They charged into the bank like warriors seeking battle, eyes ablaze like a bomb had gone off.  Five young men stood behind an older man who led them like a seasoned general, nodding towards the flight of stairs and they overtook them easily.  Scaling the building was an easy feat for this group of men because they were looking for the one missing among them.  They flew up flights of stairs with tireless strength, their breath coming in harsh gasps as they reached the pinnacle of the building.  Many people had stood in their way and they had pushed past, ignoring all warnings.  When they finally arrived at the top floor of the lavish building, sweat glistened on many foreheads and breathing was a labor, but they stood strong.  The woman at the front desk looked at them in a harried way, telling them to leave or she would call security.  Loosening five colorful ties, they saw their destination.  There was no way to tell that it was Mister Chun’s office except for the gut feeling each man had that beyond it lay what they sought: their friend and brother. 

     Moving with determination and will that a god would envy, the door was flung open and they all moved in, ready to go to combat.  What they saw made their breath stop, their hearts fall, their hopes shatter.  DooJoon.  Lying in a growing pool of blood, a knife protruding like a monstrosity from his chest.  His once lively eyes were closed, his lips barely parted as his breathing became shallow.  Standing above DooJoon was a man with no surprise registering on his face, only a smile that was full of evil delight as he saw the six men enter his office.  Tipping his head back, the man with the eyes of Hell began to laugh deeply, sickly, horribly.  A shudder coursed through everyone’s spine as the laughter began to mix with the shriek of the receptionist behind them.  The sound of her piercing yell propelled all of the young men in, two of them hitting their knees hard next to the fallen leader, the other three launching into the small business man.  The general had run into the man, his fist flying back but he felt a hand grab his in mid flight.  Pulling them apart, two young men held the sinister man with disgust, their eyes full of darkness and fear and one held to his president, trying to not make anything worse.  Quickly, though, all eyes eventually fell to the broken man lying in his own blood on the marble floor, watching as hands pressed to the wound to prevent more from flowing out. 

     These men stayed like this until the advent of the police, fifteen minutes later. 

     JunHyung had his president behind him, KiKwang and DongWoon holding onto the tiny man, YoSeob and HyunSeung both pressing their pale hands to DooJoon’s chest, the scarlet overwhelming every other color.  There were no words exchanged as the police carted Mister Chun out until that demon was well out of ear shot.  Then the commissioner spoke softly to the boys, telling the two vocalists they did a good job applying pressure and the knife would be used as evidence in the investigation and during the trial.  As the paramedics flew into the room like a ray of healing light, YoSeob and HyunSeung finally moved away from their leader, watching the medics work swiftly and diligently.  Both young men exchanged a weak glance, the blood dripping from their shaking hands slowly.  All of the B2STs and their president now crowded with one another, their voices caught in their throats.  They stared at DooJoon with eyes full of bright tears, hoping they had done enough.  Hoping he would wake up and smile at them like he always did.  Hoping he would see another day with them by his side…

     As the police began to funnel into the room, flashing cameras especially on DooJoon’s scared and bruised frame, the paramedics began to load the leader onto their gurney, tying him in with care.  One medic attached an oxygen pump over DooJoon’s mouth and she turned to look at the family that stood in blood and fear.  Her smile was small, her eyes closing gently, nodding her answer: he would survive. 

     He would live.

     It was just enough to cause the harbored tears to fall, the laughs to careen off the walls, the hollers of happiness to shatter the oppression and darkness this office had been too full of.  With smiles as bright as the sun, each young man embraced the other, ignoring any red that would stain once pristine suits.  The lead paramedic began to shush them, giving a stern look to the adult that corralled the rowdy boys and he chided them.  The paramedic began to step forward to give a speech about being considerate but he was left speechless as he saw a look dawning on six faces.  They were staring past the healer, happiness and love and admiration filling up each expression.  Glancing backwards to find the source of these rays of sunshine, the paramedic moved aside, his face softening as he saw what brought this about.  The young man on the gurney who had nearly died today had opened his eyes.  They were brown and deep and weak, yes, but the longer they stayed open, fire began to burn in them.  Sparks of lightening danced in those brown eyes as they focused on the six men who had told death he couldn’t have this one; he still had a life yet to live. 

     The five young men moved slowly, reverently, to DooJoon’s side, the tears falling freely to mix with the brightest smiles the world has seen.  As solemnly as they walked did DooJoon take them all in.  KiKwang, the one who heard him fall when he thought the world was deaf to his problems.  YoSeob, the one who saw the strength that still lived that was reserved for only the deserving.  HyunSeung, the one who moved with purpose again because of kind words the leader had bestowed.  JunHyung, the one who had reminded of days that were long gone but foretold of the best days yet to come.  DongWoon, the one who had called them all to arms when he thought no one would ever find him in this dark abyss. 

     They were the reason he could open his eyes.

     They were the reason he had endured.

     They were the reason he survived.

     Pulling his arm free of the straps that bound him, DooJoon moved sluggishly, getting a head rush even from these simple actions.  Closing his eyes, his brow knitting as exhaustion threatened to pull him into slumber, he paused a moment.  With a steady inhale, his eyes opened and they sparked with burning courage.  Holding his fist as high as he could and under the breathing mask, his lips formed the words that told the world who they were.  Alone, they were amazing.  Together, they were…

     “So B2ST.”

     Each man, including the president speaking to the police in the corner of the room, turned when they saw the fist rise.  They saw the words fall easily from bitten lips that turned upwards at the edges to make a smile.  A smile that was not nearly as strong as the others that shone back, but soon…  It would make all others look weak.  Now, the five B2STs who had gone to battle stood at attention, staring at their leader with pride.  Five fists were raised, and the call was returned by shaking voices.  It was a salute, a promise, and a call of gratitude all in the same breath.  A salute to the people that stood for him when he had long since fallen, a promise to return to them stronger so they could find happiness again, and a call of gratitude that they had stood for him and fought for him.  DooJoon’s eyes slowly began to close, his fist wavering as five hands reached out to lay atop his.  His eyes peaked open, battling the overwhelming need to sleep and he saw the hands of his brothers.  Some were stained red, the others still bore a tremor.  As a smile that rivaled the sun finally made it’s appearance after months hidden away, DooJoon’s eyes closed on the chorus of five melodic, insightful, lyrical, motivational, and powerful voices that lulled him to sleep.