sobbing tears for oppa

Do You Remember?

Originally posted by simondismydaddy

“Do you remember?” he asked.

It was all that he ever asked all week long, or month long. It was your wedding day and as he looked down at you in his sleek black suit and tie. You couldn’t help but giggle at your older brother getting all sappy on you. He let out a small chuckle at your reaction knowing that he was acting the way you asked him not to. “Can we stop this? I’m going to get married not going to war.” You stood up from the seat and looked at yourself in the full length mirror standing next to the vanity. You could his reflection in the mirror as he looked at you from behind.

“I just can’t believe you’re getting married.”

“Well I am.” You turned around grinning at him, the effect of what they call bridal glow lighting up your face.

“I have lost both of my siblings now.” He shook his head and let out a sigh.

You chuckled and walked towards him as he opened his arms for you. “I’ll always be your baby sister.”

“I hope so. I only have one.”

“You only have one younger brother as well.”

“Between the two of us, you’re my favourite.” He said kissing the top of your head being extra careful as not to mess up your veil and hair-do. You would disown him right before your wedding then he wouldn’t be able to see his little sister walked down the aisle. “You only have one sister oppa. You can’t have a favourite.”

“Well if I ever have another. You’re still my favourite.” He said and you pulled away giggling at ridiculous respond.

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Roundabout(A/F)

Summary:  So they parted. She went right. And he went left. But they forgot something. The world is round.

Genre: Fluff with a lil’ bit of angst.

Word Count: 1.9 k

A/N: Holaaa♥ so here’s the 5th fic for the serie, look at jin in that gif omg, i really hope u like it guys♪ oh oh my yoongi fic hit 200 just a couple of days ago and i wanted to thank u so much ily’all.

I really really really want to thank my bae Hydrangea for being a great beta reader♥ ilsm never change!

if u liked it let me know :)


Every time you saw Seokjin only one thought clouded your mind, damn how I love him. Jin was pure husband material and already boyfriend goals, and you were always proud to be with him, to call him yours, to see his pretty little smile just because of you. You were not going to lie, you had your fair share of fights, but in almost 3 years of dating him, it was only fair, you were not a perfect couple, but definitely one of the cutest, or so he liked to say.

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The Lucky One II

Table of Contents 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Chapter 18. It Was Perfect

It was raining outside as you stared out the window, tracing your fingers along the delicate droplets of liquid.  With each pitter-patter, you felt the tension in your heart tighten a little more, so gradually that you wouldn’t even feel its lethalness until the poison had completely spread throughout your organ.  It was so, so cold even in the middle of summer – even when the thermometer in your living room read “85 degrees Fahrenheit”.  Your slender arms enclosed around your now flat stomach as your stared longingly at where your son used to be. 

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

You gazed up at the endlessly gray sky. 

YoungHwa-yah, it’s you, isn’t it? 

The rhythm of the rain mimicked that of your late son’s kicking patterns.  Habitually, you slowly patted your stomach in response.  An hour must have passed by with you just lost in your way of communicating with your little angel, who now resided in a separate universe. 

How are you doing up there, Sweetpea? 

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

You answered by tapping your tummy four times. 

Did you get Omma and Appa’s letter and gifts? 

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

A drop of liquid fell, soaking the fabric of your pants. 

Do…you like the teddy bear rattle your Appa got for you?  I told him to buy a blue one but he refused and said you’d like the pink one more…

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

You continued to stroke your stomach.  Liquid pearls formed against your thighs before vanishing into the seams of the cotton wool.  But you don’t make a sound, fearing that any whimper or sob would scare away YoungHwa. 

How about the mini toy car your big brother got you? 

Your lips trembled and you momentarily stopped the patting motions to turn away and regain composure.

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

If you were here, you would be able to play with Youngwoo.  He’d teach you all the secrets to making your vehicle do a perfect “figure 8”. 

“H-He…he would have been the perfect big brother to you…” you whispered out loud, choking back the tears. 

Please tell Omma that you are getting along well with the other little angels up in Heaven…

Pit

Pat

Pit

Pat

You clutched your stomach and bent over until your face melted into the crevasses between your knees.  There, you let your guard down.  Muffle sobs echoed in the room.  So many emotions drained into your bloodstream; you were overjoyed that your sweet little boy found friends in Heaven but at the same time it still hurt.  It hurt to know that you’d never see whether he inherited your eyes or Sehun’s eyes.  It hurt to never know what his voice sounded like as he laughed, whined, babbled, or argued with his brother over who the best ninja turtle was.  It hurt because you’d never be able to wrap him up in a tight hug or give him kisses along his forehead as he drifted off to sweet dreamland each night, hugging his mini version of Pinku Pinku.  And all these what ifs, what could have been…should have been…haunted you so, so much…had you not been his mother, YoungHwa would have safely arrived into this world.  Because of the fact that your dysfunctional past relationships with your own parents made you vulnerable and deserving of this punishment.  And you accepted any and all punishments as long as it was on you and not your precious babies or your selfless husband. 

A hand pressed onto your shaking shoulder. 

“_______ah…” your husband spoke softly but you remained planted into your legs, unwilling to come out of the darkness that you thought was the appropriate punishment for failing to protect your own son. 

“It’s okay…” Sehun’s voice was so soothing as he gently lifted you into his embrace. 

You covered your wet face with both of your palms.

“_______ah…let’s go talk to YoungHwa…” he suggested. 

Your palms fell onto your lap.  Sniffing back your tears, you threw on a sad smile and nodded.  He took your small icy hands into his big warm ones and pulled you to the backyard.  The two of you stepped out into the garden.  Sehun eyed the umbrella but you shook your head.  So your husband and you walked out together, stopping only in front of YoungHwa’s grave.  His tears from Heaven dripped onto the top of your head, sliding down your cheeks, neck, chest, gathering at your belly button.  When you turned to Sehun, you selfishly thought that it was okay to cry now for the rain had masked your tears with those of your son’s. 

“YoungHwa-yah…how are you doing?” his father questioned, throwing on a smile as he took his favorite handkerchief and wiped the splashes of mud that dirtied his son’s plaque. 

You were unable to swallow back the wail, despite clamping your hand forcefully over your mouth.  

“It’s raining heavily today, isn’t it, Honey?  But don’t worry, Omma and Appa will stay with you and protect you until it stops,” he reassured, while holding his arms out to create a makeshift canopy above his son’s grave. 

“Oppa…” you called out, breaking out in sobs. 

He looked up at you smiling his toothy grin but you could see the pink corners of his eyes. 

“Right, _______ah?  Whether it is thunder, lightning, hail, or snow, Omma and Appa will protect our little YoungHwa?” your husband asked, his voice cracking. 

Your face scrunched up as you nodded several times. 

Kneeling down onto the wet soil as well, you held your arms out to cover the exposed area of YoungHwa’s grave.  As you do, Sehun looped his right hand around yours. 

“It’s okay…” he continued to say like everyone else had repeated to you over and over again these past four months. 

It’s okay. 

What exactly was “okay”?  What did being “okay” really mean?  Was it the acceptance of never being able to feel “good” so you have to settle for being “content”?  Because which part of losing your own child was “okay”?  Hmm?  Which part of watching your flesh and blood die in your arms was “okay”?  Which part of not being able to keep a simple promise was “okay”?  Because it wasn’t.  It was excruciating, deadly, and grueling…as if you’d been strangled while mauled into pieces, drowned in acid with your eyes opened wide, naked in front of everyone who could only reply to you with a sympathetic, “It’s okay”.        

For a mother who had vowed to love this tiny being even before learning of his existence…even before getting to meet him…to learn of his personality.  This unconditional love that was forfeited as soon as you got the first glimpse of his sonogram or hear the soft “thumping” of his heart.  You expected and planned to look after him for at least the next twenty-one years.  To be told that you couldn’t…you felt like a failure.  That it had to be something wrong with you that made you incompetent in fulfilling that promise. 

“Shhh…” Sehun hushed and you finally realized you had been uncontrollably weeping.  Your tears landed onto YoungHwa’s grave. 

Looking up, you realized the clouds had cleared up quite a bit; the heavy thunderstorm was now merely soft drizzles. 

Pit…

 

Pat…

 

Pit…

 

Pat…

 

“Sweetpea, today…would have been your due date…your first day on earth…” you whispered. 

It would have been the first day Omma and Appa got to hold your tiny hands, kiss your little nose, and hum you lullabies to lull you to sleep. 

 

 

Pit…

“It’s okay…” Sehun spoke softly with his arm over your shoulder, “It’s not your fault”. 

 

Pat…

Just let Omma hear your voice once to know you’re still here with us…in a dream…in an illusion. 

 

Pit…

  

“He knows that we love him,” Sehun reassured. 

 

Do you…Sweetpea?  Even when Omma was visibly chasing after a daughter…did you hate Omma? 

The rain stopped. 

You looked up into the sky.

Does that mean you won’t forgive Omma? 

 

Your head felt heavy and your neck strained uncomfortably, but you kept still for the next several minutes hoping to hear the soothing pitter-patter to comfort yourself that your son could hear your words.  But it was silent. 

“Jagiya…let’s go back inside and wash up…” your husband stood up and tried to pull you along but you stayed with your sore knees rooted to the ground and your head parallel to the vast blue canvas above you. 

“Jagiya…you’ll catch a cold…” he tried to convince. 

“Oppa…you go inside first.  I just…I just want to stay with Sweetpea a little longer…” you answered, not taking your vision away from the Heavens. 

Just until I hear once more…one more time so I know he’s there. 

“Jagiya…”

You don’t respond to him so he swooped you up into his arms. 

“No!  Oppa!!” you thrashed around, causing the mud on your legs to dirty up his white collared shirt. 

“It’s okay…” 

It’s not…

But you gave in and let him carry you.  Because it’s better for one person to hurt than two…Just then, as Sehun stepped his right foot back into your house…from the corner of your eyes, you saw it.  An array of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, indigos, and violent.  You sucked in air.  The rainbow continued to paint itself across the sky, curving in the center near the now peeping sun, and stopping at the other end of the horizon.  Liquid continued to cascade down your face.  You harshly wiped them away so that they wouldn’t debilitate your special moment with your son.    

“Oppa…” you called out, shaking his shoulder and pointing over to the sky. 

Sehun turned around and gasped, before bursting into tears as well. 

“Oppa…it’s our YoungHwa…” you sobbed, throwing your arms around his neck. 

“It is!  It’s our YoungHwa.  He hears us, Jagiya,” he wept along, slipping his arms securely around your slender waist. 

With a few last tears, you forcefully choked them back and focused your attention on the beautiful miracle in front of you.  Together with your husband, you admired the flawless arch of colors that not only filled the entirety of Heaven but all the bones and cells in your body.  It was…

“…perfect…” you said out loud. 

 

Happy Birthday my sweetest, most colorful, Sweetpea, Oh YoungHwa. 

That night, for the first time, you fell asleep the moment your body slid under the covers.  You dreamt of a little baby boy laughing and giggling as he dances around with other children on a white fluffy cloud.  In his hands is the pink teddy bear rattle.  As he bounced up and down, the jingling noise causes him to erupt in a fit of babbles. 

“YoungHwa-yah, why is your rattle pink when you’re a boy?” a little girl asks. 

“Why can’t it be pink?  Appa said, ‘Boys can use pink things!’  Case closed,” his voice is so magical and sweet.  The glitter from the rattle reflects into his eyes, causing them to sparkle. 

“Who got you that little car?” another little boy asks, picking up a mini red car. 

YoungHwa snatches it from his hands and holds it protectively in against his chest.

“My hyung got it for me!  He races with me and teaches me tricks every single night before he goes to sleep!!” your son exclaims proudly. 

“Wow!  Really?  YoungHwa, you’re so lucky!  Can you show us some of the tricks?!” another girl asks and suddenly a crowd of kids encircles around. 

“Hmm…okay!  But only because hyung told me last night to be nice to others, especially girls or else they’ll leave!” Sweetpea reasons then positions the mini car onto the fluffy cotton surface. 

“Ready?!” he asks and the group of children jumps up and down eagerly. 

He expertly switches a few buttons on a remote.  The mini red card spun around forming a perfect “figure 8” eight times.  Gasps and cheers sounds from the mass of children.  YoungHwa smiles proudly, his eyes big and round…just like yours

 

 

Your eyes fluttered open.  Your lashes lined with tears.  With a hand over your heart, you turned over in bed to realize Sehun had also just woken up with the same expression on his face. 

“Did you…” you both said in unison. 

“Sweetpea…I saw him…” you tearfully said.

“He has your eyes, _______ah,” Sehun replied and you gasped. 

Nodding, you asked, “Did you see how happy he was playing with the rattle?”

“Yep, I told you he’d like the pink one more,” Sehun confirmed. 

Momentarily, both of you grew silent.  Your glossy eyes stared into his watery ones and for the first time in a long time you cried and cried tears of joy in knowing that it wasn’t an illusion if Sehun had the same dream as you; it was your son’s way of communicating with his Omma and Appa. 

“It’s okay…” Sehun coaxed, throwing an arm around your shoulder. 

“No, it’s not…” you sobbed and your husband’s face twisted up until you continued, “It’s…more than that.  It’s perfect”. 

He nodded in agreement before pressing his lips onto yours.  You kissed him back passionately for the first time in four months. 

“Omma!  Appa!” Youngwoo’s voice called from the doorway. 

Sehun and you broke apart from the kiss to see your older son with a toy car that was the bigger version of the one he bought for his little brother. 

“Young-ie?” you called out as he climbed up onto your bed. 

He bounced up and down excitedly. 

“What’s going on, Little Man?” his father asked, lifting him up onto his lap. 

“I saw baby YoungHwa last night!!!  He did a perfect “figure 8”!!  Eight times too!” Youngwoo exclaimed proudly. 

You froze in place. 

“I taught him well, didn’t I?” your son questioned shyly. 

You burst into tears.  So Youngwoo saw him too. 

“Yes, you did, Young-ie,” you replied, sniffing back tears.  Sehun ruffled his hair. 

“But of course my baby brother is smart too!” Youngwoo humbly deferred the credit.  But you shook your head because you knew how many nights Youngwoo stayed up patiently repeating each step, each secret into performing the tricks perfectly. 

“YoungHwa is forever with us,” your husband spoke, squeezing your hand.  You genuinely smiled at him and nodded. 

Then you turned around to your older son, “Though Youngwoo…I heard you also gave Sweetpea a very important tip about dealing with girls…”

Your son gasped, recoiling back and hiding in his father’s chest at your implication. 

You giggled, “Oh no, you don’t!” 

Laughing, you took Youngwoo from Sehun into your lap.  He wiggled around, already knowing what you were about to say. 

“So…about Yoona…” you slurred and Sehun smirked. 

“Ommaaaaaaa…” Youngwoo complained. 

And as the three of you laughed joyously and fell back asleep with Youngwoo sandwiched in between his Omma and Appa…it was perfect.  Not in the flawless type of perfect where in an ideal scenario…your younger son would still be with you physically…but it was the type of perfect where you could continue to breathe and smile knowing that YoungHwa was not suffering where he was right now.  And that knowledge that he didn’t blame you for not being able to protect him…was more than enough. 

One day, we’ll meet again, my Little Angel.  In the meantime, continue to have fun up there. Thank you for everything.  We love you. 

a/n: Oh My Gawd, I’m crying editing these chapters. 

Internet dying so updating now instead of at 12am!  

(ノ´∀`)ノ*.゚・。:*:.゚・☆HAPPY NEW YEAR☆・゚.:*:。・゚.*ヽ(´∀`ヽ)