❝There was always a WE, but never an US. ❞
♡ ♡ ♡
Maressa Rose Yang or "Mae" is half-Korean and half-Filipina.
Although she isn't blood-related to anyone from BTS, one of them has considered her as his younger sister since they were kids. Growing u...
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Footsteps are heard from behind, before a body shuffles to take a seat beside me on the dock. "How long were you planning on hiding it from the rest of us?" The person questions, his feet swinging above the clear water.
I snap my head towards the source of the voice to find Taehyung staring out at the cerulean lake ahead of us. "What are you talking about?"
He finally looks at me, a pained expression masks over his face. "That a year ago today, your grandmother passed away."
I bite my lower lip, not knowing how to approach about on the topic. Instead, I divert my attention to the cotton of clouds that are hiding the sun and preventing it from shining down on Earth.
"If I hadn't asked Namjoonie-hyung your whereabouts, I wouldn't have ever known about it."
I feel the intensity of his gaze directed towards me, but I refuse to stare back at him in fear of breaking down right then and there.
"Can you at least tell me if you were with her during her last moments here?" he whispers, his voice soft and mindful. "I know how important she is— was to you. I just want to know if you were there with her."
I slowly lift my fingers and rhythmically tap on the wooden dock, imagining myself playing the black and white keys on the piano. Taking a deep breath, I start to narrate my grandmother's last moments.
●・○・●・○・●・○・●
I slowly lifted my fingers from the keys, as I gracefully ended my Grandma's most requested piece on the piano. I turned my body towards her, who was sitting on a wheelchair beside my bench, and held her frail hands in mine. "How did you like that?"
She clutched my hands tightly and nodded, a soft smile lingering on her face. "You only get better each time you play it."
She gently let go of my hands and reached over to wrap me in an embrace. I scooted closer in a more comfortable position, wrapping my own arms around her.
"I'm really glad," she croaked, voice quiet, "that you're healthy."
"That's because you made sure I was healthy. You raised me healthy." I couldn't fight the tears that were threatening to fall. So, I let them.
My grandmother hugged me tighter, as I allowed myself to sob on her shoulder. In turn, she rubbed my back and caressed my hair to comfort me.
I heard her sniffle, so I leaned away from her hold to wipe off the tears on her face. "I'm healthy and strong because you made sure of it."
