Thank you for staying with me! :) 

-----------------------

None of us likes it but we have to leave the hospital to go with Song to the police station. I wish we could at least change into something less conspicuous than our white stage outfits that aren’t even white anymore and partly in rags.

On our way out we meet our manager. I’m actually glad to see him and he fills us in on what the company has done so far.

“We have contacted all of your parents of course.”

Oh , I didn’t even think about mine so far. My mum is probably worried to death.

“Kibum’s father is in Japan right now and his mother is in hospital herself. So they won’t be able to come here anytime soon.”

“Then we ought to be there when he wakes up”, Jonghyun says, “can you please arrange something. They’re still reluctant to let us see him.”

“I’m already working on that”, the manager says, “I know he’ll want to see you. Anyway, there will be a press conference on the whole incident soon. It would be great if one of you could attend but the CEO promised not to put pressure on you.”

“If needed, I’ll go”, Minho volunteers. He’s definitely the right person for that. We are so lucky to have him backing us up in situations like this.

“Okay, great. Your parents will come to the police station so you can talk to them there. And I’ve brought clothes for all of you as well. I just grabbed what was left at the dorm.”

He smiles awkwardly and I’m really glad he’s here. He also has come a long way with us and is managing us well even in a situation as desperate as this one.

“Thank you”, I say and bow to him. Jjong and Minho following my example like they always do.

We take the clothes and get in the car with Song. Changing in the backseat is a bit of a struggle but we manage and almost look casual in spite of the heavy makeup.

Arriving at the police station our parents are all over us. My mum hugs me so closely I think my spine is gonna break. But at least she is not crying as much as Jjong’s mother and sister. Seems it runs in the family.

Minho’s father is there, too. He is more reserved, as expected, but it’s clearly visible how relieved he is to have his son back unharmed.

Song interrupts our family reunions politely and tells us:

“All three of you will be interviewed separately about what happened at the stadium and related incidents. We need to get everybody’s individual perception and memory to put things together.”

Then he takes me first to an interview room.

I state my name, date of birth and address while a young officer gets me some ice-tea and a mars bar. Then Song starts with the interview.

I tell him how I noticed the shoes even before the start of the concert and that Taemin said he had received them last minute from the coordi-noona.

Song makes a note and asks me for her name. I tell him but I also make clear that she most certainly didn’t know anything about the bombs and only received them by a messenger. Song nods and passes the note on to another policeman who will probably try to contact Kyung-A noona. I hope she doesn’t get in trouble.

I try to remember everything as detailed as possible to give Song something to work with. It makes me wonder how the others are doing.

Taemin will probably be questioned hardest as soon as the doctors allow it. And Kibum ... our perceptive lookout, he could probably recall things I didn’t even notice while they were happening.

Suddenly I only want to leave and go back to the hospital. I feel the urge to at least see him, just watch him breathing.

Song notices that I’m becoming restless.

“You’re worried”, he says.

“Yes.”

He slowly shakes his head with a faint smile.

“You guys are really something else.”  

“What do you mean?” I want to know.

“Well ... first of all you gave everybody a hard time to be dragged out of there and then we constantly had to watch out that you didn’t run back in.” He chuckles.

“And your guy, Kim Kibum, he takes a tazer attack and not only gets back up but keeps dancing off his skinny . I’ve seen grown men staying down after a shot like that and whining for a week.”

I’m weirdly proud when he says that. That’s our Kibum alright.

“But most of all I didn’t expect you to cling to each other so desperately, like you were family or something. I’ve only ever witnessed anything like that when parents are in danger to lose their children.”

But we are family, aren’t we?

“Well ...” I say, “I do not have any siblings, but if I had I’d wish they were like them.”

It’s true, I wish I had a bunch of younger brothers who stand in for each other and for me; who put their own well-being behind that of their siblings and still hold on to them when the walls come tumbling down. But in a way I already have them, don’t I?