In one of the smaller studios on the third floor, Kibum watched the three teenagers dance. Taemin was effortlessly perfect – at least, it would seem effortless to a casual observer, but Kibum knew how hard Taemin practiced to give that impression. Jongin, too, was startlingly good. Kibum was a trained dancer too and he knew quality when he saw it. There was a fluid grace in his movements that made Kibum sure he must have studied ballet at some point.

The dance told a basic story set to a mix of several songs, ranging from hip-hop to R&B and even including a section of a gentle ballad. Krystal and Taemin played a young couple on a date and did a dance together, and then Krystal did a solo. The stage lights would darken as Jongin, attracted by her beautiful dance, approached and issued a challenge. A dance-off happened between the two boys, and Jongin lured Krystal away from Taemin. After dancing a duet with the dark stranger, Krystal eventually chose to come back to Taemin, who lifted her high above his head and then carried her from the stage, leaving Jongin to dance a brilliant, lonely solo beneath the bridge lights. It was cleverly put together, as the solos showcased the abilities of the trainees, and Taemin’s greater experience lifted their performance a level when it came to the duets.

Kibum offered tips and improvements where he could, especially for Taemin and Jongin’s dance battle section. It involved some flashy jumps and aerials, but the acrobatic moves weren’t flowing as well as they could be into the dance. They worked on that for a while, then moved to the ending, where Taemin had to lift Krystal and then carry her from the stage to leave Jongin to do his solo.

When Taemin put Krystal down for probably the tenth time, Kibum noticed him grimace, though he didn’t say anything. He let his number web fade a little, focusing less on the numbers and allowing the scents to drift through. Crushed wet roses was mixing with a sharp smell of burnt rubber. He frowned. He didn’t recall sensing that particular scent from Taemin – or anyone, for that matter - yet the smell was oddly familiar. He had definitely come across it before, but where? Puzzled, he focused on the burnt rubber scent. His extended senses zoned in on it with a rushing sensation, and he was abruptly transferred into his memory.

Darkness. Explosions of pain crashing through his body. Something unbearably heavy was pressing down on him, crushing him, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t even open his eyes. It was so heavy that he could barely breathe. Someone was screaming, so close to him that his ears rang. Perhaps there were words in the screams, but he couldn’t focus on them behind the acrid stink of burnt rubber that was pushing and forcing its way over his skin and down his nose and mouth, threatening to suffocate him until he pulled away from the memory...

He blinked and stifled a gasp. Burnt rubber. He remembered now. He’d smelt it in the hospital too, in the emergency room when he’d briefly woken up, before the sensory overload had driven him into the coma. And he knew who was screaming. Those screams were Taemin’s, when he was trapped beneath him under the crushing weight of the fallen metal scaffolding.

Burnt rubber was Taemin’s pain. Kibum looked at the youngest sharply. He was nodding to something Jongin was saying to him, but his eyes were tight and distant.

“Taemin, you’re in pain. Is it your collarbone?” Kibum pushed away from where he was leaning against the wall and moved towards the younger boy. Taemin jumped and stared at him with an expression that was half incredulous, half guilty.

“H-how did you know?” Taemin was startled into admitting it, but Kibum knew he would have denied it if he’d had time to think.

“You’ve been overdoing it, haven’t you?” He ignored Taemin’s stammered question and looked worriedly at Taemin. “It’s a broken bone, Taemin-ah. It needs rest to heal. Did the doctor say you could dance?”

“He said I could do light exercise,” Taemin said quickly. “It’s been almost six weeks. It’s fine. It’s just a little sore, no big deal.”

“Light exercise,” Kibum repeated. “Taemin, you’ve been doing hours of dance every night on top of your regular workshops. You were doing lifts with Krystal before. That is not light exercise.”

Both Jongin and Krystal were staring at Taemin in consternation now.

“You should have said something, Taemin!” Jongin sounded sharp. Kibum would have thought the younger boy was angry, if he hadn’t been able to detect the cinnamon smell of his concern.

Krystal had elderflower wreathing through her honeysuckle scent. She sounded upset. “I’m sorry. I should have gotten the lift right earlier. Don’t hurt yourself on our account.”

“It’s not that bad,” Taemin assured her. “Really, I can handle it. It’s no big deal.”

“Let me see.” Kibum stepped forward. Reluctantly Taemin ed the top of his shirt and let Kibum pull the fabric apart. The area around his left collarbone was obviously swollen over the healing break. Kibum reached out to touch it, intending to see if it was hot with the swelling, but in his concern he’d forgotten what would happen. As soon as his fingers brushed Taemin’s skin, he was catapulted into a vision.

Seated on a hospital bed in the emergency room, he watched as doctors surrounded a motionless figure on a wheeled gurney. Through Taemin’s eyes, Kibum recognized himself. His body looked so small and still inside the whirl of urgent activity surrounding him. There was fresh, bright blood seeping through a temporary dressing on his head. More blood had dried all over his face and neck and stained the collar of his white shirt. It was both shocking and disturbing to see how badly injured he looked.

A nurse was speaking to Taemin, trying to get him to lie down, but Taemin could only stare at Kibum as the doctors