N/A:  If you thought the previous chapter was angsty, sadly, this is way worse. Okay, this was kind of an heavy chapter to write. It's about Daesung's first car accident, in which he broke his nose and injured his back and, from what I understood, there was a moment in which they were unsure if he would ever be able to sing again. I felt like I had to write a chapter about it because I'm kind of following their lives as idols and it was something that I think influenced all of them.

Specifically, this chapter is based on something I read about T.O.P, where it was said that he'd gotten to take Daesung's things from the car wreck and hadn't found the courage to go into his house to see him. I don't exactly remember where I read it but I remember this was about what it said. Of course, I just took inspiration from those events and I have absolutely no idea of what actually happened, nor I truly wish to know.

Sorry for the long note, I hope you like this chapter. Again, English is not my first language so forgive me for any mistake.

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2009

“Thank you so much, this is very kind of you. Do you want to come in and see him?”
 
“I—No, but thank you. I’d better go now.”
 
‘You ing idiot’, he told himself, over and over again, as he kept running without a destination in mind, he only wanted to go the further away from, just everything, he would’ve gladly escaped himself had that been possible; he knew he should’ve gone back to the car that had brought him there, but it’d had already been a lot that he’d gotten on it the first time, because he knew he had to, he’d been strong once and it was enough.
 
He was tired, more tired than he should’ve been, than he should’ve allowed himself to be, since he didn’t really deserve it; he’d kept telling himself that he was okay, but, right now, he couldn’t lie even to himself anymore, because he really, really wasn’t okay.
 
Everything had felt numb from the moment he’d heard those words, words that had been stuck in his head all that time and didn’t seem to want to disappear, for how much he tried to shove them out, or, at least, at the bottom of his mind, in that dark and unexplored part; he still couldn’t quite believe it, it had to be some sort of joke, it—just seemed impossible, it wasn’t fair, not at all.
 
He couldn’t understand why that had happened to him, to him of all people who deserved it one hundred times more; he hadn’t done anything wrong, ever in his life, and that was what he’d gotten in return.
 
He kept running, he couldn’t see properly where he was going and he was stumbling on his feet, but that was the only thing he could do, because he was a coward and he needed to run away, run away from a truth he didn’t want to accept; he didn’t want to accept it but he had to, because, after all, he’d seen that it had in fact happened with his own two eyes and now he couldn’t even stand the sight of a car, because his mind kept flashing back to that junk and he hated it.
 
He should’ve been happy, he should’ve at least felt some sort of relief, because it could’ve gone far worse, because, after all, at least he was alive; he couldn’t even stand or see, but he was alive, he couldn’t sing anymore, and maybe would never be able to sing again but he was alive. But it didn’t really matter if he was physically alive but they’d taken away his entire life; with how much he’d fought for his dream, it was extremely cruel that they’d taken it away from him.
 
Maybe he should’ve been more positive about that and tell himself that everything was going to be fine, but the truth was that he didn’t know, he didn’t know and he hated lying; everything he’d been sure of was slowly slipping through his fingers like grains of sand and he couldn’t stop it from falling for how much he tried.
 
Suddenly, his legs gave up on him and he buckled on the ground helplessly, lying on his back and watching the sky above him: it was dark, as if it was going to rain and he wished it would, at least he would’ve had something to mask the tears that were slowly slipping down his face and onto the cement under him; he’d ended up in a narrow alley, some way or another and he honestly had no idea where he was or how to go back from where he’d come from, but, in that moment, it didn’t feel like a problem at all.
 
It was better that way, now that he was lost as he was in his own mind, now that he could cry without anyone besides himself that could judge him; he knew he’d acted like an idiot, he knew he should’ve gone in to see him even if he was afraid, because his dongsaeng had always been there for him and he’d abandoned him when he needed him the most.
 
He kept saying that he was one of the most important people in his life, he’d promised himself he would never let him go, he’d promised himself that he would always be there for him, and, at the end, he hadn’t; he was selfish, more selfish than he’d ever thought he was, because now he was crying for his own choices and not because he was truly hurt.
 
Even if he was, he felt like his heart was stopping beating, like it’d started slowing down from the moment he’d heard those words, those terrible words that had sent his world crashing down hopelessly.
 
‘Daesung’s gotten into a car accident.’
 
He wished it was just a bad dream, but it wasn’t. Why had he run away when the only thing he wanted to do was hold him close and tell him that he needed him, too, that he always had and always would?
 
Why was is so difficult for him to accept the truth? He could try to push away that thought how much he wanted, but he couldn’t change reality, he couldn’t change that horrible reality that should’ve never happened; it had been days since the accident, and he didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how he could help his dongsaeng feel better, he wished he was strong enough to see him, he wished he could be there for him, but he was terrified of everything, of his own heart, of his own mind.
 
He didn’t think he could stand seeing him in a similar situation, he knew he would just pity him and he didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to; he only wanted everything to go back as it had been, when everything was fine and the light was right in front of them, when he was starting to feel sure they were going to be fine and had finally reached the star they’d been trying to reach all their life.
 
He remained on the ground for a long time, he lost track of it, he completely lost the acknowledge that the world continued turning even in a moment like that, as if nothing had happened; it should’ve stopped, it should’ve stopped like everything had stopped moving around him, around them.
 
Daesung just wanted to sing and it seemed that everything was against him, it seemed there was some greatest entity who didn’t want to allow it no matter what, who kept trying to shut him up every second that passed, more and more, and he hated the thought, but that was exactly what it seemed; he deserved better, he deserved to be happy and it made him angry to an incredible level that it seemed that he would never fully be.
 
He would’ve done anything to go back in time and save him from that horrible situation, to tell him that he couldn’t go or he would get hurt, but there was nothing he could do; that was real life and it was cruel, crueller than the industry they lived in, as if that hadn’t done enough to make them suffer.
 
He could still remember the messages they had exchanged when his dongsaeng was still at the hospital, when he could barely move or write but had tried his best just to reassure him that he was fine; sometimes he’d been surprised by how honest the other had been, telling him that he was afraid he would never sing again and that maybe that was just a payback of the universe because he’d disobeyed his father more than once to achieve his dream, that God had punished him because he’d been starting to complain about his schedule being too packed while he was getting more popular.
 
Telling him that he felt so guilty, knowing that he was holding back the four of them and that maybe he would’ve done better if he’d left the group, that it would be his fault if something went wrong and fans started to abandon them because they didn’t want to wait, that they would’ve been better without him; telling him that it was okay if they didn’t want to see him ever again because of how horrible he thought his scars would be and that he knew he would just be uglier than he’d been before and nobody would want him back.
 
Seunghyun suspected his sincerity was partially caused by painkillers, even if he couldn’t really give it a reason; but maybe he only felt like he needed to say those things and it killed him inside even more, especially considering he’d been receiving those messages at night, and he knew very well how unstable one can be at night in a normal situation, he couldn’t imagine how Daesung had felt, enclosed in that hospital, feeling like a prisoner, drowning in a guilt he wasn’t even supposed to feel.
 
He could still remember when he’d seen him the first time after the accident, lying motionless in a bed after surgery, covered in bandages, looking like barely a ghost of himself; he didn’t know how he’d found the strength not to cry in that moment, maybe he’d been still too shocked and in denial to believe what he’d been actually seeing.
 
He’d went to see him with Youngbae, who’d even brought flowers, as the kind soul he was, and he had to admit that his presence had helped him a lot more than he thought it would; the other two remaining members had stayed at the dorm, mostly because Seungri seemed to be the one who was having it worst, probably because he was the youngest, he wasn’t even twenty, after all, and that whole situation had hit hard and he hadn’t had the courage to go with them, and, of course, Jiyong had decided to stay there to keep an eye on him.
 
He’d even walked to stand in front of the bed and had reached out to lightly touch his bruised hand, retreating almost immediately in fear he would hurt him, even if he’d wanted to grab his hand and hold it, like he’d promised he would do for the rest of his life; he’d wanted to tell him those three words, but he hadn’t, he hadn’t found the strength to be so selfish to tell him to be okay just because he needed him.
 
But now, as he was lying on the warm ground in that cloudy day, there was no one who could hear him, and, even if wanted to cry out everything he’d been keeping inside, he didn’t; he hoped silently that everything would be fine, he really hoped that everything would be fixed and he promised himself that he would never be that cowardly ever again, that he would always be there for Daesung from that moment on, whatever happened, even if he didn’t want to accept the consequence, even if it would’ve been better to ignore the truth, he would never, ever, let go of his hand just because he was afraid.
 
“I need you—”