.
Kazuha blinks, her Jennifer-colored daydream slipping out of focus and falling quietly all at once, into someplace tender and lost.
It’s been quite the day.
For the state of Kazuha’s heart, that is. And it’s not so much loud as it is overpopulated; quite metaphorically, because it’s not that there are a lot of people or things in it, per se, but rather that there is a lot of substance existing inside of it. The things existent inside of Kazuha’s heart are small in amounts but with big, big places. Ballet is a key one, now-dormant and maybe not ever coming back with the same importance as it once was, but still: it’s there, and it’s forever a massive crook and groove that makes up the shape of her.
There are other things. Osaka, Japan. Fresh pastries in the Netherlands. Mina, her old roommate and earliest friend. Her premature baby onesie, laid flat on her arm to take up less than half of it now. That one TV drama that refused a happy ending and left Kazuha haunted for two months, chest rickety and face in tears every time she was alone.
But perhaps the most prominent figure, always having claimed a place there but slowly grown in weight after all this time, was none other than one Huh Yunjin.
Jennifer Huh. Her Yunjin-unnie.
It came as no surprise that the blonde girl held a spot in Kazuha’s heart. All of her members did, in all sorts of different ways. It was inevitable to form a close bond with these women she was sharing such a critical piece of her life with. Even if they were mere colleagues, and not friends, there would still be a bond. The truth of the matter is that no matter the status of the relationship, there would always be some sort of understanding that everybody on the outside would never fully know. And that, no matter how unimportant in the grand scheme of the rest of their life, would always bring them back together. You can fall out of touch—
Out of love, out of mind,
—with someone, while still acknowledging how they might’ve once been next to you. The relationship could change, or maybe not even start at all, but still. There are two people there.
Yes, Yunjin has always been there. Tiny Yunjin has always lived in her tiny house built inside of Kazuha’s heart. Kazuha’s ribcage was the fence that guarded her. Her arteries the dragons.
But it’s different. It has been different for some time now. Kazuha can’t explain it. All she knew was that everything tasted sweeter now. And every song was about her.
This day in particular is rainy. Not stormy at all, but just consistent enough for an umbrella to be reasonable. The rain has been on and off for almost a week now, and just yesterday Yunjin had had to rush out to the convenience store in the middle of it, having forgotten to grab some drinks for their dinner. Armed with only a knit cap and Kazuha’s fluffy boots on the doorstep, Yunjin had come back with a frosty flannel and droplets of water dripping from the ends of her braided hair.
Her error, perhaps, lied in the way she did not take a warm shower right away. Or at the very least changed into dry clothes that would make her shivery teeth go away. But their free food was so close to being delivered—perks of having a partnership with Mom’s Touch—and she was so close to perfecting her special sauce Kazuha loved so much with the fried chicken, that Yunjin didn’t even bother. She told herself she’d just do this quick thing and then put on a fresh sweatshirt and soft pants. It was that awkward timing where she didn’t have enough time to fully shower, but then had too much of it to do nothing at all.
They eat and Yunjin washes up before bed. But already her nose has a funny tickle in it and becomes runny. She takes some medicine. But halfway through the night, she’s waking up with a clammy feeling in her skin and a faint fuzziness inside her ears.
The next morning, she has a fever. That damn rain got her. Yunjin feels so lame about it. So babyish. She stepped out for less than ten minutes and boom. Apparently that was more than enough.
She feels like a toddler with a weak immune system.
(What she doesn’t understand is how much Kazuha thinks the opposite. How the worry starts gnawing at her from the inside out, because Yunjin usually isn’t so susceptible to illness like this, and thus this might mean she’s being overworked.)
I mean, they all are. Kazuha knows this; she can feel this, in the way her ankles sometimes feel flimsy and her stomach grumbles more than normal. But that’s not the point. The point is Yunjin’s wellbeing, and how it’s of more importance than Kazuha’s own.
But Yunjin hadn’t told them of her symptoms. It was their day off, and so she slept in. This gave her a bit of a buffer, because the girls usually slept until 10am or so anyways, even on work days, which began at 1pm. Or 13:00. Whatever. So them not hearing from Yunjin until around noon or a bit before that was not uncommon at all. They didn’t think much of it.
The truth sheds its light when they make plans to go to the movie theater. They have matching puffer jackets and love watching movies while it rains outside, so it seems like a perfect lazy day with a nice way to end it.
Yunjin, however, sleepily punch-types a decline, and then pushes her phone away and curls back into bed.
All at once the girls are confused. Chaewon calls Kazuha first, asking if the blonde girl is okay. She’s usually one to be so chipper, and plus she hasn’t responded to Chaewon’s separate messages, asking her if she wants to get some food with her before their movie plans, because Yunjin was the one to almost always say yes to Chaewon’s spontaneous ideas. Kazuha and Yunjin live alone now, and so Kazuha is the only one who can give them answers.
Kazuha promises to update them, hanging up and tiptoeing to Yunjin’s room.
“Yunjin-unnie?” She knocks softly on the door, heart crumpling when she hears a croaky You can come in, Zuha-ya. She can tell by that voice alone that Yunjin is feeling unwell.
Kazuha texts the other girls and, soon enough, they’re all bombarding Yunjin’s phone.
Did you take some medicine yet? From Sakura.
feel better unnnie! :( <3 From Eunchae.
Bonnie! Get some rest and come back soon, ok? Love you. From Chaewon.
Yunjin encourages them to go on with their plans and not worry about her. It’s not like she’d be of any fun or of any use anyway; she wants them to at least enjoy themselves while they have the chance.
Kazuha doesn’t offer much argument. Or much comfort. Much of anything at all, really. It’s hard to say everything she wants to in just a few words. How does she stop at I hope you feel better? How does she not say Can I take care of you?
Can I lay with you and stay right here? Even if I get sick too?
Can I be the one who makes sure you’re sleeping?
Can I be the one you pout at and act extra sick to, just to get me to hold your face and tell you it’s okay? That I’ve got you and I’ll protect you. That nothing’s going to hurt you.
Can I be the one who sits up to take off my sweatshirt, because you’re sweating but you’re also cold, and maybe I just want an excuse to see you in it? Maybe I just want to hold it in my heart that you’re mine?
Please, please, please. Can I?
Kazuha chomps on the words and gulps them down whole, refusing to confront them or even try. She exits the dorm, murmuring the softest semblance of Feel better, Yunjin-unnie and meeting Eunchae in the hallway.
Eunchae knows. Of course she does. She was their youngest, but she wasn’t a child. She was well-versed in their dynamics and knew human interaction and feelings.
And Kazuha had a lot of them. Specifically ones directed at their Yunjin-unnie.
And Eunchae can tell: the way Kazuha laughs without that cheek crinkle, or has a hollow smile and wandering eyes. Like she’s looking out for something. For someone. A special someone who might have changed her mind and found a magical cure, walking in at any second to join them.
Eunchae can feel Kazuha missing a big chunk of her heart.
And the rest of it is still inside her chest, sitting like a lizard without its tail: functional but incomplete, and still mildly adorable to some. Kazuha watches the movie like it was any other day, like it was any other time where she was still normal.
But again, Eunchae can tell. She notices Kazuha’s zoning-off stare and her fiddling fingers, toying with the end of her zipper so she’s sufficiently distracted from pulling out her phone and calling or texting. From compulsively checking the time.
And so it’s because of these details that Eunchae’s chest squeezes. And it’s because of this insufferable dorkishness—god those two seriously can’t just figure it the fuck out—that she leans into Kazuha’s space and whispers:
“Go.”
Kazuha doesn’t need to be told twice.
She considers playing dumb, briefly, but the time has already been ticking, and Yunjin’s fever is not dying on its own anytime soon, and Kazuha just can’t pretend anymore.
She rushes out of the theater, tugging her hat and mask back on, while finding her way to the quickest pharmacy. She loads up a basket with all sorts of medication and vitamins and liquid IV drinks and god knows what, and then she’s paying for it and almost running back to their dorm.
She steps into their home, greeted by a great silence and the soft pattering of the gentle rain that’s just started to fall outside.
The Japanese girl pauses, her heart thumping loudly inside her chest; that kind of violent beating that makes you aware of exactly where it is inside your body, and just how easily it could kill you.
Kazuha swallows, shedding her puffy jacket and kicking off her boots, tugging her hat and mask off to leave her hair ruffled and sticking up slightly.
She creeps to Yunjin’s room.
“Unnie?” She whispers, pushing the door open and stepping in.
Yunjin turns over in bed; and she looks so small with her red-tip nose and her sluggy eyes. A lazy hand reaching out to Kazuha, and a drowsy smile blooming across her flushed face.
“Zuha-ya..” She rasps softly.
Kazuha breaks.
Somehow Yunjin knows; Kazuha thinks she might be magical, but then she surmises Yunjin must know because she, too, feels it. And she, too, needs the both of them to be close.
In no time, Kazuha ends up under the covers, after feeding Yunjin some store-bought soup, and then some medicine with lots of water. And Yunjin frets You’ll get sick, too, and Kazuha says I don’t care, because she doesn’t. Not right now. It might be a little different when she wakes up and feels nasty in her throat, but that’s a problem for the future.
She snuggles into Yunjin, cradling her head into Kazuha’s neck and kissing her forehead.
“You’re burning up.” She whispers.
Yunjin makes a whimpery noise of discomfort.
“I’m burning hot,” she mutters, still capable of a joke even through her half-asleep state.
Kazuha chuckles.
“Goofball.” She teases, and she can feel the smile Yunjin presses into her skin.
Kazuha refrains from any more soft conversation, instead wanting Yunjin to get all the rest she needs.
The older girl breathes weakly against Kazuha’s collarbone, sickly hands curled up into Kazuha’s sweatshirt.
“My sweet girl…” Yunjin whispers, her voice so tiny and so tired Kazuha barely hears it.
The younger girl blushes deeply, hugging Yunjin even closer and kissing her forehead again.
“My Yunjin-unnie…” She murmurs in response.
That big chunk of her heart lodges itself back into place. She’s safe.