“Let's start a new tomorrow, today.” 
― Neil Gaiman, Anansi Boys

Luhan is standing on a street corner, and the wind declares that it is not June anymore, poking shots of winter through his thin sweater. Snow paints the streets into a study of monochromatic still life, turning the shop buildings around him into icebergs.

There's a bundle in his arms−Taemin, he thinks. Unconsciously, he pulls his son closer to his body, attempting to shield the little one from the harshest of the cold air. Taemin's frail frame shivers in the wind, and Luhan hugs him even closer.

When did it get so cold?

The thought invokes a frown on Luhan's face. He realises that something's not quite right, because if he remembers correctly, he wore this sweater yesterday, and he's pretty sure that it was June yesterday. June was Taemin's three month mark, and if it's winter now, then Taemin would have to be at least eight months−

His train of thought is cut off abruptly when he looks down and sees that it is not Taemin in his arms. What he had thought was his son is actually a long, long sheet of white paper that spills out of his arms and curls in waves on the floor due to its sheer length. After his attempts to keep the bundle warm, the paper is now crumpled in his arms, the edges of the creased paper crushed harshly against his stomach.

At first, Luhan thinks that the paper is blank, but it doesn't take long for him to realise that something is written on the long white sheet. Bringing it closer to his eyes, Luhan sees that most of the print is numbers; only a tiny section at the top features a straight block of words, which say, Heiwa Clinic Medical Bill.

After the succinct title, the list is just numbers with yen signs attached to them, and beside the numbers are little dot points of words that Luhan presumes to be the things he is being charged for. He can't read most of it, though, because it's all in Japanese.

Luhan's eyes widen as they travel down the costs of the unknown services, which only become more and more expensive as the list goes on. This must be a bill for Taemin's medical expenses, he thinks first. And then, How am I going to pay for all this?

A sudden realisation bursts through his consciousness. If this bundle in his arms is only a bill (albeit a ridiculously long and unreasonable one), and not his son as he had originally thought, then...

 Where is Taemin?

Everything else falls away. Thrown into a complete panic, Luhan drops the bill and looks around. A few streets branch off from the intersection he had found himself standing on, and in a frenzy, he runs down each street one by one, calling Taemin's name. It's useless, he knows, since Taemin can't answer him, but Luhan hopes that perhaps a passerby will notice his distress and offer a helping hand.

But no one does. That's another weird about this place, he realises. There are people here and there, but not even one person listens to his cries, or even spares him a glance.

And no matter where he looks, there is no sign of Taemin.

He's just... gone. How could I not have noticed him disappear?

Luhan sinks to his knees on the street corner where he started, right on top of the now torn pile of paper. His fingers tremble as he runs them through his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it. Never mind that the cold is making his insides hurt. Never mind that everyone is now staring at the man crying in the middle of the street. Never mind everything else, because never had Luhan thought that he would ever, ever forget to look out for his son.

"I'll help you find something to do with your life," someone behind him says.

Slowly, Luhan lowers his hands and twists his torso to look behind him. But there's no one there. His eyes dart around, but just like Taemin, there is no sign of the owner of the voice. It sounds vaguely familiar, though. "Hello?" Luhan calls out, his voice uneven.

"I'll help you find something to do with your life." There it is again.

Luhan clambers to his feet, almost slipping on the bill and snow. Recognition floods his mind, and he remembers now why the voice is familiar. In fact, if he's as sane as he hopes he is, then he is correct in recalling that he had heard it saying the exact same sentence only yesterday. He cups his hands over his mouth and yells, "Jaejoong?" There is no answer. "Jaejoong! Where are you?"

Again, no response. The wind whistles a little louder, as if to chortle at Luhan's misfortune.

The street corner is one of four in the middle of an intersection. Luhan knows already knows that two of the streets are dead ends, because he had run down them in his search for Taemin. He also knows that if his desperation could not help him find Taemin, then he has no hope in finding Jaejoong, either.

"I'll help you find something to do with your life," the voice says for the third time. Luhan is positive that it is Jaejoong's voice, but this time, he can't pin down even a rough guess as to where it is coming from: not behind him, not in front of him, not even above his head, high up in the heavens.

"Jaejoong!" Luhan yells again, over and over. He feels tears starting to wet his cheeks again, blurring his vision. "You said you'd help, but you're not here! Where are you?"

This time, there's a response. An immediate response. But it is only, "I'll help you find something to do with your life" again.

And again, and again, and again.

Jaejoong's voice replays the sentence like a GPS navigator disconnected too early, and soon, all Luhan can hear is, I'll help you find something to do your life, I'll help you find something to do with your life, I'll help you find something to do with your life—

Luhan awakes, and the sound that escapes his mouth is halfway between a gasp and a yell. His chest rises and falls almost as fast as the hummingbird beats of his heart, though both are faster than the clock ticking away on the bedside table. The bedside table, which is not really his yet, in the master bedroom of his new apartment in Japan. Japan, he repeats to himself. Japan; not an unfamiliar street corner covered in snow.

Sweat pastes the front of his shirt to his chest, but he barely feels it as he scrambles over the sheets to check his phone. The month is June; that means it's summer, not winter. And although there is no long receipt in his arms, Taemin is not here. But, Luhan thinks, he should still be three months old, and he should still be at the clinic.

Luhan lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Everything is okay− that is, okay in comparison to what he had just experienced. It was all a dream, he repeats mentally. Just a dream.

The clock announces the time to be some time after midnight and before the time of sane awakening, but Luhan is still too shaken to go back to sleep. Peeling back the sheets, he swings his legs over the edge of the bed one by one, pulling himself to his feet.

The apartment is practically void of noise as Luhan pads through it, the only sound being his feet dragging across the floors, heels occasionally bumping into one another in early-morning disorientation. His throat feels like it is suffering the aftermath of a biblical flood of vodka, so he makes his way to the kitchen, all desires momentarily cancelled out by his need for water.

On the way, Luhan catches a glimpse of Jaejoong, who is still in the apartment, still sprawled on the couch, though the television is now switched off. A mildly amused smirk curved Luhan's lips when he sees that Jaejoong's hand in his pants; clearly, some habits die hard.

His smile fades, however, when he moves on and fills a glass with water in the dark kitchen. In his mind, the dream keeps coming back to him, crystal clear in a way that dreams shouldn't be. It seemed so real, Luhan thinks, involuntarily shivering. Every chilling part of it echoed his fears in reality: losing Taemin, being completely lost and alone...

And that bill. Luhan frowns. Of all the things that had appeared in the dream, he supposes the bill was the most realistic, though the representation of it in the dream had been wildly exaggerated.

Even before he had come to Japan, he had known that Taemin's bills and expenses would be long, what with the treatments and the programs he'd most likely have to be put on. And up until now, money hasn't been much of a worry for Luhan, because along with the savings he had garnered from his well-paying former job (halved, since Yoona should still be receiving the income of his last project), his family are quite well off. A decade of lectures from his mother about the importance of saving is responsible for the bit of his inheritance left in his account; for the first time, Luhan is thankful for that.

But money runs out, and quickly, too. A new worry attaches itself to the growing bank of nagging thoughts at the back of Luhan's mind: What happens when it runs out for me? What will I do then?

The answer that comes to mind immediately is a simple one.

Get a job.

Luhan sighs. It's easier said than done when the visa allowing him to stay in the country has many specifications, especially when he had not listened to half of the explanations concerning the restrictions of the visa. Truth be told, Luhan actually has no idea if he's allowed to get a job on his visa.

So, what now, Luhan? he asks himself. What happens when the money runs out?

Shaking his head as if it will disperse the tiresome thoughts, Luhan pushes his worries out of his mind for the moment and fills another glass of water, draining it in one go. As he's making his way back to his room, passing Jaejoong again (with his hand still in his pants), Luhan decides that later, he'll have to discuss all this with Dr. Jung, who hopefully might just have some answers.

***

The window in Dr. Jung's office would have reflected the clock face that reads five past eight when Luhan lets himself in, had it not been for the layer of fog blurring the outside world into streaks Van Gogh would be proud of. Dr. Jung, of course, takes no notice of his window's artistic capabilities, and looks up at Luhan over the rim of a coffee mug. "Ah, Luhan," he says, by way of greeting. "Here early, I see."

Luhan smiles, albeit a little tightly. "Of course, doctor. I wouldn't waste a minute when my son is involved."

"Oh, yes, yes, Taemin," Dr. Jung says, pushing his glasses further up his nose. The action seems to help him focus. "The results from yesterday's tests are back; I'm sure you're anxious to hear about them. Please, take a seat."

Luhan does as he's told and leans forward on the balls of his heels, bracing himself for the worst. "Is it bad?"

Dr. Jung threads his fingers together, forehead wrinkling. "Last time, I said that before we could figure out a daily program for Taemin, we'd need to know how badly his lungs are affected. And as you saw in the bronchoscopy, Taemin's lungs are definitely more blocked up than they should be for someone his age." He sighs. "Unfortunately, the other tests confirmed this, and furthermore, even for a child with cystic fibrosis, I can say that not only does Taemin have a pretty damaged pair of lungs, but his digestive system is also in a less than desirable state."

Luhan feels like the whole world has come to a standstill; there's a roaring in his ears that's louder than his thoughts. "You mean to say he's worse than you originally thought?"

"Yes," Dr. Jung says, with no preamble. "I know it must be horrible to keep hearing that every aspect of your son's condition is critical, but it's true. The average life expectancy of an infant with cystic fibrosis, in this day and age of medical advances, is fifty years. I'm not going to lie to you: at this stage, I think Taemin has maybe thirty years left."

Thirty years.

That's less than ten years away for me, and it feels like my life has only just begun. Luhan's throat thickens. And if I'm suffering, how much worse will it be for Taemin?

"Thirty years..." Luhan murmurs under his breath. Rain starts trickling from the skies in his eyes, landing on his lap; he doesn't bother wiping them away. "God, doctor, thirty years. That's nothing."

"It's still a life," Dr. Jung says gently. "And there are things we can do to make it a good life for Taemin; possibly even a longer life. He needs serious attention, and he needs it now."

"Okay," Luhan agrees immediately, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. "Okay," he says again. Whatever you need to do, go ahead. Whatever will help my son, I'm happy to accept." His hands have begun shaking; even as he pushes them through his hair, the uncontrollable trembling does not go away.

Dr. Jung nods grimly. "Very well." He takes out a sheet and hands it to Luhan. "I've drawn up a plan of Taemin's program and basic schedule for the next several months. This, of course, will be the first time that he has undergone treatment here at Heiwa Clinic, so I want him to be put into a room for the duration of the seven month process as we figure out what kinds of treatments will best help him."

"Wait, seven months?" Luhan repeats. "You mean−"

"I mean that Taemin will have to be permanently placed in the clinic during the seven month testing and treatment period," Dr. Jung says. "He can still move around the clinic, but he won't be coming home to the apartment with you during that time."

Luhan swallows. At first, nothing seems to be wrong with the whole arrangement. When he thinks about the fact that this is what may just prolong Taemin's life expectancy, seven months is a good exchange for what might just be a few more years for his son.

But those few years are in the future. This is now, and Luhan knows that in the present, seven months feels like a long time when it's spent waiting for something that isn't concrete. He knows that sleeping beside Taemin's bed, or wherever they put him in the clinic, won't always be an option for him. Not for seven months.

So that means that for seven months, Luhan will be coming back alone to his new home every night. If he had thought he felt empty without Yoona, then the thought of being without Taemin is like being the shards of a shattered vase that stopped housing flowers long before its death. The thought makes Luhan feel like he's suffocating. "What... what exactly are you going to be doing with Taemin that will take seven months?"

"Well, like I said, Taemin hasn't been treated here before. Every cystic fibrosis patient is different, and I want to make sure that your son is treated as effectively as possible." Dr. Jung's voice is reasonable. "However, in order to figure out what suits him best, we're going to have to try a lot of different things; the first being, of course, clearing his lungs and making a diet plan. Those things need to be tested over a long period of time in order to gauge their effect on Taemin."

As Luhan listens, he realises that it sounds awfully like Taemin is being used as some kind of guinea pig; treatments and lung-clearing and diet plans− it's not something he thinks that any child should have to go through.

But ultimately, what choice does he have? This is what we came all the way to Japan for, Luhan thinks, remembering suddenly the words Doctor Seo had left him with: "Be prepared to make some sacrifices. And not just little sacrifices. If this is what you're going to do, then I know that you're serious, and if you're serious, then for Taemin, nothing will be too much for you to give up."

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Luhan counts to three in his head to calm himself. Sacrifices are something you're going to have to get used to, he reminds himself. Even if it feels like enough sacrifices have been made already. "All right," he says finally. "How often will I be allowed to see Taemin?"

"As often as you like. You are his father, so there is little I can and, frankly, want to keep you away from. With that in mind, I know seven months is a long time, even if you get to see him every day. So I'm going to give you the whole of today."

Luhan frowns. "What?"

"For today, I'm letting you take Taemin out one last time," Dr. Jung elaborates, surprising Luhan. The doctor's expression morphs into one of sympathy, and he says, in a much softer tone than before, "You can go wherever you want. Fill Taemin's lungs with as much outside air as you can before he goes for seven months without it."

Unbidden, tears begin to well in Luhan's eyes again. "Really?"

"I mean what I say." Dr. Jung nods awkwardly, one hand half-raised as if he intends to rest it on top of Luhan's hand in a sign of reassurance. In the end, the doctor just folds his hands together again and clears his throat. "Well, what are you still doing here? I bet you're anxious to see Taemin."

Luhan begins to rise out of his seat, but then he remembers something. "Oh, Dr. Jung, before I go... there's something I wanted to ask you."

"I'm listening."

"Last night−well, this morning, actually−I was thinking," Luhan says, "and I realised that I don't actually know if I'm allowed to get a job here. I was wondering if you might know anything about that."

"A job?" Dr. Jung repeats absently, reaching into a drawer and pulling out some papers; there seems to be an endless supply of papers in the room, Luhan thinks. "Hmm. From my knowledge, the visa you used to get into the country was dependent on Taemin's treatment; that is, without Taemin, you'd have no reason to be here. Is that right?"

Luhan nods. "I'm pretty sure."

Dr. Jung taps his fingers on the table, eyes narrowed pensively. "I've seen cases like yours before, with other foreign parents and families coming in to Heiwa Clinic, and if I remember correctly, they were allowed to work. But there's a catch."

Luhan's stomach drops. "What's the catch?"

"Well, since you didn't come on a work visa, you don't have the security of a specific profession or an employer," Dr. Jung explains. "Which basically means that because you don't have any employers who asked for you specifically to come to Japan, you'll have to look for a job on your own. But I imagine that you know all the interviews and paper work involved in the process of applying for a well-paying job. And in a country whose main language isn't one you speak, applying for a job will be quite hard, let alone interacting daily with others in a Japanese speaking environment. Personally, I would wait. Especially when Taemin's condition at the moment is cloudy."

Disappointment rings in Luhan's mind. He hadn't thought about the importance of being able to speak Japanese in the daily business of a job in Japan. Luhan scoffs at himself inwardly. How stupid of me.

Luhan sighs. "Maybe I'll just have to wait, then. And in the meantime, I'll have to study up," he adds, smiling half-heartedly, though on the inside, he's beginning to tear himself up with worry.

***

Being Luhan's personal translator, chauffeur and self-appointed best friend aren't the only things in Jaejoong's job description. Apparently, he is also the avid wanderer (which doesn't surprise Luhan at all), which Luhan finds out when he broaches the topic of "Is there anything fun to do around here?" as he straps Taemin into a baby booster in the back seat of the car.

Jaejoong's eyes light up, and he begins babbling. "Well, there's this club that sells−" he pauses, realising, for what seems to be the first time, that Taemin is with them. "Wait, you mean fun things to do around the city with Taemin?" Jaejoong asks.

"Yeah. No clubs." Luhan isn't willing to take any risks and slides into the seat right next to Taemin instead of buckling himself into the passenger seat like before. "Fun things that are appropriate for kids his age."

Jaejoong frowns, eyes looking skyward as he picks his brain for an answer. "I know there are a few nurseries and playgrounds and stuff in the city, but I have no idea where they are."

"No, no, that's not what I was thinking, anyway." On this last day, Luhan wants to take Taemin somewhere away from the confines of four walls. "Something like a carnival, but just...not as busy."

Jaejoong's eyes light up. "How about the zoo?"

***

One of three things that Yoona discovers at 3am on one particular morning is that to feel unloved is not a finite emotion. It is greater than any ocean, because land, cliffs, and mountains stand in the way of seas, but nothing stands in the way of a broken heart, especially when you are alone. There is no grace in being lonely when the feeling anchors itself into your heart and hooks its fingers through your rib cage.

All her life, Yoona has been told that she has grace and poise, but right now, there is no one to tell her that; Yuri, she knows, won't lie, and won't say anything she isn't asked or required or wants to say. And in any case, Yuri is downstairs right now, buried under a blanket and snoring the night away.

Sitting cross-legged on her bed, Yoona can't help but wonder if somewhere− wherever that somewhere might be−Luhan is awake, too, doing what she is doing.

"No," she mutters under her breath, pushing back waves of her hair away from her face. "You can't be doing this, Lu, because you left me." In her hands is their wedding photo, and as she speaks, her thumbs graze their smiling faces, trailing down Luhan's cheek. "I don't know why you left, but it was obviously so important that you had to leave me and Jongin. And I guess... I guess I thought you'd always be there; I got used to it."

She's crying now. For weeks, this is something she has been trying to suppress, but holding back emotions is hard when you have a child to look after, and no outlet for your feelings. If she knew how to contact Luhan, then maybe it would be that little bit easier. Maybe she could write, or call, or do something. Maybe she could talk to him for real, instead of speaking to him through a photograph that she hasn't looked at until now.

The second thing Yoona learns on this morning is that you will always want to talk to someone more, and you will always have something more to say, when they are no longer there.

Yoona laughs a little, imagining how embarrassed Luhan would be if she was saying all this to his face. Her smile fades, though, when she realises that even if Luhan would be embarrassed, maybe even alarmed, to see or hear her like this, she still would give anything to talk to him right now.

Why did you leave? she asks the smiling Luhan in the picture silently. Honestly, I can't think of a possible reason why. Did you just get tired of me? Maybe you did. Maybe that's why you didn't even tell Sehun or Junmyeon why you left. Everyone expected you to love me, and I guess you just got tired of trying, of pretending.

Is that it?

The Luhan in the wedding picture says nothing, keeps smiling at her like she's the photographer telling him to stand a little straighter, smile a little brighter, hold his new wife a little closer. Yoona's eyes crinkle as they pass over the tentative hand Luhan has around her waist in the photo.

"You were always so careful around me," she says quietly. "After we found out about the twins, you were scared, I know. I was, too. But you stayed. You stayed and looked after me, and I shouldn't have taken that for granted."

All that time, you stayed, and you loved me.

What changed?

"I wish I knew," Yoona whispers. "I wish I knew why you loved me; why you stayed, why you left."

Her eyes inch away from the photo, gaze landing on the note lying a few centimetres away from her foot. The little shred of white paper that says, Please don't break. "I wish I knew, too, what this means." Yoona feels insane as she holds the note in front of the Luhan in the photo. "Are you asking me not to fall apart? Because I am. I can't help it. And you know, it took me a long while to realise why I fell apart so badly. I still don't know, to be honest."

She frowns a little. "But, I guess... I think the reason why I'm breaking so badly is because right now, I know too much about myself and how I feel, but I don't know about you. I realise now that I needed you more than I thought I did. And I still need you."

Yoona remembers the list she and Yuri had written a few months ago, and how there was one thing she hadn't written on that list: the question of whether or not she loves Luhan. She has an answer now.

 "I need you because I love you," Yoona whispers, and for a moment, Luhan feels like more than just a photograph. This is the third thing  she learns on this particular morning, at three am: you need someone because you love them; not the other way around. "I told myself that I couldn't and wouldn't love you, and God, Luhan, I ended up losing to myself. And now, I'm wondering if you told yourself the same things as I did. I'm wondering if maybe you lost to yourself, too."

Often when someone is right in front of you, you don't think you need to tell them that you love them. Sometimes you don't even know that you love them, and sometimes you do, but you just don't know why. Sometimes, people fall in love when they don't want to, and that's just the way it is.

"There must have been a thousand little moments where I was on the brink of falling in love with you, before I stopped myself. I thought it was because I didn't think I could love you enough, but I know now that I was scared," Yoona admits. "To be honest, I'm still scared, but for different reasons. Do you know why?"

She gets no answer from Luhan, but she didn't expect one, anyway.

Despite everything, Yoona smiles. "Because I forgive you. I forgive you for leaving."

***

"I hate the zoo," Jaejoong mutters.

Luhan frowns. "Weren't you the one who suggested the idea of going to the zoo?"

"Well, yeah, but only because it's the only place I could think of."

Luhan looks around, patting Taemin's back absently as the latter splutters a little. All around them, there are clusters of little families, parents pushing strollers, and other parents carrying their children like Luhan is. It all looks quite ordinary, and if it wasn't for the sign above the entrance, Luhan thinks he wouldn't have been able to tell that it was a zoo. "What's so bad about the zoo?"

Jaejoong dodges a woman with three kids and no husband in sight; Luhan notices his companion eyeing the little family with an unreadable expression in his eyes. "I don't like the zoo because of that," Jaejoong murmurs, pointing with his chin in the direction of the woman and the three kids. "My wife used to talk about how we'd have lots of little kids and take them to this zoo on our days off work. Seeing families here makes me think of what could have been."

"Oh," Luhan mumbles, remembering where Jaejoong's wife is. "We can go somewhere else if you want−" he begins, but Jaejoong shakes his head.

"Well, we're here now, so there's no point leaving. Besides, this afternoon isn't about me. It's about Taemin," Jaejoong says, pasting on a smile; it's no use, though. Although his lips paint a sunny picture, the pain, bubbling beneath his irises, is still there.

Luhan knows how that feels.

The three of them purchase tickets and walk through the gate, following the human wave, which trails inside before breaking off into all different directions. Jaejoong seems to relax a little as he shoves his hands into his pocket. "This is the oldest zoo in Japan," he informs Luhan.

"Really?" Luhan's senses heighten. "What kinds of animals do they have here?"

Jaejoong shrugs. "It seems to change every time I come here," he says. "But they should have pandas tigers, gorillas... Maybe even some penguins and zebras if we're lucky."

"Did you hear that, Tae? Pandas!" Luhan gasps, trying to excite the three month old in his arms, though all Taemin seems to want to do is stare at everything like he's seeing the world for the first time; in a way, he kind of is. The look on his face almost makes his father laugh; Luhan can only imagine how weird it must be for Taemin, to see and smell and hear such new and different things.

After a moment of simply drinking in Taemin's absurd expression, Luhan realises that Jaejoong is waiting. "Let's just walk around," Luhan decides. "We'll see where our feet take us."

The places their feet take them turn out to be a red panda habitat, a gorilla enclosure (which frightens the living daylights out of Taemin), and a little corner of Australian animals ("Look, Jaejoong, you and that animal have the same hair. Except that animal is cleaner.").

By the time they're finished gawking at the kangaroos and trying to amuse Taemin by doing impersonations and embarrassing themselves in public, Luhan is exhausted and wishes he had brought a stroller.

"Here," Jaejoong offers, holding out his arms. "I'll hold him for a while."

Luhan hesitates. "Are you sure?" When Jaejoong nods, he carefully hands Taemin over. He's just about to instruct Jaejoong on the best way to hold a baby, but it seems like Jaejoong already knows well enough. Except for the fact that he's trying a little too hard to be gentle, Luhan thinks that Jaejoong looks like someone who is accustomed to holding babies; he wonders briefly why that might be, before chuckling at the look of worry on Jaejoong's face. "How about we go and get some ice cream?"

After buying ice cream−strawberry for Luhan, and mango for Jaejoong−Taemin is back in his father's arms, and the trio are strolling at a leisurely pace down a path bordered by willowy trees dressed in shawls of jade leaves. 

At the end of the walkway, a little shelter splits the path in half, and it takes Luhan a moment to realise (using his cursory grip of Hiragana to decipher the faded sign) that it is a small train station, albeit one that now appears to be disused. His guess is confirmed when he spots a train, of the variety small enough to be driven without rails, standing idle just off the side of the station.

The train is a shade of mellow orange all over, down to the cowcatcher out the front and the little orange '3' on the headlamp. An ache stabs Luhan in the gut when he realises that the train is almost an exact copy of Taemin and Jongin's matching tangerine toy trains, and he wonders suddenly if Yoona has noticed that the train back in Korea has the wrong initials on it.

Luhan imagines himself and Taemin sitting in one of the carriages trailing behind the train. The little boxes, orange inside and out, look like they'll fit no more than two people. Windows big enough to stick your whole body out of frame the train's body, designed to allow the passengers to soak in their surroundings whilst riding around the zoo, which Luhan thinks would be a nice way to spend the day.

Except there aren't very many visitors to the zoo stopping by the lonely train station; most of them seem to ignore its existence and walk straight past. However, Luhan notices that lingering near the train are a few men in staff uniform, and judging by their body language, he guesses that they're having some trouble.

Curiosity drives him closer to the group of people. Jaejoong stays close and hovers behind him like a second shadow, hissing, "Luhan, where are you going?"

Luhan ignores him. As they near, Luhan hears the staff's voices rise in what might soon become a heated argument, though he doesn't understand what they are fighting about. "What's going on?" he asks Jaejoong in a whisper.

"They... seem to be arguing about that train over there," Jaejoong replies, pointing. "It's not working, and none of them know how to fix it; one is saying that they should just get rid of it, and the other is arguing that losing the train would be a bad business and cultural move."

Luhan watches the men argue, trying to slide Jaejoong's words and explanation into the gaps of their conversation that he doesn't understand. "Why isn't the train working?"

Jaejoong shrugs. "I don't know. They don't seem to know, either. It seems to be a technical problem they can't figure out."

A technical problem? Luhan's heart lurches. "I think I can help them." His mouth moves rapidly, alarming Jaejoong. "Come with me; I'll need you to translate."

Leaving Jaejoong blabbering in confusion, Luhan heads straight for the circle of zoo staff and, to their bewilderment, greets them quickly in Japanese. When Jaejoong has come to his senses and is standing beside him again, Luhan says, "Ask them what's wrong with the train."

Despite his confusion, Jaejoong obeys and after conferring with the staff, he turns back to Luhan. "They said that the man who used to drive this train quit recently, and they can't find someone who will both maintain and drive the train full-time, because all the job applicants aren't engineers, and therefore aren't qualified to do half the job."

In a split second, Luhan's eyes light up like a casino sign in the middle of an African night sky. A voice at the back of his mind chides him, urging him not to get his hopes up, but he can't contain the excitement in his voice. "Tell them I'm an engineer."

Jaejoong raises his eyebrows. "Are you really, though?"

Luhan nods impatiently. "I wouldn't be claiming to be one if I wasn't, now would I?"

Shaking his head and muttering, You never told me you were an engineer, Jaejoong turns back to the staff and relays the message. Luhan is pleased when Jaejoong garners an almost instant reaction of surprise and, even more importantly, fresh looks from the eyes of the staff. A man in the overalls of the staff uniform breaks apart from the group and shakes Luhan's hand, saying something that Luhan doesn't understand in terms of verbal comprehension; his body language, however, makes it clear what he is saying even before Jaejoong translates his words into Korean for Luhan.

"They have an offer for you."

***

"Tangerine Express," Luhan reads aloud, sweeping his eyes over the train's name, which is painted on the side of its orange body in cursive black letters. It's been a while since he has smiled for real, but he smiles now as his eyes pass over the Tangerine Express, because between his lips is the prospect of a job; something he hadn't thought would come to him so soon.

They're willing to take you if you can prove that you can fix the train, Jaejoong had translated yesterday, and Luhan had all but jumped at the opportunity.

After all, this won't be just a job to Luhan if he succeeds− it will be a livelihood, something that'll give his life a little more meaning. He had initially feared that he would have to build more skills other than his proficiency in Japanese in order to be employable, but by some shot of luck, the months of preparation and work that he had envisioned putting into finding a new occupation disappeared.

An engineer who drives a kid's train at the zoo, Luhan thinks. It's not what he imagined, but surprisingly, it is within his range of skills.

He smiles. It turns out that unlike Luhan's nightmare of snow and receipts and a missing son, the real Jaejoong had helped him find a job. I'll help you find something to do with your life; even now, Luhan remembers the voice all too clearly. Before, those words had made his head pulse painfully, but now, they soften his smile, and he thinks to himself, You did, Jaejoong. You did.

This morning, after saying his goodbyes to Taemin at Heiwa, Luhan had come back to the zoo, ready to start repairs on the train. Jaejoong had insisted on accompanying him, and now, eight hours later, Luhan is standing with his hands on his hips, overalls covered in grease splatters and elbows raw from propping themselves up on the asphalt.

Now, all that's left for Luhan to do is wait until one of the staff comes down to test out the train and examine his work.

Beside him, Jaejoong is muttering things about how this better work, and where is this guy anyway, he said he'd be here fifteen minutes ago (which is true), and Luhan laughs, remarking that Jaejoong is more nervous than him, even though he's not the one going for a job.

"I'm not," Jaejoong insists, and mutters, "Finally" under his breath when a man in staff overalls rounds the corner; Luhan elbows Jaejoong in the ribs.

The man looks from Luhan to Jaejoong to the train, and back to Luhan. "Are you finished?" he asks in Japanese, and Luhan understands, nodding.

"It's ready," comes Luhan's response, and he hopes silently that the Japanese coming out of his mouth doesn't sound like garbled Chinese.

Apparently it doesn't. The man seems to understand and nods, climbing lithely into the driver's seat of the train cab. With a flick of his wrist, the man revs the Tangerine Express to life. Unlike a steam train, or any other train, Luhan knows, after spending hours on its repairs, that the Tangerine Express is more like a glorified limousine with carriages, since its controls and the skills needed to drive it are practically the same as a normal car.

When Luhan does nothing but stare, the man huffs impatiently and beckons for him to climb aboard and sit in the carriage right behind the driver's seat. Feeling foolish, Luhan obeys and takes his allocated seat. And after Jaejoong−who seemed to have made the split second realisation that when the train drives off, he'll be alone at the station if he doesn't come along−climbs on after Luhan, the Tangerine Express starts its circuit around the zoo.

Along the way, Luhan gets a taste of the sights of the zoo that he hadn't got to see yesterday. The patchwork of the habitats of both exotic and native animals are successful in distracting him from the tense fear coiled up in his stomach that the train would not operate properly.

Since opening its gates a few hours ago, the crowds are still leaking in at a steady pace, and the Tangerine Express chugs past children with little pink o's for mouths, staring with wide eyes at the orange train and pointing, tugging on the shirts of their parents with exclamations of, Look, look at that! I want to ride that!

Luhan smiles, leaning out the window and waving at the children who try to run alongside the train. The breeze lapping against his face is just the right balance between calm and sharp, and if Luhan had to paint a picture of the way he feels right now, he would paint a canvas of orange skies in the middle of winter. Truth be told, the only thing he thinks would make this perfect would be Taemin in his lap, and Yoona beside him, with her hand in his, and Jongin in her arms.

His thoughts are cut short when the train comes to a stop, and Luhan realises with a start that the Tangerine Express has come back to the station; back to where they had started. It takes a few moments for it to sink in, and when it does, he looks at Jaejoong with wide eyes.

"The train made it all the way around the zoo," Luhan whispers, stunned, even though this is what he had hoped for. "That means I fixed it, right?"

The answer to Luhan's question comes in the form of a grin on the man's face, the one who had been driving, when he clambers out of the driver's seat. He extends his hand out to Luhan.

At first, Luhan thinks that the man wants to shake his hand, but when he looks down at the man's hand, he sees the keys for the Tangerine Express in his palm. The man shakes his hand, almost impatiently, urging Luhan to take the keys.

Luhan reaches out and closes his hand around the keys, relishing how the metal feels like a first place medal in the grasp of his clammy palm. Smiling wider, the man inclines his head, and says, "O-tsukaresama dea."

Nice work.

***

Black coffee scent particles permeate the air of the kitchen as Yoona looks through the cupboards for something decent enough to piece together for breakfast. Right now it's one of those rare mornings when Jongin is asleep and she has the peace of the morning air to herself. The silence is odd, like an autumn day that hasn't yet decided whether or not to be warm.

A little post-it note scrawled across in Yuri's handwriting on the kitchen bench says, "Just going out to run some errands. I'll be back soon!" and as Yoona eyes pass over it, she feels herself nodding, as if in reassurance that, it's okay, Yoona, you're not alone.

It scares Yoona how unstable she has become.

A sharp sound cuts through the quiet, making Yoona jump. It takes her a moment to realise that the phone is ringing; it feels like so long since someone last called. The last phone call that sticks to her memory is the one in which she had last heard Luhan's voice.

What if it's Luhan?

Suddenly, she is practically tripping over herself to answer the phone. "Hello?"

"Yoona... hi," someone, definitely not Luhan, says. There's an awkward pause that seems to echo down the line.

Yoona frowns, because of all the voices aside from Luhan's that she had expected to hear, this one was among the last. "Sehun?"

"Yeah, it's me," Sehun replies. "Listen, I was wondering if you like cupcakes."

***

"What's next?"

"Half a cup of caster sugar," Yoona says, reading off the recipe. Noon sunlight is thirty minutes away from spilling its guts through the windows. It's been almost two hours since Sehun called her and now, she is standing beside him with an apron around her waist, despite the fact that she doesn't really need it, since Sehun is doing eighty percent of the baking, anyway.

Sehun nods silently, and adds the half cup of caster sugar to the large mixing bowl. Quiet makes a home between the two of them, and he senses that just like himself, Yoona is a little lost in her thoughts, wandering around her mind with no road map. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Yoona's eyes slide closed, but he doesn't say anything. If she wants to tell him what's wrong, then he will listen, but if she doesn't, then Sehun knows that he has no right to force it out of her. After all, there are secrets he's hiding from her, too, and he's still sorry for that.

Moments pass, and only when Sehun starts mixing the ingredients together does Yoona break her silence. "Sehun, why are we doing this?"

Pause. "Baking? It keeps me calm," Sehun murmurs finally, keeping his eyes on the stand-mixer, which is churning away at the bowl of cupcake mix. It's only a fraction of the truth. I'm doing this as an apology to you, Yoona, he thinks. I could have just done this alone, but I owe you, since I know more about Luhan's whereabouts than you ever will, and for that, I want to say sorry, but I can't. I know what a difference something as small as the truth can make. But I can't tell you the truth. "Yoona?"

"Hmm?"

"Did Luhan tell you that I was adopted?"

Hesitantly, Yoona nods. "I'm sorry if it was information you'd rather have kept private−"

"No, no, it's okay. You don't have to be sorry." Sehun smiles kindly. "It's been years since I moved on from it. I'm okay now. But the reason I'm bringing it up is because I want to know that you'll be okay."

Yoona frowns. "What do you mean...?"

He sighs, looking down at his hands. "When I first found out that I was adopted, I kept thinking about how heartless my parents must have been if they thought abandoning me was the best choice. But... eventually, I came to realise that maybe they had no choice. That thought was hard to accept, though. I mean, how do you put it through your head that your parents couldn't have done anything for you? Parents are some of the only people in your life who you expect to always be there, and when they're not, it's hard to swallow."

Sehun watches Yoona nod, tears beginning to prick her eyes. She must know, he thinks. She must know what it's like.

"But through it all," he continues, "Luhan was there for me; he always has. He may not be my brother by blood, but here"−Sehun pats the place over his heart−"as cheesy as it sounds, he's my brother here. In my heart. And that's the thought that kept me sane all those years." Clearing his throat," Sehun moves on. "Anyway, my point is that right now, I don't know where Luhan is"−and it's half the truth−"but I just want you to know that maybe his reason for leaving was the same as my parents. Maybe he had no choice."

Slowly, Yoona shakes her head. "I've been thinking about that. But it's just−"

Sehun nods. "I know. I know you're probably finding it hard to think about. But all we can do is trust him. And in the meantime, I want you to remember that even though at school, we've practically been strangers, I'm your brother-in-law." He laughs, and she does, too. "That's weird to say out loud, isn't it? I'm not your real brother, but then again, Luhan isn't really my real brother, and that never stopped him. So, I'll be here for you like he was there for me. And this is how I decided I would reach out to you." He smiles sheepishly. "By baking cupcakes."

When he looks at Yoona, she's blinking violently, as if she's willing the tears in her eyes to let themselves be destroyed by aggressive blinks. She clears . "You know, chocolate cupcakes have always been my favourite."

"Really?" Sehun laughs, pretending not to notice that she had changed the topic; if he was her, he would have done the same. "Well, I hope I don't disappoint. To be honest, I'm not even that good at baking, but Kris has always been keen on it, so he's teaching me. I think he must have been a housewife in his previous life."

Yoona laughs, though the sound is a little sad. "I've never been much of a housewife. Or just a wife, really."

*

When the cupcakes are finished, Sehun puts them on a cooling rack and takes them out onto the balcony, beckoning for Yoona, who is still in her apron, to follow. Down below, the cars are crawling lethargically along the roads like drugged bugs, stuck more in the jam of life than the jam of traffic. Frustration practically swims through the air like slippery eels.

A few minutes ago, Yoona felt the same way as the drivers in the cars, but right now it's hard to feel dragged down on the inside when she's sitting on a balcony, high above the world, with Sehun beside her, offering her a fresh cupcake. On the outside, they look like two friends, maybe two classmates to those who know them vaguely; two people who know each other well.

The truth, though, is that they don't know each other all that well. But today has made Yoona realise that maybe getting to know Sehun a little better is something she hasn't done, but should do. It's something she wants to do. And she's willing to start here.

Yoona takes the cupcake he's offering her. When she looks down, she sees that Sehun had hurriedly iced this one with a smiley face that has a wonky eye. She grins, eyes narrowing in genuine happiness as she glances back up at him. "Sehun?"

Sehun looks up from his cupcake, crumbs dotting his chin. "Yeah?"

Yoona tries not to laugh, and fails miserably. "Thanks."

He smiles, knowing without having to ask that she's not just thanking him for the wonky-eyed smiley face, and his eyes say, It's okay. We'll be okay.

***

7 months later

Monday morning dew dots the windows as Yoona gets out of bed, carrying Jongin in her arms. He's only just started blinking himself into consciousness, but within seconds of realising that his mother is holding him, Jongin immediately wakes up. With a bright-eyed grin, he begins to play with Yoona's cheeks, pulling her ears experimentally.

"Ow, ow, ow," Yoona mutters, trying to dodge his chubby hands. "Baby, you're hurting mommy."

Jongin, of course, pays no attention to her, and continues using her face as his personal block of sculpting clay, gurgling in his infant's version of a delighted giggle. Yuri looks up from her cereal as mother and son enter the kitchen. "Up and at it as usual, I see?" she comments with amusement.

"Yep." Yoona brings out her double chin as she exerts some extra effort into pulling Jongin away from her body. "Hey, Yul, look at this."

Yoona sets Jongin on the floor and helps him to his feet, her hands holding tightly onto his. Slowly, she guides him forward, keeping him upright as he takes one wobbly step forward, then two. Laughing, Yoona is about to put on an imitation of Jongin's voice to say, Auntie Yuri, look, I can walk! when suddenly, Jongin's grip on her hands starts to loosen.

At first, Yoona senses danger and thinks that Jongin is about to slip and fall, but when she tightens her hold, he frowns and tries to pull away.

It takes her a moment to realise that he wants to be let go of; he wants to walk on his own.

After a few seconds of stunned hesitation, Yoona swallows and lets go, hands ready to catch him if he falls.

But he doesn't; at least not at first. Jongin is now just past the ten month mark of his life, and now, right in front of his mother's eyes, he is taking his very first, unassisted steps. Yoona's mouth drops open, and in her excitement, her hands fly up to her face, though whether it is to wipe away tears or cover , she isn't sure; maybe both at the same time.

Jongin only takes about three steps before losing his balance, and Yoona isn't ready to catch him because her hands are no longer within a close enough proximity to his body. So he falls, right down onto his bottom, with a solid thump. And he says, "Ow."

Unlike other children, Jongin doesn't burst into tears. Instead, he looks utterly shocked at his sudden fall, and says, "Ow" over and over, echoing his mother's exclamations from before, when he had pulled her ears. It's enough to stir Yoona into a flurry; his first steps and his first word, all in one day.

Amidst a thick throat pushing out laughter and holding back tears, Yoona is exclaiming a million things along the lines of Oh my gosh, is this really happening, as she descends on Jongin. As she picks Jongin up, somewhere in the background, she can hear Yuri clapping her hands and squealing.

It isn't long before the tears spill out of Yoona's heart and eyes. They are tears born from what she will later consider one of the happiest moments of her life, but also tears of regret.

Through the tears of happiness, she is smiling because Jongin just passed one of the most important milestones in his life; his first steps and his first word. These two moments aren't events that happen every day. They only happen once. And after that, they don't happen again, because the moments have passed and don't need to happen again.

Some part of Yoona wishes that Jongin's first steps and his first word didn't have to happen just once, but there is no rewind button on the clock of life, and the tears of regret in Yoona's eyes are part of the voice in her mind reminding her that time won't rewind for Luhan.

Luhan had missed seeing Jongin's first steps, and it takes all of Yoona's strength not to break down when she wonders suddenly if she has missed a milestone in Taemin's life, too.

***

Jaejoong leans against the Tangerine Express, extending his wrist to check the time: 18:00.

Six in the afternoon on this particular day means that the zoo has been closed to the public for two hours, but the lanyard around Jaejoong's neck is for staff member no. 161, Lu Han, and so are the overalls he's wearing. In fact, if anyone who wasn't a member of the zoo staff walked past, they'd be fooled into thinking that the red-haired man is train driver of the Tangerine Express. He certainly looks the part.

But in reality, the real driver of the Tangerine Express is probably a few kilometres away, on his way to the zoo, with his son. Jaejoong looks at his wristwatch again. Any minute now.

He wonders briefly how Taemin is doing, because over the seven months that the poor child was confined to the clinic for, Luhan had refused to go into specifics about his son's condition. Years of working at Heiwa have taught Jaejoong a thing or two, and he knows that  silence means that Luhan must be harbouring some information that would be too painful to say out loud. 

Jaejoong hopes that he's wrong.

Looking up, he sees a figure approaching. A smile splits the anxiety on his face, and Jaejoong comes forward, shaking his head in feigned annoyance. "Took you long enough."

*

For today, Jaejoong is in the driver's seat of the Tangerine Express, and Luhan is sitting in the carriage behind, with Taemin on his lap.

Luhan smiles as he remembers the first time he saw the Tangerine Express, and how he had imagined sitting in this very seat with Taemin. After hearing that Taemin would be confined to the clinic for seven months, little luxuries, like his dream of sitting here with his eldest son, were thrown into the hands of unlikelihood. But now, it's finally becoming a reality.

For seven months, Luhan had driven two seasons worth of children and families around the zoo. He had seen every part of the zoo without ever having to physically set foot in some areas, and he had learnt to read happiness from the faces of parents, not their children. Most of the parents were friendly enough to have a laugh and stop to chat to him before, after, and even during train rides. Some families, he discovered, came from the other side of the world, while some lived not too far away from him. He'd even received invitations to dinner, all of which he had politely declined.

However, despite the variety of questions and answers he'd received, there was always one question that cropped up more than once a week, which was: You seem good with kids, so you must have children, right?

And he'd say, Yes, I have two sons.

After that, there would be exclamations of, Ahh, that makes sense, or, your sons must be happy that their dad has such a cool job. I bet they love riding the Tangerine Express.

And that was when Luhan would just nod, because on the inside, he'd be thinking, I wish you were right. Truth be told, neither of my sons have actually been on the Tangerine Express. They're not even old enough to miss each other, let alone be aware that I drive a train. On the outside, he'd smile and agree with their assumptions, because they didn't need to know that the truth was the complete opposite.

Right now, though, the reality is looking up for Luhan. There will be time later, he knows, to mull over the results of Taemin's latest medical examinations and tests, but for now, his focus is on spending time with his son.

For seven months, his arms had felt so empty without the weight of Taemin filling them. Now, after gaining a little weight, Luhan feels as though he could cry of happiness at how heavy Taemin is. It's a tiny detail, something insignificant in the business of life, but to Luhan, it's sunshine on a platter, because even if Taemin is still sick and will always be sick, he's looking better.

"Taemin-ah," Luhan says softly, thrilled when Taemin seems to recognise his own name and stares at him. "Daddy missed you so much. Did you miss me?"

Taemin just blinks in response, but it's enough for Luhan. Wiping away tears with shaky laughter, Luhan points out the window. "Do you remember this place, Taemin-ah? This is the zoo."

Blink.

"Daddy works here now. I drive this train," Luhan continues. "But this is my first time riding it. I wanted to ride it for the first time with you." He laughs, shaking Taemin's limbs in an attempt to put feeling into his son's expression. "Isn't this fun? Look, the train is moving fast. Uncle Jaejoong drives too fast."

"No, you just drive too slow," Jaejoong calls over his shoulder.

Luhan laughs, sticking his face out the window. The wind buffets his hair, and he's tempted to close his eyes and savour the peace of the breeze, but he's more interested in seeing Taemin's reaction.

To Luhan's bewilderment, Taemin's face is contorted in an expression that he hasn't ever seen before. Only when Luhan sticks his head out of the window again, allowing the wind to whip his hair, does he realise what the expression on Taemin's face is.

He leans closer, and then he hears it.

Taemin is laughing. It's a frail sound, but it's laughter all the same.

Luhan's insides seem to explode with more happiness than he thought existed in the world. "You're laughing," he breathes, stunned. Tears dot his vision as he points out the window. "Do you want to try?"

Taemin says nothing, of course, but Luhan takes his expression as a yes, and shuffles Taemin across his lap so that his face is just poking out the window, within the range of the wind's cool fingers. Luhan laughs when Taemin squeezes his eyes shut instinctively to protect his eyeballs from drying out.

After a second or two, Luhan brings Taemin away from the window, bursting into laughter when he sees the state of Taemin's hair. Over the seven months, someone must have arranged a hair cut for Taemin. His hair, which, only a few seconds ago, was neatly cut, is now standing up on end after being exposed to the wind. "You look like Astro Boy!" Luhan exclaims, cracking up. At the sound of his father's laughter, Taemin starts laughing again, too. The two of them make such a ruckus that Jaejoong glances over briefly with a look of bemusement.

It isn't long before Taemin splutters and coughs, but it doesn't deter him from continuing to smile gleefully, even though he probably has no idea what his father is so happy about. God, I'd give anything to see you smile like that forever, Luhan thinks, flattening Taemin's hair with a gentle hand.

"I don't know if this is the first time you've ever laughed, Taemin-ah, but it's the first time I've heard you laugh," Luhan murmurs. "I think it's the best sound I've ever heard."

A sudden dagger of nostalgia stabs him in the gut, because he remembers a time, not long ago, when Yoona's laugh was his favourite sound. The backs of his eyes sting with suppressed tears as Taemin giggles; this time, Luhan doesn't laugh along. Instead, he swallows, thinking,  Your mother would have liked to hear you laugh.

A/N: /bows at your feet/ I'm so sorry for the long wait!

To be honest, as well as being sick and busy with school, this chapter was also so difficult to write, and I'm not even sure why. I started it even before I finished chapter seven, but halfway through, I wasn't happy with it and started from scratch. Then after that, I cut a good three thousand words from my second attempt, because the scenes just weren't working for me.

This chapter is heavy on emotions and light on action, I guess, and might generally feel a little slow, but I needed this chapter to untangle some emotional conflict. Here, Yoona realises that she loves Luhan, and here is where we start seeing the effects of Luhan and Yoona being absent in one of their kids' lives: they miss milestones, and have to shoulder twice the emotional burden.

And finally, we catch our first glimpse of the Tangerine Express! (New poster by me, too ^^)

Thanks for waiting, everyone, and thanks for reading ^^ I hope you liked this chapter ~ Brace yourself for chapter 9 :)