"Good evening. This is MC news. According to our latest report, the two hikers reported missing nearly two years ago have now arrived to the hospital via a helicopter, and they are currently receiving immediate medical attention. The pair, both in their final year of university and at the age of 24, went missing on Mount Aspen, as a sudden storm hit the peaks nearly two years ago. After massive search-and-rescue operations, the officials were unable to locate them, until yesterday when a local CEO spotted them from his private helicopter. The events that took place after the hikers went missing still remain unknown, but the police will launch an investigation as soon–"

Lisa's heard enough.

"Can you turn the radio off, please?"

The nausea swirls unrestrained in her empty stomach as she lifts a mittened hand to wipe the condensation off from the window baked in dirt and melted snow, voice tight when she attempts to speak from the backseat of the cab. Lisa feels like she's being forced to walk on thin ice – the sensation isn't new, per se, but only now, in the silence, it seems to reveal itself fully.

The brakes give a squeak as the driver nods and reaches for the volume button without taking his eyes off the road – he has no doubt done this all his life, bringing people from one place to another, already living on borrowed time judging from the deep dents on his skin and the reek of homemade blend of tobacco that lingers in the enclosed space. When the monotone male voice fades away and melts into a much more comfortable hum of car wheels sauntering along the damp, rain–puddled pavement, Lisa sinks deeper into the worn down leather seat, sighing in relief.

There's tiredness running in her veins and muscles, overthrown only by nervousness that her body portrays annoyingly well – her foot bounces up and down against the bottom of the car and her breathing is coming out as sharp pants, in sync with the tiniest pulse pounding inside her wrists and against her ribcage. Lisa pulls her hood over her head and chews on her bottom lip, expertly hiding the frustration she harbors against herself, even if it's just her body acting accordingly.

She snorts to herself when a sudden thought crosses her mind; funny how both Seulgi and Jisoo have been constantly complaining about how her temper has gotten significantly shorter during these past two years, and now she has to admit actual defeat. But even with each passing thought, as her throat stings further, Lisa still refuses to cry in the pressing silence, her own stubbornness getting the best of her once again.

"Now why is a young woman like you going to the hospital in the middle of the night? Visiting a family member, maybe?" The driver speaks up, shattering the silence with his clogged-up, raspy voice. His question is intrusive, but Lisa can't really blame him – she supposes a disheveled young woman heading to the hospital in the middle of the night is bound to raise some curious questions.

"Yeah." Lisa nods, and looks back outside.

"My–"

The word feels bitterly unfamiliar on her tongue.

Lisa had already placed that word in a box, a coffin, with memories, a ring and photos, buried deep somewhere inside her heart. Even when they were separate beings, Lisa and the box, it only made her cling on it tighter. She was too weak to let go, and the more she held on, the deeper the edges cut. Now, when she thinks about it, if she would've never held on, she might've woken up one day to notice it had been lost, never realizing.

But Lisa never let go, and now she's forced to open the lid.

Emotions jagged and insides tight, she finally breathes the word out.

"My wife."

The driver doesn't answer.

Lisa finds herself wondering what would she see if he turned his head around to look. Would it be a heavy gaze of judgement and disgust for her being married to another woman, or would his old and wise eyes look beyond that, and seek to understand, compassion fueling on noticing Lisa's reluctance on delving into the matter any further. Either way, she doesn't, and spares the driver the details of her wife being one of the missing hikers whose names are currently written all over the news. Guess she'll never know.

Suddenly feeling a chill, she rubs her arm and crosses her ankles, watching the scenery passing by like a bad movie she's seen too many times before. Lisa holds her heart in her mouth, in her hands, a feeling she can't describe but knows all too well, all throughout the car ride until the driver pulls to a swift stop in front of the hospital doors.

"We're here." He says.

Funny, as if Lisa needed another reminder.

"Yeah." She concludes with a stiff nod, checking the prize from the meter and pulling out a crumbled bill from her pocket, tossing it forward.

"Keep the change."

With nothing else left to be said, Lisa scrambles out of the car and shuts the door behind her back. The old diesel engine roars back to life. For a comforting moment, there is the sound of wheels rolling solid on the muddy ground, the brakes creaking from somewhere within the insides of the car, and then absolutely nothing.

Without any distractions, Lisa's forced to look forward. She rocks back on her heels and purses her lips, eyeing the building with an albatross stuffed down her throat. Outside the hospital doors, a woman drops her cigarette and lets out a sigh, smothering it with her heel and stepping inside. The weight of her worries has shrunk her frame, shoulders hunched as she walks and finally disappears out of sight.

Lisa wonders whether they all look the same, whether she will fit in with the defeated faces she will no doubt gaze upon soon enough.

When the chill starts creeping under her skin, Lisa lets out a sigh, walking towards the entrance, empowered only by knowing that no matter how loudly she begs for it to stop, the earth won't stop spinning, even if for a moment.

Because with empty pockets and nothing to bring back home during these two years, with shit pouring down her neck and words unescaped because she keeps biting her tongue; Lisa knows better than anyone that when you begin something, you can't start fearing what tomorrow may bring.

Lisa's tomorrow has already arrived, and it's waiting for her inside the hospital.

She has never been so afraid of tomorrow.

—

The unexpected brightness evades her vision the moment she steps inside; the contrast hard compared to the yellowish glow of streetlights and the night sky stricken with nothing but darkness. She pauses and takes a look around, slowly immersing herself into the solid buzz of people talking, the general humming of machinery and hospital trolleys rolling on the white marbled floors.

People, threaded and bound together only by the knowledge of their own powerlessness inside these halls. There's nothing to do besides wait; for good and bad news alike. Some of them are crying, some look grim. On the left side of the row, a small, piggy-tailed girl sleeps soundly in her father's arms, held close and loved with all the strength the defeated adult has left in his body. Now that his daughter is drifting into sleep his face has become grave; without her timid gaze he has no reason to feign cheeriness, not until the time she awakens into a new day, excited for the impossible.

Lisa averts her gaze, away from the disturbing faces. She walks towards the reception desk and the brown-haired head peeking from behind the computer screen, where a woman taps her finger on the table to the rhythm of the radio.

"Hello." She bows, looking up. "I'm looking for–"

"What?" The nurse drawls with a flattened and painfully monotone voice, almost like a worn-out tape on repeat, her eyes never leaving the computer screen. Lisa thinks that with her attitude, she might as well have a 'keep away, you fuckers' sign glued to her big, greasy forehead.

Lisa sticks her tongue to her cheek and lifts her brow in challenge, patience running thin.

"I'm looking for Jennie Kim." She states, mirroring her nonchalant voice right back. Two can play this game, and Lisa's got this round in the bag judging from the way her face falls at her words, and she finally lifts her head to look up, eyes wide in alarm and surprise.

"Oh." Is all she manages. "A-and you are?"

"Wife. Lisa Manoban." She picks out her ID from her wallet and she leans in to look, eyes suddenly unreadable as her gaze travels along the plastic card.

"I see." She finally says, turning around to face the nurse sorting out papers behind her back. "Ria, can you take over for me? I'll go and escort her."

The other nurse nods with a confused look and then she rounds the desk, nodding towards the hallway. "Please follow me."

Her expression is different now, and Lisa recognizes it easily as she nods in reply – she has become quite acquainted with it during these past two years. It's the expression she sees often, as it creeps and settles into all of her friend's faces when they think Lisa isn't looking their way.

She doesn't think they realise it themselves, so she can't exactly hold it against them.

Pity.

But with strangers, Lisa has always been a little more wary. She hates being the main guest of this pity-party her whole life revolves around, and can't help the annoyance that gnaws at the back of her head. Still, keeping her words to herself, she follows in her footsteps. The creamy colored hallway they walk through is anxiously narrow with commercial posters draped over the length of the walls in one piss-poor attempt to covering the flaws and cracks. They pause in front of the two elevators, boarding the left one in silence, and the nurse extends her hand to press the button that has the words 'Intensive care Unit' written in a neatly white plastic plate above the button.

All throughout the elevator ride, Lisa sees her glancing at her every once in a while, no doubt trying to find the right words to say in her mind.

It's okay, she thinks to herself.

Lisa wouldn't know what to say to herself either, still doesn't, but can't phrase it well enough to comfort her. She's always been bad with her words, but she's never had to be good, not when she was tied to a person who didn't need them, no. Jennie only needed Lisa, as herself and as no one else, and that was always enough.

Lisa was always enough.

She hopes she still is.

"Wait here." The nurse says once they arrive to the third floor, heading towards a tall woman – a doctor, no doubt – standing near the information desk. They look so carefree as they talk, almost like they are discussing something painfully trivial, like lunch or their children's daycares. The doctor nods, lifting her head to look at Lisa and turning back to the nurse, nodding once more.

Bitterness gnaws at her heart from the sight, so she decides to look away, gaze landing to the full body mirror glued on the wall on her right side. She briefly studies her own reflection; absolutely nothing in her face or body betrays the mix of anxiety and fear she's being drowned in inside.

She looks dull; empty.

When did she become like this?

When exactly did she stop recognizing the person she has become.

When everything felt like nothing or when absolutely everything felt like too much, or when the love she had lost felt like the biggest burden, sinking her down only to get swallowed into the earth. Was it then?

She doesn't know.

Then the nurse walks back to her, and Lisa snaps out of her thoughts, looking back at her. "Jennie Kim is having some pictures taken right now, so if you could kindly wait here. She'll be back in less than twenty minutes." She nods towards the nearby row of chairs suggestively.

"Ah. Okay. Thank you." Lisa nods in understanding. "Um-" She interrupts, rather shyly, before the nurse gets a chance to walk away, and she turns back to her with a questionable gaze.

"Do you happen to know about the other hikers location, I mean- are they in the same room?"

"Ah." From the apologetic frown that falls on her face, she can already tell her answer. "Sorry. I really don't know, and since you're not her family member, I can't tell you even if I asked. It's not official visiting hours, but we're already making an exception with you by allowing you to come at night. Please ask again tomorrow, during the day."

"I see." Lisa frowns, a surge of disappointment swelling in her gut as she takes a seat at the row of chairs. "Thank you."

"No problem. Anything else?"

Lisa gulps the words down.

Don't leave me here alone

"No. Thank you." Lisa shakes her head and nods politely — not being able to shake the feeling that she would rather be anywhere else than here, she lets her go, although rather reluctantly. She doesn't seem to notice either way.

The moment she rounds the corner and disappears from her line of vision, Lisa goes back to feeling like a small child; confused and helpless; hoping that someone would take notice of her inner turmoil, but still filled with enough pride not to ask for help. Nurses, doctors and people dressed in various colored scrubs move between rooms, so full of purpose Lisa feels a stab of jealousy inside her chest as she watches them go by.

Shs bites the inside of her cheek, deciding to examine the polystyrene tiled ceiling instead.

There is nothing else to look at.

Not when everyone else keeps on moving, while Lisa has stopped still.

She thinks about loneliness.

When life is nothing but another chore to complete, and when friends feel like paper chains on a rainy day, life tends to be quite lonely. Born to be loved and endlessly seeking that love and acceptance from others; Lisa has been slowly withering, not letting herself feel any of those things, no matter how much she needs them.

And what Lisa needs right now, is something she comes to learn only when a gentle voice calls her name.

"Lisa."

The moments and memories she spent months dwelling in all come back in a heartbeat, surging in her chest and mind; the same heartbeat Lisa once locked them in for safekeeping, refusing to let go even when it caused her only pain and longing. The soft voice which calls her name from the room right across the hall has Lisa up on her feet in an instance. Her throat closes and tightens uncomfortably, eyes stinging.

"You went and put a ring on that pretty finger, huh? That's my girl!"

"You'll be my maid of honor, right?"

"Lis... my ass would be offended if you asked anyone else. Consider us even when I get married. If I do. You'll have a spot at the altar."

She lifts her hand over her heart as on instinct, fist tightening to the point her knuckles turn white from the pressure. Lisa walks towards the voice which once provided nothing but gentle guidance and heartfelt advice when she felt herself unworthy of the friendship the two of them had created since the time they first bonded on the wooden sideboard of a sandbox back in kindergarten, when Lisa hoped that the small hand offering her the toy she had wanted to play with for days would remain there for forever.

She halts at the door, finding herself unable to form any words.

Lisa just stares, eyes flickering along the darkness of the room.

And no, it has nothing to do with the multiple tubes that connect to her body, the beeping of the heart monitor or the whitest sheet spread over her considerably shinked frame, or the ashen colored skin that tells of malnutrition and exhaustion in so many ways, no.

She just isn't at all what Lisa remembered her to be.

A ghost, a mere shadow of her former glory, but in the split second that her face is illuminated by the flickering street-lamp outside the hospital window, Lisa catches a glimpse of the rectangle grin. The eyes she stares upon have familiarity, gentle and softening feeling, overcome only by a layer of tears she seems to be holding.

Suddenly breathing becomes a struggle, her chest heaving as her legs give out, and Lisa falls helplessly to the floor, an utterly saddened, choked up cry escaping her mouth.

Her heart hammers against her chest.

"Fuck." She cries out, voice shattering.

"You haven't seen me in the last two years and that's the first thing you say?" An amused voice rings in the room.

"Damn it. Damn it." Lisa's voice cracks once again, and her face buckles as the tears roll unchecked, washing a path to her chin and dripping on the floor without a stop in sight. "Damn you."

Lisa lets out a relieved breath, looking up to the ceiling. "Damn you, Park Chaeyoung."

Rosie's rectangular grin softens at her words, her eyes glassy until the wall simply shatters, and tears unleash unguarded.

"You're an ass." Lisa sniffs, wiping her eyes. With each heart wrenching sob that she lets out, relief fills and floods her heart, a warm, fluttery feeling bursting her chest and mind alight.

"I know." Rosie whispers, choking on tears as she looks away, towards the window.

Lisa can't stop crying. "I hate you."

"I know."

"I missed you." She croaks.

Rosie's mouth paints a soft smile. "I know. You think I didn't miss my best friend at all?"

"Shut up." Lisa says with no real bite in her voice. She steps closer to the bed, and with no more distance between them, Lisa doesn't hesitate as her arms fold her into a safe hold, hand grabbing at the back of Lisa's shirt.

"Aah... Now this is what I missed." Rosie drawls, voice cracking and high on emotions. Lisa buries her face to Rosie's neck, letting out a prolonged, shaken up breath.

"Fuck you."

This time she means every word.

Rosie chuckles, light and airy. "Yeah."

Lisa has missed the sound so much.

—

"You seem different." Rosie says, eyeing her with caution in her gaze.

Lisa snaps her head towards her friend, biting on her lip thoughtfully. "You two were gone for a long time." Is all she says eventually, voice quiet.

It's the truth.

"But Jennie found her way back to you." Rosie comments after a moment, face twisting into a saddened smile. "Shouldn't you be happy about that?" She adds quietly.

Right, happy. Lisa scoffs bitterly inside her head.

"Then tell me, do I look happy?" The same bitterness finds its way into the words that come out from her mouth, and Lisa winces at the sound of her own voice.

"Lis..." Rosie frowns, her eyebrows creasing.

Lisa panics. "Sorry. I don't –"

Rosie shakes her head. "Listen, Lisa– no one said this was gonna be easy." She offers a tight-lipped smile. "This is so weird for all of us. Jennie and I... We thought–"

"What?" Lisa asks.

"Just." Rosie shrugs, lowering her gaze down to her lap. Suddenly Lisa feels guilty for asking. "We– we were prepared to die on that mountain, you know."

That hits her harder than it should.

"What–" Lisa's searching for the right words, but there aren't any. Not really. "What happened? How are you two still..."

"Alive?" Rosie asks.

Lisa nods.

"You know, I–" Rosie hesitates. "I don't know whether I want to talk about it. Not yet any–"

"What are you doing here?" Lisa curses quietly at the familiar female voice coming from behind her back, and she turns around, an apologetic smile on her face. The nurse crosses her arms impatiently as she stands in the doorframe.

"You're not allowed here." She deadpans.

"Sorry." Lisa scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. "I–"

"Your wife is back in her room. I advise you go there and try not to wonder for the rest of the night, are we clear?" She