(Changmin's pov)

It’s so eerily quiet here.

I listen but cannot hear it. 

I cannot hear the soft and consistent piano playing that lulled me to sleep every night since the beginning of DBSK, the scratches of pen on paper as he fixes the music sheets to his liking.

I cannot hear Yoochun-hyung.

I cannot hear him because he is not here.

It’s so eerily quiet here.

I listen but cannot hear it.

I cannot hear the loud voice singing, ringing in my ears, the stupid high pitched laughs that were exhibited even in this godforsaken late hour of the night, or the sound effects of video games.

I cannot hear Junsu-hyung.

I cannot hear him because he is not here.

It’s so eerily quiet here.

I listen but cannot hear it.

I cannot hear the sizzling of food on the stove, always cooking for us even at this godforsaken late hour, always humming to himself and calling for us to come eat whatever hot concoction he created even if we were asleep already.

I cannot hear Jaejoong-hyung.

I cannot hear him because he is not here.

It’s so eerily quiet here.

*knock knock*

I already know who it is.  Who else would it be?

“Come in”

It’s Yunho-hyung.  He’s hugging Bambi to his chest standing at the door.

We look at each other for a while.  No words being said because we know what each other are thinking.

It’s so eerily quiet here.  It’s so desperately lonely here.

I can see it in Hyung’s eyes.  It’s killing him even more than it’s killing me.

I slide over to make room for him and he slides under the covers.

It’s at least a little bit better.  Even though we don’t say anything the sound of each other’s breath and the assurance of each other’s presence is enough to put ourselves at ease.

Yunho-hyung falls asleep and I turn to look at him.  He is sleeping on his back with Bambi on his chest.

Yunho-hyung.

Even though I’m younger I know my hyung.  He is always acting strong.  He is always putting on a smile.  He is always helpful and kind and WARM.

But behind all that, he’s just as lost as the rest of us, he’s just as scared, just as tired, and that he would even come over here, into my room, just to be able to fall asleep, is proof of that; proof that he is hurting far beyond holding back because of his usual pride. 

He doesn’t have all the answers either.  He’s scared too.    

Just like I am scared.

I watch him, in the moonlight, and see a tear flow down his sleeping face.