Drowning in the Distance

IV | Donghyuck

I rub my eyes drowsily, clicking on another video, my barely-touched tray of eggs and bacon sitting in their ugly green tray, stone cold on the table next to me. I've been awake all night watching her videos, one after the other; a Y/N L/N marathon, even with the lame CF content. Eyes scanning the sidebar, looking at the recommended videos, I click on the next one. I glance at the description; this one is from early last year, the lighting preposterously dark, except for the bright flash of her phone's camera. It looks like a fundraiser, the event held at a dimly lit bar. There's a huge banner dangling over a stage reading: SAVE THE PLANET—SUPPORT THE EARTH DAY. The camera focuses on a man playing an acoustic guitar upon the stage, sitting casually on a wooden stool, while a wavy-haired girl sings. I recognize them both from all the videos I've watched, it's Y/N's dad and her sister, Yeji. The view pans onto Y/N, a big smile on her face, her metal-free teeth as white and even as I predicted; she definitely wears her retainer. She's wearing makeup, and I cough in shock at how different she looks. It's not the makeup that makes her look so dissimilar, though. She's happier. Calmer. Nothing like she was in person. The twinkling in her eyes, the glow of her skin, the radiance of her smile. Even the nose cannula looks good on her when she smiles like that.

"Dad and Yeji! Stealing the show! If I die before I'm legal, at least I've been in a bar." Her voice sounds less disciplined, if that makes sense, less orderly in some way. She whirls the camera to show an older woman with the same-colour hair sitting next to her in a bright-red booth. "Say hi, Mum!" The woman waves, giving the camera a big grin. A server passes by the table, her figure visible in the background, and Y/N waves her down, a teasing smile upon her painted lips. "Ah, yes. I'll take a bourbon, please. Neat." I snort as her mum's voice screams out.

"No, she won't!"

"Nice try, Y/N." I mutter at the screen, laughing as a bright light comes on, illuminating their faces. The song in the background ends and Y/N begins clapping excitedly, turning the camera to show her sister, Yeji, smiling at her thankfully from the stage.

"So, my little sister, Y/N, is here tonight." She says, pointing directly at Y/N, who looks down at her hands, clearly shy at the attention. "As if fighting for her own life isn't enough, she's going to save the planet, too! Come on up, Y/N!" Y/N's voice comes through my speakers, confused and stunned. She clearly didn't have a clue that this would be happening.

"Uh, did you guys plan this?" The camera turns back to her mum, who grins. That's a yes.

"Go on, baby. I'll film it!" Her mum says, and everything swings out of focus as Y/N hands the phone to the older woman, standing from her chair. She's wearing a really nice dress, a dress that suits her more than anything I could have ever imagined. She looks gorgeous. Everyone in the room cheers as she pulls her portable oxygen concentrator onto the stage, her sister, Yeji, helping her manoeuvre up the steps and into the spotlight. She fidgets, pulling at the hem of her dress that glitters under the stage lights and adjusting her cannula nervously as her dad hands her a microphone. I see her take the deepest breath she can manage, feeling the wheeze in my own chest as if I were the one taking it. That feeling, that frustrating feeling of never feeling satisfied with a deep breath, is something that all CF patients can sympathise with. My eyes remain glued to the screen as the girls' father stands from the stool, handing the acoustic guitar to the youngest on the stage. He clicks a microphone into a stand, adjusting it to rest so that, even sat down, Y/N's voice can be picked up clearly. She sits, the guitar resting comfortably upon her lap and the portable oxygen bag hanging suspended, the strap slung over her left shoulder. She clears her throat, attempting to shift some of the mucus that rests so uncomfortably inside her upper respiratory system, and speaks into the pickup instrument.

"So, apparently this is happening. Wow. This is a first for me. In front of a crowd, anyway. Don't laugh!" So, naturally, everyone laughs, including Y/N. Only, her laugh is filled with nerves. Her hands visibly shake with anxiety. She looks over at her sister warily. Yeji says something to her that the microphone barely picks up.