Youngjae opened his eyes and looked blearily in front of him. The metallic hood of the car felt cool and hot at the same time against his cheek. He felt pain, lots of pain everywhere on his body, though they were slowly dissolving away, hormones working fast to numb them. He blinked. He struggled to lift his head, feeling heavy like lead, to look down at his feet that were still inside the car over the dashboard. He was thrown out when the car hit the tree, body flying through the window and landing on the hood. The glass fragments of the broken window from the impact of his body shone like diamonds under the sun. He saw blood everywhere, and it was hard to believe they were his. He started to regret taking off his seat belts—and arguing with Daehyun, which had caused him to take off the belts in a moment of anger in the first place.

Daehyun. 

He could not even remember what they had argued about. Probably something petty, as always. His eyes moved slowly over to the driver's seat, lids feeling incredibly heavy. Daehyun’s head was hanging forward, unruly bangs shielding his face. He was unconscious.

If I'm awake, why isn't he? Youngjae started opening his mouth. Daehyun, wake up... However only a raspy croak left his lips. Youngjae blinked hard. He still couldn't move. His eyelids were getting heavier and it was getting harder to keep them open.

Wake up, Daehyun, please... Wake up.

***

Grief.

It’s what everyone has in common, but it looks different from one person to the next. It is not only the grieving of death, but of loss, of life; a change. Grief comes in its own time for everyone, it its own way. Sometimes you wonder why it has to so bad, why it has to hurt this much. The thing you have to remember is that this can turn in an instant. That possibly, it will stop hurting. This is how you survive. This is how you learn to continue breathing, even when it hurts too much. This is how to stay alive, by remembering that possibly, you won't feel this way, it won't hurt this much, anymore.

It was a simple funeral. Daehyun was not from the city like Youngjae was. He had moved from the countryside when he turned 18. As such, only his family members and the friends he made here had attended the funeral.

Youngjae couldn’t help but blame himself for Daehyun’s death. “If only we weren’t arguing... This is my fault. He died because of me.” Tears flowed profusely down his cheeks. He felt Himchan snaking his arm around his shoulders, patting it before giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Youngjae. It simply happened and no one could have seen it coming.”

***

The worst thing about grief is that, you can’t control it. You have to let it come to you, and then let it go when you can. However, the moment when you think you’re past it, it could happen all over again without your permission. They say there are five stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It looks different on all of us, but there are always five.

Unsurprisingly, Youngjae had trouble falling asleep in the weeks following the death. He was way past the first three stages of grief—the self-blaming, the questioning of God's will—but he still cried himself to sleep on odd days and on even ones, he couldn’t sleep at all. Today was one of them.

Youngjae got up from his bed and shuffled his way to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out his sleeping pills. After emptying a couple of the capsules onto his palm, he dragged his feet back to his bedroom. Eyeing the harmless-looking drugs, he muttered, “I’m not becoming dependent on you. I just need to forget enough so that I can sleep.” It was a way of convincing himself that he was alright, that he was surviving this. It was a desperate form of self-hypnotism. Downing the pills with a few gulps of water, Youngjae laid back down against the mattress and shut his tired eyes.

***

Youngjae opened his eyes to find himself leaning against the railings on the rooftop of his apartment building. A cool breeze was blowing through his hair and the setting sun felt warm against his skin. He looked to his right and his mouth hung open in shock when he spotted someone familiar about 20 metres away. The figure seemed to notice him then and was walking to him casually, warm smile on his face.

“Youngjae?” The same warm voice, tone laced with hope.

“Daehyun? I thought you were dead.” Youngjae still could not believe his eyes.

“Nope I’m not, Youngjae. In fact,” Daehyun pumped a fist on his chest for good measure, “I feel better than ever.”

Youngjae could feel his brows furrowing. “I don’t believe you. I saw you after the crash. And I saw you get buried.”

Daehyun huffed in annoyance. “Then I’ll prove to you I’m alive! I'll tell you something only I could know.”

The scenery changed to a bedroom Youngjae was more than familiar with. “I have a surprise for you here in my room.”

Daehyun walked to his study table, opened the bottom drawer, and picked up a box the size of his two hands. “I saw this in a shop this one day and immediately thought of you. So I got it for you. I didn’t get the chance to give it to you yet.”

Youngjae took the box from Daehyun’s hands, feeling the rough and heavy realness of it. “Wow. Thanks Daehyun.” He slowly looked up at the other boy, eyes lighting up. “Can I open it now?”

“Sure, it’s yours anyway. But there’s just one thing I want you to do.”

Youngjae looked at him questioningly. “What?”

Daehyun grabbed one of his hands and held it gently. “I want you to wake up.”

“Wake up? What? But I’m not—”

—Youngjae’s eyes snapped open to find himself lying in bed in his dimly lit bedroom, panting heavily and chest heaving rapidly.

***

Himchan opened the door and let Youngjae in. “Is everyone here?” Youngjae asked the other. His eyes travelled over the occupants of the small living room. He nodded in approval. “Good. Come on.”

Youngjae led the way, through the short hallway and to one of the two bedroom doors, Himchan and three of their other mutual close friends following close behind.

“Youngjae, I haven’t had the time to go through his stuff or anything yet. I—I mean, it’s hard on me too. Yongguk has been staying here with me to, you know, fill up the void a little—”

Youngjae turned to his friend. “It’s fine, Himchan-hyung. I just needed to check something really quickly.”

He stepped into the familiar bedroom, pointedly ignoring the waves of nostalgia suddenly hitting him full force. Everything he saw, smelt, and even the air he breathed in reminded him of Daehyun. His insides tensed and it was starting to get hard to breathe. He mentally shook the heavy feeling away and walked straight to the study table by the window. He swallowed hard to moisten his suddenly dry throat as he stared at the messy table.

“In my dream, Daehyun said he had a surprise gift for me in one of these drawers. If it’s true then he must still exist in some form. Or something.” Youngjae missed the worried looks Jongup and Junhong had exchanged behind his back. “Well, here goes.”

Youngjae reached down for the bottom drawer and pulled it open. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but he was a little shocked at seeing the familiar brown box sitting there. He picked it up and turned to his friends, face expressionless, gaze boring into each of his friends’.

“Hyung,” Junhong muttered.

Youngjae proceeded to open the box, revealing a small black bunny plush toy, donning a ‘joker’ mask with a set of poker cards in its hands.

He snapped his head up, looking at each of his friends. “This proves it! Daehyun is alive somewhere and he’s reaching me through my dreams.”

Silence hung in the air, pregnant and thick, before Jongup broke it. “What if, Daehyun-hyung wasn’t actually dead when we buried him? You know, like in Kill Bill...?”

Himchan winced visibly. “Er that would be—”

“—Maybe Daehyun-hyung is still alive in some other dimension or something,” Junhong cut in.

Himchan sighed in defeat. “No, guys. Daehyun is dead,” he looked at Youngjae squarely in the eyes. “And nothing can bring him back.”

Youngjae blinked a couple of times. “But. My dream! There is no way that I could’ve known that the gift was in Daehyun’s drawer.”

“Well, that’s easy,” Yongguk said, finally saying something. “He could’ve told you about it before he died. Maybe the grief made your mind block it out, and to somehow cope with the loss, you dreamt about it.”

Youngjae was taken aback. What Yongguk said made sense, however, he was sure he would have remembered if Daehyun had ever mentioned something like that. Which could mean— “Are you saying... I’m going crazy?” His eyes widening, flickering over each of his friend’s faces.

Himchan quickly shook his head. “No, no. No one is saying that.” Youngjae broke eye contact and looked down at his feet dejectedly. Himchan approached him, placing his hands on his shoulders.

“Look Youngjae, we know what you’re going through. It’s fine. We’re here for you, alright?”

Youngjae looked up to see eyes filled with genuine concern, a look reflected in each of his friend’s faces as his eyes travelled over them.

He sighed. “I know, hyung, I know. Thanks.” He smiled softly at the other.

***

Youngjae was tossing and turning in bed again. Frustrated at being unable to sleep, he opened his eyes, only to see Daehyun standing at the foot of his bed.

“Hello Youngjae. I’m just gonna keep talking even if you can’t hear me,” he took a deep breath. “Yesterday someone told me I stink and that I'm stinking up the whole place with my stink. That they could smell me all the way from the front entrance. And that I could use a long shower. Like, 10-years long kind of shower. Like, excuse me? How dare they! I think I smell just fine. As fine as I look, I might add, as usual. And you look fine too, of course—”

“—Shut up, I can hear you!” Youngjae said, bringing his hands up over his ears. Daehyun stopped and grinned down at him. Youngjae then brought his hands down, giving the other a serious look. “Himchan-hyung said that you weren’t real. That this is just a dream.”

“Oh—oh yeah?” Daehyun replied, petulant. “Well can a dream take you dining at the finest restaurant at the top of the tallest hotel building in the world?”

Youngjae blinked in shock and took in his sudden new surroundings, mouth hanging agape as he found himself in a posh restaurant, overlooking the Dubai city-centre. He tore his eyes away from the view in the windows, looking back at Daehyun, who was smiling smugly at him.

“Well... Technically, yes. Though this is pretty amazing.” Youngjae smiled warmly at the other, pink dusting his cheeks.

“—Or can it take you on a moonlit walk along the finest beaches of Seychelles?” Youngjae felt Daehyun’s hand in his as he was dragged forwards along the pale grey sand of the beach, silver-blue water glittering in the moonlight, towering granite boulders decorating the star-dotted skies. They stopped running, just basking in the beauty of the scenery, strong sea breeze throwing their hair about.

“Here, have my jacket. You look a little cold.” Youngjae only realized then that he only had on a thin t-shirt. He pulled Daehyun’s jacket tighter around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he said softly, feeling a tiny clenching in his chest as he studied Daehyun’s face.

His eyes started stinging and getting moist. He believed he must be getting salty sea water in them. Tearing his eyes away from the breeze, he turned to Daehyun. “This place is gorgeous, Daehyun. This can’t be just a dream. You must be alive,” he looked dejectedly down at his feet as he toed the soft sand. “How I wish I could convince the others that you’re alive too.”

Daehyun held him by the shoulders and looked into his eyes in an intense manner. “Yes you can, Youngjae.”

Youngjae’s face was etched in confusion. “How?”

“All you gotta do is wake up.”

Panic suddenly flitted through Youngjae’s being. “No no! Don’t say that! This is real!”

—Youngjae sat up promptly in bed. He let out a groan of frustration as he rubbed at his face. Not another dream... Then he felt something heavy on his shoulders. He took it off and held it up in front of his eyes. Though his bedroom was dark, he could clearly make out what it was. He gasped softly.

Daehyun’s jacket. The one he was buried in. And he gave it to me in that dream. He’s alive…!

***

This time Youngjae told his friends to gather at Yongguk's place. The memories of being in Himchan and Daehyun's shared flat would be too much for him to bear. This time, he was sure that he could convince his friends.

The moment Yongguk opened the door for him and let him in, he looked at his friends and took a deep breath before proclaiming, “Daehyun is alive and I have proof.” He heard soft sighs coming from his friends’ lips. Junhong and Jongup looked worried, Yongguk was studying him with concern, and Himchan’s face was contorted into a mix of lethargy and defeat.

“Well? Show us then,” Yongguk urged.

Youngjae gulped nervously. “Look,” holding up the bag-covered clothes hanger in his hand, he ped it and held it up for his friends to see. “He gave me his jacket last night.”

The crease in Yongguk’s forehead deepened and Junhong’s eyes widened slightly. Himchan frowned—he looked angry; offended, almost. “Youngjae, that’s not Daehyun’s jacket. That’s your jacket!”

Youngjae’s eyes flitted to the item of clothing in his hands and his heart immediately picked up pace. It was indeed his favourite jacket. He was pretty sure it was Daehyun’s jacket that was on him last night. He looked at Himchan desperately. “But Daehyun—Last night he—And when I woke up—”

“Youngjae,” Yongguk cut him off. “You’re obviously under a lot of guilt-stress. In addition to the grief.” He walked towards the younger boy and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You should hang with us more. Let off some steam—”

Youngjae felt anger suddenly bubbling within him. “I am not under stress, damn it!” He was starting to get really frustrated over this whole ordeal.

“Everything’s going to be alright,” Daehyun said from his left. —Daehyun? His head immediately darted to the smooth voice. “What—?”

But it was Jongup who returned his hysterical expression with a calm smile, eyebrows still creased in worry. “I said, everything is going to be alright, Youngjae-hyung.”

It was just Jongup... My mind is playing tricks on me. I think I need to calm down. He started pacing the room aimlessly. “I—I’m sorry guys. Maybe I’m freaking out a little.”

“A little—?” Himchan responded, appalled. “You’re more freaked out than I have ever seen you!”

“Himchan.” Yongguk said in a warning tone.

Youngjae stopped. He ran his hand through his hair. “I need to calm down. Maybe I need sleep. I need to take some more pills and get some sleep.”

“—Pills?” Junhong quipped. “Hyung, even I know those aren’t helping you.”

Youngjae looked up nervously at the youngest. “I—I know. I just—I’m tired and—”

“He’s right, Youngjae,” Himchan cut in. “Please, Youngjae, just—we’re worried for you. Please come to us—any of us—if you ever need anything. Anything at all. Or come to me, alright?”

Youngjae felt his chest tighten slightly at the concern his friends were showing. “I—I get it. Don’t worry about me guys,” he said, eyes spanning across each of his friends’ faces. “I’ll be fine.”

***

His eyes stung from dryness and lack of sleep and no matter how hard he tried to shut them, he couldn’t seem to fall into the rested slumber he badly needed. Why is the accepting—the moving on—so damn hard? He was sure that he was doing just fine. It was those dreams—hallucinations—whatever those were. He was doing just fine trying to move on, and now even his friends were beginning to think that he has lost his mind.

He halted his train of thoughts—he needed to see Daehyun again.

Youngjae got up from his bed and headed towards the bathroom, hands automatically reaching for the familiar container. He didn't care how many of those capsules he ended up swallowing. He just wanted, needed to escape to the alternate reality where Daehyun is still alive.

***

When he opened his eyes, Youngjae found himself lying in a familiar bed, his surroundings igniting that painful nostalgia within him again. He took a deep breath, taking in the familiar scent that he missed so much. Blinking the sleep away, he tried not to ponder if this was reality or yet just another trick of the mind.

He rolled over to his sides, basking in the sheer comfort the sheets beneath him was currently providing him with. He closed his eyes, sleep tugging at them still. He had almost succumbed to it before a loud, muffled chuckle coming from outside the room caused him to snap his eyes open.

Daehyun?

He promptly sat up and got off the bed. Walking across the room to the door, he strained his ears, picking up on the soft chattering of Himchan and Daehyun that seemed to have come from the living room. He took slow steps towards the source of the voices, coming to a halt as he entered the threshold.

Daehyun noticed his presence and slowly looked to his face, lips curling into a slight smile. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”

This is… This isn’t like the other dreams. His mind struggled to catch up with his senses. He couldn’t seem to get a hold of what was real and what wasn’t anymore. He was sure this was just another dream-hallucination of his. But somehow, this felt different, and he wasn’t sure why.

“What’s wrong, Youngjae?” Daehyun asked, confusion clear and sincere in his face and voice. Himchan turned to give him a worried look too.

“I—You’re here?” His voice trailed off in a questioning lilt, confused himself at the sensibility of his question.

“Well of course. I live here. Did you forget?” Daehyun grinned suddenly. “Man, what were you dreaming of? Must’ve been pretty screwed up. Since it screwed up with your pretty little head.” He laughed, and Himchan laughed too.

“But I—We were in an accident—weren’t we? And you died. You died, Daehyun.” His gaze hardened on the man currently sitting comfortably on the couch in front of him.

Daehyun’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about, Youngjae? I’m right here. You fell asleep as we were driving back. A very deep sleep, it seems; I couldn’t wake you. So I brought you back to my place and let you sleep. What accident are you talking about?”

Youngjae started taking rapid shallow breaths. His eyes flitted about, panicky and scared. What is real and what isn’t anymore?

“—Youngjae?”

Youngjae felt like his own sanity was giving up on him, packing its bags and leaving on a jetplane, leaving him to deal with this messy mix-up of reality his mind has kindly served him with. He placed his fingers on his temples, lightly massaging them, trying to coax his sanity to come back to him. “I—I’m fine. I guess I just had a really bad dream. It felt so real, though,” he muttered the last sentence to himself, but he felt strong hands grasping at his arms.

“Youngjae.” That low, smooth voice he had missed so much spoke again, this time coming from right in front of him, giving him slight comfort somehow.

“I’m sorry,” he replied as he looked up into those familiar dark brown eyes. “So, everything’s fine, right? You’re alive? There was no accident?” He continued. He couldn’t help the tinge of hope that was laced in his voice, and he was sure it was in his eyes as well. Whatever it was that he had been through was undoubtedly the worst period of his young life ever. He would never want to go through the pain of losing Daehyun ever again, not until they’re both old and wrinkled anyway.

Daehyun’s eyes flitted with emotions one after another, before finally settling on sympathy. “Well… Not exactly. I wish everything’s fine too.”

Youngjae’s heartbeats sped up exponentially. "What—what do you mean?" he asked, though he had an idea of what it could be.

Daehyun’s eyes softened. "You need to wake up, Youngjae."

"N—no!" Youngjae shook Daehyun's hands off of himself, head shaking in protest, desperately fighting back the tears threatening to fall. "Stop saying that!"

"Please wake up."

—Youngjae took a sharp intake of breath as his eyes snapped open to the darkness of his own bedroom. He felt warm tears trailing down his cheeks. The soft cries slowly became sniffled weeps as he recalled the dream he just had. He could take seeing Daehyun in his dreams sometimes, hearing his voice, seeing his smiling face, having his hand in his. They helped to ease the pain, though a little; an ailment to his longing. However the one he just had was too real, too undream-like. It gave him hope, raising it only to be crushed in the end. It was like an apathetic gunshot to his fragile heart.

It was simply too cruel.

He curled into himself in his sheets, sobs racking his body until the rising sun illuminated his room.

***

Youngjae knew he had to talk to someone about everything. He contacted Himchan, for he was sure that out of everyone, he would be the one brave enough to be blunt and give him a cruel reality check. He had also made it clear to Youngjae that he would give him whatever help and support he needed.

Currently he was sitting across from Himchan in a cafe they frequented. Himchan’s brows was furrowing with deep worry as he studied his friend. Youngjae’s eyes looked tired, dark circles underlining them, and he noticed slight stubbles on his chin and upper lip.

“Himchan-hyung,” Youngjae began, “I think I’m really losing it,” he took a deep breath, “I still dream of him all the time, hyung. And when I do, I’d feel really happy. But then I’d wake up, and I’d get really upset. And sometimes he’s there when I’m awake too. And I just—” a huge sigh, “I don’t know what is real and what isn’t anymore.”

He finally looked up into Himchan’s eyes, which were currently reflecting utter sympathy for the younger boy. “Youngjae…” Something flashed in his soft gaze and the next thing Youngjae knew, he saw malice in those sharp eyes.

“Isn’t that what you deserve, Youngjae?” Youngjae found himself trembling at the hatred in his friend’s voice. “You did kill him anyway.”

“W-What?”

“Don’t act dumb, Youngjae. You are the cause of Daehyun’s death,” Himchan said accusingly. “You killed Daehyun.”

Youngjae felt something clenching in his chest at Himchan’s words. Tears started filling his eyes as a dozen thoughts ran through his mind. A part of him wanted to deny the words, but another part of him actually wanted to agree.

Himchan leaned closer to him, cutting his thoughts short. “You killed Daehyun, Youngjae.”

“Himchan-hyung, why—?” Youngjae looked disbelievingly back at someone he knew to be a kind hyung. Is this the same person?

“You killed him, Youngjae.”

Youngjae’s breathing started picking up and he didn’t want to accept that Himchan, of all people, had turned his back on him. Does no one side him now? The chair he was sitting on screeched against the floor loudly as he stood up to leave the cafe without a single glance back. What is going on?

Youngjae struggled to reason with himself as he walked along the sidewalk with no destination in mind. He suddenly heard someone calling his name and his mood brightened when he spotted Jongup a few feet ahead of him. His mind was still reeling from the encounter with Himchan as he watched Jongup jog up to him. Should he mention it to him or not?

“Youngjae-hyung!” Jongup studied him with a concerned look on his face. “What’s wrong, hyung?”

Youngjae looked into the face of his mild-mannered friend and couldn’t find it in him to confide whatever have happened between Himchan and him. “Nothing, Jongup.”

“You sure, hyung?” Jongup quipped. “Nothing’s wrong? Not even after you’ve caused Daehyun’s death?”

Youngjae felt like he had been slapped in the face by the boy’s words. His mouth hung open in disbelief but before he could question him, his cellphone rang with an incoming message.

    From: Junhong
    youngjae hyungie.. why did u kill daehyunnie hyung? ..didnt u like him?

Youngjae blinked hard, twice. Just what is happening? His cellphone vibrated again, this time, with an incoming call from Yongguk.

“Answer it, hyung.” Youngjae looked up to meet Jongup’s hard gaze. The phone trembled in Youngjae’s hand as he pressed the answer button and brought it up to his ear. He was suddenly so afraid.

“H-hello?” Youngjae unconsciously braced himself for the worst.

“Where did you run off to? I’m so disappointed in you. You killed Daehyun.”

There it was. Even Yongguk has turned against him. Youngjae’s mind reeled and there was a painful throbbing at the front of his skull. He can vaguely hear Jongup’s voice accusing him of killing Daehyun non-stop. His phone still vibrated with new incoming accusing messages from Junhong.

It was starting to feel like a nightmare he never thought he’d have to go through, especially not after having to lose Daehyun. He needed to get away from everyone, especially his friends. “No! Shut up, all of you! No, Daehyun didn’t die because of me!” Youngjae roughly shoved Jongup aside and bolted for his home at top speed.

His heart was beating out of his ribcage as he burst through his front door. His breathing has gotten rapid and harsh. Youngjae dashed to his room, fingers pulling at his hair. A myriad of emotions was running through him and he started grabbing and knocking random things off his dresser in desperation. He could still hear his friends’ voices in his head. You killed Daehyun. You killed Daehyun. It was your fault Daehyun died. Youngjae screamed out in frustration.

“Youngjae!” Youngjae froze upon hearing the familiar warm voice calling his name. A soothing voice that used to calm him when he was anxious only brought him more distress now. His eyes flitted frantically across his room, trying to look for the source of the voice.

“Youngjae, can your hear me?”

“No! Shut up! I killed you! Everyone said so!” Youngjae screamed as he tried covering his ears, but his efforts were futile.

“No, Youngjae, please—” Youngjae’s eyes finally landed on the source of the voice—a photo of them together which was buried under a pile of his books.

“Yes I did, Daehyun! You died because of me!” He snatched the photo, eyes becoming more wild as the image of the other moved. Things have stopped making sense a long while ago. Maybe he has indeed become insane.

“Youngjae, please, listen to me. Please just wake up.”

“Shut up! Stop saying that! You don’t get it! I just—I can’t do this anymore!” He yelled, even as the image of the other’s face softened in sympathy, eyes turning sorrowful.

“Youngjae…” Youngjae clutched the photo tighter in his hands.

“I can’t do this anymore, Daehyun. I can’t. This is too hard,” he said, voice broken as a thick lump started forming in his throat.

“No, Youngjae, please, you can do this. I know you can.”

Youngjae got up to get to his bathroom as tears filled his eyes, blurring his vision. He grabbed the familiar container as the tears began to spill down his cheeks.

“Youngjae, please! I know you! The Youngjae I know would never give up this easily. The Youngjae I know would pull through, no matter how hard things get—”

Youngjae popped open the container and after placing the photograph down carefully on the bathroom sink, he emptied it, pouring all the remaining pills into his right palm. He looked up into the mirror in front of him and sniffled at the face reflected back at him—tears staining his cheeks, eyes and nose red and blotchy, hair unkempt.

Another sniffle began to echo his. “Youngjae, please. Please don’t give up.” The voice was getting softer and more broken. Quiet sobs could be heard.

“The Youngjae I know would give his all…”

“I’m sorry, Daehyun…”

“The Youngjae I know… The Youngjae I know… is my inspiration. My motivation.”

Youngjae shut his eyes as Daehyun’s broken sobs filled his ears.

“Please don’t give up, Youngjae, please… I need you… I-I love you.”

Youngjae clenched his right palm, gripping the pills as the words drove into his soul, persistently trying to break through his resolve. Stark white started fading in from behind his eyelids. He started to feel his consciousness slipping away from him.

“Youngjae, please. Please wake up…”

***

Youngjae blinked slowly. His eyelids felt heavy and his eyes sting from the sudden exposure to light. He could hear soft sobs coming from his right. His senses were slowly coming back to him and he could only just register the feeling of someone else’s hands clasping around his right one as he was lying in a comfortable bed.

Squinting to minimise the glare, his eyes flitted around, making him realise he was in a bright, clean room with minimal decor and furniture. I’m in a hospital, aren’t I? Did I really attempt to…? Confusion hit him hard as his limbs felt heavy and he had no idea what was happening to him. He slowly turned his head towards the sniffling sounds to see a mop of brown hair, head bent and face currently hidden by the owner’s hands, clasping around his. In spite of it, Youngjae immediately knew who he was.

“—Daehyun…?” His voice was hoarse and his throat scratched painfully from disuse.

The head of brown hair snapped up like a pulled rubber band. Daehyun’s teary eyes widened as his mouth hung open. “Youngjae? You’re awake! You’re actually awake!”

Youngjae flinched at Daehyun’s loud voice. Daehyun has always been loud but to his sensitive ears he sounded like a loud-hailer. “Keep it down,” he croaked, “Of course I’m awake… You wouldn’t stop waking me, pabo.”

Daehyun’s eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, as his grip on Youngjae’s hand tightened, comprehension washing over his face slowly. Youngjae vaguely registered the sound of running footsteps before four other boys entered the room. Himchan, Yongguk, Jongup and Junhong came in, anxiety-stricken face quickly replaced with looks of utter relief.

“Youngjae,” Himchan said in a soft sigh as Junhong breathed a quiet ‘Hyung’ next to him. Jongup flashed him a comforting smile as Yongguk tapped the two youngest’ shoulders gently as he muttered, “I’ll go get a doctor,” before leaving the room again.

“Youngjae, I’m—no, we’re so glad you’re awake. The doctors said—Oh god those doctors. Damn I’m gonna give them a piece of my mind for being so damn pessimistic. Giving up so damn early when obviously no one was dying—”

“We’re glad you’re okay, hyung,” Jongup cut in. “Daehyun-hyung wouldn’t leave your side, even though he just got better from the accident too.”

Youngjae looked at him quizzically. “...Accident?”

“Oh don’t you worry about me,” flustered Daehyun. “I feel better than ever! I was strapped in, remember? It was you who weren’t—”

“—And he didn’t leave your side ever! Well, except to go to the washroom… He even talked to you while you were asleep, hyung!” finished Jongup.

Youngjae turned to Daehyun. “Daehyun…”

“It was nothing.” Pink was dusting Daehyun’s cheeks. “I figured if I didn’t stop talking, that my words would eventually reach you, somehow,” he said while shrugging.

Youngjae smiled softly up at the male next to him. Daehyun’s hair was a mess and he could see slight stubble on his chin. Youngjae tried sitting up, having trouble as he was still weak and he felt something heavy on his shoulders. Daehyun quickly moved to help as he realised what Youngjae was trying to do. Youngjae looked to his shoulders and was surprised to see Daehyun’s favourite jacket around him. Heat rushed to his face as he recalled his coma-induced dreams. He turned back to look at Daehyun, studying him as the latter’s hands gripped his upper arm as he fluffed up Youngjae’s pillow for him to rest his back on. Daehyun met his eyes then and a few seconds went by without either of them tearing their gazes off the other. The tension in the air got ridiculously thick.

“Come on guys, let’s go grab some food.” Youngjae vaguely heard Himchan saying as he and the two youngest left the room, leaving him alone with Daehyun.

Youngjae opened his mouth to say something but his dry throat continued scratching painfully. Daehyun noticed this and immediately poured him a cup of water. He settled back onto his seat, leaning towards Youngjae as he sipped the cooling liquid.

Youngjae swallowed thickly before trying to speak again, “How long was I gone?”

“Hmm around eight days, give or take,” Daehyun replied, feigning nonchalance. Frankly, he knew how long exactly Youngjae had been asleep. The doctors had given him ten days to regain consciousness after the recovery surgery, and anytime after would mean he would have been permanently brain-dead. Daehyun had simply been counting down the days and he had gotten pretty desperate.

Youngjae hummed in response. His mind was still reeling from everything he had gone through. This was real this time, right? Daehyun wouldn’t tell him to wake up and he wouldn’t open his eyes to a world without Daehyun, right? He sure hoped so. This felt more real than all those previous dreams.

“Youngjae, listen.” Youngjae turned to look at Daehyun but his eyes flitted to his hand instead when he felt Daehyun slipping both his hands around it. Youngjae felt an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Uncomfortable, but not unwelcomed.

“Youngjae look at me.” Youngjae slowly met Daehyun’s eyes, which were still slightly red from his sobbing earlier. “Let’s try not to do that again, alright? I mean we argue over the littlest things. I-I thought I’d lost you. That our last moments together was us shouting at each other. And that my last memory of you was you demanding me to drop you off in the middle of nowhere…”

Youngjae felt his lips pulling up into a small smile. Yes, he was sure this is real. This is the real Daehyun. “Daehyun, please. I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m sorry for overreacting. I don’t know why I was so angry.”

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m sorry too for getting so worked up. Well I’m just glad that you’re okay,” Daehyun replied softly, with the same softness reflected in his eyes and his smile.

Youngjae didn’t know who leaned in first, but he soon found himself engulfed in a warm embrace. He s his arms around Daehyun and pulled him closer.

“Daehyun…”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For not giving up on me. For continuously trying to wake me.”

Daehyun stiffened in his hold for an instant, pulse racing. “You mean—my words really got through to you?” he fought the raging blush rushing up to his face as he recalled the things he had said to the unconscious Youngjae.

Youngjae held him tighter as he buried his face in Daehyun’s shoulder. “Yes. They got through, Daehyunnie. They got through…”

In spite of his hammering heart, Daehyun felt incredibly comforted by the other’s warmth and close proximity. He closed his eyes as his pulse slowly calmed to a pleasant pace, wanting to enjoy the feel of the other in his embrace for as long as possible.

…

“By the way, Daehyun, you could really use a 10-year long shower.”

A stupid grin broke out on Daehyun’s face then as he squeezed the other in his arms.

“Guess what. You too, Youngjae pabo.”

A/N: Daejae's relationship was intentionally left open so see them however you want to. Didn't plan on releasing this on this particular date but since I have, Happy Birthday Daehyun! And I'm sorry this is so heartbreaking ;~;