I Doubt that the Doctors Are Wrong
Pairing: het!2Min
Genre: angst? At any rate, it’s not uplifting
Rating: PG
Length: Drabble
A/N: This came from a little rain cloud that resides in my soul. All my musings turn sad for some reason.
Although, the feel of the song doesn’t match this drabble, the title and my inspiration comes from a Jack’s Mannequin song,La La Lie
As the note dipped and swooped and swirled its way to the ground fifteen floors down, Minho cannot help but repeat the note’s final words over and over like a sadistic mantra. Taeyeon gave him that note which ended with her easy acceptance of the prognosis, “I doubt that the doctors are wrong.” After reading it Minho is glad he went to the roof, something in her eyes told him he should read it alone. Here he stands unmoving from his spot near the edge of the hospital’s roof, frozen in his moment of pain with a breeze kissing his unfeeling skin.
He knew why she would not, could not tell him the news face to face. He saw it in her posture, in her eyes; her strength had dwindled with the weeks of testing. Weeks of drowning in a sea of uncertainty and, though she would never admit it, she is frightened.
Maybe he should be relieved, like her sister, to finally know what was wrong.
Perhaps he should feel the crushing sadness that was apparent in the countenances of her mom and dad.
Possibly, he should be a selfless lover and share her acceptance.
Minho cannot find it in himself to feel any of these emotions. Those will come later. He feels nothing but unadulterated, boiling, acidic anger.
Where is his anger directed: God, the most likely candidate, who else could prevent her illness? The doctors, why can’t they heal her? Researchers the world over, surely a cure should exist?
No, he knows none of these sources are the object of his rage. He is livid with life’s disparity. Minho loves Taeyeon and she will die. He cannot prevent her death and nothing can stop his heart from breaking.
Would he rather have lived without knowing her? Without the sundry picnics she insisted on having whenever the weather was nice, without hearing her tinkling giggles or slightly malevolent-sounding laughter, without seeing her eyes alight with passion, without feeling her smooth, soft skin on his lips, without tasting her mouth as she gave him her soul through a heart-stopping kiss? Never. Certainly, Minho would not have lived without the lazy mornings when he woke up next to her as she supported her head on one hand and drew indistinct, unending patterns on his chest with her other hand. On those mornings he would listen to her pour out her hopes and dreams and Minho would accompany Taeyeon as she built wonderful castles in the air. He thought her dreams were beautiful and he vowed to make them reality.
With this thought, Minho is transported back to the moment where he stands on the roof staring from the precipice that is his life down to his future without Taeyeon. Her chances to realize these dreams are dissipating with each weak breath she takes.
With a last glance at the ground, he gives a slight nod as if to say, “next time” and turns toward the door that will lead him back into the suffocating hospital. He does not want to miss a moment with the one who controls his heartbeat. As he grabs the cold doorknob and the sun heats his back, Minho assumes Taeyeon's favorite smile, the smile saved for her alone, and goes back to her room where he will resume his position by her bed.
Minho will be beside Taeyeon forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I feel conflicted about this piece because I don’t know if I got too fanciful at one point and I haven’t written anything in four years, hence the lack of length. I’m not satisfied with the ending, either. Bless you authors who write full-length pieces on a regular basis.
Soooo………………I welcome any and all constructive criticism.
Thank you for reading. I have much love for any reader.
Genre: angst? At any rate, it’s not uplifting
Rating: PG
Length: Drabble
A/N: This came from a little rain cloud that resides in my soul. All my musings turn sad for some reason.
Although, the feel of the song doesn’t match this drabble, the title and my inspiration comes from a Jack’s Mannequin song,La La Lie
As the note dipped and swooped and swirled its way to the ground fifteen floors down, Minho cannot help but repeat the note’s final words over and over like a sadistic mantra. Taeyeon gave him that note which ended with her easy acceptance of the prognosis, “I doubt that the doctors are wrong.” After reading it Minho is glad he went to the roof, something in her eyes told him he should read it alone. Here he stands unmoving from his spot near the edge of the hospital’s roof, frozen in his moment of pain with a breeze kissing his unfeeling skin.
He knew why she would not, could not tell him the news face to face. He saw it in her posture, in her eyes; her strength had dwindled with the weeks of testing. Weeks of drowning in a sea of uncertainty and, though she would never admit it, she is frightened.
Maybe he should be relieved, like her sister, to finally know what was wrong.
Perhaps he should feel the crushing sadness that was apparent in the countenances of her mom and dad.
Possibly, he should be a selfless lover and share her acceptance.
Minho cannot find it in himself to feel any of these emotions. Those will come later. He feels nothing but unadulterated, boiling, acidic anger.
Where is his anger directed: God, the most likely candidate, who else could prevent her illness? The doctors, why can’t they heal her? Researchers the world over, surely a cure should exist?
No, he knows none of these sources are the object of his rage. He is livid with life’s disparity. Minho loves Taeyeon and she will die. He cannot prevent her death and nothing can stop his heart from breaking.
Would he rather have lived without knowing her? Without the sundry picnics she insisted on having whenever the weather was nice, without hearing her tinkling giggles or slightly malevolent-sounding laughter, without seeing her eyes alight with passion, without feeling her smooth, soft skin on his lips, without tasting her mouth as she gave him her soul through a heart-stopping kiss? Never. Certainly, Minho would not have lived without the lazy mornings when he woke up next to her as she supported her head on one hand and drew indistinct, unending patterns on his chest with her other hand. On those mornings he would listen to her pour out her hopes and dreams and Minho would accompany Taeyeon as she built wonderful castles in the air. He thought her dreams were beautiful and he vowed to make them reality.
With this thought, Minho is transported back to the moment where he stands on the roof staring from the precipice that is his life down to his future without Taeyeon. Her chances to realize these dreams are dissipating with each weak breath she takes.
With a last glance at the ground, he gives a slight nod as if to say, “next time” and turns toward the door that will lead him back into the suffocating hospital. He does not want to miss a moment with the one who controls his heartbeat. As he grabs the cold doorknob and the sun heats his back, Minho assumes Taeyeon's favorite smile, the smile saved for her alone, and goes back to her room where he will resume his position by her bed.
Minho will be beside Taeyeon forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N: I feel conflicted about this piece because I don’t know if I got too fanciful at one point and I haven’t written anything in four years, hence the lack of length. I’m not satisfied with the ending, either. Bless you authors who write full-length pieces on a regular basis.
Soooo………………I welcome any and all constructive criticism.
Thank you for reading. I have much love for any reader.