Morning Coffee [EXO Baekhyun One-Shot]

FINAL

This version that has been uploaded to Wattpad has been specially dedicated to one of my most faithful and never-failing-to-make-me-laugh reader, KweenOfBlack. She truly has been commenting quite religiously on my stories, and I've never felt such happiness than her hilarious comments and this is my way to pay her back and commemorate her awesomeness by dedicating this version to her. She truly has been one of my motivations to keep writing and stop being such a lazy piece of shit when it comes to writing, and I can't thank her enough for that. You're the best. 
-Young Mi 

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It was a clear day. Sitting on the white and crinkled sheets of the bed she shared with her boyfriend had overtime grown cold, the constant wishing for his touch and cuddles were becoming something Iseul couldn't take any longer. The loneliness that radiated in the cold and lonely ambiance taunted and mocked her constantly, making her doubt herself much more than she does on a daily basis. Her hair had been thinning recently, all from the chemo treatment and radiation. Surprisingly, she still had enough hair to salvage her unmistakeable and beautiful visage, but her pessimistic and icy cold stare made others think differently. She had lost the spark that lit in her eyes, the harmonious laugh that comforted and brought smiles to everyone, the courage and bravery that got her through the toughest challenges, and the will to fight any longer.

A few months before, she had scornfully told her oncologists that she would no longer be taking the chemo or radiation treatments. Despite the doctor's intensive and stubborn attempts to convince her otherwise, Iseul had lost all fight. She knew the tumor was inoperable and that no doctor could ever resect it, and she accepted this with numb eyes and fixed emotions. The fighting, chemo, and radiation had became too tiring for someone like her, and she finally acknowledged her inevitable end. She painfully laughed at how pathetic she sounded, but what could she do? She was dying, and her boyfriend was no where to be found or even had the knowledge of her illness.

Despite being quite weak at this point, Iseul gathered herself and struggled to get up from the bed. She carefully used the nightstand to help prop herself up on two feet, and made her way to the kitchen. Wanting to ensure that Baekhyun had no knowledge of her terminal illness, she made sure to clean up daily, keep up with the plants that grew on their windowsills, and attentively took care of their puppy, Snow. After feeding Snow with the appropriate amount of food, she made herself some breakfast and sat on the dinner table.

Silence filled the room after Snow had fallen asleep again, along with the sound of her munching on the oatmeal she made. She hadn't made a large meal in such a while, and when she did it was only when Baekhyun was in town. Baekhyun had told her he was going to be out for a week on a business trip but what else screamed "bullshit" as much as that did? Iseul knew he had other plans, and painfully smiled his way before kissing him goodbye. She stubbornly pretended that everything was okay, when everything obviously wasn't.

It had been well-over 8 months since she was diagnosed with end-stage glioblastoma and the cancer was no where near treatable. Although common in older adults, Iseul had contracted them to her disfavor. Being one of the most aggressive and fast-spreading types of brain cancer, Iseul had already begun doubts of fighting for too long. Her personality skewed, and Baekhyun didn't fail to notice this. Her forgetfullness was quite frustrating to him, and her unpredictable moodswings a little too much for one. He tried to cope with this, wondering as to why his beloved and treasured girlfriend had gone from an angel who adored much about the little things in life to a scornful and pessimistic woman.

She noticed this change in her behavior as well, and she was just as frustrated Baekhyun was. Iseul battled through the futureless and bleak treatments of chemo that left no improvement whatsoever. Surgery had become an option, but the cancer had spread much further the last time she had dropped by with her oncologists. The amount of doctors she saw in a period of 8 months disgusted her, all giving her the same pitiful face that screamed of her impending death. She knew she had little time left, and eventually gave into the tumor. Every neurosurgeon, oncologist, radiology oncologist; every doctor you could imagine had promised her that this cancer would spread unless she became more aggressive with the treatment. She saw this as another way to slow her death that would eventually come anyways. "What's the point?" she'd think.