rosy lips

three

after getting her makeup retouched with a lame excuse of cramps, minjoo was on a roll - complaining that was.

"fucking chaewon, why does she just have to love prickly red roses?" the teenager groans into her slim arms. "this would be so much easier if it had been something else... like daisies or some shit."

eunbi places her phone down, humming softly, "i'm sorry - i wish i could take all the pain away."

disregarding their leader, minjoo continued on her rant, "of course she has to love a flower that tears me apart every other second it heals. she is literally breaking me apart, slowly."

the older sighs, rubbing soothing circles on the other's slouched back, tears welling in her eyes.

"i fucking hate fansign seatings too. i have to see her gorgeous face, her warm eyes, and endearing giggles. i hate her, i really do hate her."

eunbi tenses, "you don't mean that-"

minjoo quickly stood up, feeling her throat burn, "don't tell me what i fucking mean, unnie. i'm dying, i'm dying because some sort of twisted garden is growing in me. because of her."

"we could talk to the label and we can request for a surgery. you know they would let you."

her breathing almost stopped, minjoo looked back. "give me some time to think about it."

"why do you need to think? it's the best for you, you wouldn't need to hurt anymore. you won't have to painfully love her anymore."

she didn't have to love her anymore.

it sounded a miracle to be able to drink water with no rash pain and itch - but was she ready to let that intense love go? let go the feeling of butterflies - no lions crashing in her? let go the feeling of her clenching heart? was she ready to let her go?

"please, just let me think about it. it might physically be damaging too, you know."

minjoo's tone was unusually spiteful, almost like venom from fangs. eunbi sighs, crawling into her comfort space, letting the younger walk away.

the garden growing was a shade brighter than rain. it was a gift of the skies, washing minjoo's world to show what was there all along. nature in her humble brilliance. the buttercups became gold, the grass the shade of every dreamers meadow, roots quenched, soil renewed. after the patter of water cane bursts of birdsong, their hearts rejoicing the occasion. it all seems perfect, perhaps even mystical. but it sure was killing minjoo alright. just alright.

with that the singer rushed out the room, her coughs quickly catching up to her steps. almost making it to the bathroom when someone called out.

"minjoo! where have you been?"

her voice. her voice. her voice.

minjoo had never mistaken her voice. at this rate, she doesn't think she ever will.

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