Jongin was starting to believe that he would never be able to escape the hospital. Every time he came to think that he was close to being discharged, he would be put through yet another doctor’s check-up. “Just another day,” was what the nurses would say brightly as they came to deliver new blankets and pillows - as though the scratchy pieces of cloth and flat foam would make the, so called, bed more comfortable. His parents came by every day, Kyungsoo often trailing along after them in a reluctant manner.

It was surprising - his younger brother’s indifferent behavior in regards to Jongin’s injuries. He hardly asked how the older teen was doing, only watching from afar with a scowl as his mother made sure that his pillows were fluffed - which consisted of her folding the thin strips of foam in half in order for the boy to be able to prop his head up - and his father ordered the doctors around, believing that they weren’t doing enough for his son, which was their “damn job, and our good, hard-earned money goes towards them doing their damn job.”

When Jongin inquired about Kyungsoo’s silence - which caused his days to feel empty without the younger of the two throwing a carefully planned insult in his elder sibling’s direction - his mother simply said that the boy was having trouble coping with the accident and what had happened to Junmyeon.

Oh yeah.

Upon requesting further information from his father, he learned the following details that the impact had caused him to forget. The semi truck had crushed the passenger’s side - luckily making the collision less severe for Kyungsoo and Jongin. Kyungsoo miraculously escaped with minor injuries consisting of various cuts and bruises, along with a broken arm that was in the process of healing quite smoothly. Junmyeon had not been as lucky as his younger siblings.

The paramedics labeled him dead on the scene five minutes after they arrived.

Jongin had been titled unresponsive when the paramedics reached him. He had several cuts on his arms and face, and his right ankle had been broken. Some of the worst injuries he had received had hardly been visible, as they were centered around his head.

“Brain damage?” Jongin repeated for the nth time that day, causing his father to sigh loudly, bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head, practically dizzying himself. “I don’t understand. If I had brain damage, wouldn’t there be more than just these stupid little headaches?” He was trying to play it off as though it were nothing, gaze often going to his mother who was looking between him and the doctor hopefully as she absently ran frail fingers through Kyungsoo’s thick hair. The fifteen year-old’s gaze was locked on the floor.

The, so-called, ‘stupid little headaches’ that Jongin had been receiving the past few days had been anything but. They were, in fact, powerful migraines that almost pushed him to the point of tears. He was once jolted from a much needed state of slumber, only to be faced with an agonizing stabbing in the back of his head, so sharp and jagged that his vision blurred until he was blind to his own hand in front of his face, the white of the lights taking over. He had panicked, frantically searching for the CALL button on the remote attached to his bed. By the time he had found it, his sight was slowly being returned to him, and when the nurses entered, he could hardly explain what had occurred, his body slumping as he lost consciousness.

Jongin could feel eyes on him, and he immediately looked down at his hands; fingers aimlessly fiddling with the small plastic bracelet around his wrist. “I’m not like… mentally handicapped or anything. They’re just headaches.” It was quiet for a moment, and Jongin blinked rapidly, attempting to calm himself as no one had made any comment to assure him such was not the case. “Right?” he finally urged weakly, lifting his gaze to look desperately around the room. Everyone’s eyes were on the doctor, who seemed especially wary.

“Brain damage is tricky,” the man began slowly, pushing lithe fingers through his greying hair. “While it seems that, for now, your worst symptom is your migraines - we have no idea if this will heal or progress. Most brain injuries are either remedied by another round of neurosurgery,” - both Jongin and his mother seemed to pale at this - “or they become chronic ailments without cure. Treatment is always possible, depending on the damage and symptoms… But, in your case…” his voice trailed off and he finally resulted to helplessly shrugging his shoulders.

“We’ll have to wait and see whether or not time has decided to be with us or against us.”

Days dragged on slowly - each hour seeming agonizingly long to Jongin, whose only wish was to get out of the hell hole. Each doctor visit only left him even more drained than the one before it, and while he was grateful to be healing so well, he wanted things to go back to the way they were. Even though he knew that they never could.

Part of Jongin was wary of the time that he would be leaving the hospital. Mainly because he wasn’t sure how things would be when he returned home. His family was now broken. Junmyeon had been the glue keeping everyone together. Junmyeon was always there to make people laugh, or hold them when they would cry. He was protective - never failing to make a move when Kyungsoo was targeted by bullies, even if the elder of the two wasn’t the best fighter, he never complained when he took a blow for his siblings. He was there to help with homework, and relationship dilemmas. He was there to help with the housework and dinner whenever their mother asked. Even when the time came where he graduated and entered college - the family had been torn. It was weird, not having him around every night, but at least they were able to call and text him every day. And they were relieved with the knowledge that he would be back the following weekend. Now, they were faced with the cruel reality that he wasn’t coming back.

There had been times, since the accident, that Jongin had woken up with a headache, and his hand desperately searched for his phone, fingers rapidly dialing a familiar number. Unfortunately, the phone would ring, and ring, and ring, and Jongin remembered. The sound of his brother’s voice would fill his head as it brightly chattered through the speaker.

Hey, you’ve reached Junmyeon.

Jongin’s hand would begin to shake, but he could never bear to take the device away from his ear, or silence his brother’s happy voice.

I’m not here right now because I’m probably doing something important -

It was at this point where the tears would begin to fall.

- but leave me a message, or send me a text, and I’ll call you back as soon as possible, I promise.

Jongin had once been so delirious from his pain that he almost began to send a text message, catching himself just before hitting send and throwing his phone across the room. The same thing happened almost every other night. His parents claimed that he should see one of the hospital’s psychiatrists, but he refused. Regardless of the therapy, regardless of the grief counseling.

Things would never be the same.