Disclaimer: The last time I checked, characters are not mine. That would be bad for their health. Chapter title came from Ben Harper's song Cryin' Won't Help You Now

People around him always say that Donghae could never contain himself.

He was always moving – seeking for attention, creating noises and chaos. He was a five year old trapped in a grown man’s body. They said that the only thing that stops him from going to all places at once was his own skin. And he couldn’t agree more.

Bus rides were always a torture. He could never understand how people can sit still for any length of time without getting bored or restless. He glanced around and found that he was the only one awake. Aish, I wish there’s anyone I could talk to. He picked up his phone and discovered that there were no new messages of any kind. It's odd, he thought. Nobody misses me? He stared at it for quite a time, and of course, boredom swiftly washed over him. The bus was on the countryside now --he was thankful for the window seat, but even the spectacular view couldn't distract him.

He then decided to adjust his scarf and his baseball cap. He put on a pair of sunglasses for good measure too. Idiot, he thought. We’re in a bus! Sunglasses, seriously? He mentally slapped himself.

But the idea made him smile a little. I made it in. People now recognize me on the streets. I am a singer now, appa. He had to mentally slap himself again; grinning ear-to-ear in a public place especially when you’re alone is never a good sign – even for a famous idol such as himself.

-- 
From the bus station, he only needed to walk a few blocks to reach their home. He didn’t bother to fix his disguise since it was already dark and the weather was particularly bad; no one normal would be out at this time.

He slowly broke into a run and he savoured the salty air of Mokpo. He always misses that smell. The smell of the sea, the sand. The smell of home. Coupled by the intense desire to see his family again and the excitement of delivering his first pay check, Donghae couldn’t unscrew the grin on his handsome face. He was smiling so wide now it’s a wonder if he’s hurting his cheeks.

Here I come. I’m coming home.

Donghae saw their house now. He knew the place like the back of his hand; he could draw it with his eyes close. And even with the dark and the impending storm, he could outline their home down to its tiniest detail.  Before he realized what he was doing, he was sprinting now. Unable to stop himself from too much excitement.

He opened the door “I’m home!” he sang out loud, “Umma, appa, hyung! Fishy is here!”

He cast his eyes around and for a second he thought he was in a middle of a drama. What the is going on here?

Their tidy humble home was arranged differently; there were low benches settled neatly in the living room, the lights were more blinding than usual, and the flowers… Donghae cringed a bit, those were not normal flowers, those were for a funeral.

“Donghae…” his umma walked to him, she held her shaking hands to his face “We should’ve told you sooner but your appa said...” she trailed off. He slowly removed her hands off his face. He can’t believe it. Yes, his appa was sick, but sick enough to die? This must be a hidden camera. He walked over to the center of the room – where the coffin was.

His appa’s face was stern. Opposite of his look in real life but worse was the eyes --all traces of laughter were gone. And the thought of his most precious father packed away in a box. It must not be him, he thought. It can’t be him.

“I’m sorry Donghae,” he looked over, it was Donghwa. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks were tear-strained. “He said we shouldn’t tell you.” His voice was threatening to crack “I’m sorry… his gone…”

“He hasn’t gone!” Donghae yelled. He raised his arms to open the glass-enclosed coffin, Donghwa immediately stopped him.

He did not believe it, he would not believe it; still he fought with Donghwa with every bit of strength he had: Donghwa did not understand, he can’t be gone. He simply can’t.

“Appa!” he bellowed, “appa, it’s not funny anymore come out of that box now!”

“He can’t come back, Donghae,” said Donghwa hyung, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Donghae, “He can’t comeback because he’s d----“

“HE – IS – NOT – DEAD!” roared Donghae, “Please tell me you’re joking…”

He continued to struggle, even though he knew it was pointless. Donghwa towered over him. The reality of the situation was slowly creeping up, but still he fought with all his might, willing for everything to be just a bad dream. He closed his eyes hoping that when he opened them, somebody would shout that it was just an evil joke.

Once his eyes open, he felt heavy, like there’s too much gravity on his heart. He waited for someone to shout but it never came… His body was slowly becoming numb and a heavy lump on his throat started to form.

 “I became who you wanted to be.” Donghae sobbed, his voice was barely recognizable. “You could have waited for me. I did it all for you. This is all for you.” That lump on his throat wouldn’t go away, he started to choke yet he couldn’t stop sobbing, wailing like a helpless child. “Why didn’t you live long enough to see it? I followed your dreams. Why do you have to go where I cannot follow?”

He stopped fighting, he was becoming too weak. His head started to spin. He allowed himself to be swallowed by blackness, hopefully when he open his eyes once more, he will be back to the SuJu dorm and he hasn’t made the trip to Mokpo yet.
-- 

So, what do you think?

This idea came to me a few days ago, and for some reason i can't make it go away. i blame the bad weather here  :(.