“Face your life, its pain, its pleasure, leave no path untaken.” 
― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

Around one year ago

For the past few years, every day has felt like a week to Luhan. Seven days' worth of challenges and occupation usually manages to cram itself into twenty-four hour periods in his life, each day excelling so well at distracting him that by the time the days consciously add up to weeks in Luhan's mind, Taemin is already four years old, an age of dribbly noses and chubby hands swishing sloppy Japanese characters in ink on butcher paper.

Today is Monday, marking the start of another weekly cycle of mayhem for the twenty odd little rascals at Kikitaru Kindergarten; among them is Taemin, of course, who is probably sitting cross-legged in class for the last fifteen minutes of the day while all the parents wait outside, including Luhan.

It was with Jaejoong's help that Luhan discovered this quaint little international preschool and daycare, which is conveniently located within such a reasonable distance from both Heiwa Clinic and the zoo that sometimes Luhan overestimates the time it takes to commute from work to Kikitaru, and, like today, he arrives earlier than usual.

In the shade of a gnarled tree with clusters of leaves trimmed into neat ovals on the ends of each branch, Luhan sneaks a glance at his watch and sees that there's still seven minutes until the children are dismissed; though knowing how Taemin's teacher has the tendency to talk the ears off people and not notice, it's probably going to end up being longer than that. He sighs inwardly, hands burying themselves in his pockets.

His fingers brush something, and curiosity causes him to pull the 'something' out of his pocket for inspection. Oh, Luhan thinks, eyeing the leather square now sitting in his hand. It's just my wallet.

Without thinking, he flips it open, feeling a fresh pang of pain when his gaze lands on the photo secured behind the clear sleeve next to his credit cards. Usually when Luhan has to open his wallet, he avoids looking at this photo for longer than a fleeting glance, but right now, it's different; right now he has no excuse to flip past it and reach for a credit card. Now it's too late to look away.

From the photo, Yoona smiles up at him, face clean and clear of the creams and powder she usually puts on. Running his thumb absently over her cheek, Luhan remembers the day this was taken; sometime in late winter, when the mornings had a sharp tang reminiscent of autumn breezes. They'd been packing away the spare cans of paint they'd used to paint the nursery, and a streak of tangerine paint ended up smudged across her cheek, though Luhan's thumb now covers it.

The Yoona in the photo is a far cry from the Yoona Luhan first met, but somehow he can still recognise her as the same person who had once used a mountain to describe her relationship with his brother. "Imagine that when you look out of your bedroom window, you see a mountain every day, one that slices the horizon line in half. You have nothing to do with it, but it's just there. You can't ignore it, and you can't make it disappear, and it's somewhat a part of your life without actually affecting it. It's distant."

"Distant," Luhan repeats, his voice a low murmur. "Before, Yoona, you were the one explaining distance to me, but you know, I've only just begun to understand it these past few years. You aren't here, but this photo is; it's just there. I can't ignore it, and I can't make it disappear, and it's somewhat a part of my life, but it can't ever affect me as much as the real you did−does," he corrects himself, because even after all this time he believes it's too early to use the past tense. Luhan laughs once under his breath. "If you could see me now, you'd say that I'm going crazy. I'm talking to a photo, who does that."

Then, just like that, something clicks in his mind. If it's pathetic to talk to a photo, then why not just talk to her?  a voice in his head questions, challenging him. It's been so long... you can try it. Just once.

In the same way that Luhan had opened his wallet, he finds himself reaching for his phone, scrolling through his contacts list until he finds the one number that has always been there, without change, yet has remained uncalled for years now. Here goes nothing.

Never in his life has the sound of a dial tone terrified Luhan this much.

The phone rings once, twice, thrice, and eventually he loses count of the monotonous beeps of the line, though somewhere along the way he gathers that enough time has passed for Yoona to have picked up the phone if she wanted to. Luhan thinks briefly that it's an odd feeling, calling home and expecting someone to answer when you're not there. But then again, it wasn't just his home.

A subtle click indicates that no one has answered the phone on the other end, and Luhan is just about to hang up, when suddenly he remembers that he had recorded the voicemail for this number all those years ago, so he should hear his own voice telling him to leave a message after the beep; that is, if Yoona hasn't changed it by now.

Luhan strains his ear, expecting to hear either his voice−or maybe Yoona's− but to his surprise, he hears neither. Instead, all he gets is: The person you're trying to reach is unavailable. This may mean that the line is currently occupied, or−

Before the automated answering machine can finish its message, Luhan hangs up. Slowly, his hand detaches the phone from his ear, and he stares down at it, honestly not knowing how to feel. Why is there no message? he wonders. I would have expected her to change it to something else at least, but there's nothing. And she's had plenty of time to change it, too.

Completely stumped, Luhan frowns. Maybe she no longer lives in that house. The thought unexpectedly drives a wedge through his heart; he's surprised to find that it hurts to even consider the possibility, despite its likeliness. Maybe she sold the house and moved on. Maybe she's better off now than she was when I left.

"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!"

A high-pitched voice cuts off Luhan's doubts at their roots, distracting him before he can get too lost in his thoughts. He blinks to find Taemin coming towards him, and Luhan realises that he hadn't even noticed that the kids had been dismissed. Another blink, and Taemin is clinging to his leg, tugging on his arm with the kind of urgency that only young children understand.  He coughs and wheezes a couple of times before resuming his tugging. "Daddy!"

Mimicking Taemin's frenzied tone, Luhan asks, "What, what?" then laughs, pulling Taemin into his arms and ruffling the boy's hair.

In response, his son holds out a piece of paper, which has already suffered from being held too tightly between excited, chubby little fingers for the whole day. "Look at this, Daddy."

"What is it?"

"An invitation," Taemin informs him proudly, and Luhan can tell that he'd invested quite a lot of time into perfecting the big word's pronunciation. "For Jinri's birthday party," Taemin adds, spluttering a little as he holds up four, then five stubby fingers. "She's gonna be five!"

"Is she now?" Luhan murmurs absently, pretending that he remembers which girl Jinri is out of the sea of children at Kikitaru. He takes the folded paper from Taemin and opens it, patting his son's back as he launches into a volley of coughs.

The painfully pink invitation announces that Jinri's fifth birthday party is to be held at an indoor play centre, the hub of running children, sweat, slide burns, and twisted ankles just waiting to happen. For most children, it's the next best thing to heaven on a platter, but Taemin is not 'most children', and as Luhan thinks this, his gaze passes over the wide-eyed look on his son's face. Judging by the unspoken plea in Taemin's eyes, this party is something he is really looking forward to, and Luhan's heart twists, anticipating the inevitable verdict he'll have to give regarding whether or not Taemin can go to the party.

At five years old, Taemin has lived long enough to know that he isn't like other kids, but not long enough to understand that he'll never be like other kids, and no matter how Luhan looks at it, there's no way he can see his son going to Jinri's party; running around a playing centre just isn't something that Taemin should, will, and−more importantly− can be doing.

"Jinri's mommy and daddy is here now, so you can talk to them and tell them that I'm going to her party!" Taemin exclaims. "Come on, we gotta hurry!"

Here we go. Luhan sighs and puts Taemin down, then slowly crouches down to his son's level and puts his hands on Taemin's shoulders. "Listen, Tae," he says carefully, "I can tell you really want to go to this party, and it sounds really cool, but I'm afraid you can't go."

It hurts to watch Taemin's face fall, but Luhan forces himself to keep eye contact. "We talked about this, remember? You're not like other kids. Your lungs aren't strong enough to run around like them." Luhan bends his neck frantically to keep his face in sight of Taemin's lowered eyes. "But being different isn't always a bad thing, Tae." Luhan's shaky attempt at enthusiasm seems to fall on deaf ears, including his own. "You can still do fun things−"

"But-I-can't-go-to-Jinri's-party," Taemin finishes, in one wobbly-lipped mumble.

"No." Luhan sighs again, wishing he had something better to say. But he doesn't. "I wish you could; I really do. If there was something−anything−Daddy could do to make you better, he'd do it."

Taemin looks like he wants to cry. He sniffs and his voice cracks when he asks, "Daddy, when am I going to be all better?"

For a moment, Luhan is too stunned to do anything. His mouth opens, then closes almost immediately afterwards. Truth be told, he wants to lie and say, Don't worry, Daddy will get you fixed. But he doesn't say it because it isn't like Taemin is something broken that can be fixed. The next closest thing to broken is 'damaged', but Taemin isn't that, either.

Luhan clears his throat, blinking rapidly. "I don't know, Taemin."

"One day?" Taemin presses, his eyes unnaturally serious.

There's no way Luhan can disappoint him twice today. "One day," he repeats, though he regrets saying it the moment it leaves his mouth.

"You promise?"

Luhan swallows. "I promise," he says. And he regrets this, too, because it's not only getting Taemin's hopes up, but also his own. However, unlike Taemin, Luhan knows his hopes are more than likely destined for doom.

***

If mornings were natural disasters, then Mondays would be a hurricane, and today is no exception. Alarm clocks blare along to the soundtrack of groggy groans, before being abruptly switched off and replaced with the sound of the shower running (twice), and the popping of lipstick caps as the two women in the household rush to get ready for the day. And all the while, Jongin trails after his mother with sleep in his eyes and a constant stream of chatter, pausing every now and then to exclaim in distress, "Mommy, you're not listening!"

Yes, the first morning of the week is chaos, but in every storm, there is a calm eye, and even Monday has its (brief) period of relaxation, which comes in the form of breakfast time. This week, it's Yoona's turn to make breakfast; a flowery apron is fastened around her waist, a spatula held aloft in her hand as she hovers over a cooking omelette.

Meanwhile, Yuri is sitting opposite Jongin, who is preoccupied with a packet of crayons and a mind full of stories, ready to explain his abstract drawings. Usually his Auntie Yuri is willing to sit and listen to his tales, but today, she's staring at Yoona's back, head cocked.

"What is it, Yul?" Yoona asks, knowing without even having to face her best friend that a question is being left unasked.

"You know the answering machine?" Yuri asks, prompting Yoona's left eyebrow to raise as she plates up the omelette and sets it down on the table.

"The... answering machine?"

"Yeah, like the message that plays when someone calls and we're not home," Yuri elaborates.

Yoona nods, one hand pouring Jongin some milk for his cereal, and the other flipping the pages of the newspaper to the business and politics section. "What about it?"

"I'm thinking we should change it," Yuri says, pausing to chew on her omelette with a careful expression. "Minho said he tried calling the landline a few days ago, but he thought he had the wrong number."

"Minho?" Yoona's forehead crinkles as she tries to place the name. "That's your new boyfriend's name, right?"

"Mm hmm," Yuri answers, still looking at Yoona cautiously; the latter wonders why she is being subjected to such a worried stare, but doesn't get the chance to ask, because Yuri continues with, "Anyway, he called and got confused because the answering machine told him that he'd reached Luhan and Yoona's residence."

At this, Yoona's fork almost falls out of her grasp, and suddenly feels very dry. Oh. That's why Yuri's looking at me like that, she realises, averting her eyes as her teeth come down on her lips.

"I think we need to change it," Yuri repeats when Yoona says nothing. She has enough tact not to press her point further when Yoona still doesn't break her silence, and stands up, gathering her plates and loading the dishwasher.

Meanwhile, a voice at the back of Yoona's mind is mulling over Yuri's words, Maybe it is time to change the voicemail message, she thinks.  It's been years, and he hasn't come back. Maybe it's time to let go of everything else and move on completely.

It seems reasonable− the right thing to do, even− but another part of her, the part she is more familiar with hearing, whispers, But this is one of the last pieces I have left of him; proof that he was here in the first place. Proof that I once lived in this house with a husband and another son.

"Mommy!" Jongin jolts Yoona out of her train of thought when he slams into her leg, pouting as he hammers her thigh with his little fists. "Mommy, I'm gonna be late for school! You gots your head in the clouds!"

Yoona looks down at him, and her whole resolve is completely knocked down before being put back together anew by the expression on her son's face. One look at Jongin is all it takes for Yoona to remember everything she's done for him, and how her heart was always with Luhan half the time, wondering what he would have thought if he had seen how she had raised their child. But now, things are changing. Jongin is no longer a baby. Someday, he's going to be old enough to realise that his friends have dads who pick them up and take them to the playground, but he doesn't. And Yoona knows that when that happens, she can't afford to still be stuck in the past.

So it's right here and now that Yoona squares her shoulders and makes a decision. "Okay," she says clearly, just as Yuri is fumbling around for her keys and sunglasses.

Yuri stops what she's doing and looks up, a hint of surprise lining her brow. "What?"

"I said okay," Yoona repeats. "You can change the voice message. But I want you to come up with the new message. I don't think I could handle thinking of a new one."

Yuri gives her a gentle smile. "I've already cleared the message," she says, proving once again that she knows Yoona well enough to have successfully predicted that her best friend would eventually allow her to change the message. "I haven't thought of a new one, though," Yuri continues, perhaps in the hopes of bridging a potentially awkward silence. "I'll change it after work, okay? I'll see you then."

And with that, Yuri walks out of the door, leaving Yoona with a feeling somewhere between shock and awe as she wonders how it's possible (or fair) for someone to know you better than you know yourself.

***

The sound of cutlery and plates clinking in the sink is almost the only noise filling the kitchen; in the background, Jaejoong hums a tune Luhan doesn't recognise, barely audible over the running faucet. Beyond the window, the scene outside is washed over by the reflection of the inside of the apartment, and instead of the view of a sky bruising into the colour of twilight, Luhan sees himself in the shadows, leaning against the wall, shoulders slumped.

Only when Jaejoong finishes washing up does he notice Luhan; rolling his eyes, he beckons him over. "How long have you been standing there, loser? And since when does tucking Taemin into bed take longer than washing the dishes?"

Luhan snorts, peeling himself off the wall and taking a seat on one of the bar stools lining the kitchen bench. "You offered to wash them," he reminds Jaejoong, though his heart isn't in the retort.

"Hey." All the teasing has been swiped from Jaejoong's expression, and concern replaces it as he peers at Luhan. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"Bull," Jaejoong scoffs, rolling his sleeves up as he pours himself some red wine. He raises his eyebrows by way of asking Luhan if he'd like some, too, but the latter shakes his head.

"Fine." Luhan huffs out a sigh. "Everything's wrong."

With a mouthful of wine in his mouth, Jaejoong's brow drops, unimpressed. He swallows. "Okay, that's probably slightly closer to the truth than 'nothing', but it's still not what I want to hear." For a moment or two, he scrutinises Luhan, then comes to a decision. "You need some coffee; really strong coffee. I'll make you some, but you better start talking before I'm finished."

Jaejoong doesn't even make it to the coffee machine, though, before Luhan blurts, "I can see it happening."

"What?"

"The future; I can see it happening," Luhan explains, then quickly adds, "Not like a psychic or anything, but it's probably close enough."

His friend's forehead is creased by confusion. "And... what do you see?"

"Well..." Luhan swallows. "One day, there won't be anything left for me. I'm going to have to leave Japan and go home, because by then−" he breaks off. "Because−"

"Because Taemin will have died by then," Jaejoong finishes, in his usual unforgiving manner of bluntness. "Is that what you're saying?"

Unable to speak, Luhan nods.

"That's a really negative way of thinking."

"It's not," Luhan says. "You know, when I first brought Taemin to Heiwa, Dr. Jung gave me his estimate of Taemin's life expectancy."

Jaejoong's eyebrows lift; it's the first time he's heard about this. "And what did he say?"

"Thirty years," Luhan replies. "But that's if nothing goes wrong. And if there's one thing I know about life, it's that everything goes wrong." When Jaejoong is too shocked to say anything for once, he continues. "No matter how you think about it, there isn't much time. Five years have passed already. Each of Taemin's birthdays is a miracle to me, but one day, he's going to stop having them. He's going to− to die, and there'll be no reason for me to stay here. I'll have to go home." Luhan stops, looks down at his hands, then back up, eyes wide and hollow. "Without Taemin, what will I have?"

A long moment passes; it feels like hours, when reality it is probably only a few minutes, maybe even less that. Then Jaejoong says, "I think you're looking too far into the future. Thirty years isn't much, but it's still a while. A lot happens in a day, let alone a year; let alone thirty years. Maybe you should focus on that."

"I−"

But Jaejoong isn't finished yet. "And when it's all over, when Taemin's gone, then sure, life is probably going to be for you. Maybe then you'll have no reason to be here, and you'll feel awful, but what about your wife? You can use your time to explain everything to her, at least before you die. The main thing here, though, is that you don't know, Luhan. You don't know what's going to happen."

After Jaejoong finally draws in a breath and doesn't follow it with another sentence, Luhan lets his words sink in. The way he says it is painfully straightforward, but Luhan knows there's more truth in what Jaejoong has just said than anything he's ever told himself. Except the part about Yoona.

"I don't know about Yoona."

Jaejoong frowns a little. "What?"

"I called her today," Luhan admits. "My wife, Yoona."

"And?" Jaejoong prompts.

Luhan shrugs, just as his friend sets down his coffee in front of him. "I don't know," he murmurs, not touching the mug. "She didn't answer. I think she might have moved, and not just moved house; maybe she moved on and decided to forget me."

When he looks up, Jaejoong's eyes are surprisingly kind. Shaking his head, he pushes the mug of coffee closer to Luhan. "You don't know that."

***

This year

"Damn, I'm going to be late again," Yoona mutters.

She's sitting in the driver's seat, though her car is still parked in the parking lot of Jongin's daycare. In her hand is a damp tissue, which she is trying to use to wipe the chocolate milk stain (which she has only just noticed) off her new white shirt. Mind you, the stain shouldn't even be there, because Yoona clearly remembers giving Jongin a firm reminder this morning that he isn't to drink flavoured milk without her permission.

After a while, the stain is practically showing no signs of disappearing, so with an exasperated sigh, Yoona gives up and starts the car, filing a mental memo to have a nice, long talk with her son later on. By the time she's driven further into the city and found a decent parking spot, it's 9:30, and she almost trips as she rushes up the steps of the courthouse, heels clacking like castanets on the marble stairs.

Near the doors is a familiar face, clucking his tongue with amusement at the way Yoona has her arms folded in an effort to hide the stain. "What is it today− chocolate, or strawberry?" Sehun asks.

"Chocolate," she mutters, though the annoyance in her tone evaporates when he wordlessly holds out a spare suit jacket in one hand, and a cup of black coffee in the other. Her lips grace upwards in an instinctively grateful smile. "Sehun, you're a life saver; thank you."

"Oh, I know." Sehun rolls his eyes affectionately "What would you do without me?"

It's been four years since the two of them graduated and five since Luhan disappeared, since they'd both sat on a balcony eating cupcakes with frosted smiley faces that had wonky eyes. To this day, Yoona remembers Yuri's words from all those years ago every time she looks at Sehun: If it was meant to be, if you trust that he knows what he's doing, then you'll see each other again. Someday.

Someday, Yoona echoes in her mind, wondering if Sehun thinks the same thing.

"...the case is more complicated than we originally thought," Sehun is saying when Yoona comes back down to Earth. They'd entered the courthouse and are now navigating its vaguely familiar maze of marble corridors. "Turns out the plaintiff is still suing for negligence, but he's arguing that the defendant can also be charged with defamation, too, and he's demanding more compensation because of that." He pauses to shake his head in disbelief. "I don't know how this all happened, but Changmin's working on it."

Yoona grimaces. "So, we're wading into shark waters today?"

"Looks like it," Sehun says, sighing. "To be honest, 70% of the case stems from the plaintiff's self importance. You know, I still think he should just drop the case and get some counselling instead; that'll give him the most valuable compensation there is."

"What, mental compensation? Peace of mind?" Yoona laughs. "I wish the world worked that way."

"Mm," Sehun agrees. "I wish that, too. I guess we're in for a migraine of a case, huh?"

Yoona sighs. "Yeah." Suddenly, she remembers something. "Hey, Sehun, are you free tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Hmm... I don't know." Sehun his head, pensive. "Why?"

"Well, tomorrow is Family Day at Jongin's kindergarten. And I thought since, you know, Jongin doesn't really have anyone else, and Yuri doesn't really count−"

"I'll come," he says immediately, cutting her off.

"You will?" Yoona's eyes widen. "I can let you check your schedule first if you want−"

"No, it's fine. I'll come." Sehun cracks into a smile. "Besides, what kind of uncle would I be if I passed on this?"

***

Family Day turns out to be a circus− or at least, Sehun thinks, the closest thing to one. Everything is bright: the matching shirts of the staff are bright, the banner announcing that it is Family Day; All Are Welcome! is bright, the paintings on the walls are bright; even the goddamn carpet is bright.

And there are so many running, squealing children. Like, everywhere.

Yoona smiles as she eyes their surroundings, and Sehun wonders how eye-popping colours can possibly have this relaxing effect on people. He knows he's being a little close-minded, but maybe the reason he's uncomfortable is because he doesn't have a childhood like this to remember; it's not that he's bitter about that, though. Just a little uncomfortable, like he's awkwardly out of place.

"Just smile and have fun," Yoona whispers, noticing his stiff posture. "You don't really have to do anything, so treat it like a day off."

As usual, Yoona is right (not that Sehun has ever admitted it). He ends up laughing and having fun as he kneads cookie dough with Jongin at a table with about five other kids, who are accompanied by their mothers or fathers. Meanwhile, Yoona hovers in the background, constantly taking photos whether Sehun is ready for them or not.

Near the end of the day, the kids are herded to a long table lined with an array of snacks, and the teachers tell them to sit and eat, while the parents and family members are invited for some coffee at the back of the room.

Yoona stays near Jongin− not to avoid socialising, but to take more photos− and Sehun sticks by her side because he doesn't like the idea of standing with the other parents; he's sure they're lovely people, but he doesn't know anyone, so the chances of him creating an awkward atmosphere with his lack of social skills is high.

"Jongin!" The girl next to his nephew hollers, tapping Jongin's shoulder; Sehun is disconcerted to notice that her eyes are on him. "Is that your daddy?"

Jongin turns in his seat, and though he waves upon seeing Sehun, he doesn't turn back to the girl and say 'no'; in fact, there's a sudden uncertainty in his expression. He beckons his mother over (who doesn't appear to have heard the question), and whispers something in Yoona's ear. Sehun tenses, waiting for her reaction.

Yoona's smile dims, and she glances up at Sehun, eyes wide. But before he can say anything, a teacher (the label on her bright shirt says Ms Shin) with bright orange hair and bug-like eyes comes into the picture. "Yoona, hi! It's nice to see you here," she says, beaming. Her gaze turns to Sehun. "I see you brought your... husband?"

"Oh, he's not−" Yoona begins, at the same time that Sehun flushes and mumbles, "I'm not her husband..."

Ms. Shin's eyes grow even larger, and she covers with her hands. "Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! It's just that... I've never seen Jongin's dad here before, and I assumed that he was always busy −"

"He is," Sehun blurts, flushing a deeper shade of red when both women stare at him. "I mean, it's something like that," he says quickly. "I know Jongin's dad; I'm his brother."

"Oh, I see!" Ms. Shin says, breaking into another painfully bright smile. "I saw you two earlier. You seem pretty close with your nephew." She turns her blinding smile on Yoona. "Jongin's lucky to have him."

Yoona exchanges a glance with Sehun, and he's pleased to see that she's visibly more at ease than she was a few seconds ago. "He is," she agrees.

***

Tonight's dinner is spicy tofu hotpot− or at least, that's the conclusion Luhan jumps to when he arrives home, the smell of chilli sauce and garlic reaching his nose as he dumps the grocery bags near the doorway. Taemin bounds on ahead of him, regardless of the string of coughs he trails behind as he runs.  Luhan hears the cry of "Uncle Jaejoong!" before he sees the man himself, and when he does, he rolls his eyes at both the expression of excitement on Taemin's face and his apron-clad, self-appointed best friend. "Taemin can't eat spicy food," he reminds Jaejoong, by way of greeting.

"Hello to you, too," Jaejoong replies. "And don't you worry, I didn't forget. I made creamy chicken, too; Taeminnie's favourite. Oh, and pudding. Lots of pudding."

"Creamy chicken and pudding? Uncle, you're the best!" Taemin exclaims, turning to Luhan with an almost accusatory look. "Daddy can't cook."

"I can, too!" Luhan protests, feigning hurt, though it's hard not to be happy when Taemin is beaming the way he is now. "I can cook lots of things."

"Mm, lots of things." Jaejoong smirks. "Pancakes, instant noodles, and grilled cheese sandwiches. That's lots."

Taemin giggles, and Luhan clouts Jaejoong on the head playfully. "Go on, you," he says to his son. "Get changed, so you can take your antibiotics before dinner."

Jaejoong's eyes follow Taemin as he runs off. "Antibiotics?" he asks, turning to Luhan when Taemin has disappeared from sight. "He's on them again?"

"Dr. Jung wants to be cautious." As if on cue, the distant sound of coughing makes its way down the hall. Luhan's hands ball into fists instinctively, and he tells himself not to panic. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"Right. He's growing," Jaejoong comments, an absent smile curving his lips. "He'll be six this year, won't he?"

"Yeah, can you believe it?"

Jaejoong shakes his head. "I swear, only yesterday he was a baby. Soon he'll be old enough to go to school. Have you considered your options?"

"I've been thinking about it," Luhan admits. "I know Taemin's clinic appointments will probably mean that won't be able to participate as actively as the other kids, but I also want to give him every opportunity I can− while I can."

Jaejoong purses his lips. "Well, maybe it's worth looking into it right now. And if you're still not sure, maybe you should ask him what he thinks."

***

"Let's go to the beach."

"The beach?" Taemin blinks a few times, his lips forming a little pink 'o' because this hasn't happened before. Usually, Luhan makes excuses not to go somewhere, in the fear that something bad will happen to Taemin, so it makes sense that he's surprised.

"Yeah, the beach." Luhan crouches down to Taemin's level, glancing briefly over his son's shoulder, only to find that the sheet of paper in front of him is blank. "You can build sandcastles and wet your toes on the shore, and afterwards, I'll buy you ice cream. How does that sound?"

Taemin's eyes widen. "For real, Daddy? Like, not pretending?"

Luhan laughs. "Yes, for real," he says, smiling even wider when Taemin lets out a giant whoop and launches into his arms. He's about to set his son down and tell him to get ready, when something in the corner of his eye catches his attention. Looking down, he sees that Taemin's sheet of paper hadn't been blank after all. In the lower corner of the sheet, there are three figures, labelled Taemin, Daddy, and Mommy. The stick person appointed as Mommy is a little way away from Taemin and Daddy, though she has a big smile on her face and a present in her arms.

"Taemin, what's this?"

"Hm?" A blank look crosses Taemin's face before he realises where Luhan's focus is. "Oh, that's Mommy," he tells his dad. "She's far away, see, but she's still happy, like Daddy said. And she gots a present for me, for when she comes back."

He hasn't forgotten what I told him, Luhan realises, sighing inwardly. He wonders briefly why he hadn't seen the picture before. He shakes his head, tells himself that Taemin's arms must have been covering it. Or maybe he's just used to not seeing things as clearly as he'd like.

*

There's something relaxing, Luhan thinks, about rolling up the cuffs of his pants and kneeling in a ditch of wet sand without caring about the fact that the cheeks of his trousers are getting soaked through, or that it's now freezing cold; none of it matters because nothing else in the world exists right now but Taemin, who is chattering non-stop about... everything, pretty much.

"This is fun, Daddy," Taemin giggles, patting away the lumps on the turrets of their sandcastle. "We should do this again!"

"We should." A beam surfaces onto Luhan's lips, stretching happiness across the planes of his expression. He reaches down to raise the camera dangling from his neck, squints through the eyepiece to find his mark. "Taemin-ah," he calls, "smile!"

Just as the Polaroid clicks, Luhan feels someone tap him on the shoulder. When he turns, he finds himself facing a young woman with a gummy smile. "Would you like me to take a picture of the two of you standing next to your, uh... masterpiece?"

"Oh, sure!" Luhan says, chuckling at her description of the sandcastle. He beckons Taemin over, and the two of them, father and son, get into position by their 'masterpiece'; Luhan crouches right near the waves, while Taemin stands proudly on the other side of the castle, on top of the mound of dug up sand.

The woman snaps one quick shot, then proposes a second photo, just in case the first didn't turn out to his liking. Luhan readily agrees, but as the woman starts counting down from three, he realises that Taemin doesn't know they're taking another photo.

"Taemin, look at the−" Luhan begins, but the click of the camera tells him that it's already too late. He glances back to see that the photo is already sliding out the front slot of the camera, and as the woman comes closer, he is too polite to ask her if she can take another photo. He bows briefly, calling out a quick thank you to her as disappears back into her own life; at the same time, Taemin looks over his shoulder, bouncing while he waits for the photo to develop.

To Luhan's surprise, the second photo turns out better than the first. Though the fixed poses of the first photo present the joy of the moment, the second one is more natural, like a snapshot of life as it is, without the direction of any photographer; in it, Luhan looks at Taemin without any constructed expression on his face, eyes only concerned for his son. And it turns out that Taemin had been smiling, anyway, just not at the camera; he'd been smiling at their 'masterpiece'.

"I like this one," Taemin declares, pointing at the second one.

Luhan smiles, pocketing the first photo, then holding the second up to the light. "So do I," he says.

Ribbons of pink ripple across the sky as the sun lowers itself into the horizon, as if it's trying to scrape whatever light is left from the sunset-capped waves of the ocean. Trailing a little behind the little boy gathering seashells in a makeshift bag put together using a handkerchief, Luhan watches Taemin crouch here and there to pick out shells that will no doubt end up on the windowsills of their apartment.

They stop by the shops near the pier to buy some fish and chips, and before it gets dark, the two of them are already sitting in the car, with the butcher paper of the fish and chips package spread out across the dashboard, and Taemin's feet propped up on the glovebox; his toes are sandy, but Luhan doesn't tell him off.

"Daddy, what's a miracle?"

The question catches Luhan completely off guard. Taemin stares at him, nothing but innocent curiosity reflected in his childish eyes as he nibbles on a potato chip. "Where did you hear that word?"

"My teacher," Taemin replies simply. "She's not scary, like the other teachers. She's very nice, and she said..." He taps his lower lip, trying to remember. "She said life is about the little things. And I said, "Sensei, what does little things means?" and she said, "Little things are miracles, Taemin." But, Daddy, I don't know what miracles means."

For a few minutes, Luhan is still too caught off guard to answer. And even when he gathers his thoughts, he finds that he doesn't quite know what to say. What is a miracle? Unbidden, a line from The Alchemist suddenly comes to mind: "The simple things are the most extraordinary things."

Luhan his lips, his brow furrowing because now he's thinking of sunlight hitting his newborn sons' faces; it feels like forever ago. "A miracle is..." he begins, and Taemin blinks patiently. "A miracle is something amazing that happens even when you don't expect it to."

"Like a rainbow?" Taemin asks, and when Luhan nods, he continues. "So... miracles are good?"

"Yeah." Luhan nods. "I suppose you could say that."

Taemin his head, then hiccups. "Am I a miracle?"

Luhan blinks, nonplussed. "O-of course." He wonders then if he should elaborate, but his answer seems to have satisfied his son, because Taemin nods and goes back to eating his food. But  unlike Taemin, the impact of the whole miracle business isn't willing to let go of Luhan so easily. Silence falls; for Taemin it is comfortable, ordinary, but for Luhan, it's stifling.

"Listen, Taemin..." he says finally, breaking the silence. It's taken him the whole day to find the right moment to bring this up. "I want to talk to you about something."

Taemin coughs, remembering just in time to cover his mouth; he does so before Luhan can remind him to. "What?"

Luhan looks at him for a long time. "...What do you think about going to school?"

Taemin's eyebrows knit together. "But I already go to school."

"Not just preschool. I mean real school," Luhan clarifies.

And just like with all children, Taemin's eyes go wide and serious at the mention of the word real. "Real school is the... that's the place that you go to when you turn six, right? For big kids."

Luhan nods. "Mm hmm. You'll be turning six soon, so you'll be a big kid, too."

"But, Daddy..." Taemin eyebrows tilt upwards, making his eyes look even bigger. "I'm not like other kids. You said."

For a moment, the words knock the walls of Luhan's heart, but he manages a smile, surprising himself. "I know. But I thought about it, and maybe... maybe we can give it a try." He nudges Taemin, clearing his throat. "So what do you think?"

Slowly, Taemin gives him a small smile, and nods tentatively. "I want to go," he decides. "It'll be... it'll  be a miracle," he says, meaning to impress Luhan with his newly learnt word.

Luhan just smiles faintly, ruffles his hair, and doesn't correct him.

A miracle, indeed.

***

Even though it's now past three in the morning and Luhan has work the next day (or rather, in several hours), he has thrown all thoughts of sleep from his mind. It's not like he'd set out to stay up all night, though. All he'd wanted to do was browse the internet for a 'couple of hours' to research the process of enrolling children to school in Japan.

But more than a few hours later, his nose is still less than a foot from his laptop screen, and he's still completely absorbed in his task, taking notes every now and then into the notebook precariously balanced on his leg. Scattered around him on the coffee table are bank account statements, as well as a calculator, brochures Jaejoong dropped by earlier, and− somewhere under the mess−a mug of coffee, which is bound to be cold by now.

"Dude, I know I said you should start thinking about it, but this is too much," Jaejoong would have said if he was here, but tonight is one of the rare nights that Luhan can actually sit on the couch and not be squashing any part of Jaejoong's sleeping, snoring body.

In fact, there's no sound in the apartment right now except for the occasional scratch of pencils and pens on paper, the clicks of his fingers on the keyboard, and−

Luhan grimaces as the sound of coughing reaches his ears; Taemin's at it again. The sound is twice as worrying because thanks to the new medicine Dr Jung has been trialling, Taemin's night-time coughing fits have been few and far apart. At first, Luhan pins it on the trip to the beach and writes it off as minor; Taemin's lungs are probably just not used to seaside air, he tells himself. That's all.

But then the sound grows louder, the coughs more persistent and the wheezing more pronounced, and Luhan can't take it anymore. He gets to his feet, thinking, He shouldn't be coughing like this.

As he makes his way down the hall, the coughing stops. In its place, Luhan's ears pick up laboured breathing, then a low, scratchy sound; it takes him a moment to realise that Taemin is crying.

Luhan starts walking faster.

When he reaches Taemin's room, he slides through the narrow opening of the door, not wanting to startle his son with a sudden pouring of light from the hall. Sitting on the edge of Taemin's bed, he sees that he was right; there are dark spots staining the covers, where Taemin's tears have fallen.

"Shh," Luhan whispers, propping his son up gently and pulling him into the warmth of his arms. Gently, he rubs small circles on Taemin's chest with the flat of his palm. This has happened once before, Luhan remembers, when Taemin had had a nightmare and woke up in a terrible mess of tears.

But unlike before, Taemin doesn't stop crying, and he doesn't go back to sleep. In fact, when Luhan presses the back of his hand to Taemin's forehead, it feels alarmingly hot, and all of a sudden his breaths start coming out as short, shallow pants, like he's having difficulty breathing− it sounds like there's mucus caught in Taemin's throat that he can't cough up.

Trying to stay calm for both of their sakes, Luhan decides that he should call Heiwa. He promises Taemin in a low murmur that he'll be back in a moment, and walks to the door. Before, he exits the room, though, Luhan turns the light on, and looks back.

What was meant to be a short glance back at his son becomes a strangled cry. Now that the light is on, illumination brings the features of the room into stark clarity. And Luhan sees for the first time that the stains on Taemin's sheets aren't tears.

They're splatters of blood.

***

It's been almost an hour since Taemin was wheeled into emergency room at Heiwa Clinic. Luhan had debated with himself about whether or not to take Taemin to a proper hospital instead, but then he'd remembered Dr. Jung telling him that if something bad happened, it would be best to go to Heiwa first− if Taemin needed admittance to the hospital, the necessary preparations and transport wouldn't be a problem.

Dr. Jung looks up from his clipboard, lines deep on his forehead. "And you really don't know how long he was coughing up blood for?"

"I− No," Luhan mumbles, looking down at his hands. "I mean I knew he was coughing because I heard him when he started, but I don't know how long he was coughing up blood for." His eyes are glazed, fingers practically clawing through his hair. "I thought maybe he was just having one of his coughing episodes or a nightmare, and that it would just pass, but then−"

"It's okay," Dr. Jung says, as Luhan's voice begins to rise. "Don't worry too much. It's not your fault that you don't know everything; you can't be expected to be there every single second of Taemin's life."

"But I should have been there," Luhan mutters under his breath. "I'm the only person he has."

"Things like this happen." A long silence passes, and suddenly Dr. Jung's office feels a whole lot smaller. Luhan feels a sudden urge to run outside, but then Dr. Jung says, "Taemin's being examined now. They're doing tests on him to try and figure out what the problem is, but since I haven't heard anything yet, it means that Taemin is still alive, and still okay. So don't worry."

It's no use telling Luhan not to worry; of course he's going to worry. And coupled with that worry is a sick taste at the back of his mouth; the way Dr. Jung talks about Taemin makes it sound like his son is some kind of guinea pig, an experiment whose life can be toyed around with.

Dr. Jung mistakes Luhan's silence for concern so intense it's driven him to speechlessness. "I'll also have to examine him myself later," he adds, meaning to reassure Luhan. "The nurses will call me before then if he coughs up more blood, and if that happens, I promise you, you'll be the first to know."

Luhan looks up in alarm. "What do you mean 'the first to know'? I'll be here the whole time, I'll be able to see what happens, won't I−"

Dr. Jung's expression is strained. "Listen, Luhan, I know you're his father, but this process is complicated, and it will take a while before I can give you the answers you want. So I suggest that in the meantime, you should go home and come back tomorrow morning."

"Go home?" Luhan gets to his feet in utter disbelief. "Doctor, I can't just−"

"Luhan, please." Dr. Jung stands, too, albeit with more composure. "Your apartment isn't far from here. I told you− if anything happens, you will be the first to know. I won't even log his results anywhere until you know them, okay? I promise you. Just go home; I'll call you the moment I have news."

***

Jaejoong is up early for once. In fact, it's just past five in the morning when he pulls into Heiwa, having been called the night before by the frustrated secretary, Hara, to do the paperwork he was supposed to have done the week before.

If he's honest, he's quite proud of himself; usually, when Hara calls to bark at him, he tunes her out and forgets about it the next day. But today, it's different. Today, he's here, a few hours late, but earlier than he would normally be, and that's all that matters, isn't it?

His self-satisfaction is so inflated, it seems, that he is too busy to concentrate on his surroundings and as a result, crashes straight into the person walking out of the Research and Support building.

"Oh, I'm sorry−" Jaejoong begins, just as the other person straightens, muttering, "This is the exit door, not the entrance, can't you see..."

Both their eyes widen when they see who the other is.

"Jaejoong!" Yunho, Dr. Jung, exclaims; there's about a thousand loose sheets of paper in his hands, and a thousand more worries on his face. "God, perfect timing you have. I know if you're here, it means you're probably busy, but can you do me a favour?"

"Sure, what is−" Once again, Jaejoong is cut off by his ever-so-tactful friend, who seems to have managed to pull out a phone from beneath the pile of papers, which he holds it out to him.

"Call Luhan for me and tell him I have news about Taemin," Yunho says briskly. With that, he turns to leave, but Jaejoong holds out an arm, forcing him to halt, and in turn, drop all his papers.

"What's wrong with Taemin?" Jaejoong asks, stooping down to help Yunho pick up the papers. It feels as though someone has clenched his stomach between their fist, twisting it; he hadn't heard anything from Luhan about Taemin, but from Yunho's expression, it's serious.

Yunho opens his mouth, then closes it, and Jaejoong realises that he's debating whether or not to tell him the truth, a vague version of it, or nothing at all; either way, it's clear something has happened. Jaejoong changes his approach. "How bad is it?"

When Yunho grimaces and says nothing, Jaejoong snatches the phone and starts dialling Luhan.

***

When your nerves are running wild, coffee usually helps, even if the relief from stress is short-lived.

It's with this mindset that Luhan walks out of the coffee shop across near the zoo with a black coffee in his hands; no sugar. There's a coffee shop−quite a few, actually− at the zoo, but what Luhan is looking for is an escape, and in any case, the zoo isn't open yet, anyway.

He takes a sip of his coffee, scrunches his nose in distaste, then glances at his watch; 5:24 AM.

Both sides of the four-lane roads are pretty quiet at this time, and Luhan decides he'll make it across safely if he runs, even though it isn't likely that he'll get run over if he walks. My mother would freak out, he thinks, remembering how she always used to tell him to look right and left before he crosses, and to always use the pedestrian crossing.

Too late now. Luhan is halfway across, when suddenly a strange, shrill noise pierces the air. He pauses, and realises that it's his phone ringing. Remembering that Dr. Jung had promised to call him the moment he had news about Taemin, Luhan rushes to fish the phone out of his pocket.

Anticipation for any news about his son, whether it be good or bad, takes up all of Luhan's mind− so much so that he forgets where he is, and doesn't see the car speeding uncontrollably towards him.

And the driver doesn't see him because, like Luhan, he's preoccupied with his phone.

Too late now.

A/N: Oh my, how long has it been?! It feels like forever, and it's probably noticeable; if my writing feels a little ehh, I'm sorry, I'm a but out of touch ;-; Anyway, I finally managed to update, yay! Not long to go till the end, I think, but I'm a super slow writer, and I change my mind a lot, so we'll see how it goes :) 

By the way, if you're confused about the timeline, everything after 'This year' happens this year, which means that everything from the past is finished; over! We are now in the present, and soon we'll get to see what I have in store for the little family in the present :))

Oh, and yes, if anyone is a hello cupid/HELLOVENUS stan, Ms. Shin is Yoonjo ^^