X

Tangerine Express

 

“This was the void. Not blackness, not nothingness. This was what lay beneath the thinly painted scrim of reality.” 
― Neil Gaiman, The Ocean at the End of the Lane

 


 

Before

 

Light. Very faint light, and... voices, all yelling; at each other or just in general? Luhan doesn't know. They're saying weird things, though.

"I need a defibrillator here!"

"Stretcher coming through!" Someone else.

"Did somebody call the police?" Another.

"Ayumi, were there any other passengers?"

God, there's a lot of people here.

"Sir." This one is very loud. "Sir, can you hear me?"

Is she speaking to me? Luhan tries his voice, but when he opens his mouth, blood pours out instead. He blinks once, and the world dissolves in a sweep of black.

 

***

 

"Any change in the patient's condition?"

One nurse steps away from the bustle surrounding Taemin as Dr. Jung enters the room. An anxious expression adorns her child-like features, and she fidgets with her hands, lacing and unlacing her fingers compulsively as she speaks. "His lungs were exerting too much effort trying to get enough oxygen into his body; with his cystic fibrosis, his lung functions were already in a compromised state to begin with, so the stress on his system caused dehydration." She pauses, waiting for the doctor to comment, but he simply gestures for her to continue. "We had to put him on IV therapy and hook him up to an oxygen supply, and so far, it seems to have helped because he's stopped coughing up blood, but..."

Dr Jung's head snaps up. "But what?"

"But he's shaking."

"Shaking?" 

The nurse nods. "Uncontrollably."

Dr. Jung walks past her and over to where Taemin is lying. Just as the nurse had said, Taemin is no longer coughing, but his tiny frame is quivering; his eyes are shut, too, eyeballs visibly rolling back and forth beneath his eyelids. His body has shut down to recuperate, but his sleep is still restless, Dr. Jung notes, though not without pity.

The two nurses hovering over Taemin cover Dr Jung's view, thought just as he moves to look over them, they both straighten; one busies herself with ensuring Taemin is in a comfortable position, while the other turns to the side, holding something aloft in her hand, her brow wrinkling as she looks at it. Dr. Jung gravitates towards her, and sees that it's a thermometer. His eyes widen; the numbers on the little instrument's screen flash 40°C.

That's not right.

The nurse gives a small start when she realises that he's standing right behind her. "Doctor...?" she trails off, waiting for his opinion as she holds up the thermometer for him to take.

Dr. Jung frowns at it for a moment, then hands it back. "Have you taken him for a chest x-ray?"

"Not yet," she replies. "We didn't want to move him too much while he's in this state."

"All right, I want you to do it as soon as he wakes up." Dr. Jung moves past her and leans down to look closely at Taemin, scrutinising the rising and falling of the boy's chest. Gently, he puts one hand on Taemin's chest, fingertips spread, and the other on his own chest in the same position, then counts to sixty.

When the count reaches zero, he straightens, eyes darting around the room in tandem with his buzzing thoughts. Cystic fibrosis to start with, progressing to bloody sputum, shivering, then a fever, he thinks. And now this. He turns back to Taemin, eyes narrowing. Forty-three breaths a minute, and slight−but consistent−chest indrawing.

The second he finishes listing all the symptoms, it clicks.

"No..." Dr. Jung whispers, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. Behind him, he can sense the nurses stopping in their tracks, trying to gauge what he'll ask them to do. But when he opens his eyes, he doesn't say a word as he rushes out of the room.

 

***

 

The voices are back, floating like lotus blossoms. Floating, like him.

"How are his vitals?"

"Is he still bleeding?"

"Doctor, his heart rate is lowering."

Is this real?

He tries to twitch his arms, but he seems to have lost them; or at least just all control over themit feels as though he's anchored to the seabed. Nothing happens when he tries to move. Luhan concentrates harder, focusing on willing himself to move

An agonised scream explodes from his lips; Luhan hears it from afar, like he's detached from his body, and for a moment, he feels as though he's fallen through a break in the clouds, tumbling towards Earth. Desperation tries to break through his conscious, urging him to scream some more, but something suppresses it; he thinks briefly that it must be to do with this paralysis that's gripping him.

Just as quickly as it had come, the collision of emotional conflict is washed away by a sudden gust of sweet, clean air rushing across his face, filling his nostrils and dissipating his thoughts, and he wonders, Is this what it feels like to fly? 

 

***

 

"All my life, like waves upon the sand..."

From somewhere in Yoona's throat, the first groggy groan signalling her break into consciousness escapes. Someone is singing, she registers absently, squeezing her eyes shut tight. Stop it. I'm trying to sleep.

"The ocean meets dry land..." the voice, surprisingly soothing, continues softly.

My heart is in your hands, Yoona finishes in her head, her lips silently moving in sync with the words the voice is now singing. Still half asleep, a frown shadows her brow. Luhan used to sing that song... It's been so long since I last heard it.

Suddenly, Yoona's eyes fly open. "Luhan used to sing that song," she repeats, this time in a low whisper, eyes growing larger by the second. Slowly, she sits up, pushing back the sheets and wondering if she'll see what she thinks she'll see if she turns towards the direction of the voice−

Her lungs fill up with air so fast she feels as though they might just burst right then and there.

At the end of the bed, a man sits with his back to her, head bent over. Even in the dim light, Yoona recognises the sweep of his neck, the lines of his back and torso, even the way his shoulders slump forward slightly.

Luhan.

For a moment, Yoona stares, completely immobilised. She blinks a few times, but he doesn't disappear. He doesn't move, either; it seems, she notices, that he's absorbed in some kind of task that she can't see from her position. Curiosity overwhelms her initial shock, and without really forming any plan of action (or reaction), she finds herself crawling forward towards him.

Surprisingly, her movements don't alert him of her presence, and he doesn't turn around. As she nears, she hears faint scratching; pencil on paper. Hearing it only makes her more curious, but for some reason, it's a bit of a struggle for Yoona to heave herself across the bed like this; her limbs are sluggish and protest her sudden early morning movement. In fact, she almost feels... nauseous.

Ignore it, she tells herself firmly, determination set in her expression. Luhan is barely only a foot away now, and Yoona steels herself with a deep breath, preparing herself for the inevitable moment when their eyes will lock as she looks over his shoulder−

Except it doesn't happen.

As Yoona crouches and leans forward, peering over his shoulder to see what's keeping him so occupied, he doesn't even react. Completely taken aback by his refusal to look at her, she glances down at what he's doing.

He's writing a note, and it's addressed to−

"Yoona," she reads aloud, speaking in her normal voice experimentally, but Luhan doesn't even flinch. With a sigh, Yoona averts her gaze back down to the note. "Yoona," she repeats, starting again in a lower voice. "By the time you read this, I'll probably be at work−"

She stops abruptly, eyes narrowing; all the while, Luhan continues writing. "Wait..." Yoona murmurs. Unconsciously, her hand lowers, reaching downwards, towards her belly. "This is−"

Realisation hits her like a missile, and she shoots forward, wanting to see if the note ends the way she suspects it will, but just as her eyes skim the beginning curves of his last word, a sudden shrill ringing cuts through the air.

Taken by surprise, Yoona loses her balance and topples, falling forward on Luhan so hard she feels the bones in his back collide with her body. For a moment, she stays where she is, cheek flat against the harsh edge of Luhan's shoulder blade, eyes closed. That hurt.

Reaching one arm out to the side, she hauls herself back up, features contorted in a grimace. In her chest, Yoona's heart is still beating wildly in the aftermath of her shock. When she opens her eyes and looks around, the room is still just as dim, but now she's lying on the floor instead of her bed, and her cheek is throbbing from where she'd knocked it against the floor... not Luhan's back.

There is no Luhan, and he was never there several moments ago, just as he hasn't been here for years. He's gone; once again, she is alone.

And the ringing hasn't stopped.

 

***

 

The courthouse clock strikes 8:15 in the AM when a fair-haired young man bursts through the entrance, almost knocking the glasses off the poor cleaner mopping the floor near the double doors.

"Hey, I just mopped that area!"

"Sorry!" The young man calls a hasty apology, though he neither looks back nor slows his pace as he utilises every square inch of both arms and hands to balance papers, a briefcase, and a steaming cup of coffee.

He looks his age− late teens, probably in his last year of high school− wearing a suit that will probably be too small for his six-foot-something frame by next year. Not that he's thinking about that now; right now, his focus is on getting to the man wearing... what did Yoona say?

A frown furrows his brow as he recalls Yoona's words. "He should be wearing a navy suit jacket and black slacks; if not, then full tweed. Oh, and an eggplant coloured tie; he always reserves that hideous tie for the most important days. In any case, you know what he looks like, don't you?"

Basing his search on suit colour is no use; one cursory scan of the room would tell anyone that practically every person in the room is wearing navy, tweed, or some other dark colour.

"Okay, how about an eggplant coloured tie..." he murmurs, craning his neck over the crowd in search of said tie. A flash of dark purple catches his eye from somewhere near the back of the hall. Full tweed suit to match, and a familiar face. "Bingo."

 

*

 

Sehun feels someone tap his shoulder. He wheels around immediately, expecting Yoona. Except it's not.

Instead of his case partner (and sister-in-law), he is faced with her lanky, bright-eyed assistant. "Zelo?" Sehun's eyes wander around, finding something lacking. "Where's Yoo−"

"Uh, here's your coffee, sir. One decaf soy Americano," Zelo interrupts, shoving a steaming, paper cup into Sehun's hand. He smiles nervously. "Just the way you like it."

"What's this?" Sehun demands, despite having just been told in specific detail what he is holding. He takes an experimental sniff, frowning in bemusement. "How did you know my order?"

"Well, as Yoona's assistant, I've had to fetch everyone's coffee at some point," Zelo explains, fidgeting slightly.

He never stays still, does he? Sehun notes, taking a sip of his coffee; surprisingly, it is indeed just the way he likes it. "I see," Sehun murmurs absently, rotating the cup slowly between his fingers. He can sense a nervous aura around Zelo, which, for some reason, is making him jittery, too; he doesn't like it one bit. "So, what are you doing here? Where's Yoona?"

At this, Zelo clams up, his mouth the only thing moving; it opens and closes, but no sound comes out. Sehun's eyes narrow. "What's wrong?"

Zelo hesitates, biting his lip for a moment before handing the papers in his arms to Sehun. "These are for you."

Sehun's gaze lingers on Yoona's assistant for a second longer before he looks down at the papers. His eyes start to widen as they skim over the content. What he's reading, and the fact that the stack is thicker than his share ought to be, sends a twinge of panic through Sehun. "Zelo, this is..." He flips through the papers in bewilderment, as if they will magically change into something he wants to see. "This is all Yoona's work and notes on the case, not mine. She's supposed to have it all with her, what is it doing here−" he cuts himself short, looking up slowly. "Zelo... where's Yoona?" he asks, for the third time.

His heart plummets when Zelo reacts with a grimace, like one of a child expecting to get hit. "Listen, about that..." The teen bites his lip. "She's not coming."

"What?"

Zelo points to the papers with a quivering finger. "That's everything you need for the hearing today, as well as all the details of the case," he says. "Yoona faxed it over to me less than an hour ago.   I came to give you all this, and also because I kind of have to be here, so today, I'm your assistant."

"What?" Sehun exclaims again.

"I need to log the hours, otherwise I won't complete my internship−" Zelo begins, but Sehun waves his explanation away impatiently.

"Wha- what does she mean, she isn't coming today? Has she forgotten that this is a big case, and she needs to be here?" Sehun demands. Without waiting to hear whatever Zelo's just opened his mouth to say, he whips out his phone and dials Yoona.

No one picks up. "Come on," Sehun growls, pressing re-dial. Again, there's no response. He turns to Zelo. "Did she tell you why she's not coming?"

Slowly, Zelo shakes his head. "She didn't say, but she sounded pretty hurried on the phone when she was explaining things."

"Hurried?"

"Yeah," Zelo replies. "You know, like, panicked."

Sehun tries not to lose his composure as he stubbornly stabs the re-dial button. A million things are running through his head, all different kinds of emergencies that Yoona could be caught in right now, but none that involve her telling her assistant about her absence instead of her actual case partner− and brother-in-law.

Finally, on the fifth ring, the call connects. "Hello?" Yoona's voice sounds down the line.

Now Sehun knows what Zelo had meant. "You sound... flustered," Sehun comments, forgoing any greetings.

"Sehun, I don't have time to talk−"

"Oh no, no, no, don't pull that on me," Sehun says firmly, voice rising by the second. "What's going on? And why is it that you didn't have the time to even text me, yet you managed to send your documents with your assistant?"

Yoona sighs. "I'm sorry about that, I really am." It sounds like she's walking and talking. "It was just easier that way, since I was already at the photocopier for− never mind," she says hastily, apparently deciding that she's said too much, though Sehun begs to differ. "Listen, I need you to believe me when I say that this is really urgent. You know I wouldn't do this to you if it wasn't an emergency. Trust me."

"I do trust you," Sehun exclaims in exasperation. "I just want to know what's going on."

There's a pause as Yoona hesitates. Sehun holds his breath, knuckles turning white as he grips the phone in anticipation. But in the end, all she says is, "Sehun, I'm sorry, but... I don't think this is the right time to tell you. Just please... trust me," she repeats. Her footsteps audibly change pace, from the walking clack of heels to the trot of a brisk jog.

"No, wait−"

 "I have to go. I'm sorry." She says something else, too, but the end of her sentence is drowned out by a little voice demanding to know, Where are we going, Mommy? just before the call is cut off.

Sehun lowers the phone slowly, staring at it like it's a piece of rock from Jupiter. That voice... "Was that Jongin?" He frowns, and wonders aloud, "Where is she going that she needs to take Jongin with her?"

Zelo shrugs.

 

***

Before

 

Yunho doesn't remember ever wanting to be anything but a doctor; there just wasn't anything else that interested him. Something about the idea of touching the hearts of people (figuratively) and helping them live fuller lives always appealed to him, and when he discovered the work it took to become a doctor, it made sense to him; to be the closest thing to an angel on Earth, there would have to be a lot of work.

Early in his life, though, his father−a doctor himself−had taught him something he'd never forget, and it had nothing to do with hard work.

"To be a doctor," his father had said, "you have to work hard and have a good brain, yes, but to be a good doctor, you need more than that."

Nine year old Yunho had frowned. "What do you mean?"

"As a doctor, you see a lot of things that most people won't ever experience, or even know of," his father had explained. "But what matters is not what you see, but how you react. You can't study the right way to react, because there isn't one way that works for everyone, in every situation. You just have to be strong here"−at this, he'd placed a hand on Yunho's chest, over his heart− "and from there, it spreads. It's hard, but it's something no one else can help you with."

For years, Yunho dismissed his father's words as general inspirational talk. He figured that what his father had told him could just as easily apply to any aspect of life, not just specifically to that of a career in medicine. It wasn't until his fourth year of medical school that he began to understand.

In a lecture, someone asked how to cope with death. "What happens when you fail to save someone's life?" was the specific question.

Yunho remembers with perfect clarity how their lecturer had taken his glasses off, and leant forward on the lectern. "Ah, this is something I cannot answer objectively," he'd said, choosing his words carefully. "In fact, there is no right answer. But don't think that because there is no answer, your question is pointless, because it isn't."

At this point, their lecturer had started pacing. "All of us come into contact with death at some point, most often through others before ourselves. But as a doctor, you have to find a way to cope with it. You alone must figure out how you're going to go to bed after someone dies and get up the next morning knowing that the same thing could happen again, and you can't stop it. As a doctor, you have to learn not to fall apart, because if you can't hold yourself together, how are you going to keep someone else's life intact?"

His words, especially the very last rhetoric, had frozen Yunho to the core. Right then, he was dragged down and drowned in the sea of his past, finally beginning to understand why his father had said those things. However, as enlightening as his newfound understanding had made him feel, he'd also felt a stab of regret for so quickly dismissing the lessons his father had tried to teach him.

By the time Yunho had  resurfaced from his own thoughts, the topic of death had given rise to more questions and discussion in the room. Overwhelmed at the sudden rise of engagement in his listeners, the lecturer had waved his hands for silence, then said firmly, "One more question, and then we're moving on." And he'd picked a raised hand at random. "Yes?"

"Have one of your patients ever died on you, Professor?"

Silence had fallen then, during which the only sound came from the lecturer−Yunho would regret later that he'd never made an effort to remember the man's name−as he'd sighed. Finally, he'd very cryptically said, "Death is defined differently by each individual," and Yunho had thought that the professor was deliberately avoiding answering the question. But then he'd continued with, "There's one thing I know for sure, though. You never forget the first."

 

*

 

"You never forget the first..." Dr. Jung Yunho murmurs, peering through the glass observation panel of the room in which Taemin is currently occupying. Even if he presses his ear right up to the door, he can't hear the beeps of the machines connected to the child by wires, but years of working in this environment have drilled them into his head, an insanity-inducing continuum of emotionless indicators.

In his hand is a poor looking piece of paper, creased from being carried around between his tense fingers these past few hours. Somehow, Dr. Jung hasn't found the heart, or the confidence, to part with it; it is both his anchor and his poison, steadying him with the reassurance of knowledge, but slowly eating away at his mind with its truth.

The urge to look at it again right now, in fact, in the shallow hopes that the words on it may have changed to something better since the last time he saw it, is impossible to resist, and he does exactly that, lifting the piece of paper to his eyes once more.

But nothing has changed since he last read over it, and in order to steady himself, he has to remind himself to be strong. "You just have to be strong here..."

My heart, Yunho thinks, glancing back at Taemin. Who knew that this child would be the first to test me? Is this what Dad meant; what the lecturer wanted us to remember? He turns away, sighing. If it happens, I have to find a way to cope with it; hold myself together.

The sound of running footsteps pricks Dr. Jung's train of thought. His head turns immediately towards the direction of the sound. Is it−

It isn't Luhan, but Jaejoong running towards him. At first, Dr. Jung watches, curiosity peaked as to why Jaejoong is running so fast. Slowly, the curiosity in his eyes morphs into panic when he realises that his friend doesn't seem to be thinking of stopping anytime soon. He's going to crash right into me−

Before he can even complete his thought, Jaejoong slams into him, knocking him backwards. Just as quickly, Jaejoong clutches the front of Yunho's shirt, which both balances the doctor on his feet and frightens him into alertness. "Jaejoong, what the−"

"I- I think something happened to Luhan," Jaejoong says, the words tearing from his lips so fast and savagely that Yunho almost doesn't understand him. In his hand is his phone, which he's shaking like a madman.

"Wait, slow down, what?" Yunho looks at the phone blankly, unable to register the events of here and now when it's all coming at him in a rush. He puts two firm hands on Jaejoong's shoulders, steadying his friend and fixing him with a serious stare. "Something happened to Luhan? How do you know?"

Jaejoong holds up the phone, as if Yunho hadn't noticed it at all. "I called him, like you asked me to. But before I could even say a word, the call got cut off." His voice cracks, and only then does Yunho realise that Jaejoong 's eyes are wet. "The last thing I heard was a car honking, then the sound of brakes screeching."

 

***

 

A few strands of red hair fall onto the floor as Jaejoong runs his hand through his hair for what feels like the millionth time. The lights are dim in other sections of the clinic, but he's sitting right in the pool of light emanating from the strip of fluorescent ceiling lighting, like a lone dancer still onstage after the theatre has emptied.

Amongst the ticking of the clock on the wall comes another click, out of rhythm, and he looks up to find that Yunho− well, formally, it's Dr. Jung, but when have the two ever been formal with each other?−is exiting the room.

Jaejoong sits up straighter. "How is he?"

Yunho exhales heavily, practically giving Jaejoong all the answer he needs as he sinks into the seat next to him. Slowly, he turns to look his friend in the eye, unsurprised to see that the circles under Jaejoong's eyes aren't far from his own reflection. "Do you want to come and see for yourself?"

Jaejoong balks internally. His immediate instinct is to reply, "No, Yunho, I don't want to see him." Seeing people reduced to complete vulnerability triggers memories of what he's lost, even if it's been years since. But this... this is different. If he's honest, Jaejoong feels like he owes it to Luhan. So he bites back his initial refusal, and gets to his feet. "Okay." He swallows. "Let's go and see him."

For the second time in five minutes, the door opens again−thankfully without the faintest hint of a creak−and the two men slip inside.

Jaejoong almost turns right on his heel when he sees the boy he has grown so fond of over the years looking so frail beneath the web of wires connected to various parts of his body. This isn't the first time he's visited Luhan's kid in the clinic, but it's the first that he's seen the extent of the effects of Taemin's disease.

"He needs help breathing," Yunho whispers, nodding towards the tubes around Taemin's face. "Well, I mean, before, he still struggled at times with his breathing but now... I'm afraid it's become worse."

"Worse?" Jaejoong's voice rises a little in panic. He looks back and forth between Yunho and Taemin, not quite able to reconcile what he sees with the facts that he's hearing. "What do you mean, worse?"

Yunho opens his mouth, then shuts it again when he notices for the first time just how shaken Jaejoong looks. "Come on," he says gently, nudging his head in the direction of the door. "We'll talk outside."

Unexpectedly, Jaejoong has to fight reluctance (and even then, he still looks back) before he follows Yunho out of the room. Once they're back in the hall, Jaejoong stares at the floor, shaking his head. "Worse..." he mutters to himself. To Yunho, he says, "You know, you never told me what was wrong with Taemin in the first place that made... that made Luhan..."

He doesn't finish his sentence, but they both know what he would have said.

"I never had the time to," Yunho murmurs. God knows they'll both never forget the last several hectic hours. He looks up at his friend. "Do you remember when I asked you to call Luhan? You crashed into me."

"Yeah," Jaejoong says, brow furrowing as he tries to recall it in more detail. "You were holding some papers, which you dropped."

Yunho nods. "Well, I was coming back from the research department to consult some notes, and− Jaejoong?"

Jaejoong isn't listening to him anymore; he's staring at something over Yunho's shoulder, mouth open and a crease forming between his eyes. Yunho turns, following his gaze.

For a split second, Jaejoong's eyes flicker back to Yunho. "Did you−?"

Yunho nods, though he doesn't make eye contact. "I had to."

 

***

After

 

Luhan's eyes are glued shut.

Or at least, that's what it feels like when his body inches towards waking, yet his eyelids refuse to separate themselves. For a moment, he panics, thinking, Oh my God, I've gone blind, as he instinctively reaches up−

A sharp pain shoots up his arm and he winces, dropping it back down onto the...bed?

Where am I? Luhan wonders, and as he does, finally, his eyes peel apart. Immediately, he flinches, squinting in the bright light.  Everything is blurry, but at least he knows he can see.

He sees something move in his peripheral vision and turns his head towards the movement, blinking until the shape focuses, revealing a man, sitting worriedly on the edge of his chair.

"J− Jaejoong?" he manages to rasp. His throat is horribly dry, and when he swallows, it's as though he's trying to push down buttered toast topped with sewing pins.

Regardless, when he speaks, Jaejoong immediately breaks into relieved smile. "Oh, thank God," he exhales, pressing a hand to his chest, over his heart. "You remember."

Luhan frowns. "What do you mean?" he asks hoarsely. "Why are you so relieved? What happened?"

Jaejoong's smile wavers. "You don't remember what happened?"

"Should I?"

Silence descends, and for a moment, Jaejoong just stares at him; Luhan can't read his expression. Finally, as he bites his lip, he says quietly, "Look around you, Luhan."

Luhan does as he's told, belatedly realising that he hadn't even paused to take in his surroundings. Now that he looks around, he sees that he's in a painfully white room, the curtains drawn back to reveal a view of the even whiter early morning sky outside. Along one of the walls is a glass observation panel, and at the end of his bed, a clipboard is attached to the metal frame.

Suddenly, he registers that it's not completely silent in the room; his ears detect a faintly familiar electronic cacophony of beeping,  the buzz of air-conditioning, and outside, wheels rolling on the linoleum.

Then there's the smell; the ever-present odour of antiseptic.

Luhan turns back to Jaejoong. "Am I-"

"At the hospital?" Jaejoong nods. "You were in a car accident. As you were crossing the road, a car− which was driving at twice the limit by someone who was also on their phone− hit you; full impact."

A car accident... full impact. Luhan collapses back down onto his pillow, staring up at the ceiling. "I was out for a while, wasn't I?"

"Two days."

Two whole days? That would explain the way his eyes had felt like they were glued together. Experimentally, Luhan lies as still as he can, and slowly, a bone-deep ache begins to settle in his body. He gets the feeling that if he were to make any sudden movements, every muscle in his system would scream. "God, I feel terrible."

"I expect you would," Jaejoong says, raising his brows. He laughs once without humour, as if to say, You poor bastard. "You broke two ribs−one of which almost punctured your lung− as well as your collarbone and left hand. They had to take some glass out of your back and head, too, and staple up some minor scalp lacerations. On top of that, you're bruised just about everywhere, though I think you already know that."

"Jesus," Luhan breathes, hand absently moving towards his head. "They put staples in my head?"

"Yeah," Jaejoong replies, hesitating for just a moment before he adds, "The doctor said he suspected you may have also suffered from a concussion, though he couldn't be sure since you were knocked out. He said when you wake up, you might show signs of memory loss, but... you remembered me the moment you saw me, so I think you'll be fine."

Luhan doesn't know what to say in response, so he simply nods, his vision blurring a little as he blanks out. In his mind's eye, he remembers a vague sensation of being paralysed. The memory isn't enough to trigger the same feeling again, right in this moment, but when he comes back down to Earth, a sudden thought−or an urge, rather−possesses him, and he blurts, "I want to walk."

At first, he thinks Jaejoong hadn't heard him, because his exclamation is met with silence, but just as Luhan opens his mouth to repeat himself, Jaejoong casts him a worried look. "Do you think you can?"

"I want to try."

A few seconds pass as the two men look at each other, Jaejoong scrutinising the determination in Luhan's eyes, as if trying to gauge whether or not proving that he has faith in his friend will be worth it. In the end, he seems to decides that it is.

Bracing his hands on his knees and exhaling loudly as he gets to his feet, Jaejoong nods and straightens his shirt. "All right, then. I'll get the nurse and see if I can organise a wheelchair; just in case. Oh, and while we're at it," he adds, "there's someone you should see."

 

***

Before

 

Yoona is breathless by the time she answers the cries of the phone, having run across the house to fetch it. "Hello?"

"Good morning," the person−a woman, by the sounds of it−replies. There's a hint of an accent in her voice that Yoona can't quite put her finger on. "May I speak to Ms Im Yoona?"

"This is her," Yoona answers slowly, a frown creasing her brow. "Who is this?"

"This is Nicole, from the front desk at Heiwa Clinic."

"I'm sorry, Heiwa what?" Yoona asks. The name doesn't ring a bell.

The woman seems to hesitate; Yoona thinks she must be raising her eyebrows. "You've never heard of Heiwa Clinic before?"

"No, I haven't..." Yoona replies, shaking her head even though she  know 'Nicole' won't see it. What kind of name is Nicole, anyway? she wonders briefly. "Am I supposed to?"

"Huh." Nicole on her teeth, and Yoona hears the crackle of papers being flipped through. "We have you listed here as Taemin's−"

At the mention of her son's name, Yoona stumbles; she has to prop herself against the wall to stay upright. "Taemin?" she repeats, clutching the phone like it's a lifeline and she lost at sea. It feels as though the wind has been knocked out of her, or like someone has their knee on her chest; it's been so long since she's either heard or spoken the name of her other son. Just like that, all the wounds she thought she'd sealed up tear their stitches apart. "What about Taemin?" 

"Yes," Nicole says slowly, "Taemin. We have you listed here as his emergency contact. Due to the fact that you're so far away, we hesitated to call you, but you were the only emergency contact."

"I-I-I don't understand," Yoona stammers, staggering to her feet. Her fingers shake as she runs them through her tangled locks. "Where is he? Why does Taemin have an emergency contact? I mean, what does he even need one for?"

For a moment, there's silence. Then, before Yoona can say anything, Nicole asks, "Miss Im... when was the last time you saw Taemin?"

The silence this time is longer, stretching on for so long that the ticks of the wall clock fade into the background. Yoona doesn't even realise she's crying until she tries speaking and no words come out. She sniffs, wiping away her tears hastily. "Five... five years. Almost six now."

"My..." Nicole's voice is considerably gentler this time, possibly even tinged with pity. "You've missed a lot, then, Miss Im." There's a short pause.  "I think... I think it would be best if you came here to see things for yourself."

Yoona inhales shakily, pushing back her hair. "Where exactly is 'here'?"

 


 

A/N: Praise the Lord, I have updated!! Short chapter this time; sorry for making you all wait so long once again >.<  I'm not even going to bother with an excuse/explanation, because I'm pretty sure everyone's busy right now and can relate to workload stress. I didn't edit this enough times because I'm so sick of reading over it, so please let me know if there are any mistakes!

I know this chapter is a little confusing because of the blasts from the past, and the 'before's and 'after's; you're probably wondering just what event is between Before and After, but don't worry—I think you'll probably figure it out in or by the next chapter ;) 

Also, on a random note, I'm so happy to be able to update this story with a 10th chapter on my first anniversary on AFF! Today (the 8th of October, 2013) is a year since I got an account on this site, and I know it's not that much of a big deal, but I'm a big believer in milestones, no matter how small the achievement. So as always, thanks for reading this story and sticking with it <3

 

 

    

Like this story? Give it an Upvote!
Thank you!
oneoftheboys
Up-up-update coming up!

Comments

You must be logged in to comment
Fire_trek 274 streak #1
Chapter 16: Brilliant bravo, author nim, bravo 🎉 thank you for this story and all the emotional twists and turns that you put us through as an audience. I’d like to think they had a happily ever after, it brings me a peace of mind and heals my heart. Thank you again
Fire_trek 274 streak #2
Chapter 15: More tears 😭 and sadness, Yoona’s speech at the funeral was heartbreaking. But Luhan’s story to Jongin was beautiful and inspiring and real. Maybe not a happily ever after but a very special moment for him. I’m glad he knows his son and got his memories back. Can we please have a happy ending? Pls!
Fire_trek 274 streak #3
Chapter 14: I’m crying actual literal tears right now. How dare you write something so thought provoking and emotionally damaging for all of us to read? Poor little baby TAEMIN and poor little Jongin. Luhan has a son he doesn’t even know existed, dying and Yoona is nowhere to be found. Le sigh 😔
Fire_trek 274 streak #4
Chapter 13: Is he going to remember? That’s all I want to know and apparently my petition to let Yoona see TAEMIN worked! It’s sad how people talk when they think no one is listening… I hope my heart is not breaking by the end of this (even if I feel like it will)
Fire_trek 274 streak #5
Chapter 12: Luhan pls remember! Yoona just poured he heart out to you and you don’t even know. He can’t even remember poor lil baby TAEMIN! This is really breaking me up and we only have like 3/4 chapters left.
Fire_trek 274 streak #6
Chapter 11: I’m signing the “let Yoona see TAEMIN” petition right now. I know everything is messed up rn with Luhan’s amnesia but at least let her see her kid. I wish Luhan remembered them hopefully he remembers TAEMIN at least. This was such an emotional chapter, but such a good one
Fire_trek 274 streak #7
Chapter 10: Yes! Yes! And yes! Finally Yoona gets that emergency call. (Sad it had to happen but I’m glad it did) oh, Luhan I hope you can at least walk for TAEMIN’s sake. I can’t wait until the next chapter because I know that Yoona and Luhan will be reunited… please?
Fire_trek 274 streak #8
Chapter 9: Little TAEMIN being sick is not good for my little heart. I’m glad that Luhan is an attentive parent and is always on top of everything. I feel bad for him when he called Yoona and received a different message if only he would have called earlier. Also uncle Sehun! I wish he’d tell Yoona about their whereabouts.
Fire_trek 274 streak #9
Chapter 8: Omg Yoona confessed her love for Luhan and Jongin had his first steps and said his first word! So exciting! Now onto the sadness :( TAEMIN will only live to thirty? That’s heartbreaking and Luhan can’t let him leave the hospital for 7 months, that’s ridiculous. Also I’m not ready for chapter 9
Fire_trek 274 streak #10
Chapter 7: Yes, I saw all the SNSD members and some TVXQ members as well, I love little cameos like that. And wow, Luhan, way to leave the country without letting Yoona know only to find out that CF is inherited from both parents smh I hope he contacts her or something. And here I thought at the beginning of the story that Yoona was a bad parent and up and left him. I was totally wrong. I feel bad for both of them