Until My Last Breath || p.jm

| 5 |

"Honey," My father called.

We were currently having dinner, everyone was here.

By everyone I mean: My mother, father and I.

I looked up from my plate and met his eyes. "Yes?"

"Are you not feeling okay? Why are you not eating?" He asked concerned.

My mother giggled, wiping the corners of her mouth with a napkin before putting it in the table next to her plate. "She's in love."

And this is when my father and I both roll out eyes in unison.

We had moved to Mexico for a while and Mother sure enjoyed it. She would gossip with the other ladies from the street we lived in.

We lived there for a year but she learned a lot in that short amount of time. For example, what she said just now. Mexican moms, or Hispanic moms in general—I think— assume you're in love when you don't want to eat.

It never made sense to me but Mother surely liked that 'phrase'.

"I'm being serious." Father deadpanned and then turned to me. "Are you not feeling good?"

"I'm okay, Father. I'm just not that hungry." I reassured with a small smile.

"It's about that boy," Mother said and then nudged Father. "I'm telling ya, she's in love."

"What boy?" Father asked, dumbfounded.

Mother gasped. "I forgot to tell you!" She giggled. "Honey's got an admirer, a handsome admirer."

Father turned to me, an eyebrow raised. "How was I not told about this earlier?"

I shrugged. "Totally forgot to."

"Look at her," Mother said. "She's so in love." She cooed clinging onto Father's arm.

"We should've never moved to Mexico.." he muttered.

Mother gasped, offended. "Mexico did incredibly good to me!"

"Jiyeon, I beg to differ.."

They started bickering so I just looked down at my plate, poking the unappetizing vegetables.

My phone buzzed on my pocket, I looked up at my parents but they were too busy arguing to notice.

I slowly took my phone out of my pocket it and placed it on my lap, not looking away from my parents.

I unlocked it and looked down at it, checking the recent notification.

Jimin:
I'm bored 🥺

I snorted. Who does he think I am? Personal entertainer?

Me:
Do I look like a clown to u?

I bit my lips, preventing a smile from forming as I looked up again at my bickering parents.

"You even became more gossipy, Jiyeon. Even Mrs.Lee complained and said you needed to mind your business."

Mother gasped. "Gossiping does not only happen in Mexico. Plus she's just as nosy as I am." She mumbled the last part.

"That wasn't my point..."

Buzz.

And yet again, my parents did not notice it.

Jimin:
U sure as hell act like one 🤡

I bit down a laugh as I quickly typed a reply.

Me:
Oh fuck off, Park Jimin.

I looked up again at my parents, picking up the fork once again to continue poking the food. This time, I actually placed some rice into my mouth.

Duh, where else would you put it?

I rolled my eyes at myself—I never thought I'd say that.

Buzz.

Jimin:
Woaaah, u don't do ur name any justice.
Not even a bit close to being as sweet as ur name.

I accidentally let out a laugh to which my parents turned to me, a questioning gaze on their eyes.

"Are you finding our bickering funny, Honey?" Mother asked, a tense tone thick on her voice.

I shook my head, a playful smile on my face. "I just know that this is one of your unique ways of showing love to each other. I admire your relationship and I hope to have one like this in the futur—"

I was really going all out on this lie that I forgot I was dying soon.

I smiled weakly on their way and they displayed sad smiles, noticing the change of expression. "I'm no longer hungry, excuse me."

You weren't hungry in the first place.

Sometimes I wish my self conscious would allow me to be sad in peace.

I left the dining room and made my way to my room which was inconveniently on the second floor.

Yoongles followed behind me ready to sit with me if I grew tired.

This would happen often whenever I attended school. I'd come home exhausted and suddenly the stairs became too much for me that I'd have to pause in between, taking a break and deep breaths.

Yoongles was always there, sitting by my side, his head on my lap asking me to run my hands through his fur.

And I always granted the grumpy cat's wishes.