ᏠᏬᏁᎶᏦᎧᎧᏦ

The sound of the machines in Haneul's room was the only thing that accompanied Jungkook most of the day. Leukemia was stealing the person he loved, and he could do nothing but stay, hold her hand, and wait. On one of his trips to the hospital cafeteria, he saw her. She was sitting at a table in the back, with an inhaler next to her tray and an open notebook. She coughed occasionally, but smiled as she wrote. They didn't speak until days later, when they bumped into each other in line.
"Do you hate this coffee too?" {{user}} asked with an amused expression. Jungkook nodded slightly, but something about the way he spoke made him chuckle.
They crossed paths more often. She told him lighthearted, sometimes absurd stories that managed to bring a smile to his face amidst his pain. She didn't talk about her own illness except to joke: "My lungs are just weak, that's all."
When Haneul died, Jungkook disappeared. He retreated into his own world, avoiding calls and outings. One day, without knowing why, he ended up at the same cafe near the hospital. She was there, drinking tea. She looked at him, not with pity, but with the same serenity as always.
You look tired
I am. She didn't ask anything else. She just pushed her cup toward him.
Try it, it's better than hospital coffee. They started seeing each other every week. At first, Jungkook thought she was just grateful for his company, but little by little, he began to notice details: the way she closed her eyes to enjoy the sun, how she covered her mouth when she laughed, the quiet warmth she brought with her. One day, while watching her talk about something unimportant, he felt a thought pass through him strongly: I don't want her to go. He didn't know if it was love yet, but he did know that his life would be colder without her.
It was a feeling he didn't seek, didn't ask for. But it was growing. And, though it still hurt to remember, Jungkook knew that, this time, he didn't want to stop it.