TRIGGER WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE INVOLVING SUICIDE!

There’s a horrible stretch of silence burning within the air, bringing with it an all-consuming smoke that curdles, and chokes at him. It’s not an awkward silence per, but more a sad one, one that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and leads him to believe that there’s an awful lot of unspoken words between them.

Which… Makes sense really. After all, they’d always been a couple that leaned more towards leaving things unsaid, rather than having lengthy, healthy, conversations to clear the air. It was ultimately one of the many reasons that they’d argued so much. Well, that, and the fact that they were too busy trying to grab every available chance they had to tip toe away and enjoy more personal time together.

had always come before more meaningful conversations – which was yet another aspect he’d come to regret.

Looking at Yunho now though, he begins to feel regret towards more recent actions. That look on his face just doesn’t look right. He’d always hated having to see him look so teary during fancam performances that he'd watched through the glowing screen of his laptop late at night within the gloom of his apartment. The ones that had followed the lawsuit had been the worst, and Jaejoong had felt his heart strain as he’d watched them. It had slowly eased, with Yunho becoming more and more cheerful as the years had gone by. But, right now, that sorrowful look on his face is giving him some major déjà vu back to those dark days.

“Hey Jaeji.” Yunho says softly, his expression twisting into a pained look as he shuffles his way into the room rather awkwardly, shooting an expecting look to the woman from before.

He’s not sure what the look is meant to mean. But it obviously means something, because the woman, who’s he’s convinced at this point is a nurse, soon makes herself scares; offering a soft comment for Yunho to press the call button if he needs anything. Jaejoong wants to ask her for a glass of water, or just anything to end the horrible dry throat he’s currently got going on. But, alas, his voice fails him, and he ends up lying there with his mouth hung open willing himself to speak words that just aren’t coming.

“How are you feeling today?” Yunho asks gently, albeit hesitantly, as he moves over to sit beside him.

He seems full of concern, expression pinched, almost as though there was more he wanted to say. Jaejoong knows the feeling. He’s full of questions, but no voice to express them with.  

“Heh, cat got your tongue?” Yunho then asks, when Jaejoong stays quiet before him. “Or are you just tired?” He adds, now sounding guilty.

Jaejoong twists his expression into a frown, opening his mouth again wearily. He’s frustrated, confused, and feeling unnecessarily lethargic for saying he’d apparently been sleeping. Yet, it all washes away as soon as it surges up, and he’s left feeling calm once more, and wiped blank of thought...

What had he been doing again, he wonders, lifting his head to stare at the ceiling.

“Jaejoong?” Yunho prompts, and Jaejoong turns to flick his gaze to him lazily.  “You still with me?” He asks, his face suddenly twisting in concern. “Ah, did they give you a shot again? I thought we’d asked them to stop dosing you up...”

His brow crinkles for a moment, trying to spur his brain to think on the words. However, his mind folds before he can, and he ends up feeling a wash of tiredness pull over him; his head killing back as he sighs. Yunho moves a hand up to his hair gently, looking a tad regretful for a moment.

“I’ll make sure to speak to them about it before I go.” He murmurs softly, seemingly more to himself that Jaejoong. “I promised to make sure you were being looked after in here after all.” He then adds, pulling his hand back when Jaejoong tilts his head to stare at him.

Being... Looked after? Was he in a care home of some kind? How long had he been here?

“Oh! I brought you something by the way.” Yunho goes on to say, fetching the paper bag he’d brought in with him from before, and opening it up.

Jaejoong tries to pay attention, but it’s slowly becoming harder and harder to focus. The wave of tiredness from before suddenly feels like it’s fighting against his own mind, and he’s disappointed to find that his mind is losing miserably. He suspects that Yunho’s theory regarding him being dosed up on medication is likely right.

However, he just about manages to keep it together enough to watch as Yunho produces the paper bag from before, and his stomach grumbles at the sight of a tupperware container.

“I know how much you hate the food in here, so I brought you in some of the home-made stuff.” Yunho tells him, a soft smile playing on his lips, before a snort of laughter bursts free. “Don’t worry. I didn’t make it myself. I saw your mum yesterday, and after she found out I was visiting today she insisted on me bringing you something. Apparently, she noticed that you’ve lost weight the last time she came.”

There’s a pause in his words, a moment where he takes a breath, seemingly struggling to continue. He takes a moment, composing himself briefly, and Jaejoong wonders for a second what could be running through his mind that was awful enough to nearly being tears to Yunho’s face.

“That’s why you need to get better, remember?” Yunho continues, placing down the food container, and taking his hand. “All that talk about alternate dimensions, and the- Well... The accident. It’s got to stop, you need to forget about that stuff Jae! Please, for me- No, for yourself.”

Yunho pauses again, and Jaejoong frowns at him, trying his best to focus. He looks... Older, stressed, speckled with a small dusting of odd grey hairs here, and there. Time had not been kind to him it appeared, and Jaejoong’s mind drifted to the possibility of his incarceration being the possible cause for his current appearance.

He was locked up, wasn’t here? It seemed so, and Yunho’s tender spoken request only fuels him to believe so. A bubble of self-hatred wells up within him, and he desperately tries to hold onto the emotion as his eyes begins to sag, vision blurring as his eyelids drop. He takes a deep breath, a warm wave calling out to him, and dragging him slowly under the tempting spell of sleep. He can still faintly hear Yunho beside him, his voice a soft, rather soothing, lull of noise. He wants to remain awake, listen to him more, and maybe try to add some further evidence to the red strings that he was slowly beginning to pull together.

However, it didn’t seem like he was going to manage that one.

“We all hate to see you in here.” Yunho goes on to tell him. “Your parents, sisters, Yoochun, Junsu, and Changmin. We really hate it. You don’t belong in here, you belong out in the real world. With us, with me. This break from the spotlight wasn’t meant to last this long. So please Jae, please just try to let them help. They won’t let you go unless they think you can be trusted to not- Jae?”

“He seems completely out of it.”

“Mm, Yunho mentioned before that they had been dosing him up.”

“Can he even hear us right now?”

“Just give him chance.”

“Give him chance? We’ve been here for over half an hour now.”

Sounds bubble their way down to his sub consciousness, the noise pulling him back through to consciousness. Everything blurs for a moment, and he blinks his eyes suddenly, wondering what had just happened. It takes a couple of seconds for the film of blurred colours to fall away. When it does, he easily makes out the sight of his mother, father, and 2 of his sisters seated about the bed he’s lying on.

When had they- Where was Yunho? Had he fallen asleep?

It doesn’t feel like he’d been napping. In fact, it felt like he’d been off day dreaming, and had been suddenly yanked from his own thoughts.

He wonders if his family think the same. Though their faces are painted with soft looks of relief, and Jaejoong’s torn between believing if it’s due to him being awake, or if it’s just a forced pretence.

However, he quickly puts those thoughts aside, basking instead in the simply being overjoyed to see them once more. It’s been a while, and he’s suddenly overcome with the bursting feeling of happiness. He hadn’t realised until now just how much he’d missed them.

“H-hi.” He manages to croak out, and his mother lets a couple of stray tears loose as she covers , on her feet a second later as she shuffles closer to his bedside.

“Hello Jaejoong.” She says in return, leaning down to press a shaky kiss to his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

He gives her a strained smile, before then realising that he’d actually managed to speak, and his eyes open wide in sudden surprise, leaving him sat there gaping.

“Jae?” His sister asks hesitantly. “Is everything ok?”

“I-” He says, lifting his head to stare at them in shock. “What happened?”

His sister laughs, moving a hand to try and smother the action in a way that feels oddly precious as he sees his own habits reflected in her.

“You were… Well, it seemed like you were staring into space when we arrived. So, we’ve been waiting for you snap out of it.” She explains, taking a seat at the end of his bed.

“Oh…” He replies, feeling guilty for them suddenly.

“Have they been giving you sedatives again?” His father suddenly asks, expression pinched into concern. “Yunho told us before that they’d been unnecessarily dosing you up with them.”

Jaejoong wracks his brain, throwing his memory back. But all he can remember is waking up, and Yunho coming to see him, Yunho talking, and then- Nothing. He’d suddenly jolted back, only to find his family present, and Yunho gone. The last thing he can remember before that was Yunho lamenting that his loved ones didn’t like seeing him in here, and begging him to allow the people caring for him to help him recover. But from what, he didn’t know.

“I… I don’t think so?” He offers to his father. “I don’t really remember much.” He admits, dropping his head to stare at the quilt gripped between his fingers.

There’s a moment of silence, silence that’s a little awkward, and he can’t help but drown in shame from his lack of forthcoming with answers.

“Ah, speaking of Yunho!” His sister suddenly chimes in, being the God sent that she was. “It looks like he’s been to visit you recently.”

Jaejoong blinks at her, bewildered as to how she knew – unless, that was, Yunho had already called them to say he’d been to see him. Unlikely, Yunho was terrible when it came to contacting people, Jaejoong had experienced it first hand for many a years previously. Spending hours furiously spam texting him, and receiving little in reply, or the many times he’d ended up firefighting their mutual friends who’d call him with questions on if their ever-hardworking leader was still alive and kicking due to having not heard from him in over a month. Personally, Jaejoong had always blamed his inability to grind all work to a halt and chill out.

“Yeah, he stopped by earlier.” Jaejoong admits, turning his head to the side, only to find the tupperware box that Yunho had given him earlier.

“Oh, is that what I gave him yesterday?” His mother asks, sitting a little straighter in her chair to look over at the tub.

“Looks like it.” His father replies, and then smiles warmly at Jaejoong. “You’ll enjoy that. A bit of good, honest, home cooking perks up even the most down of souls.”

Jaejoong smiles at the comment, and then sinks back against the mountain of pillows behind him to stare up at the ceiling.

“I- Can I ask you something?” He murmurs softly.

“Of course, Jaejoong.” His sister says, smiling softly at him.

“I am here because of the car accident?”

He’d been assuming as much since he’d woken up, but of course, he couldn’t know for sure. It made sense in his mind at least, and Yunho had said that whatever place this was wouldn’t let him go until he could be “trusted” – to do what, he didn’t know. He’d slipped into some sort of daze before he’d heard Yunho finish. So, based on what he did know, it seemed that all roads were pointing to the car accident being the catalyst for this particular state he’d found himself in.

It seems to be true too, judging by the matching looks of surprise exchanged between his family.

“Jaejoong, don’t you remember?” His mother asks hesitantly, after a meaningful look between her and his sisters. “Y-you jumped in front of that car.” She explains, though it seems hard for her say, what with her eyes watering as she pushes the words past her lips. “You… You tried to commit suicide.”

Jaejoong balks at her, stunned into silence as he tries to process what she’s saying. He certainly knows that it’s not true. That hadn’t been his intention at all. It had been just as he’d said before, an accident!

He remembers arguing with s, wanting nothing more to do with that day, and intent on simply leaving the whole thing alone. He’d left the dorm, and they’d followed in hot pursuit as he’d made his intent clear. They’d argued in the streets, and Yunho had been trying to persuade him to go back to the dorms. However, he’d firmly stood his ground, saying no, and so Yunho had reached out for him. But, he’d moved back, and-

His head throbs in pain, blistering across his skull in a pulsing wave, and he moves a hand up to press it against the area automatically, hissing as it booms once more in retaliation.

He can’t... He can’t remember anything after that. But he hadn’t... There was no way he’d deliberately tried to commit suicide!

“I know you’ve always denied it son.” His father suddenly says, his eyes shining with sadness. “But all those witnesses who were passing. They all testified that you stepped out into the road...”

“But the members-” Jaejoong goes to argue, removing his hand from his head, and balling it back into the sheets on the bed in frustration.

“They said you were saying some pretty intense stuff.” His sister cuts in, her expression creasing in worry. “Jaejoong... Don’t you remember?”

Jaejoong’s eyes widen in horror, he takes a sharp breath, willing himself not to cry in vexation. He remembers alright. But he hadn’t realised just how badly it would be interpreted.

“I don’t- This wasn’t meant to happen!” He hears himself say, thoughts escaping in a jumble of words. “I just didn’t want to go through that day again!”

His hand finds its way into his hair, and he pulls at the locks in frustration, ignoring the exchange of worried looks passed between his family.

His father breaks the air once more, ever the figure of resolution, his soft timbre pulling Jaejoong from his hectic thoughts.

“It’s alright my son.” He says, offering warmth that melts away the cold that feels as though it’s been griping at his heart for far too long. “You don’t need to worry yourself with those thoughts for now. For now, you should rest, we will be here when you wake.”

He knows as much deep down. The stress of this timeline would soon be replaced with another, and he’d be forced to simply go along with whatever situation he was into next – there was simply no fighting it. Meek though planted, he drops back against the pillows behind him again, feeling defeated once more. No matter how much he struggled the outcome simply lead back to the same path over, and over again.

There really was no point fighting against the tide.

“I suppose Yunho’s visits really aren’t helping after all…” He hears his sister mutter under her breath.

Somehow, he couldn’t agree more.

-X-

Numbness plagues his mind when he next wakes, a heavy heart weighing him down like it was made of lead. Right now, it really felt as though it wasn’t so much of a metaphor, but reality.

With forced conviction, he opens his eyes with a slow blink, staring unseeingly. He can smell… Salt? It hangs in the air, sprinkled into the passing breeze that’s currently cooling the warmth of his body, and gives it a sharp tang that he can taste at the back of throat every time he breathes in. It’s certainly a jarring change from the warm, almost pungent, air he’d been stewing in before. This is instead refreshing, and a calming atmosphere, that’s slowly beginning to clear through the mess that the last reality had triggered.

The glistening gleam of the ocean is the first thing he catches sight of, the swell of water crashing up against sprawling white sands. His breath catches in his throat at the sight, and he sits forward just a little, allowing the wind to catch his hair within a sweeping breeze. The suns peaking up over the horizon in the distance, and it takes him a moment to realise that he’s watching the sun rise, rather than set. Regardless, it’s beautiful, and he finds himself enraptured by the sight.

“Oh, you’re up.” A voice rumbles from behind him, sounding way too close, and unsparingly familiar.

He doesn’t turn round, he already knows the score by now. Instead of wasting his time staring at the strikingly handsome features that he already knows to be Yunho’s face, he lies back against his chest, and watches the burning amber, pink, and yellow hues chase away the dark stains of the night lingering upon the horizon.

“Still tired?” Yunho asks him, shifting Jaejoong’s body within his arms, and pulling the blanket that’s resting around them closer.

“No…” Jaejoong replies, reaching for Yunho’s hands, and holding them gently within his own.

“I’m surprised.” Yunho chuckles, his head dripping to gently press his lips to the back of his neck, a short, but sweet, kiss pressed against the warm skin he finds there. “We’re supposed to be on holiday, but all you’ve been doing is sleeping.”

“Sorry.” Jaejoong finds himself saying, eyes still caught within the swirling shades dragged out across the sky like a kaleidoscope of colour. “Guess, I am a little tired still…”

It’s not exactly a lie; he really is tired. Tired of floating about these different realities, trying to fix things in the past, and then ending up in a future where things finally seem to be ok, only to then find out that he’s made things even worse. Not only that, but then finding that no matter how many times he went through it, or how many different paths he took, the results always seemed to be the same. Unhappiness lingering in some shape or form.

“I thought so.” Yunho chuckles, pulling him a little a closer, and snuggling himself into him as though he was an oversized cuddly toy. “Well, I don’t mind. We can stay like this a little longer, right? I won’t even check my phone – promise.”

“You’d better not.” Jaejoong murmurs softly, assuming that Yunho’s phone must be a recurring peeve in this world.

“Hey, I’ve done well so far, right? Four days in, and I haven’t picked up a single call from the office.” Yunho states proudly. “Changmin must think I’ve fallen into the ocean, and drowned by now. Not that I think he’d mind all that much – he must be enjoying the peace.”

“Probably.” Jaejoong agrees, smiling discreetly to himself as he pictures a chilled out Changmin leaning back in a swivel chair, with his feet propped up on a desk.

He figures Yunho must be some kind of strict, no nonsense, boss in this world. One that worked above Changmin, and drove the poor boy mad with his work obsessed ethic. It seemed Yunho was always hardworking no matter what universe he was in. A trait that Jaejoong only hopes he emulates some what.

“Ah, well, it doesn’t matter. At least I get to spend some time with you finally, right?” Yunho chimes, sounding all too pleased as he leans forward over Jaejoong.

Jaejoong can see his smile, face framed with the beautiful colours shimmering across the sky like backdrop ripped straight from a painting. He looks beyond happy, the sort that Jaejoong had used to catch glimpses of when they’d manage to snag half an hour here or there of quiet time together, back when TVXQ had still been a 5 piece group taking on the world one continent at a time. Those moments had never lasted long, but they were still some of the happiest memories Jaejoong had, and were memories he fiercely treasured, and protected when it came the damage that the passage of time wrought.

He wishes he could make more together. Wishes that he could still reach out, and pull Yunho close again to ask.

A chill breezes past them, a littler cold this time, and the memories fade away from his mind.

Actually, he thinks, if he could, more than anything else, he wishes that he could be reborn. Only this time, he wishes he could chose a different path. One of a normal life, one that wouldn’t lead him to the false glamour of the k-pop industry.

-X-

It becomes obvious that he can’t win. No matter how he tries to play his cards, nothing works. It’s almost like he’s playing a convoluted game of chess all by himself, deliberating, and thinking through each move before he made it. Those moves, however, were not seeming to yield him any step closer to a checkmate, even after trying so many different combinations.

One of those combinations was to leave the group himself – solo. He chooses to make the announcement over breakfast, and unintentionally lands himself in the middle of a full blown clival war, with Yunho standing one side his voice cranked up to max, and the kids looking on in horror from the other. He doesn’t put up much of a fight against the furious tide that is to his be his soon ex-boyfriend, he doesn’t have the will to; despite the distance cries of his younger self raging for him to give as good as he was receiving. But he’s not looking for more verbal bloodshed, and once the waves of Yunho’s rage recede (having stormed off into the bathroom to shower), he instead puts his mind to wording together a curt email to their manager back home, detailing his decision to leave the company. It’s short, to the point, and void of any emotion that he might have normally included. He feels oddly satisfied by the time he’s done and hitting send unquestionably gives him a zing of pleasure. That done, he packs the very little possessions that he actually keeps in their Japanese dorm into a small over the shoulder duffel bag, and heads to the airport with a one-way ticket back home.

No one attempts to stop him, what with Yunho gone, and the kids steering clear of the two of them since the one-sided argument over breakfast; they knew all too well by then to not step in between the two eldest members were fueding.

Although, as he stares out of the window of the plane, sighing to quietly to himself under the protection of his facemask, he realises that he can’t exactly blame them. He knows all too well from his own memories just how explosive their fights could be, and if roles were reversed, he wouldn’t want to step into the firing line either.

Thinking about it makes him feel exhausted, and he slides down in his seat, finally allowing his eyes to close, his last thoughts wondering off to what type of bleak future would await him this time…

He’s not disappointed.

Bland shades of white, and beige greet him, and he finds himself within an apartment all by himself, staring at the haunting image of an aged version of himself within the reflective glass of a mirror hanging at the end of his bed. He looks worse than he has in years, with the last time in recent memory being that small blip where he’d done nothing but work himself to the bone building up C-JeS, partying, drinking himself into oblivion, and finally crying himself to sleep. He cringes at the thought, and pulls the shirt hanging off his shoulders around himself. He seemed to have slipped with his workout routine too, if the slightly pudgy belly was anything to go by, yet he can’t stop himself from lightly pressing his hand against it anyway in fascination.

When was the last time he’d even had any kind of stomach to speak of? It was a jarring sight indeed, and suddenly he can understand why people were sometimes so concerned over his ant like waist.

He wishes he could use that same logic for the rest of himself, but he finds himself coming up short as he runs a hand through his greasy mop of hair, and ashen complexion that looked far from healthy.

Just what had happened this time?

Walking around he finds only small clues of this life, though they seem sparsely scattered. He’s in Japan, though he’s unsure of where exactly. There’s a stack of music sheets, what look to be lyrics smattered across the paper, along with various song notes, references scrawled through and beside them. Was he still writing music? A song writer perhaps? As amazing as that would be, it’s still not telling him what he really wants to know. Just what had happened to s?

The answer doesn’t come, even after a through search of the small apartment. There’s nothing. Not an inch of his past remains concerning TVXQ, and Jaejoong wonders, as he stands staring at the upturned apartment. Just what had driven him to the extreme of ridding himself of everything connecting to the group that he loved so dearly?

A final desperate attempt drives him to the internet via the mobile phone lying on the bedside cabinet, fingers slowly typing in the groups name to the search bar. There’s a tonne of sites waiting for him, and he scans for news articles instead, tapping, and scrolling through the list, eyes skimming across the screen.

KIM JAEJOONG SUDDEN RESIGNATION… KIM JAEJOONG LEAVES GROUP… TVXQ HALT JAPANESE PROMOTIONS… TVXQ ANNOUNCES TEMPORARY HIATUS… REMAINING INTERNAL CONFLICT… SM CONFIRMS PARK YOOCHUN ON TEMPORARY BREAK… MOUNTING CONCERN OVER TVXQ’S FUTURE… SM ANNOUNCES TVXQ MEMBERS SOLO PROJECTS… TVXQ CONFIRMED DISBANDMENT… FORMER TVXQ MEMBER PARK YOOCHUN FOUND DEAD IN APARTMENT AFTER SUSPECTED DRUG OVERDOSE…

His head spins from the information overload, and he finds himself dropping the phone to the bed, body soon following. His chest heaves a shuddering sigh, and he throws his arm over his eyes.

It seemed removing himself from the picture hadn’t helped after all…

-X-

5. It’s the number of cracks on the ceiling above him. He can now point them out perfectly, almost without even having to look for them. Which isn’t really that difficult considering the amount of times he’s laid staring up at them recently. He’s not entirely sure what that number is per say, but it’s fast totting up towards three digits now.

His more recent travels back to the past have been less focused on fixing the mess of the split, and more social based. They’d seen him visiting friends, roaming the city, and spending lazy days within coffee shops chatting to his family over Skype on a poor internet connection that was fitting of the late 2000’s; with said family voicing concern over his sudden bout of free time.

However, he’d eventually run himself dry of people he genuinely wanted to see/speak to, and had now found himself fresh out of options.

Well, options other than actually getting back to fixing the issue at hand that was. Which isn’t exactly something he wants to face. But, he knows he can’t just simply live out his days repeatedly having the same conversations with the same people on the same day. No matter how much he loved his family, it was eventually going to become a chore speaking to them due to their lives never moving forward, and therefore having them talk about the same current events of their lives repeatedly.

The thought forces him to gather the last of his fast dissipating will to actually fix things, he finds his next attempt seeing him agreeing to the split in a more creative manner.

He attempts a similar method as his first trip back into the past, and pushes the idea of leaving onto Yunho, with the added suggestion of leaving Korea altogether. After all, if they’re no longer in the country, and then there’s no way of putting any bad blood between them, Changmin, Yoochun, and Junsu.

It had seemed to make sense within his own head. However, when he wakes up in the future once more, he realises that he’d overlooked just how selfish he was being once again.

While they’re life had seemed perfect, living happily within a foreign country, far from the sly clutches of an industry he was fast coming to despise, he’d overlooked the impact that such a move would have upon Yunho.

It comes to pass that Yunho’s family once again had denounced their son for his actions, and were now refusing all contact with both their son, and Jaejoong. Not only that, but their departure had earned the scorn of their former members too, with them seeing the move as nothing but a means to run away from the mess of the split, and then the subsequent aftermath that has arisen after their relationship had gone public due to them being spotted leaving the country together.

He finds it hard to really care at this point about the whole situation, but there’s a nasty feeling of guilt that pulls at him when he sees the poorly masked look of unhappiness pasted across Yunho’s face as he explains the details with clear confusion.

Like a carousel, spinning round and round, in an endless cycle, he finds that despite his own desire for a simpler life, he can’t keep putting Yunho through such tribulations for the sake of his own selfish wishes.

-X-

Having made it clear to himself that pulling Yunho from the group wasn’t the way to go, he tries leaving with each of the others separately, hoping each time that he might yield better results. He’s wrong though. It never gets better, and time and time again, he realises that his actions are merely selfish whims that he’s desperate to believe will work. Yet he can’t seem to stop himself from trying. Eager, for once to have at least one of his hairbrained ideas to work out.

The powers that be don’t seem to care for that though, and each of his efforts ends in misery, with a new gloomy ending patiently waiting for him in the future each time.

Someone hates him, Yoochun dies, someone ends up with nothing, half the group hate each other, or in the version where he and Changmin leave together, both Yoochun and Yunho die.

He can only sit within the small house he’d retired to in his final attempt, eyes misty, and staring unseeingly into nothing. He’s gone beyond the point of sadness, hurt, and even the heartbreak that he’d expected himself to feel as the news of Yunho’s death settled on his ears. All that’s left behind now is the raw anger, and frustration of not knowing what to do, or how to solve the loop he’d found himself in.

-X-

Blinding rage overtakes him when he wakes up.

He can’t remember a time when he’d exploded in such a manner, but he knows for a fact he’d never done so while stuck within the constrictive hold that was his contract with SM.

He’s out of bed like a shot, utterly unaware of the time, and hurtling towards the kitchen with nothing but the need for destruction running through his head. Pots, pans, mugs, and other clutter go flying through the air as he sweeps them from the worktops that made up their cosy, if not small, kitchen. The satisfaction that their noisy collision with the floor brings him is somewhat disturbing, but that’s a thought for the back of his mind, and one he certainly doesn’t entertain as a sharp shout rips from his throat.

Despite the mess, he certainly feels better. But now there’s a thrumming rush shooting through his veins which is traveling straight to his head and beginning to form the start of a horrid headache.

He needs a drink. Preferably before the other members finish stumbling about their rooms from the noise of his earlier conflict in the kitchen. He’s not looking to stand about arguing over what was already done, not when he could be downing a number of shots in some VIP club with people whose names he wouldn’t even remember by the time he woke up in whatever twisted future he visited next.

It’s doesn’t surprise him all that much when he wakes up in the future to find that he’d been removed from the group.

-X-

-X- TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE -X-

-X-

He comes to realise that there’s one thing he hasn’t tried. One very drastic idea that sudden springs to mind as he lies in bed staring distantly up at the cranks on the ceiling once more, feeling himself slowly going mad as he gives each single fissure a name of its own.

Under normal circumstances he wonders if he might have made himself feel sick at the idea, a perfectly fitting reaction of nausea for his own disturbing thoughts. However, that doesn’t happen, and he reasons that it’s perhaps the product of this never-ending nightmare like predicament he’d found himself in. Yet, the more he tosses, and turns, within his bed thinking it over and over again, the more it begins to make sense.

He’d heard the concept dying in a dream. That idea being that if person died within a dream, that they would also die in real life. He can’t exactly say he’s sure on the actual truth of it, but it made sense that something was sure to happen if his mind did indeed believe he’d died within some kind of capacity. Would all this be reset? Would it trigger him to wake up? Was it not at least worth a shot?

He crinkles his nose at the thought, hiking up the blanket draped over him.

Realistically… It was. But despite that, he can’t help the bubble of uncertainly that warns him against the idea. Taking his own life, even within a dream, hallucination, or whatever this all was. It was still risky. If it really did kill him. Then where would that leave him?

“Dead and buried.” He answers himself bleakly.

But if he didn’t try, then would he ever escape? He’d pretty much exhausted everything else, and he was pretty sure his own mental state was beginning to suffer for it. If he had to go through that damn photoshoot one more time, then he was going to strangle that damn photographer with his own camera equipment.

Mulling it over once more, he moves, before he can talk himself out of it, and quietly sneaks from the bedroom towards the kitchen. His hands tremble over the handle of medicine cabinet briefly, his mind buzzing with anxiety. Carefully he retrieves a couple of containers of pain relivers that he’d been prescribed for his reoccurring knee pain and sets them down lightly on the counter. He pours himself a glass of water next, unscrews the cap of the pill container, and starts popping them back, reaching to take small sips with each three pills he takes. It’s not exactly a quick process, and if he’s honest he’s beginning to feel sick with all the water he’s having to drink to take them down. Not to mention, by the time both tubs are empty, he’s more than convinced that it’s all for nothing due to nauseous feeling that’s hinting towards him throwing them all back up again.

“Deep breaths.” He tells himself, leaning over the counter, and slowly counting in his head. “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.”

His eyes find the empty pill containers, and he reads the labels on them to distract himself. 120 pills per tub, he reads, pressing his lips together in thought. Would that be enough? He’d never thought about suicide before, and he had no idea how many pain killers, or even what type, would be enough to efficiently push him over the edge. For all he knew, what he’d taken, could simple see him winding up as a vegetable in hospital – which wasn’t the point of this stupidity. No, he needed something more to guarantee him a permanent lights out.

Glittering like an ironic ray of hope, he spies a used knife still out on the table to the corner of the room. He’s none the wiser as to what it had been used for before, his memory not being able to stray that far back, but he’s pretty sure he make use of it now. Which is why he grabs for it, and cleans it up under the tap briefly, before stumbling off towards the bathroom.

Trying to be as quiet as possible, which is difficult given his current task, he runs a bath; making sure the waters as warm as he can stand it. It’s no easy feat, and he has to settle for having to water set to a steady trickle, so as not to wake the other members. At this early hour of the morning they would certainly find it odd for him to be running a bath, and would no doubt come to investigate; especially due to them being so overly intimate with each other when it came to seeing each other . There would certainly be no concern of walking in on him possibly being .

Bath filled, he forgoes stripping down, and simply climbs into the bath still wearing his pyjamas – which feels weird to say the least. He wonders if the pills are finally kicking in, or if maybe he’s already numb to what it is he’s about to do, because the first cut up his wrist doesn’t even make him flinch. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel it, because he certainly does, and yes, it stings. However, it’s not the pain he’d been expecting at all. Nor was he expecting the relief that seems to bleed out of him along with the crimson of his own blood that slowly stains the once clear water a poppy red before fanning out into a dusty pink.

He marks himself with a matching vertical cut up his other wrist, some far off part of his brain nagging that it was better to do it that way than horizontal. He’s honestly got no idea where that little knowledge nugget had come from, and chalks it up to last minute delirious thoughts brought on by his brain finally registering his actions.

It serves its job though, and he lets himself sink down into the water, body weightless as he drifts in and out of consciousness. The light above him blurs briefly, becoming one with the bright ceiling, before clearing. It feels like he lays there for a lifetime, half lidded eyes gazing into nothingness. But at some point, he picks up on his name being called. It’s garbled to his ears, but he’d heard it none the less. It’s followed by the panicked image of Yunho’s face bolting in front of his vision.

His eyes are wide with panic, horrified realisation dawning through them so quickly that it’s a wonder he hadn’t fainted. Fast hands dart into the water, looking for what, Jaejoong doesn’t know. His fingers nick against the cuts that Jaejoong had made himself upon his skin, and although Jaejoong feels him do it, the pain that he knows should be there, doesn’t register.

He does however register himself being hurled out of bathtub rather clumsily by a now screaming Yunho. His boyfriend hollers to the other members in short sheiks of noise that Jaejoong can’t quite will himself to decipher; he’s suspecting its names, or orders.

Towels are suddenly being thrown about the place, ones that quickly become stained red within Yunho’s shaking hands as he presses them against Jaejoong’s butchered flesh; and he can’t help but lament the waste. Yunho’s leaning over him, gathering him in his arms, and weeping, all the while yelling from him to stay awake, to keep his eyes open, to stay with him.

He wants to apologise, wants to tell him it’s alright, and that it really doesn’t matter. But the words won’t quite push past his lips, and he feels like he’s just making a fool of himself, gaping like a fish fresh from water. He takes comfort in the fact that Yunho’s probably more distracted by the fact that he’s dying right now then scrutinising the way he looks.

He also takes comfort in the sorrowful confessions of love that are being made to him as his vision begins to speckle with black spots. Yunho’s begun to rock back and forth, Jaejoong’s body follows his gentle sways, whispering loving works in hushed tone that are meant for his ears alone. He forces a smile for Yunho’s sake, forcing his hand to his cheek with what strength he has left, and unintentionally leaves a smear of blood across his skin as he it with his bloodied thumb.

“It’s… O-ok-” He manages.

The words are meant to be reassuring, despite him knowing that there’s nothing that could make anything about this situation better; aside from him blurting “just a prank bro – gotcha good there!”  - which at this point is something he wishes he could do. Because despite his intentions, Yunho was never meant to just walk in and find him. However, he thinks his words might have made it all the more worse, and just as the claws of sleep, death, or whatever it was that was consuming him, sweep his vision completely, he makes out the distraught expression on Yunho’s face before it twists up completely and Yunho begins screaming.

-X-

He’s perched upon a grave when he comes to, an open expanse of a graveyard sprawled out before him. A bitter feeling rears inside of him, as he realises that his idea from before had clearly not worked. It seemed it was true what people always said: “suicide was never the answer.” But in this case, it begged the question of what was the answer. Just what was he meant to do, because once again, he was back to square one.

For a while he sits and contemplates just that, until the silhouette of an approaching figure distracts him. He squints against the morning sunlight, leaning forward enough to spy black clothing dressing the figure, and a facemask that’s pulled up concealing everything from the eyes down. They’re holding a large, rather extravagant, bundle of flowers cradling them within their arms, and even from a distance Jaejoong can tell there’s a heavy air of unwillingness to be there radiating from them. Which, makes perfect sense, considering where they currently are. Jaejoong himself didn’t particularly want to be there either.

However, dread begins to fill him as he realises that the figure is walking steadily in his direction, and he silently prays that they’re not there to visit him. Out of all the sights that he wants to see, people mourning over him is certainly not one. Although he blames himself if that’s the case, because who was the one who’d deliberately taken his life again?

That being said, it’s hard not to feel grossly abandoned by the powers that be, especially when Jaejoong makes a sickening realisation that it’s Yunho of all people slowly walking towards him.

Heart in his throat, he watches in horror as Yunho bends down, and places his flowers to the grave Jaejoong’s perched on. He then kneels, pulling down his facemask, and to Jaejoong’s horror there are tears sliding silently down his cheeks.

“Yunho...” He hears himself whisper gently, reaching out to wipe at the wet tear tracks.

He stops short when his hand simply slides straight through Yunho’s head, and yanks it back in shock. His eyes drop to his own fingers, and sighs when he realises that he can faintly see through them. There’d clearly be no physically comforting Yunho.

“Jaejoongie…” Yunho murmurs softly, bowing his head low, and placing a hand to his face. “Ah, it’s been too long.” He goes on to say, his voice trailing off. “But even though it’s been so long, I still can’t seem to understand why you’re not beside me.”

His heart feeling cold, Jaejoong watches Yunho crumple his fingers into fists, suddenly feeling angry at himself for having caused such heartache. He curls on himself as he realises that Yunho possibly felt this way back in his own timeline, but perhaps to a slightly lesser extent – he was, after all, still alive in his own universe, just not physically beside Yunho.

“Why?!” Yunho suddenly asks, his voice a harsh whisper that draws Jaejoong’s attention back to his slumped form. “Why… If things were so bad, why didn’t you come to me? No matter what it was, no matter how difficult, I would have stood by you and have done what I could. If nothing else, I would have been a shoulder for you to cry on!”

There are tears now, dotting Yunho’s eyes, and creating a glossy sheen that has Jaejoong mirroring in mere moments. Yunho hadn’t cried often during their time together, he was a man of principal, and didn’t like to cry openly in public. So, during the few times when he had bared his soul open, it had been behind the closed doors of the dorms, and more than likely sheltered even more so behind the locked door of their bathroom. Jaejoong had sometimes stayed with him, propped up on the bathroom counter, with Yunho stood between his legs with his head buried against Jaejoong’s shoulder. He’d brushed away his tears back then, often trying to make him smile again with silly expressions, and light teasing. He wished he could do that now, just reach across and close his arms around him.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me? Why Jae? I... I could have helped you...”

A sharp breath pulls from his chest, and Jaejoong’s eyes finally let go of the building tears that had been gathering, freely crying along with the man before him. Silently watching on from his perch, he resolves to do better in the next past that he visits. If not for himself, then at least for Yunho.

So it's been a while huh... I'm really sorry this chapter is so late! I've actually had a lot on, and I've been ignoring this story because this chapter was just so difficult to write for one reason or another...  

Anyway! For those who are interested next chapter will be the last chapter, so prepare for that whirlwind I guess!