Minho

            They must have got it wrong. No, this couldn’t be the end. The boy was in pieces. And Minho knew why, he’d been there in the interview when Taemin had said, quote ‘without dancing there is no point to my existance’. This couldn’t be right.

            ‘Taemin . . .’

            ‘What am I going to do now Minho!? How can I tell the others? The fans? S.M.!? He threw his arms in the arm, his stationary body on the bed seemed helpless and broken. The tears were so heavy, it hurt Minho to watch him self-destruct like this. ‘What’s the point now?! What do I do?! I have nothing, NOTHING!’

            ‘You have us, the band, you have health; you’re alive.’

            ‘Dancing is the only thing I want to live for . . .’

            No that hurt, that was too much, Minho wanted to run away, that was not nice. Taemin obviously had no idea: perhaps that was what hurt the most. The love, so undying, since they had been all put together, it had always been Taemin. Always. But this, this was pain, needles stabbing his stomach and lung. Taemin tried to curl up into a ball, but his legs were strapped up and they limited his movement. He moaned as his fragile body fought with the hospital bed sheets.

            ‘I would be a reason to live Taemin.’ Minho whispered under his breath as he walked forward and helped the youngest of the band get comfy. But Taemin didn’t acknowledge what we said. He wanted to be left alone. Perhaps it would be for the best. Minho didn’t want to leave him, ever. He wanted to stay beside him and help him through the next fragile few weeks. What ever the boy wanted, Minho would do, would find or say. If only Taemin realised, perhaps it was that he felt nothing.

            Perhaps to Taemin, Minho was just another brother to him, like Onew and Jong. No, he couldn’t they were too close, they had shared too much. Taemin must feel something, anything. Just the slightest emotion would keep Minho beside him. That was a lie, even if Taemin hated him, he would stand beside him. It was the only thing he felt he could do. ‘Taemin,’ He whispered again, ‘Live for me, and I will live for you.’

Taemin

            Why did he leave so suddenly? Why didn’t he understand? Stupid Minho! Stupid stupid Minho! He seemed so sad . . . live for him? What does that even mean?

            The pain was coming back, sharp pains, like there were millions of pieces of glass that rubbed inside his legs, and his spine, and inside his lungs. He needed a nurse, needed pain relief. But Minho wasn’t here and he wasn’t sure where the button was to call help. Why did Minho leave? He needed him. That smile! Of all the things . . . everything he had lost, now. He needed Minho, with his positive aura and his kind, loving words. Minho was different from the others. Why had Minho left? He needed him now so much. He missed him; it was only minutes since he left. But the tears hadn’t stop. Everything had left him. Dancing had gone, SHINee had gone, and now the only person he really liked had gone as well.

            ‘Minho!’ With pain in his voice he called out into the empty room, praying he would come back.

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