Taemin was being chased. He extended his umbrella out like a stick to keep his pursuer at a distance. “Stop it. I don’t know how to help you!” he yelled out at Yuki. “I had lied!” Yuki was insistent on Taemin keeping his circus promise; he needed to save his son.

They were waiting at a park for the bus to arrive. Onew and his group were moving about the world on the bus that travelled down Heavens Road, collecting and delivering Whispers. The others had wanted to delay their need to visit the Gods Pavilion. Taemin insisted. He was so flustered that he stabbed his umbrella into the ground to emphasise every point against going. Yuki was not inconveniencing them; they had not made a Failed Whisper to be reprimanded for; they just didn’t need to go at that present moment. However, Taemin was now regretting that he had convinced Onew because ever since the glamour of their supernatural world had faded on the mortal, he was being hounded to give answers to the bored lies he had said in that circus tent.

“Why are you so obsessed with your son?” Taemin finally asked him. “You are in the supernatural world, where things you’ve never dreamed of before exists!” Taemin came up to Yuki with round eyes and child-like enthusiasm. “There are dragons, too.” he whispered conspiratorially. “Do you want to see the dragons?”

Yuki pulled back and ignored the lure of dragons. They could be a lie too. “Hiro is my world.” he declared seriously.

Taemin’s shoulders dropped with disappointment and blew impatient air through his cheeks. “Then what is wrong with him?” he asked.

Hiro was unable to breathe properly and Yuki knew that it caused him a lot of pain. He was sick with a similar disease Yuki had as a child too. The wracking coughs and the constant weakness in his bones; the lack of appetite and the constant thrumming headaches – he knew it all. And he remembered how he had wished it would all stop. Hiro had never said a word of complaint to him or to Mama. He had simply stopped speaking all together. Hiro was dying, the doctor had said.

Taemin stopped his antics and became solemn. He turned his gaze towards Key, sitting with Jonghyun and shifting through the ever present photo album. Every now and then Key rubbed his chest with his gloved hand and a grimace of pain flashed across his face. Taemin knew that Key had a son. That photo album was filled with his son’s memories. Key would know what to do. Taemin took Yuki’s hand and dragged them towards Key.

“Key.” Taemin interrupted the absorbed Messenger. “You have a son, right? Tell Uncle Yuki here what you have to do to save a son.” Jonghyun raised an eyebrow at Taemin’s declaration regarding the mortal. “Are you jealous? Do you want to be my uncle too?” gibed Taemin before turning back to the blonde. “Key! Everyone knows that you have a son. What do you do?”

Key ignored them all and continued to rub at his chest. He was focused on the tingles of energy he could feel coursing through him. Every dissipated Whisper had made him feel like he was being electrified and its intensity was becoming more pronounced. He had mentioned it to Onew one day but their leader had no idea what he was talking about. That meant that it was only him with this contrary reaction.

Taemin continued to hound Key and Key’s patience broke. He was in pain and it was now clear that he wasn’t allowed to look through his photo album in peace. He slammed shut the album in frustration and threw a furious glare at the source of his troubles. Yuki took a startled step back from its ferocity.

“Fine,” Key snapped at them, “What do you want?”

“Do you know how I can save my son?” Yuki timidly asked him.

 “You go and hijack a bus on Heavens Road, rob people, and sell your soul,” Key answered. “That is how you can save your son.”

Jonghyun chuckled. Key’s sense of humour was one of the reasons why he enjoyed his company; even though the other would often be looking at photos and forget that he was actually there. “Aw, c’mon Key,” he said, “Don’t tease the poor man like that.”

Key stared blankly at him. He then looked back at Yuki and judged the resolve he could see in the mortal’s eyes. “Make 1000 cranes and you can use its magic to save your son,” he finally told him.

“Oh really?” Taemin perked up with interest. He had heard of the power contained in 1000 folded cranes – it was said to be greater than the most potent Whisper. And everyone has a wish they desperately wanted granted. Taemin had not heard yet of a successful wish granted by this method and so he was curious about the details. “How? With what?” Taemin eagerly asked and Yuki leant forward with eager ears.

Key stayed silent and regarded them all for a few slow heartbeats. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “The answer is probably at the Gods Pavilion.”

Taemin sat back with disappointment; Key was just repeating the rumour. And so Taemin grew bored yet again when his eyes fell on Key’s photo album. He picked it up and admired its ingenuity. It was unique because it stored the reflections of memories and those memories were unaffected by the pressure of Time. Unlike the Whispers, these memories would not fade. Taemin could even feel the hum of the mixed emotions through its leather cover. This was powerful magic.

He flicked a glance at Key and noted that the latter was absorbed in telling Yuki to go back home in the mortal world. Key always became absorbed with everything he did. Taemin surreptitiously opened the album and peeked inside. Almost every photo tried to pull him in to relive its memory. It was like what they did as Messengers during the ritual of creating a Whisper. Taemin could feel the sea breeze and taste the salt and feel the grit of the sand on one photo of a visit to the beach.

But it was as if the memories were as flawed as the decay of Whispers. Taemin realised that the people had no faces. He could sense that some figures in the photos were of the same people and there was one constant soul – Key’s son. But he could not make out their faces, no matter how hard he tried to focus on them.

Taemin’s fingers lingered on a photo of a warm bedroom. A lamp in a corner was the only source of light. Medical utensils shone neatly on a nearby table. In the periphery of the lamp light was a boy tucked in bed, a teddy bear clutched tightly in his arms. Shadow animals were moving across the wall.

Suddenly, Taemin was pulled out of the memory. Key was apoplectic; and Taemin had the sense to skid away towards Onew and Minho, taking his Uncle Yuki with him.

Key could hear the grinding of his teeth as he clenched and unclenched his gloved hands. His anger for the invasion of his privacy roared through his slim body. Key cursed Taemin’s chronic boredom. As Messengers, they knew of the intimacy memories held. He took a glance at the memory that Taemin was on the verge of stepping into, and he choked out a sob. This one was all too clear, all too memorable...

“I am sorry.” the doctor told Key. To Key, those words meant that the doctors were giving up on his son. They told him that there were no more treatments to be had for the boy. There was no cure for his illness. To Key, that prognosis could not be right. To Key, this was an injustice.

The doctors left Key alone and moved on to other patients, ones who had a better chance of living. Key looked down at the bag he had in his hand. Today was his son’s birthday and they were spending it in the hospital, again. Inside the bag was a caramel brown teddy bear. He had spent the night making it.

Key walked to his son's door and paused to gather his smiles. To Key, his son had already suffered enough. He opened the door and peered through. The boy sitting on the bed with the sheets gathered around him was staring lifelessly at the wall opposite him. It broke Key’s heart. “Happy Birthday!!” Key shouted out with forced joy. “Have you been a good boy, Yu?”

Yu snapped back to reality and turned to his father with wide smiles. “Yes, Papa,” he answered back.

“Do you think you deserve a present?”

“Yes!!!” Yu shouted out with a child’s love for presents. Key handed over the bag and the teddy bear was pulled out and hugged with an uncontrolled delight. Key settled himself next to him on the bed and watched him play with his new toy. But the excitement must have been too great and Yu collapsed forward with heaving coughs. Key straightened him back up and could only wait for the coughs to go away.

“Does it hurt?” he asked him. Yu slowly nodded and buried his face into the bear’s fur. Key gathered his son into his arms and kissed his forehead. “It’s ok,” he whispered.

“Shall we have a bedtime story?” he asked him. Key stood up and moved to the corner lamp. He angled the light so it was shining onto the wall. Key flexed his long fingers and made shadow puppets of animals and humans. He told a story of a sick boy with a brown bear as his friend.

“Like at the circus, Papa?” he was interrupted.

This boy had a brown bear as his friend, like those in the circus; Key continued. Together this boy and bear would go on adventures. They would climb mountains and if the boy couldn’t breathe easily anymore, his bear friend would carry him to the top. On one of the adventures, the boy and bear met some magicians and they could fly in the air like balloons. The boy would run in the air and race the birds.

Key told his fantastic story to his son because he knew it helped to dream of a bigger world than the walls of a hospital room. It gave hope that there were more than a few months left before they had to say goodbye, forever.