Heechul had noticed how time passed differently in Heaven than it did in the Living World. Or maybe it just passed exactly the same. But with nothing to count it, its passing was not evident. A week had gone by since he allegedly died, and the day he had been a spectator at his own funeral.

He had started to watch it, thinking that perhaps it would help convince him; to believe that his death was final and that the niggling in the back of his brain that he would soon wake was just a false hope, like an old man longs for his youth.

The ceremony was simple and small and private, though all of his friends and close contacts from the company had all managed to squeeze into the venue. Everyone had arrived with solemn faces. Heechul had been following along in the car that Siwon, Eunhyuk, Donghae and Yesung had taken, and the entire ride was in complete silence. All their tears seemed to have been shed. Siwon had sat in the front passenger seat, staring out of the windows, eyes anywhere but there.

Heechul had watched up until the point his parents stood to say their words.  He did not see their faces and had not heard a word from their lips. That was just one thing he knew he could not do. His eyes had been brewing tears since the first of his friends broke down and they began to fall as he slid the sunglasses from his ears and gently placed them down on the mattress beside him.

“I’m not dreaming,”

He quickly lost count of how many times he had heard those words coming from his lips, in his voice, and the entire time, he just felt as if he was trying to convince anyone but himself. Why was his head so stubborn? It did not want to give up on the idea that this was just a game, lest he be swept away and then completely lose himself.

Or perhaps it was not even his head that was the problem! Was it his heart that did not want to relinquish that feeble grip it kept on life?

‘I can’t be dreaming.’

When he had finally summoned the courage to put the glasses back on, it was night. The dorm was dark, and on the whole, silent. But behind closed doors, Heechul could hear the tell-tale sniffing and murmurs of comfort.

He quickly checked inside the room in which two make-shift beds had been made for Kibum and Siwon, but only the former was curled up under his duvet. Sighing, Heechul pictured his bedroom, and sure enough, Siwon was perched on the end of his bed. Everything about him echoed, to Heechul, the first time he had ‘visited’ the upper dorm.

A dull ache spread in Heechul’s body, needing to comfort his friend as much as he sought comfort for himself, but he could not. He did not even feel like he deserved to any form of kindness when so far, he had failed in doing that something than was meant to be ‘easy’, and his failure had meant Siwon’s continued suffering.

Humiliation bubbled up as just one more emotion to be tangled in a ball with all the others that had been festering for days. He could not even bring himself to go down there, instead hiding behind the glasses.

Siwon’s fingers brushed tenderly over the framed photo that was on his lap. The lips, the jaw line, the eyes – all with the affection of a lover, so much so that Heechul sighed and bit the inside of his cheek. That was just one more thing, he supposed, he was meant to ‘treat’.

The door began to open without a knock; Kyuhyun peered in. His hair was a mess and his eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep and the dark circles around them made him look absolutely lifeless in the sullen lamp-light.

“Siwon-ah,”

The man started, snapping his head to look at Kyuhyun with wide eyes. He exhaled deeply, trying to calm the shock that momentarily seized him.

Kyuhyun silently smiled a weak apology and stepped in the join him on the end of the bed. He glanced over at Siwon’s lap and saw the photograph. “Should I tell Teukkie-hyung that you’re back in here?”

Siwon didn’t reply.

Sighing Kyuhyun rested his head on Siwon’s shoulder and frowned when the man flinched from the touch, but did not brush it away. “I just wanted to see if you were okay. You’ve gotten so distant these last few days… we’re all worried about you. Have you spoken to your parents?”

“They won’t speak to me,” Siwon said, “Not that I want to speak to them,” Kyuhyun raised his head to stare at the elder singer like he had two heads, or was a complete stranger wearing the same face and speaking with the same voice. “They never truly liked Heenim-hyung, and now, following me turning my back on the Church, they believe that he was a Demon, sent, and was successful in making me stray from the path which they believe is right.”

“Siwon-ah, they’re probably just upset, and thinking you’re acting irrationally—”

Siwon furiously shook his head, and he seemed fit to explode, but he remained conscious of the time and place, and kept his voice to a hush. “No. It’s not an excuse to insult Heenim. He was not demon. He was an angel, to me…”

With a weak laugh, Kyuhyun smiled. “He might’ve looked like one, sure, but could you imagine Heechul-hyung as an angel? He’d either be up there too busy admiring himself in every mirror in Heaven, or he’d be looking down here and thinking us all idiots.”

Heechul pouted, and wondered momentarily if he would ever get the chance to make the Evil Maknae eat those words, and then see if he could regurgitate them with that same expression.

“The irony! Princess ‘Rella being an angel! You have to admit, Siwon, it is a pretty funny thought.”

Siwon wasn’t laughing, or even looking at Kyuhyun. “He’ll always be one to me, whether That Bastard likes it or not.”

Heechul and Kyuhyun both scowled, shaking their heads in something akin to disbelief. They were certain that they could never quite be able to get their heads around Siwon’s U-turn in beliefs, from defending the name of God with every fibre of his being, to being the one making such vicious attacks.

Heechul wondered just how much this affected God himself, being scorned and hated by someone whom used to love so much, someone that is still loved so much regardless. Perhaps the ‘undeserving kindness’ that was spoken of in the Bible was true after all. He knew for a fact that his behaviour in life certainly did not warrant God’s fair treatment of him. Idol or not, God could have easily left him to suffer for his blasphemy in that white oblivion. Not that watching his friends’ lives fall apart was much of a reprieve.

 Slowly, Kyuhyun leant closer to Siwon. Cautious, but not in the way Heechul knew the maknae acted due to his difficulties in socialising at times. This was more like an echo of a fear of how Siwon might react.

Again, at the soft touch of a hand, Siwon started.

“We’re all worried about you, Siwon,”

“Worry about yourselves,” the taller singer murmured. The quiet tone took most of the sting out. But a blunt weapon could still damage.

“Please, hyung, don’t shut yourself away, we need you!”

“Heenim needed me, and I let him down.”

“You couldn’t have helped Heechul, hyung. But you can help us. We can help each other. C’mon,” Kyuhyun stood and gently grasped Siwon’s arm to pull him up.

But Siwon shrugged him off and shifted as he sat, making the point that he was staying. “Go away, Kyuhyun. I want to be with…” dark eyes fell back to the photo was weakly as autumn leaves fall from trees.

“For God’s sake! This has to stop, Siwon.”

“Get out. Now. Kyuhyun.”

“Siwon—”

“Out!”

Kyuhyun looked at him, wide eyed with fright, before his expression softened and he stepped back to the door, “We just don’t want to lose you too, Siwon-ah,” and after he left, Siwon collapsed in on himself silently.

Residual surprise from Siwon’s anger lingered on Heechul’s conscience. How could the man have changed so much?  A change so drastic, unbelievable to Heechul. It was as if, in his absence, Siwon had assumed his persona, whether it was a conscious thing or not. And Heechul knew that possessing such attributes for too long would lead to the loss of the Choi Siwon that was loved across the globe. The sweet prince would be subsumed by bitterness. It had happened to Heechul himself, a long, long time ago. He had been quiet, introspective, but after a string of unfortunate events (trivial in hindsight), he had changed.

He could not be the cause of such happening to his dongsaeng.

He refused to be.

--

Four days. That was how long Heechul suspected it had been, anyway. Things had begun to settle down. The world had said its goodbye to Super Junior’s Diva Princess. Emotional outbreaks were becoming less and less frequent, and when they did come, they were more easily calmed.

Super Junior was finding their feet again; slowly letting go of their brother, Kim Heechul – though he knew the memory of himself would always remain, not entirely egoistically. Those few times he had ventured from Siwon’s side, Heechul was a topic of conversation between the other members. Anecdotes, comments, compliments and even sharing of what they had always found irritating about Cinderella, but never dared say aloud before, were all ways of keeping Heechul alive, but not a burden on their minds.

…But Siwon…

Spent every moment he could steal away in Heechul’s room. Sometimes he slept there, clutching onto the sheets that Heechul was sure didn’t even smell of him anymore, until one of the others came to shoo him out before Leeteuk found him, lest the leader lose his temper again.  All of the moments he was not in that room, Siwon still was not in the room in which he sat. Dark eyes were cold and dead. Heechul had not seen his smile for so long he began to wonder if he retained that ability, and those endearing dimples, still.

Though the others might have been busy healing their own hearts, they still noticed the distance that Siwon held himself away at. And it was growing.

‘I really thought he was getting somewhere.’

‘Since the funeral, he’s really regressed.’

‘Do you think we should just call his parents?’

‘No! You can’t do that,’ Zhou Mi’s voice was the only one that was never hushed.

‘Why? They’ll—‘

‘You just can’t, okay?’

‘Why does he only open up to you?’

‘Why does he only talk to you?’

‘We—we just have… common ground.’

Unlike any other person who ever asked Heechul a favour, God never checked up on him to see if he was actually doing as requested, or asking for updates, or pressuring for it to be accomplished. Maybe the man understood that Heechul suffered from enough pressure as it was, or maybe he did not need to ask Heechul because he could see everything for himself. He could probably understand Heechul’s thoughts better than Heechul himself.

Thinking was now like being trapped in a tiny dark room, where there were a thousand echoes of his own voice; where he could never keep on one train of thought before getting distracted or digressing onto another. He had never experienced an argument so heated as the one he faced with himself. To every cry in support of his death, there was a whisper of doubt that cut the courage it took to proclaim such things back down to the ground.

‘Heenim, I’d give everything just to see you again...’

How many grieving people shared that one same wish? How many actually got the chance for that one wish to be fulfilled? Though he could never guess a number, Heechul safely assumed that it was not very high. And he was denying Siwon of that chance.

Enough was enough.

Sighing, Heechul opened his eyes. Cars sped past him, as close as if he was standing in a busy corridor, but unsurprisingly they continued without a reaction. The sun shone brightly, heating the tarmac so much it would have been unbearable were it not for the strong gusts of wind that racked Heechul’s body every time a vehicle passed.

The scene of the crash that had started this whole fiasco was cleared and all traces of the accident had all but vanished. There were still tiny shards of glass that were lodged between the road and the grassy embankment; the tarmac still bore the scars of metal gouging through it as the car rolled and tires burned ugly black marks across it like a child’s drawing.

For any one jut driving past, it meant nothing, even if they did notice all the signs. No one could know what had happened; if anyone had lost their lives, let alone who. There were hundreds of accidents every day, so perhaps drivers and passengers had grown used to the remnants and were blind to them. Desensitised of the fact that someone had died here.

Heechul had died here, and it seemed as if no one cared. As if no one remembered him to care. Tears threatened to fall. A concoction of the sober insecurity and latent frustration; his helplessness to the inferiority that infected him; hate.

With his head in his hands, he perched on the thick, brand new metal railings that separated the two sides of the road. Maybe they will erect a plaque on the embankment that read

‘Big Space Star
Kim Heechul
1983 – 2011’

And then one day, some one would notice it and slow down and wonder what such words meant. He bit his cheek because he knew that one day, if not in ten years, but a hundred, it would be true.

Slowly, he raised his head from its nest and noticed a glimmer of metal between his feet.  But the welling of his eyes distorted the shape beyond recognition. The silver gleam was far too polished to be another tiny piece of debris, he leant down to pick it up.

A delicate chain ran over his fingers, and the weight of a pendant settled comfortably in his palm. Heechul blinked furiously to clear his gaze and he looked down at his hand. The simple crucifix was immediately familiar: he had seen it everyday resting against the centre of Siwon’s chest. So many times, it was the only thing he’d seen Siwon wearing, when he would walk back into the bedroom of the hotel room they shared and the younger man would already be sat up in his bed with the sheet up to his waist. So many times, Heechul had twisted his finger in the chain to tease Siwon of his Faith, or even just admire the pendant because it was beautiful.

He brushed the silver with his index finger gently, cleaning off all the road-dust and grime that can collected on it during the last couple days. And without further thought, Heechul fastened the chain and pendant around his neck. The clasp itself was damaged as if it had been yanked off, and Heechul absently wondered if it had come off in the accident, or whether it had been cast away as a symbol of Siwon’s change of heart.

No… his heart had not changed.
Changed hearts cannot be reversed.

Heechul’s fist curled around the cross until it dug into his flesh. The pain refreshed him; reaffirming that only proof he had that this was all reality. His lips spread into a thin smile and he stood.

Siwon’s heart had been broken
And broken hearts can be healed.

When he opened his eyes again, the busy road was gone. The sun still shone brightly, but it did not glare. Tall trees sheltered him from the worst of the summer; their shade had replaced the synthetic wind. Most of all, it was quiet.

But cemeteries were always near-silent in his experience. The birds that sang in the trees were the only echoes of live. Everything else, cold, hard stone. Etched with names he never knew and would probably never know. He still had no idea what the rest of Heaven was like; and could only suppose from God’s words that it was something like this World.

The ground was soft and cool under the soles of his shoes; each step comforting as if nature knew just how hard it was for Heechul to continue along the path that had been tread four days ago by his family and friends.

He stopped suddenly and stared at the marker a few yards in front of him. The ground around it was still healing, and covered with flowers. Some were wilting, but some were fresh. People did care. The affection they must have felt for him filled Heechul with appreciation as he knelt and traced delicate petals with his finger. They were warm under the sun.

His name was etched into white marble. It was undeniably him, the dates of his birth and death as clear as the sky was that afternoon. Cut down in his prime, like the flowers that had been left in his memory. Heechul stepped forwards to write over each letter that was carved into the rock. Feeling nothing but the hard truth that was warmed in the sun.

He was dead.

Tears came from no where. They had cause, surely, but they were not expected. He fought to stay on his feet, needing to grasp the simple marble column to steady his shaking knees. Over his quiet sobs, the birds still sung, telling him that despite his death, the world still went on. It went on without him, but that did not matter. He was past that World now; moved on. It was little more than entering a new stage in life, from childhood to adulthood. 

A smile graced his lips, weakly at first. It was like his debut with Super Junior: he was walking onto a new stage. And just like then, he was b with an equal measure of fear and excitement, anticipation and confidence rolled into a ball of exhilaration.

He had a new life to lead.

“Yah! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Heechul heard a voice shout out behind him. The sudden sound startled him, but knowing he was still ‘not a part’ of this world, he only reacted with a jerk of surprise.

“Yah! You in the pink shirt!”

Whoever it was sounded pretty irate. Curiously, Heechul glanced to either side, but saw nothing but rows of grave markers, trees and flowers. He started to turn his head to look over his shoulder when he noticed the colour of his shirt. Pink.

Dark eyes grew wide with confusion as well as surprise. And his mind begged that this was not another wash of false hope. He closed his eyes, disbelieving as he turned.

He heard the gasp loud and clear. It echoed in his mind, again and again until he could finally place a face to the voice that had been calling.

Oh God, I’m dreaming…

“H—Heechul?”