The shivering began and he felt his whole body give way to it. The cold burrowed deep into his flesh, reaching right into the very soul of him. There was nothing but the cold. His world was circumscribed by cold. He was the cold.

  He was breathing raggedly, drawing strangled breaths. It bit almost painfully at the back of his throat. It was inescaable, unabearable. There was no slight flicker of warmth in his world. Nothing but the cold.

  His lower lip shook and he pressed his fingers to it for a moment, making it stop. Henry forced his chattering teeth apart, his breathing shallow and weak. A hoarse cry of despair was torn from him.

  Live. Henry, Live.

  Then, he felt the most glorious, liberating sense of warmth radiating through his body. Beautiful warmth that forced the cold out, that spread the cold out, the spread to the very tips of his fingers and toes in a series of pulsing waves.

  He had never felt anything so wonderful in his life. The trembling eased as successive waves of warmth gently wash over him.

  His tight muscles relaxed into a delightful sense of rest and well-being. He felt strings pulling him towards the light, further and further- till the world expolded in a splendor of light.

  Henry woke, startled. Deep inside him, a faint memory stirred for a second or two... A memory of the dream and the voice he had heard. He felt the dream ebb further from him and hide into the darkness recesses of his mind. Now, he couldn't seem to get his heartbeat under control and wave after wave of coldness broke across his neck and shoulders, making his hair prickle and jaw tremble. 

  And this dream, though he could never recall it, would happen over and over again... even up till he was finally discharged from the hospital. Though Henry may have recovered physically, he still bore scars of the accident. Every now and then, he still flinched at loud noises. Every now and then, his chest would tighten... His breaths coming in choking gasps... The air he drawn would stay trapped... It felt as if steelbands were tightening around his chest, making every breath a strain.

  "Hyung," Henry said to Leeteuk, a few days after his discharge, not realizing that his voice was just barely above a whisper.

  Leeteuk nodded for the maknae to continue.

  A lump of sadness lodged in Henry throat, making it rather difficult to articulate his words. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

  Leeteuk looked at him blankly. It was a simple apology, but Leeteuk somehow got the sense that the younger was apologizing for something bigger. A wave of uneasiness washed over the leader as he continued to stare at the younger, his eyes desperately searching the maknae's face for some clue to his unease. He saw nothing... but serenity. A mask of calmness.