Rush

The doors flew open, Junmyeon heard someone stomping into his office, but didn’t take his gaze away from typing on his computer. It wasn’t until that person cleared their throat that he looked up to see who it was. By that face, a not so amused Tao had walked in, Taeyong stood nervously behind him.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mister Huang refused to listen to me,” Taeyong said. Junmyeon had given clear instructions not to let anyone enter his office unannounced, even when they were announced he mostly declined to receive them. These days his mind was too tired to deal with casual chit-chat with anybody, let alone during office hours. And Junmyeon had mainly been avoiding Tao and Yifan until he was more confident he could imitate his emotions like he used to feel them. It was no wonder Tao had come, he had probably gotten enough of Junmyeon being ‘too busy’ to answer the phone or reply any of his text messages.

“It’s okay, Taeyong. You can leave.”

Taeyong excused himself and left them alone. Tao sat down in one of the two chairs near the desk, still staring at Junmyeon sternly.

“Where have you been, Junmyeon?” Tao went directly to the point as he always did when he was feeling impatient.

Junmyeon found it’d be easier to continue typing on his computer while answering to Tao’s question, that way he wouldn’t have to focus on feigning a reaction. “Work’s been very busy after that unplanned vacation I took. And as you know, I’ve been dealing with the break-up’s impact.”

When Junmyeon looked sideways to see Tao’s face, he saw his friend squinting his eyes while examining him. Sometimes it was burdensome to have a friend that worked in the Security Department, crime prevention enforces just had this ability to analyze someone’s body language. Junmyeon continued working on his report ignoring Tao’s analytic gaze. He didn’t feel nervous by it but thought that Tao scolding him wasn’t something he had time for right now.

“I need to talk to you urgently,” Tao said.

“About what?”

“At home…”

The way Tao’s voice faded, Junmyeon guessed it must be something confidential. To avoid any self-sabotage or espionage, every office in the building had surveillance cameras. Whatever Tao wanted to say, it would be recorded on video, but also on audio if the guards choose to listen to them.

“I’m working until nine,” Junmyeon said. Tonight, he had nothing more on his agenda, and he would be going home directly, but that would be much later.

“I’ll wait.”

And that Tao did. Silently, he waited for Junmyeon the whole three hours. They didn’t talk about anything else during that time, because Junmyeon continued doing his work while Tao concentrated on scrolling through his mini tablet, an artifact from work because the Security Department’s logo was on the back. When it was time to leave, Taeyong wished Junmyeon good night and gave him his take-out dinner. Tao had said he wasn’t hungry, so Taeyong didn’t buy anything for him. Since Junmyeon had asked his chauffeur to drive him this morning, they used Tao’s car on the way home.

“Where’s Yifan?” Junmyeon wondered while he stared out of the car windows and saw how they passed by lamp post after lamp post. He would have expected Yifan to have come with Tao if they were here to discuss how Junmyeon was doing.

“With his grandparents,” Tao answered.

Junmyeon turned his head to look at Tao. That was odd. Yifan’s grandparents didn’t live in the city, and whenever he visited them, they would always go together. Besides, shouldn’t Yifan be working on his residency in the hospital? “Since when?”

“Two weeks ago.”

“Why?”

“Because I told him everything.”

What Tao meant, Junmyeon couldn’t figure out. “Everything?”

“About what happened with Yixing.”

Oh. Well, that was stupid. Junmyeon had known why Tao wanted to keep the whole Zhang Yixing affair away from Yifan’s knowledge. And even when Junmyeon had explained to Yifan why his and Zhang Yixing’s relationship had ended, he didn’t involve Tao at all (Yifan was told the same reason as everyone else). Tao coming clean himself was nothing but self-destructive.

“And why would you do that?”

Junmyeon caught how Tao’s hands squeezed the steering wheel a little tighter before letting out a deep sigh.

“Because like you, I couldn’t stand lying to Yifan anymore. After seeing you so destroyed that day, I finally understood what I put you and Yixing through. Even if I went to apologize to Yixing, guilt was continuing to gnaw at me. I had to tell him.” At that point, they stopped at a red light, and Tao looked Junmyeon straight in the eyes. “This is long overdue but, I’m sorry, Junmyeon. For all the pain I caused you.”

Maybe the previous Junmyeon would have understood the implication of Tao’s apology. Right now, he didn’t care and quickly found it more amusing to see how faint snow had started to fall and landed on the windows. It was only January, but this winter will probably last until the end of next month.

“I don’t blame you for anything, Tao. That was mostly my fault, I think.” Junmyeon said and added his most convincing smiling face, even though he didn’t know whether Tao was seeing him or not. As Tao’s friend, that must be the correct answer.

Tao didn’t reply but resumed his driving.

“Will Yifan and you be okay?” Junmyeon wasn’t worried at all, not because he believed Tao and Yifan would patch up things, but because he genuinely couldn’t find any part of him that worried his friends’ marriage might be over. If anything, he was more thinking of what reactions to make if that decision were to come one day.

“We just need more time to cool off and stuff. I did something bad, it’s understandable Yifan doesn’t want to see me for now. But he’ll come around… He always does. I hope.”

“Yeah, he will,” Junmyeon replied, making his most reassuring voice. But he couldn’t imagine the magnitude of the fight that had kept Yifan away for two weeks. Maybe his friends would fix things, maybe they wouldn’t, either way, Junmyeon frankly didn’t care. He was carefree of minor issues these days. Issues that didn’t affect him directly were tossed away, put aside and ignored. It was as if he had been programmed to make sure the following matters were of his importance: the campaign, the company, and his family’s approval. Although he couldn’t feel it, those were the only things he was ought to ‘care’ for. The rest was irrelevant, white noise.

A while later they were at Junmyeon’s home. Junmyeon and Tao sat in the dining room. Junmyeon held his chopsticks while grabbing a bite here and there from his take-out food. He was back at eating his favorite chef’s cooking, but most of it tasted bland these days. Must be another side effect of the medicine.

“What did you need to tell me?” Junmyeon asked after Tao hadn’t mentioned anything and only stared at him eating in silence.

“Have you talked to Yixing recently?”

Junmyeon shook his head. Why would they? Ever since Zhang Yixing left, Junmyeon knew he was as good as dead for the other man. There was no way they would ever talk again.

Tao shut his eyes as if he hadn’t been expecting that answer. When his gaze found Junmyeon again, he spoke. “Junmyeon, Yixing has been missing for two days,” Tao said, his voice filled with concern.

Thankfully, Junmyeon was chewing on his food, and no immediate reaction was necessary. But what did Junmyeon had to do with that? So, Zhang Yixing had decided to lay low. Big deal. It could be due to the unwanted attention he must be getting since the break-up had been made public. Still, Tao would suspect if Junmyeon didn’t show any signs of worry or fear or interest. For now, a frown could work. “Are you sure he isn’t just hiding somewhere from all the commotion?”

“No. Kyungsoo came to the Security Department this morning. We talked, and he said Yixing has been staying with them this whole time, but he hasn’t seen him since Saturday night.”

That was two days ago, and it could mean different things. For one, Zhang Yixing might be crashing over at someone else’s place. And just as that thought had been made, the ghost of the man with the dimpled smile made its presence and shook its head. Junmyeon quickly looked away from the illusion. “What if he’s just staying with someone else?” he asked anyway.

Tao disregarded that option by explaining that Zhang Yixing wasn’t answering his phone. It kept going to voicemail, no matter how many times Park Chanyeol and Do Kyungsoo had dialed that Saturday night. They decide to wait for him to communicate on Sunday but when that didn’t happen, and neither of their mutual friends knew where Zhang Yixing was, they decided to act. This morning, Do Kyungsoo went directly to report his friend’s disappearance, afraid that any moment they were losing could be crucial. Luckily, Tao had been there to take the report. However, once Tao and other crime prevention enforcers involved had looked at the machines calculating crime coefficients, Zhang Yixing’s Emotion Watch was still functioning and showed no signs of mood change. If Zhang Yixing had been in any danger, the watch would undoubtedly have changed colors to either a yellow or orange light. A disappearance case hadn’t occurred in years in the country. But there were times in which people wanted to disappear for a while and be on their own without anyone bothering them for whatever reasons. Zhang Yixing was dealing with a lot of unwanted attention these past days. It wouldn’t be until nobody heard anything from Zhang Yixing for a week that the Security Department took the matter into consideration. Of course, Do Kyungsoo didn’t know that and was only told they would be looking into the issue as soon as possible.

“What if he just left the country without anyone knowing?” Junmyeon asked. He knew Zhang Yixing’s family lived abroad, that could be an option.

“Who leaves without saying goodbye? But no, he didn’t. Yixing had a flight scheduled for this upcoming Sunday. And if he had left earlier, we would have known, his friends would have known.”

So, Zhang Yixing was gone? Junmyeon didn’t know why Tao thought it was vital for him to be informed. Well, a part of his brain knew it must be due to the history he and Yixing had shared. To Tao, Yixing should still matter to Junmyeon. But like Tao had said, cases of someone vanishing into thin air hadn’t been reported in eons. Zhang Yixing was probably just hiding somewhere, taking time off. Nevertheless, Junmyeon had to feign he cared, at least a little if he didn’t want to raise suspicion. “That’s horrible,” he said, but his concerned voice couldn’t be compared to Tao’s tone. “But there’s not much we can do, can’t we?” he said and looked down as if he had lost hope. “Let’s just wait until you guys can investigate further.” Another bite of food made its way to Junmyeon’s mouth.

“Junmyeon,” Tao’s voice spoke with annoyance, “We can’t wait. If someone else besides me gets assigned to the case and they find him, it could be the end for him.”

Junmyeon raised his eyebrows in shock but figured too late that wasn’t be the proper reaction. “Why? Isn’t it your job to bring him back safe and sound?”

Now Tao looked at him with confusion. “You haven’t figured it out yet? How?” Tao let out a sigh, “Doesn’t matter, but listen. Junmyeon, Yixing is an unreadable. You know what that means.”

Oh, so it was that. When thinking back to the times Zhang Yixing had been nervous, angry, or stressed, Junmyeon couldn’t remember seeing his watch change colors any single time. Not even when Zhang Yixing had been furious with him had the watch shone a light. It made sense he was an unreadable. But the Junmyeon from those times had been too busy being a crying wimp that he hadn’t connected the dots yet. Now when he thought carefully and heard Tao confirming it, Junmyeon knew it was true. Therefore, if another crime prevention enforcer did find Zhang Yixing, and the man had in fact been in danger, they would probably realize he was an unreadable too. A life confined in a rehabilitation facility waited for him… But wasn’t that to ensure everyone else in the outside world would be safe? That was also what Tao had said. Unreadables weren’t reliable. If Zhang Yixing went berserk, then that could be dangerous for public safety. Wasn’t it the right thing to do to keep him isolated?

“Wouldn’t that mean people were simply doing their job?” Junmyeon said but quickly realized yet again that wasn’t what Tao had wanted him to say.

“Are you serious?” Tao said horrified, “Do you really want Yixing to end up like that? Locked down forever?”

“Do you really want that?” the ghost of Zhang Yixing asked him, but only Junmyeon heard it, and tried to ignore looking the illusion’s way.

Junmyeon didn’t want anything. He just wanted that people kept doing what they were ought to do, just like he was doing. “He’s an unreadable, Tao. He along with all the others are dangerous. You should know this. Besides, what makes him so special that you want to save him and not the others? Isn’t that hypocritical?”

Tao frowned. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with you not doing your job properly? If you knew he was one, why didn’t you say so sooner?”

Tao stood up, he put his hands on the table and leaned closer to Junmyeon’s face. “How can you say that about Yixing? You love him!”

Love. What did that even mean? Did he love him? Junmyeon couldn’t feel it or remember it. But the word did bring a particular phrase to his memory. “Aren’t we supposed to do what’s best for the people we love?”

At that Tao widened his eyes while his mouth hung open. For every second Junmyeon stared at him, he knew Tao was figuring something out.

“What have you done?” Tao asked while backing away, crossing his arm and glaring at him.

Junmyeon put his chopsticks down. He was done eating. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Just a few weeks ago you were crying inconsolably because of what happened. And now, you’ve been acting nothing but detached. Don’t think I haven’t realized that you’ve been faking it this whole time. I expected hearing this emergency would at least cause you a genuine response, a little care. But you’re coldheartedly saying Yixing should be taken away? After everything we did to him?”

“You’re overreacting. What if the man is just taking some time off? He’ll come back, and there will be nothing to worry about.”

“And you’re not reacting at all! Tell me the truth, did you take the medicine Yifan talked about?”

“Tell him,” Zhang Yixing’s ghost said.

Was there even use denying it? Answering a question Tao already knew the answer to led to nothing. “It helps me be myself again.”

Junmyeon stood up to put away the dishes on the table. He walked to the kitchen while Tao followed him.

“You ing idiot!” Tao screamed at him. “That’s why you don’t care about any of this. And how exactly are you ‘yourself’ again when you’re only a numb jerk?”

“Wasn’t that who I was before? And quite frankly, it’s fine. I’m not crying anymore, I don’t feel sad. I can work and be useful again. What’s wrong with that?” Junmyeon said with that monotonous voice of him. At this point, why bothering pretending to have his human reactions? He had just closed the dishwasher after putting in the dirty dishes when Tao suddenly pulled him up.

“Junmyeon, can’t you understand that’s only messing your head? Yixing is missing for god’s sake!” Tao said while shaking him back and forth, the motion almost giving Junmyeon dizziness.

“But why should I care about that? He’s the one who left.”

Tao must have at last listened because, amid the flabbergasted expression, he let go of Junmyeon and bolted out of the room. But Tao didn’t go in the direction of the elevator doors, no, he had run upstairs. Junmyeon followed his friend, and as he had thought, he found Tao in his study room. Tao was looking through all the drawers in his desk.

“Where is it? Junmyeon?”

Not in there, Junmyeon thought. He didn’t know if he could trust the maids in charge of cleaning. Therefore Junmyeon kept the package of 100 pills in his strongbox. He needed to take one per day, and the pills he’ll need for one week were in a pillbox he always carried in his pocket.

After a while of searching and dismantling everything inside every single drawer, Tao searched in the cupboards of the large cabinet. “I won’t let you continue this, Junmyeon. You’re gonna help me find Yixing before the Security Department gets involved, whether you want it or not.”

Zhang Yixing had indeed become a complicated matter for him. A threat by Huang Zitao wasn’t something to take lightly, but Junmyeon didn’t have any time to deal with it, or feelings to put up a fight. He knew Tao wouldn’t stop bugging him until he stopped taking the emotion suppressants. But Junmyeon could take a break, make Tao pleased with seeing him feeling useless things again. When Tao was sure Junmyeon was feeling, and Zhang Yixing would have most likely returned, Junmyeon would retake them. He took out of his pocket the pillbox and put it on the desk. Tao immediately stopped his frantic search and went to pick it up.

“Ten, zero and seven,” Junmyeon said and pointed at the safe box in the wall, “That’s the combination.” Strange. He had forgotten to change it because that date didn’t matter anymore, so he didn’t have to keep it.

Tao took the hint and proceeded to unlock the safe box.

Junmyeon only had to make Tao believe he won’t ever take the emotion suppressants. He just had to feel again for a couple of days, that was all. He could do it.

Tao stayed by Junmyeon’s side after that night. Not even while being at work had Tao let him be alone. Junmyeon had to cancel his some of his appointments for the upcoming days because he couldn’t walk in there with his babysitter. Junmyeon sometimes wondered how Tao could afford to miss those days of his work, then again, his father was the main boss. Tao had also gone with him to eat with his parents, saying he and Junmyeon were only ‘holding each other company’ for now. Junmyeon’s mother was relieved to know that but still said Junmyeon had to eat with her and his father, but Tao was, of course, welcome too. And the few times Tao had thought he had clues to find Zhang Yixing, Tao had dragged Junmyeon with him. Most times they came back empty-handed.

However, getting back his feelings hadn’t been what any of them had expected. The day after cutting down the medication, Junmyeon had woken up feeling nothing. His emotions didn’t return just like that. But Tao did everything he could to make sure Junmyeon would recover them. Apparently, an emotionless Junmyeon who ‘kept missing the whole picture’ was a disadvantage in this a race against time, Tao complained. Junmyeon just couldn’t understand why he had to help. He had nothing to do with it. No matter how much they debated this, Tao wouldn’t give up.

Tao suspected that remnants of the emotion suppressants were left in Junmyeon’s blood system and therefore, the effects lingered. It was only a little, but powerful enough to keep inhibiting that part of his brain that could process emotions. Tao had given him some disgusting foods and drinks to help detox his body, and when that hadn’t worked, his friend had even given him another pill that would clean his body from any trace of medicine. Nothing had worked. Junmyeon still didn’t feel anything.

There was a fear that Junmyeon’s brain had been damaged by his continuous intake. It had only lasted for three weeks, but Tao feared that since this emotion suppressant had a stronger active substance, then that could be the cause. Of course, they couldn’t just walk into a hospital and ask if they could check whether Junmyeon had dumbly damaged his brain or not. And Yifan wasn’t here to help them either. They could only wait and see if Junmyeon would feel something.

Tao made some efforts to cause any reaction. Junmyeon watched last year’s most acclaimed comedy movie. Could he laugh? No. Tao showed him what his opponents’ followers said about him on the internet. Could he feel angry? No. Tao showed him pictures of his ‘happy times’ with Zhang Yixing. Could he feel sad? No. Tao kept reminding Junmyeon the story of how he had said I love you for the first time ever to someone. And no, Junmyeon didn’t cry, felt terrible, sad, or even cared anymore. Every attempt was futile. Inwardly, Junmyeon thought it was good news. If he couldn’t feel anything without taking emotion suppressants, then that was for the best. He figured Tao would eventually give up and accept that Junmyeon was emotionless, even without taking medicine. And that explained why he didn’t bother telling Tao to mind his own damn business and find Zhang Yixing on his own if he cared that much, Junmyeon had nothing to do with the matter.

The Friday night of that same week Tao had begun staying with him, they arrived from having dinner with Junmyeon’s parents. The doorman greeted them and asked Junmyeon to wait for a second because a package had come for him. When Junmyeon asked from who, the doorman didn’t know because one of the other residents had found it in the parking lot downstairs. That wasn’t the only strange part because most of Junmyeon correspondence was delivered through Taeyong, and he rarely got packages sent to his home address. Still, he took the small parcel from his doorman’s hands before saying goodnight.

Inside the elevator, Junmyeon saw that the package had written ‘K.J.M.’ in the same calligraphy handwriting as that poem he had gotten last week. He decided to open the parcel right there. Inside was a wooden box, which explained why it was rather heavy. When the elevator doors opened, he walked out along with his companion, heading towards the living room. Junmyeon held the wooden box and let go of the package which landed on the floor. He lifted the lid open and saw another card with the same poem and a vintage sand clock.

“What do you have there?” Tao said and took the card.

How strange. Whenever someone had sent Junmyeon a gift, it had never been delivered this way. And why had they sent the same card with the poem? Junmyeon was sure he had given the envelope with the first poem back to Taeyong, who would have taken care of sending his ‘answer.’ But Taeyong hadn’t known where that letter came from or how it had ended in that stack of envelopes. Neither was there an address to send a reply. Then, what did that person want?

Tao let out a gasp. “This is it!” he said as if he had found gold. “Someone wants you to quit your campaign in exchange for Yixing, and whoever it is, they know he’s an unreadable,” he answered Junmyeon unasked inquiry. He looked up to see the sand clock Junmyeon was holding. “That’s!” Tao pointed, “A reminder that your time is running out. Oh my god. When does the next full moon take place?”

While Tao eagerly searched in his phone, Junmyeon put the wooden box and the sand clock on the couch. He grabbed the card from the floor and reread it. Battle, grains of sand, silence, a dissident bird caged forever. Would you look at that? It was a riddle, not a poem. He had been wrong, and the riddle was about Zhang Yixing. Well, Junmyeon hadn’t cared much to pay attention.

“What will you do?” the ghost of the man that refused to leave his side asked. Junmyeon had thought that by not taking the emotion suppressants anymore he’d stop hallucinating, but maybe that wouldn’t be the case.

“It’s next week. You have until February fourth to quit the campaign or whoever this is, will turn Yixing in.”

Now that caught Junmyeon’s full attention. He said the only wise thing. “I’m not dropping out.” Not only would that shock his supporters and his family, that had always been so proud of him, but he would get some marks in his personal case file. Getting chosen to run for the leadership of the nation was a direct order from the System, dropping out was going against it. After managing to save himself from the break-up scandal, Junmyeon wasn’t about to lose everything because of an unreadable, no matter what had happened between them.

“If only you hadn’t messed up your head,” Tao said with a little hint of disdain in his voice.

“He’s right,” the ghost spoke.

Perhaps. But there wasn’t any room for would he wouldn’t he, only what Junmyeon was going to do, and that was not to toss away all his hard work.

“But this is an important clue,” Tao said. “Do you think you can order your security to give us the surveillance tape?”

Junmyeon’s family owned this building, his grandfather had gifted him the penthouse as a graduation present when Junmyeon had finished university. So, yes, he could quickly ask for the videotape from the security team, but so could Tao. Wasn’t he a crime prevention enforcer after all? He had more authority than Junmyeon. “Why can’t you do it?”

“Because my father knows about my research, what I revealed for you and Yixing. He gave me some warnings.”

“He’s not letting you work?”

“No, I can work… But he’s watching my every move. And not getting involved in anything else that could ruin my reputation, was one of the conditions. That’s why I couldn’t send a request to get the footage from the streets outside the flower shop, and Yixing hadn’t installed cameras inside.”

“So, you’re going against your father’s will. Why?”                              

Tao smiled while shaking his head. “If you had your feelings back, you would understand.”

But Junmyeon could suspect why. “You think he’s going to love me again if I save him?” In that case, it was the most stupid reason.

“No, Yixing will leave this country as soon as we find him. But we have a debt to him. And this is our chance to repay him,” Tao said without hesitation.

Junmyeon still didn’t understand or care about Tao’s sense of justice and repayment. He nodded nonetheless and proceeded to request the surveillance footage from the security team.

A few minutes later the file had been e-mailed to Junmyeon just like the guards had said. He and Tao were in the study room, playing today’s surveillance footage in the parking lot from all possible angles in Junmyeon’s computer. Until they found the moment someone got off a van and left a small box on the floor near the door (that was later picked up by one of the tenants Junmyeon recognized). The mysterious person had on a large winter jacket and its hood covering their face. Distinguishing the stranger’s face wasn’t an easy task, not when they could mostly see their lips and chin. And the only frame in which the face could be viewed somewhat clearly wasn’t enough to be identified by using their eyes. Junmyeon decided to go to sleep after watching the videos over and over but getting nothing. He left Tao behind to struggle with the task alone. Junmyeon had better things to deal with.

The next day, like the whole week, Junmyeon found Tao downstairs with breakfast ready at the table.

“Did you find something?” Junmyeon asked when he remembered what they had been doing last night.

Tao shook his head. “I sent the footage to one of the recent graduates I’m in charge of. I sad it was for practice, so there is no risk my father will know. We have better equipment over there that can help us match the face with the video we have.”

Junmyeon nodded. He noted Tao was stressed, after all, Monday was only two days away and Zhang Yixing still hadn’t come back. But Junmyeon couldn’t relate to his friend’s worry.

“You better dress up warmly after this. We’re going somewhere,” Tao said before digging into his breakfast.

Again, Junmyeon nodded. Whatever Tao had in mind, he just had to deal with for a while longer. In the end, Tao will probably be the one who found where Zhang Yixing was and save him. Then, Junmyeon could return to his usual life.

After breakfast, they made their way to Tao’s destination. It was a long drive, but as the road became recognizable for Junmyeon, he figured out where Tao was heading and probably why. This place used to cause him a terrible feeling of guilt in the past. He had always avoided coming here except when it was necessary, like with the rest of his family. Right now, Junmyeon didn’t feel any of it, which again proved he might be better off this way.

Tao parked the car, and they stepped out in the cold. After passing the gates, Junmyeon and Tao followed the main trail. Over here, the snow had reached high levels, but a snowplow kept the main path passable. All the trees were bare, and along with the bushes they were covered in white. The usual flowers that Junmyeon saw during the spring weren’t there, of course. Until he and Tao left the main trail, walked a short distance and reached the gravestone, the one that had Jaemin’s name engraved on it. There were withered flowers next to it. Their mother must have visited recently. Junmyeon read the words he knew so well. In loving memory, treasured son, and brother, born, died. Had it already been 16 years since then? Memories of him and Jaemin resurfaced every time he visited his grave. That moment replayed in his head, and Junmyeon had always done his uttermost not to burst out crying in front of his family. None of it was left anymore.

“He would have been twenty-six,” Tao said, “Can you imagine what his life would have been now?”

Jaemin would probably have been on his way to become some astrophysics. Unlike Junmyeon who at age ten was more preoccupied wondering what would happen on the sequel of a video game, Jaemin had been interested in astronomy, space, and mathematics by that age, the last age he got to live. That wisdom and intelligence was the reason Jaemin had skipped two grades and had been in the same class as Junmyeon. While others would have been thrilled to have a younger sibling in the same class as them, to kid Junmyeon that had been his biggest embarrassment. How people always admired his younger brother, praised him and only him, had slowly made an ugly feeling grow within his heart. Junmyeon especially disliked when someone told him ‘You, other Kim, should be more like your brother!’ only because he wasn’t as talented, gifted, or kind as Jaemin had been. The rivalry was the main reason Junmyeon tended to push away his little brother. Junmyeon had also become more selfish because he didn’t want that any of his few friends or areas in which he could excel would be taken or overshadowed by Jaemin. But it was all stupid because Jaemin had never been competing against him, he had only wanted to get along with his older brother. Back then Junmyeon had been too blinded by his jealousy and resentment to see that.

“Astrophysics. He always said the System would pick that as his first choice in the aptitude test. I think his life would have been centered around that,” Junmyeon said.

“Do you miss him?” Tao asked.

“I don’t know,” Junmyeon answered truthfully. In his current state he didn’t feel it, then again, he didn’t feel anything at all. But if Junmyeon were to take into consideration how he had felt all these years, then the answer to that question would have been clear. “I think I did.”

“Do you still feel guilty?”

Guilty? Did Tao know what had happened? That was impossible. Junmyeon had never told anyone. “About what?”

“His death.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you killed him.”

For the first time in a while, Junmyeon’s eyes widened without him doing the movement consciously. If Junmyeon had had his emotions, would he have felt scared or angry? You killed him, you killed him, used to say a voice in his head until Junmyeon was able to shut it down, along with everything that used to torment him. But, in this moment of utter clarity in his mind, it couldn’t have been his fault, right? He hadn’t killed Jaemin. He hadn’t, he hadn’t.

“You didn’t,” the illusion of Zhang Yixing said, looking at him worried.

“I did not.”

“Yes, you did. You admitted it the day of his funeral,” Tao said.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The recall of the memory was accelerating Junmyeon’s heartbeat, a pain he wasn’t used to by now. It was an accident, what killed Jaemin was an accident. A driver that had gotten a and skipped a red light in a crossroad, and Jaemin, who had been on his bike, was run over by him.

“It was an accident,” Junmyeon whispered.

“No, it was your fault!”

Junmyeon shook his head while the pain in his chest intensified. He hadn’t asked Jaemin to come after him. Jaemin shouldn’t even have gone because he hadn’t even been the one at fault. It was Junmyeon who had been irrationally angry with Jaemin for stealing his idea for their mother’s birthday present. It had been a coincidence that Jaemin had thought of getting her the same thing as Junmyeon, he knew that now, but Junmyeon had seen it as a chance for Jaemin to continue taking his parent’s love away from him. Junmyeon had confronted Jaemin, voiced out all the anger he felt for being the ‘forgotten, unloved’ one (when that had never been the case), and said a bunch of other insensible things an older brother should never say. The worst one, the last thing he ever said to Jaemin being: ‘I hate you for always taking everything from me…. I wish you had never been born!’ Jaemin’s hurt face and response had haunted him ever since: ‘It’s because you are like this… That’s why nobody loves you!’ And the last action he ever saw Jaemin doing was to run away from him.

The ghost of Zhang Yixing was staring at Junmyeon with sadness as if feeling disappointment by what Junmyeon had done.

“I-I didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, you did. You killed Jaemin!” Tao accused him.

Junmyeon had been too angry that he no longer wanted to live under the same roof as his little brother. He knew that Jaemin had run off and told their parents what he had said. To avoid being scolded, reprimanded, and yet again hearing the question, ‘when will you be more like your brother?’ Junmyeon had packed some things in a bag and left. He left the house without being seen. And for a couple hours, he had wandered aimlessly in his favorite spot in the city. Sometimes he had wondered if somebody would even realize he was gone, worry even, but Junmyeon still refused to go back. Jaemin did realize. His little brother hadn’t told their mother that they had fought or that Junmyeon was missing, but had grabbed his bike and gone to look for him. Jaemin probably felt terrible about what he had said to Junmyeon and wanted to apologize to him. Nobody could confirm that theory, but the only thing they had found in Jaemin’s backpack was a package of Junmyeon’s favorite cookies (the ones Jaemin didn’t like at all). His little brother had gone after him to apologize.

“I didn’t mean too,” Junmyeon said again. His knees were starting to feel like jelly.

“Did you really?” Zhang Yixing’s ghost asked this time.

“I didn’t!” Junmyeon screamed, his voice a wailing, despairing sound. “I-I-I didn’t mean to.”

“Are you sure? Are you sure you really didn’t want him to die, Junmyeon?” Tao asked this time, staring at him with fury.

“No, no,” Junmyeon said over and over while shaking his head. “I never wished for him to actually die.” If Junmyeon hadn’t acted so recklessly, if Junmyeon hadn’t wished such terrible thing, then Jaemin, Jaemin…

“Would have been alive,” the ghost finished the thought.

“But you did! And now he’s dead. Look, he’s dead!” Tao said while pointing at Jaemin’s grave.

Junmyeon’s knees gave in, and he fell on the snow. He pulled his hair while swallowing and trying to control the throbbing pain in his throat.

“You killed him,” Tao continued.

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. His breathing was heavy, the air was lacking. His mouth hung open while he looked at the gravestone in front of him. Treasured son and little brother.

“It was your fault he died.”

And that was it. An uncontrollable rush of guilt plagued him, a repulsive physical feeling extending all throughout him, emotions that reminded him of how unworthy he was of standing here, of how he didn’t deserve anything, of how guilty he was for having killed Jaemin. His Emotion Watch lightened up a yellow light for the first time in weeks. His eyes were a waterfall of tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Junmyeon pleaded amid his sobs. “Ye-yes, it was my fault. I made that horrible wish, I killed you. But I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Jaemin. You-you were so much better than me. I didn’t deserve to sta-stay. It-it should have been me.”

Junmyeon continued breaking down in front of the gravestone, apologizing to his little brother countlessly, but knowing full well that his words would never reach him. He felt Tao rest a hand on his shoulder, but the contact didn’t cause any comfort.

“Is that why you tried to drown yourself after his death?” Tao asked, his voice no longer accusing, only soft and understanding. Tao crouched down and carefully removed Junmyeon’s Emotion Watch from his wrist.

“I-I had to go there and apologize. I ha-had to tell Jaemin I didn’t mean any of it. I never hated him, only myself for being a terrible brother. I never meant it! I-I never wished for him to actually di-diiie!”

Junmyeon couldn’t talk more after that. All he could do was sob, cry desperately to the point it hurt his eyes. His knees were ice-cold from burying themselves in the snow. All the while Tao held him in his arms, an embrace he wasn’t worthy of, a friendliness he had never deserved, not after how despicable he was. 

Junmyeon didn’t remember what happened later. He knew that seeing Jaemin and talking to him must have been a dream, it couldn’t have been the reality. And it wasn’t because when Junmyeon opened his eyes, he woke up back in his bedroom at the penthouse. He looked out the panorama windows and saw the sky had turned dark. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath after his very long nap. He felt hungry from having skipped lunch and had a terrible headache. Even if he would have thought everything must have a been a dream, the stickiness on his cheeks from all the tears, his knees that hurt and the damp pants he was wearing, proved otherwise. It was now, while he touched his cheeks that he realized he had cried. All that anguish and guilt were back, all those… Feelings. His brain wasn’t malfunctioning, he could still feel stuff. Horrible stuff, but it meant the emotions were back. Was that a good thing? Living again with the pain of what he had done to Jaemin, to his parents, to… Yixing. Yixing, who had disappeared and was missing because of him. He had caused Yixing so much hurt already and only kept making his life worse. Was that the only thing he was good at? Hurting people?

When his bedroom door opened, Junmyeon jumped on the bed. Fear was also back apparently, and so did his reflexes. Tao was carrying with him a glass of water and handed it to Junmyeon along with a small pill.

“It’s an aspirin.”

“Thank you,” Junmyeon said with a slightly hoarse voice. He drank the water and ate the pill.

“How are you feeling?” Tao asked. He sat down on the border of the bed.

“Like hell. I feel awful.”

Tao half-smiled. “I guess it’s a good call I canceled dinner with your parents.”

Yes, he was supposed to see his parents again tonight. But with all the shame and guilt he was feeling right now, that would have been too difficult to deal with. He nodded.

“I’m sorry I put you through that. But you left me no choice. I dared to call Yifan, and he said I had to awake the emotions in you with something that would affect you strongly, very strongly. I thought that seeing Yixing might have helped, but he’s missing… Therefore, I went with the second option.”

So, it had been a way to recover Junmyeon’s emotions. He should have guessed. But he still feared what his friend thought of him now. “But… Do you also think I’m guilty?”

“Oh, god no, Junmyeon,” Tao said and immediately shook his head. “Look at me,” and when Junmyeon did, he continued, “I really mean it when I say you had nothing to do with Jaemin’s death. I only said that so you would react, but I never thought you did. It was a terrible accident. And you had nothing to do with it.”

“It was partly my fault. If I hadn’t been so… Horrible to him, he would still be here.”

“We could keep thinking what if this or what if that, but that won’t change what happened. And you’re not the only one who says things without meaning them in the spur of the moment, Junmyeon. It was unfortunate that Jaemin didn’t get to hear your apology and real feelings. But he knew you never meant it, just like he never meant his words. One day I hope you can understand that.”

If only that could bring Junmyeon any solace. He would always feel that he was at fault for Jaemin’s death. For a long time, the feeling had been so intense that Junmyeon couldn’t deal with it. But his attempt at seeing Jaemin again hadn’t worked, and he had been left behind to see how his mom and dad dealt with the repercussions of his reckless actions. Their suffering was the main reason Junmyeon didn’t attempt to do it again. Children didn’t go to any rehabilitation facilities, but they lived a normal life while attending recovery therapy on the side. That was what Junmyeon had done after the scare he had given his parents. Until he had been ‘healed’ and no longer needed it, which of course meant his crime coefficient had lowered, Junmyeon later found out. But that was why Junmyeon knew how to control what he felt. As he grew, he had also learned on his own how to hide it. He had promised himself to always stay in control of his emotions, to never feel anything, to never get too close, so he could never commit the same mistake he had done with Jaemin. And the rest was history.

“I can’t believe you’ve carried that all these years. I always knew you blamed yourself for something, but I didn’t expect this… Lots of things are starting to make sense.”

“How did you know?” Junmyeon asked while staring at his fingers, fidgeting with them. He still had a hard time keeping the eye-contact, ashamed that somebody else finally knew what he had done.

“I saw you the day of the funeral. On Jaemin’s room. I tried asking you about it later, but you were always so evasive about Jaemin, I never had the chance.”

“I didn’t deserve talking about him. And I always thought people would hate me if they found out.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“But my family will.”

“I think it’ll be good for you if you talk to them. You’ll be surprised with how parents think. You got nothing to worry about.”

Junmyeon nodded. He felt bit relieved that he wasn’t being loathed. Although, he knew it was something he deserved. And he might never be brave enough to tell his parents any of that.

“But before that… I’m glad you’re back. I needed you to have both the rational and emotional sides present, so you’ll take a reasonable decision, one in which you’re not acting like a robot.”

Right, Junmyeon had one urgent matter to deal with. When he looked around the room, he realized the ghost of Yixing was no longer accompanying him. “Did you find out more? Who left me that note?”

Tao took out his mini tablet from his pocket. “My helper found a face match, a man named Kim Jongdae. But she thought the program must be showing the wrong results.”

“Why?”

“Because Kim Jongdae has been dead for three years.”

“So, it was useless?”

“No.” Tao shook his head while grinning. He held up the tablet for Junmyeon to see. It was Kim Jongdae’s digital personal case file, along with a picture of him smiling widely in the corner. Oddly, it reminded Junmyeon of a cat. And Jongdae must have been getting recovery therapy right before his death because his crime coefficient was 239.

“Look who his perfect match is,” Tao said.

Junmyeon’s gaze found the spot and his eyes widened. Byun Baekhyun. Byun.

“I’ve checked the Security Department’s database. Kim Jongdae was also an unreadable. That’s why he was locked in.”

Lots of inquiries were left unanswered, new ones had appeared, but to Junmyeon it was getting clear who must be behind Yixing’s disappearance. He smiled along with Tao while feeling hopeful, the first positive emotion he had experienced today. This was his most genuine smile in weeks. Junmyeon tossed aside the duvet and rose to his feet.

“Let’s get Yixing back,” he said with determination.