“There are so many fragile things, after all. People break so easily, and so do dreams and hearts.” 
― Neil Gaiman, Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders

On the morning of the  seventeenth day of March, Jaejoong says the word 'please' and means it. In fact, he says it multiple times, fully prepared to get on his knees and beg if his rusty manners aren't enough. He's at the hospital, not in Yoona's place (because she is also here), but because last night, he had thought endlessly about something, and he realised that there is something he needs to do.

Obliviously, Yoona had thanked him for coming along "to look after Jongin" because today, for once, she isn't going to the hospital just to see Taemin. The doctors had asked her to come in, so she'll be gone the whole morning, talking to them.

That leaves Jaejoong alone with Jongin, which is what he wants.

"Do you want to go to the playground?" Jaejoong asks Jongin, though it's just a pleasantry; any child his age would have said yes. There's a playground on the same floor as the children's ward, and for the past two weeks, Jongin has pretty much lived there, carted back and forth between the hospital and the playground without much say. Given his job, Jaejoong knows this part of the hospital just as well as Jongin, so the two of them make their way there without any trouble.

Jaejoong opens the gate for Jongin, but once they're inside the playground, which is currently an empty house, he stops Jongin, getting down on his knees so he's at the same level as the little boy. "I want you to stay here while I go somewhere quickly, okay?"

Jongin frowns. "Where're you going?"

"Somewhere." Jaejoong smiles. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Satisfied with the slow nod Jongin gives him, Jaejoong walks back out, closing the gate behind him. He finds his way to a familiar hallway. His pace slows as he comes closer, and he peers through the window. There is no sign of Yoona, just as she had said.

Jaejoong lets himself into Taemin's room with the silence of white.

There's a nurse and a doctor, both wearing crisp blues and greys, by the bedside, watching over the little boy and talking in hushed, urgent voices.

"Hello," Jaejoong says, startling them both.

"What are you doing here?" the nurse asks, recognising Jaejoong. "Where's Yoona?"

Jaejoong looks past them; Taemin is awake, and as Jaejoong watches, the little boy's eyes travel towards him. He thinks he sees recognition in Taemin's eyes. "She's talking to some other doctors," Jaejoong tells them. "Listen, I was wondering if I could have a favour."

The doctor raises an eyebrow. "A favour?" she repeats.

"Yes. This is literally a matter of life and death, and if you have a heart, I want you, please, to choose life." Jaejoong stops, his eyes flicking from one puzzled face to another. He lowers his voice. "Please. This boy doesn't have much time left, from what I've heard. I want to take him outside one last time."

The nurse raises her eyebrows, aghast. "Absolutely not!"

"Please," Jaejoong begs again. "Taemin hasn't seen anything but the inside of a hospital room for weeks now." The nurse and the doctor exchange an uncertain look, and Jaejoong clenches his jaw. "Look, we all die," he whispers furiously. "But his time is coming sooner than ours, and if he isn't allowed outside, then what right do any of us have? We'll see the outdoors almost every day until we die and we won't think anything of it, but Taemin is living on borrowed time. He'll appreciate it more than we ever can. He'll want to see the sun, the sky."

"How do you know what a little boy wants?"

"I know what I want," Jaejoong says. "And it's to see this little boy happy."

The doctor stares long and hard at Jaejoong, then sighs. "All right," she says finally. "I'd rather this didn't happen, but you have a point. Taemin should live while he's still here."

Jaejoong puts a hand on her shoulder, smiling gratefully. The tears in his eyes are reflected in hers. "Thank you."

"Be careful," is all she says, before she departs the room, the nurse trailing in her wake.

"Thank you," Jaejoong says again.

*

Taemin is cradled in Jaejoong's arms on the way back, connected to his oxygen tank via a nasal cannula, which loops up from the tank and across his cheeks, separating into two short tubes at his nose. Jaejoong had considered getting a wheelchair for the little boy, but had decided against it; Taemin is dying, not crippled. 

"We... going... outside?" Taemin asks in little gasps, eyes darting around, then squinting as fresh sunlight hits him.

"Mmhmm," Jaejoong says, pushing the gate open. Inside, Jongin sees them coming and stops running around. He approaches with wonder in his stance and in his eyes.

"Who's is he?" Jongin asks Jaejoong, looking at Taemin.

Jaejoong carefully sets Taemin down on the floor. Thankfully, Taemin manages to stay on his feet. "Say hi," he encourages to the two of them in general, then steps back.

"Hi," Jongin says first. "I'm Jongin."

Taemin draws in a rattling breath. "...Hi. Tae-min."

"Why you got that thing in your nose?" Jongin asks outright, pointing at Taemin's nasal cannula.

With a small smile, Taemin taps the tube gently. "Breathe," he rasps. "Helps... me."

"Oh," Jongin says in a knowledgeable tone, even though he doesn't really understand. "What's wrong with you?"

Taemin's smile fades, and from a few metres away, Jaejoong's voice is a warning. "Jongin."

Jongin turns his head towards the older man, curiosity still winning out over courtesy, but losing to obedience. "Do you wanna play?" he asks Taemin.

Taemin nods, but he says, "I... can't," tapping his nasal cannula again.

"Yes, you can," Jongin insists without hesitation. With some effort, he takes Taemin's oxygen tank in one arm and Taemin's hand in his other, unoccupied hand, tugging. "Let's go."

Jaejoong starts forward in alarm when he sees what's happening, but eventually slows down, hanging back. Sometimes you just have to let children be children. Isn't that what he had argued to the doctor? Hadn't he argued that freedom was just as, if not more, important as making sure Taemin was comfortable before he died? As his eyes trail the boys' slow progress, Jongin both carrying Taemin's oxygen tank and helping the other boy climb up the stairs, Jaejoong thinks that he has done the right thing. Life isn't comfortable, but it is worth it.

He stands nearby, ready to step in if anything goes wrong, when Jongin settles both Taemin and himself at the top of the slide. It's by no means a smooth ride as they slide down, but Taemin is smiling, and so is Jongin. Jaejoong's own smile is accompanied by a throb in the thumping of his heart.

After his wife had died, he had thought he could never look at children the same. Jaejoong had thought he could never bring himself to care for a child after he lost his chances of having one of his own. Now, as he watches Luhan and Yoona's sons, together but not with their parents present, Jaejoong understands. All these years, he has practically been mourning the loss of a child, of a family that never was. But mourning doesn't always make things better. Right here, right now, Jaejoong could mourn the ill fate of these boys' parents; how, given the circumstances, both Luhan and Yoona could have been here and they would have been a family, even for just a moment.

But as good as that would be, Jaejoong thinks, this still isn't nothing. Jongin and Taemin are together, and that isn't nothing.

A little while later, the two boys come over, gasping for breath, Taemin more than Jongin. Jaejoong finds himself smiling. "Did you guys have fun?"

They both nod, and Jongin helps Taemin sit down; the latter has gone almost purple in the face after so much physical exertion. Jaejoong peers at the sick boy, starting to think that maybe he shouldn't have let them play like that, but as he starts to say something, he  decides against it. The two boys are in their own little world right now; Jongin chattering away, happy to have someone his age to talk to, and Taemin nodding every now and then.

"It's my birthday today," Jongin tells them both.

"Is it?" Jaejoong chokes out a sad little laugh, realising something: Taemin's birthday had been yesterday and he had forgotten.

***

March 18

When Jaejoong took up the job as Luhan's translator six years ago, he had expected to act as the training wheels for a man who would eventually learn how to ride through life in Japan on his own. And while that had happened, the reality of life seems to be that nothing good lasts forever, and in an event too sudden and harsh, the man that Luhan had become was, and still is, buried in the mind of someone who feels as though they've been born again.

The sky is the colour of suicide's lips as dawn darkens and Luhan walks into Jaejoong's apartment. "I had a strange dream the night before last," he tells Jaejoong by way of greeting as he crosses the threshold. "Someone was singing to me."

Jaejoong stares on as his friend walks past him and settles himself on the couch. "What were they singing?" he asks from the door.

"Happy birthday," Luhan says.

Jaejoong trips on the way to the kitchen. "Happy birthday?" he repeats as he rights himself, and the image of two little boys flashes in his mind's eye. "A-are you sure?"

"Not really." But Luhan doesn't sound certain in doubting himself. "Maybe I'm imagining things."

"Maybe," Jaejoong says, but there's no heart in it, either. He starts the kettle, ignoring the way his whole body seems to be holding its breath. "Who was singing?"

"I don't know."

Pause. "You don't know or you can't remember?"

"Either or." Jaejoong can't see him, but there's a shrug in Luhan's voice. "Does it matter?"

"Yes," Jaejoong murmurs under his breath. When his coffee is done, he emerges from the kitchen and sits right on top of the coffee table, opposite Luhan, who raises an eyebrow at his choice of seat.

"I talked to her," Luhan says suddenly. "Your sister," he adds in a quiet voice.

Jaejoong swallows a mouthful of scalding coffee, burning his tongue but glad to be occupied. "And?"

"I told you about how she went a little crazy when she and I were having dinner last week, right?" Luhan looks at Jaejoong, who swears there is desperation in Luhan's eyes. "How she said all those strange things and I told her to get out."

"Yes." Actually, it was Yoona, not Luhan, who had told Jaejoong about that spectacle, but Luhan doesn't know that, and Jaejoong figures he doesn't need to. "What about it?"

"Well, the other night," Luhan fiddles with his hands, "I wanted to clear things up between us, so I waited till Yoona got home, and I invited her in for tea. She looked at me like I'd sprouted a third foot or something." He laughs a little. "I suppose I deserved it. I did pretty much push her out."

Jaejoong leans forward, balanced precariously at the edge of the coffee table; legs crossed, eyes intent. "Did she come in, though?"

"Yeah. We talked for a bit."

"About?" Jaejoong prompts.

A frown crumples Luhan's brow. "See, that's the thing," he says. "She told me about a job opening, then said she had to leave."

"A job opening," Jaejoong echoes, recalling the conversation he'd had with Yoona earlier this week. "Won't they fire him soon if he doesn't come back?"

Luhan nods. "Something about driving a train at the zoo?"

"The Tangerine—"

The rest of Jaejoong's sentence is drowned out by the ringing of the phone. "Express?" Luhan finishes.

With a grunt of annoyance, Jaejoong mutters, "I'll be back," and runs to answer it. He picks up the phone. "Hello?"

"Jaejoong," comes a panicked voice from the other end.

"Hello?" he says again, a little disturbed. "Who is this?"

"It's happening." There's a little sob, and suddenly he knows who it is.

Alarm sharpens Jaejoong's coffee-spiked senses. His ears are crashing, crashing. "Yoona? What's happening?"

"The doctors say he's going," Yoona answers in barely more than a whisper. "Taemin."

Jaejoong swallows; still crashing, crashing. He walks back towards the living room, but doesn't make it far enough to get back to Luhan, and collapses against the wall. Suddenly everything is heavy, and he's swallowed under the sound of children laughing in his ear. "What?" he says, mouth dry.

"Jaejoong?" Luhan calls with concern colouring his tone, having heard the thump of Jaejoong crashing against the wall like high tide.

"He's not gone yet," Yoona tells Jaejoong. "But the doctors say it'll be today."

"Luhan," Jaejoong says to no one in particular; Luhan hears him and thinks it's an answer, Yoona hears him and thinks it's a question.

"It's too late." Yoona's voice quivers. "We've already tried everything with him, you and I. He's lost everything in his own mind."

"Jaejoong?" Luhan calls again, this time much closer. A second later, Jaejoong sees him round the corner, and, taking in the phone, whisper, "Who's that?"

"Yoona," Jaejoong says honestly, then follows with a lie. "She wants to know if you're going to take up that job at the zoo."

Luhan's eyes widen, a little flustered, but he nods all the same. "That's what I was going to tell you," he says. "I was planning on going today. Y'know, just to check it out."

"Did you hear that?" Jaejoong asks Yoona, so low that Luhan can't hear.

"What?" Yoona sounds like someone who's lost in the desert and can't tell night from day.

"He's coming," Jaejoong breathes, lower than before.

"What?" Luhan pipes up, peering at him.

Jaejoong hangs up. "You should go," he tells Luhan, then adds, "To the zoo. Right now."

***

Later

"I'm sorry," Luhan says, glancing sideways at Jaejoong. "If I could drive, I would."

"You can," Jaejoong replies, but doesn't turn his head. "You have a license and all. I just didn't want to see you so close to a car. You know... after the accident."

"Oh." Luhan looks down at his hands. "I almost forgot about that."

"Yeah, just like you've forgotten almost everything else?"

Luhan stares agape at his friend, completely taken aback at the bitterness in Jaejoong's tone. "Did I do something wrong?"

Jaejoong spares him a glance, a fleeting one, but their eyes meet all the same, and Luhan sees that his eyes hold not anger, but defeat. The car draws to a stop on the side of the road, and Jaejoong slumps back against his seat, shoulders deflating and eyes lifted to the roof of the car; there are tears in them. "I'm sorry," he says, and his voice comes out wretched, as if he'd cried himself dry. "You haven't done anything wrong, Luhan. The world has done you wrong. I just wish you could see that."

"I might not be able to remember it like you and everyone else wants me to," Luhan whispers, "but I can feel it. I know what you mean. The world has taken from me. That's why I feel so empty."

"It's a shame," Jaejoong cries. "A bloody shame."

*

They make it to the zoo not ten minutes later, more or less in one piece.

"This is your stop." Jaejoong offers Luhan a smile that only lifts half his mouth and spirit.

Luhan gets out of the car, propping the door open with his elbow as he looks over his shoulder at the zoo. "I don't feel so sure about this, Jaejoong."

Jaejoong leans over, across his seat and the now vacant passenger's. "Trust me," he tells Luhan, "if there's anything you should be sure about, it's this."

***

Earlier

For the first time since arriving in Japan, Yoona is not too early at the hospital. In fact, she is asleep when her phone rings, splitting the peace of unconsciousness, and she is told that she is needed.

"By who?" she asks, still strung by the spell of sleep, but by the time she gets an answer, she already knows. Taemin.

Yoona is out of the door in five, running to the elevator with Jongin still asleep in her arms.

The world has only begun to stir by the time mother and now half-awake son get to the hospital, and Yoona is met in the lobby by one of the doctors she'd been talking to the day before. There is a smile on his face, but it's only one brought out for greetings; underneath it, she can detect the strains of stress, and it comes easily to her because she feels it on her own face, like an unwelcome friend.

"Hi." The doctor holds out a hand that Yoona stares at until he drops it, realising she has a child in her arms and another somewhere far, far from her. "We spoke the other day about your son. Taemin, is it?"

"That's right," Yoona says, impatience barely stifled. She looks around for a familiar face, eyes wandering aimlessly, and as if on cue, Dr. Jung comes skidding down the hall, his glasses as askew as ever. Unlike the doctor in front of her with the mask of polite greetings, Yoona knows the score when she sees the expression on Dr. Jung's face.

"Is he—?"

Dr. Jung shakes his head; he might even have looked disappointed in her if she wasn't Taemin's mother and if things weren't the way they are. "You know what you're here for, Yoona," he says gently. "This is what we discussed."

"But—" Yoona bites her lip, knowing it won't make anything better. Yesterday, she'd come to the hospital and spoken to a group of doctors, all of whom had come to the general agreement that there was nothing left to be done for Taemin except make him as comfortable as possible. But comfort has its limits, it has its time and its place, and deep down, Yoona realises what she's been denying— Taemin's time is coming, his new place is beckoning, and it's not here. Not anymore. She draws in a breath that acts like a second spine. "So it's now, then?"

"Legally, we need your consent," one of the doctors says. She doesn't know who; her eyes aren't looking. "But now is probably the best time."

Yoona wonders when 'now' became a time, just like the word 'was' symbolises things that happened, but no longer grace the present. She hopes she'll never think of Taemin as a 'was'— always a 'now'. "Am I allowed to see him?"

"Of course."

*

Someone has thrown the curtains wide, as if letting an ocean of light in lessens the darkness of a day like this. Inside the room, the only noises are the faraway ticks of a clock, the steady beeps of machines, and the catchings of breath that hold on for dear life.

Yoona steps forward, and for the first time, Jongin is with her in the room, too. She looks down at him, but he's staring at the boy in the bed, dwarfed by the sheets that surround him; white sheets, not yet pulled up, but still there all the same.

A tug comes from her hand; Jongin is pulling a little, as if not wanting to come closer. Yoona's eyes soften. "You don't have to be scared," she whispers. Gently, she leads Jongin forward a little more, bit by bit, until they're at Taemin's bedside.

There's no one else in the room.

Taemin's eyes are half open, milky in the gaps, as if there's a film covering the lens of his eyes; they move back and forth, as if to shake the partial blindness. His chest moves up and down ever so slightly. Ever so.

Yoona had thought she'd be okay, that she'd have to be okay with Jongin here, but she finds herself clutching a hand to her face to stop herself from crying out. There is no escaping this, no waiting for ways out, alternatives, miracles, memories that never were or will be. This is 'now'.

"Taemin," she whispers, and then louder, "Taemin. Can you hear me?"

Slowly, struggling but with determination, Taemin locks eyes with her. If he had the strength to frown, he might have. Opening his mouth, it takes him a few tries to rasp out, "Who're...you?"

Yoona lowers her hand, digging her nails into the palm of her clenched fist to anchor herself. Steady, steady. "Hi," she says, resisting the urge to grab at him, to keep him here by any means necessary. He's alive, he's alive, he's alive now, she thinks. Yoona clears . "I'm your mother, Taemin."

Taemin's eyes roll away, side to side but not looking at her, and Yoona stands abruptly, thinking he's going into cardiac arrest because the machines are beeping faster, but then she realises he's confused, forcing a frown, and the oxygen machine is just working overtime to keep up. He rattles in breaths the way the rain falls in the desert— almost reluctantly. "But..." Taemin wheezes, "Daddy said... Mommy... was far..."

"I'm here now." Yoona surprises herself with the steadiness of her voice. Beside her, there's a little gasp, but Yoona doesn't really register it; she's somewhere distant right now, not here, trying to keep herself together. Don't break, Luhan had said in a note all those years ago at the beginning and end of their story. The thought of it sobers Yoona suddenly. Now she feels herself coming apart, and like all the soldiers who have said their 'Hail Mary's before her, Yoona says a silent apology to Luhan, to Jongin, to Taemin, to everyone she can think of, for all the promises she's ever made.

Taemin doesn't say anything, just looks at her, looks past her, and Yoona follows his eyes and sees something she'd never thought she'd ever see: her sons looking at each other, knowing who they are, knowing what is happening, thinking maybe of what they've unknowingly missed.

There's just one person missing.

Because Yoona believes in second and third and fourth chances, in the balance of all things good and bad, and in hope, she brings out her phone with hands that tremble more than fault-lines. Her fingers hover over the screen, then come to a complete stop when she realises she doesn't have his number.

She calls Jaejoong instead.

*

The second Jaejoong hangs up, Yoona puts the phone down, not caring where, and gets to her feet, beckoning Jongin closer to her. Her hands come down on his shoulders, urgent and shaking. "Jongin, I need you to listen to me very carefully, okay? Mommy has to be somewhere very important right now, so I need you to stay here."

"With Taemin?" Jongin is wide-eyed with a paralysing mix of fear and wonder, and Yoona realises that he's never seen her like this before. She wonders how much older Jongin has grown in these last few minutes, and she's hit with a pang of guilt, but she shoves it down; the time for grief will come later.

"Yes. Don't leave him." She kisses his forehead swiftly. "I'll be back. I love you."

Yoona moves away, slowly at first, not looking at either of her sons. When she does catch a glimpse of Taemin, of Jongin, she turns her back and then she's running, pushing her way out; blind, desperate, and more afraid of the world than she has ever been in her life.

***

It appears to be almost time for the zoo to close, but the staff let him in; some of them murmur to each other under their breath, and Luhan catches the tail-ends of their sentences, hearing things that all sound like, He's back, he's back, he's back.

Luhan shakes his head, as if to disperse their words (or his thoughts). Maybe he'd heard them wrong.

Some instinct that feels less like wandering and impossibly more like familiarity drives his legs around the zoo to where the train station is. There's no one around. The few families and couple still walking around the zoo have avoided this area, and Luhan sees why— there's a sign near the ticket booth that says, Out of Order.

"Hello?" Luhan calls. He hasn't even seen the train yet. "Hel—"

He stops in his tracks. Rising up in front of him is an orange train, parked near the station; there's also a strange noise coming from somewhere. A feeling of nausea creeps into Luhan's throat as he walks around, trailing a hand over the cursive black lettering across the side of the train: Tangerine Express.

"This must be it," he whispers under his breath, then stops. The noise is getting louder; it appears to be nearby. Luhan looks up, and sees for the first time that someone is sitting in the front seat of the Tangerine Express. And that noise— they're crying.

For a moment, Luhan is in two minds about whether or not he should approach the crying person, but it turns out he doesn't need to make a decision. As if sensitive to his thoughts or his presence or whatever it is that makes him alive, the person turns around, and Luhan finds himself meeting eyes with Yoona.

His breath catches. Luhan glances down at the words Tangerine Express beaming out between his fingers, then back up at Yoona, and suddenly everything looks different.

***

Three becomes two in the little hospital room.

Jongin shuffles himself forward, if not for his mother's request to stay with Taemin, then for the bravery he feels he needs to show. At six years old, not everything is clear cut to him, but he knows something here is terribly wrong.

His mom had said that she's Taemin's mother, but that can't be right, can it? Jongin tries to wrap his mind around it, but the fact is that he knows he hasn't had a brother his whole life. No one has ever said anything about it, and he doesn't remember seeing any photos; nothing. The only thing he remembers of Taemin is when they'd played together in the playground the other day with uncle Jaejoong.

Jongin remembers the way Taemin had struggled and couldn't run the way he could. Now, when he glances at Taemin, so small and white and weak, confusion warps Jongin's perspective because the boy looks both different and the same and he doesn't know why; can't explain it. He just knows.

"Hi," Jongin ventures, his voice timid. "Are you 0kay?"

Taemin says nothing.

"Just shake your head if you're not, and move your head up and down like this," Jongin demonstrates, "if you are."

Taemin moves his head but Jongin doesn't know which way it's going. "What does that mean?" Something rises high in Jongin's chest and comes out as tears, which he wipes away in a panic. He doesn't know why he's crying, but Taemin isn't crying, so he shouldn't be, either.

 "Hi... Jongin." Taemin manages a smile.

Jongin looks at him crossly. He hadn't asked for a hello; he wanted to talk. Tears still wet his cheeks and sniffles rack his ribs. "You're my brother," he says simply, not because he believes it, but because it's true; his mom had said so.

Taemin's eyelids begin to droop, and Jongin starts forward in alarm, grabbing his brother's hand. "Don't go to sleep!" he cries. "Mommy will want you to be awake! She said I have to stay with you!"

Another smile curves Taemin's lips, and Jongin feels his hand being squeezed. He looks down at their hands, clutching each other, then back up at Taemin.

But Taemin's eyes are already closed.

A/N: Oh my. 

The next and final chapter will be out on July 20, so please don't ask me to update soon, it'll be out then :)