Yunho didn’t know how fast time could move until it actually did happen.  He didn’t know what was wrong; he was perfectly fine, his voice a rise of octaves as Junsu sang the melody –Yoochun, Jaejoong, and Changmin doing a cappella in the background.  This was his moment, and he remembered bracing his voice for his big cut; the one note that trilled over to the next he knew would prove himself to the onslaught of doubts.  It was the part where he proved to the world that he belonged in Dong Bang Shin Ki –the rise that would secure his place in this constellation.  He was supposed to shine, and then s were supposed to smile at him and give him congratulating looks that would make him feel like the leader he was supposed to be.

But then it all went so, so wrong.  His voice was soaring perfectly along with four other brilliant tones of vibrant colors, and then as if the wind had fallen from his plumage, he was spiraling down to the depths of shame as Korea witnessed his fall.  He had pushed his voice, he had strained and winced and did all he could to get something to come out.  But it was all futile.  His voice would not come out, and he felt his face flush as the lights that shone on him froze as if sensing his paralyzed mind and mimicking him.  And just like that he heard the soft humming of four voices and the cheering of the crowd, but something was missing –he was missing.

And as quick as it happened, Jaejoong’s voice came loud over the speakers, his words being the exact phrases Yunho was supposed to sing.  And then he realized how much better it sounded coming out of Jaejoong’s angelic lips than when it came from his, and he felt so ashamed.  The sense of failure flared through his body, and he was tearing and forcing out a smile as all of Cassiopeia stared at him, their cheering faces replaced with one of worry for the leader. 

Then the song was over, and he was pushed through the stage by s –his family.  They had formed a protective huddle around his shuddering form as they passed through the crowd of worried faces backstage, their arms spread before them to create a passage that would not bombard him with questions.  It wasn’t till they were in their dressing room backstage that they let go, and before he had a moment to groan out in anguish, they were in his space with closed arms as they hugged his heaving form into their chest.

“Yunho-ah, what happened?” Jaejoong was the first to ask, and the first to pull back from the hug.  He lightly swept away the sweaty hairs sticking to Yunho’s head and patted it, his eyes one of extreme worry.  His hands clasped itself around Yunho’s cheeks and lifted his bowed head up, sensing the depression that had rooted in the distraught man.  “Yunho, talk to me,” the lead singer demanded, his voice trembling as the corners of his eyes filled with bitter liquid.

He wanted to answer, but when he attempted to erase the sadness in Jaejoong’s voice, he found his air pipes constricting painfully.  He gasped, the sudden noise letting out an almost agonizing choke as air eluded him.  He grabbed at his throat, messaging it with desperation as he willed the air to return to him. 

He pushed at s to go away, not having time to apologize for his rudeness, but they were just too close to him.  The sudden shift of atmosphere allowed a little air into the tight ring they had formed around him, but he could feel his strength weaken as his throat defiantly denied its function.

“Yunho! Oh, gods, Yunho?” he heard Jaejoong scream, and soon he was swarmed again with figures as they worriedly pounded at his back, desperately praying for the much needed air. 
And then time decided to play tricks on him, because when he came to, he was laying on a hospital bed with some type of metal bar prying his mouth open wide.  It was almost painful, and he voiced his pain when he heard a slight movement by his side.  “Arhghh” he winced out in pain, his jaw stiffening as his tongue moved.  A quick shuffle ensued and soon all s were by his side, their tired look penetrated by an expression of extreme worry as they rushed towards him.

“Garghhch,” he managed.  He cursed the metal in his mouth and looked at the members, terrified.  Why was his mouth like this?  He winced as he swallowed, the air causing his throat to be abnormally dry.  It was quite painful, the saliva trailing down his throat, and he almost let out a tear as he tried to hold in the pain.

“Shh, Yunho, don’t talk,” Yoochun said, and he gently Yunho’s arm through the blue blanket covering him.  He frowned, barely, and tried to move his head. 
It didn’t move, and he frowned again when he realized he had on some sort of head restraint.  

“Wharrhh?”

He didn’t have time to throw a tantrum, because soon s dispersed from his side to let in a man in white, obviously a doctor.  The doctor looked stricken, but he managed out a smile as he confronted the confused man.  Leaning over him, the man reached over and did a series of hand movements, and he soon found the metal brace being pulled away from his mouth.  He immediately closed his mouth and swallowed, try his best to get his throat wet again.

“Yunho, have you ever had trouble talking or singing?” the man asked, and he nodded, not yet feeling confident in his voice.  He mentally groaned as the man checked something on the board, and then turned his stare onto him.  “Does your throat feel tired at times?” the man continued, and he felt the members shift from behind him, no doubt just as nervous as he was.  He nodded.  

Check again.

“Well, Yunho, I’m sorry to inform you that you have laryngitis.”  The doctor continued to stare at his clipboard, not at all looking sorry.  “You also cannot work you voice or your neck will swell more than it already has.  Singing and talking are prohibited,” he said.  He wrote on the board, and then he smiled.  “Any questions, please ask the head nurse.  We will talk later about this.”  

And then he was gone.

Yunho was surprisingly not scared, or at least he didn’t feel the bit terrified.  All he could remember was the awful shame, and he was instantly sad.  

“Hey,” several voices said, and all four standing bodies were hugging him.  “Hey,” someone repeated, and that sentence hung between them.  

What else was there to say?

_________

He watched s singing on stage, their voices blending sweetly with the music.  There wasn’t a single imperfection, and the slight thought of how perfect they were without him pained him.  But there was still that tiny spark in the back of his head that said they needed him, and he instantly felt better.  

Still, he was afraid he would fail them like he had failed them countless times before, and he worried the day when they would be fed up with his worthlessness.  Because they were his friends –years of knowing each other proved that—and they were his family –years of living in the same place and sleeping and breathing the same air proved that—but most of all, they were a part of him.  Years of struggle and tears and happiness won and done together had most definitely proven that.

He wasn’t sure what he’ll be without them, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to function right if his other pieces were not willing to be him.  He thought of losing s as a form of deformity, and he would be mentally and physically handicapped if they were to stop wanting him.  He prayed to the stars that they would never wish that.

Still, he knew they were better off without him, and now that his voice was gone, he wasn’t sure if he was needed in the group.  The doctors weren’t even sure if he would regain his vocals, though they did assure him of his recovery, he was doubtful.

But this was nice, this sense of ease and carefree abandon.  For once he wasn’t being rushed to put on makeup, awaken for a photoshoot, or being targeted by reporters.   It felt like the life he once had, and, well, he missed that life. 

He found himself entertaining on the idea of him leaving.  Shaking his head, frowning, he continued to watch the four gorgeous stars as they shone and sparked in the blue-black scenery.  They could survive without him, he found himself thinking.  He was just the leader, a representor.  He had always felt a sense of obscurity when he stood next to them, and the idea of being back home was so tempting…

“Yunho, how were we?” Jaejoong asked, his breath coming short as he panted from exhaustion.  He sent a thumbs up and was rewarded with four smiles, and he immediately felt better that they cared about his judgments.  He felt needed.

_____

“Hey, maybe my voice loss is a good thing?” he asked one day, the writing speaking his volumes of thoughts on that one sheet of plain paper.  He showed the notebook to the raven and awaited his answer.

Jaejoong, who was reading over lyrics, looked at the paper and gasped.  The other's face morphed from one of clear anger to the expressions of a distraught man.  He slammed the lyrics down and grabbed at Yunho’s notebook, tears filling his eyes as he tore the piece of paper from the wiring and shredded it with anger.  He claws at the stationary without relent, his teeth gritting as Yunho watched on.  He threw the piece of paper to the ground and stared at the leader, his chest heaving. 

Yunho was frozen, staring at the effects of his thoughts.  He made to gather at the pieces of torn paper but was harshly pushed back.  “Don’t,” Jaejoong yelled, his voice cracking as he tried to contain the traces of a tear from abandoning his eyes.  Not standing the silence that stretched between them, he ran to his room, the raven leaving the leader baffled on the couch.  Yunho sat there, his expression frozen as he tried to decipher what had happened.  Why had Jaejoong acted like that?  It was just a question, he didn't mean any harm.  

At least he thought it was quite innocent.  He frowned and glanced at Jaejoong's shut door.  Hearing the commotion, Junsu walked out from his room to see the ruckus.  He looked from the closed oak entrance to the man sitting on the couch staring intensely at the door frame.  

'What happened?' he seemed to say, and Yunho shrugged.  He plucked the violated notebook from off the carpeted floor and took up his pencil.  Junsu walked over to him, curious, as he labored on explaining what happened.

I said my voice loss was a good thing, he wrote, and he showed it to the other.  Junsu stared at the words, his eyes blurring as his bottom lip trembled.  Yunho frowned and patted the other's back, his mind not deciphering why those words were so bad.  He watched as Junsu set the notebook on the coffee table and stood up, his body falling back as he retreated from Yunho.

"Ssssugh?" he tried to say, worried, but the sound that left the tip of his tongue only made the situation worse.  He almost heard Junsu whimper as he whispered, his words barely audible. 

"Why would you think that hyung?"


______

They sat at the dinner table, no one speaking a word.  It was as if they had all been diagnosed with Yunho's condition.  When one of the five tried to talk, he would be choked up and trail off.  It was almost painful as they all sat, back straight and stiff against the chairs as they stared at the food before them.  

Yunho shuffled in his seat, his gaze and nerves in an awkward mess as he surveyed the table. Changmin was one of the first to hear after Junsu, and he had taken up the task to glare at Yunho, his eyes mentally telling the other that he was fool living in foolery.  Yoochun wouldn't meet his gaze, the emotional counterpart of Jaejoong sat head bowed on his chair, a small sniffle coming from him occasionally. 

Yunho had thought long and hard, and he wasn't sure yet why they were so upset with him.  Just because he had written those simple words, they now strung the web of tension, each person tittering on the sticky thin line.  He didn't like the atmosphere, but what could he do?  He was a leader, but he didn't have a voice.  They would not listen, and he didn't have a voice.  They could argue, but he still wouldn't get back his voice.

He groaned, perplexed, as he grabbed at his apple juice.  Gulping at the liquid, he set it down before he stood up and walked away from the table -his appetite forgotten.  With as much bravery as he could, he went to his and Changmin's shared room and changed, his body lying down onto the soft mattress.  

He felt himself doze off to questions and heated glares, but he soon found himself being awakened when the dip in the bed made the springs creak.  Lifting his head, he saw Changmin kneeling with one knee on the bed, his face a bit sheepish.

"Hyung, let's all sleep together," the younger one begged, and Yunho found himself melting at the request.  Nodding, he carried out the comforter blanket as well as an armful of pillows into the spacious living room, his eyes greeted with the other members setting down their beddings.  Smiling at the abandoned slot they left him in the middle, he paced his blanket and pillows on the carpet and laid on them.  As soon as his head hit the pillow, he was immediately surrounded by arms his hair and intertwining their hands around his waist. 

Yunho glanced down onto the tired face of Jaejoong's, the other's eyes puffy and pink from crying.  Yoochun was situated between Yunho and Junsu, but he lightly patted Yunho's hair while Changmin chilled on the couch.  The others all stared at him until he blinked, his smile breaking out with radiance. 

That set off an automatic chain reaction, and soon the silence turned into laughter, and almost too fast to explain, it turned into sobs.  It was inevitable, but they all knew what would happen. 

If Yunho didn't regain his vocals, he would have to leave.  And god forbids all five would die if separation were to break them apart.


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Not really what I had in mind when I thought of the plot, but it's quite satisfying in some way. :D Hope you enjoyed it!\

Comments would be loved~