After the doctor left the room, I was left alone in the room with the intern and the nurse placing electrodes for the heart monitor on my chest. I had started to feel extremely sleepy, but I was so scared to sleep, for fear that I would never wake up again. I closed my eyes just to try and rest a few minutes after my shirt was closed again, when the intern spoke.

"Well, Kyuhyun, if it's okay, I'll just take some blood," he said. I opened my eyes the smallest slit, and saw him take the seat that Donghae had been in moments ago.

He rolled up the sleeve of the hospital gown and for the very first time since I woke up, I looked down at my bare arm. And what I saw shocked me so much that if I were breathing on my own, I am sure I would have stopped.

My forearm looked as though it was stained purple, and there was a large bandage on my elbow. The back of my hand was bandaged, and the cusp of my arm was bruised from having been pierced with a needle so often for blood.

I closed my eyes and frowned, horrified. I had only seen such a tiny part of my body, and it was - I couldn't even find a word to describe the state of my arm.

Oh god, what has happened to my body? Is every inch of my body like this?

I felt a rubber band being tied to my arm, and I braced myself for the sharp sting of the needle. However, the next time I felt his hand on my arm, I didn't feel any pain; perplexed, I opened my eyes again to see if the needle was in my arm already, but at the sight of my battered arm, I had to close them again. I didn't want to believe that any part of my body could look like that.

I kept my eyes closed the entire time the intern drew the blood, then only opened my eyes to look at him again after I felt my sleeve being pulled down. I saw him making to get up from the stool, and I grabbed the intern's hand before he was too far away. I held on with all the strength I had, and looked him in the eyes.

Please let my dad back in the room again. Please.

The intern looked at me, flustered.

"What - what's wrong?"

I tried to get my message across with my eyes for a few seconds, then I closed my eyes in frustration. How was I supposed to tell him when I couldn't speak?

"Does it hurt anywhere?" he asked.

I shook my head the little I could and met his eyes again just in time to see bite his lip.

"Anything feeling strange? Tired? Drowsy? Is that it? The morphine can make you drowsy, it's a mild sed - "

I shook my head again and squeezed his hand a little, hoping to make him understand. He just looked flustered though, and pulled his hand out of my grip.

"Here, let me get you some - paper - so you can write - "  he said.

Soon, a marker was into my hand and paper held up, but I didn't have enough coordination to even hold the marker in my hand, let alone write anything. I just had to write one word - "dad" - but I just couldn't. A few moments of trying later, I dropped the marker, and then I took his hand again.

Please -

He looked at the paper with my illegible scribbles on it for a few seconds, then he shook his head.

"I - I don't know what you want," he said quietly.

I closed my eyes in frustration.

Then I finally let go of the strength in my hand and let it fall on the bed. A tear rolled down my face.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

The intern just stood by my bed for a bit longer, and then he touched my hand again.

"Okay," he concluded. "I'm going to bring your father in here and - and maybe he'll know - "

My eyes snapped open, and I reached for his hand again.

And then I met his eyes and nodded.

He widened his eyes. "Is that it?" he asked, looking surprised.

I nodded encouragingly and squeezed his hand again.

That's it.

Despite not wanting to fall asleep, I felt so relieved after my father was here that I fell asleep almost right away, with him holding my hand. I am not sure how long I slept, but my dad was still by my side when I opened my eyes.

I turned my head towards my dad, who had his head bowed on the stool next to me. He didn't look up, though, until I reached my weak hand over the side of the bed and held it out for him to take. He startled and looked up right away, and then smiled with relief as he grabbed my hand.

"Why, good morning, baby son," he murmured with a smile.

Good morning, dad, I thought, trying to get across the words with my eyes. It's been a while since we've wished each other a good morning.

It was as if he understood. He nodded with a warm smile, then brought my hand up so that it was resting on the bed again.

"It's so good to see you with your eyes open," he whispered.

I just looked at him - because that was the only thing I could do. As he played with my hands, he spoke again.

"I sent everyone home. I wanted you to rest. I hope you're not upset about that. Are you?" he asked.

I shook my head. The only one I'd really wanted to see was Ryeowook, and I didn't know how to express that right now.

"They're all praying for you to get better," he whispered. "In fact - do you know how many people are praying for you?"

I started shaking my head, but then I soon started nodding.

I can tell. I can feel that everyone's praying for me.

"There are fans outside, Kyuhyun, who have been having candlelit vigils to pray with each other," he said.

As I just stared at him, the door slid open. I turned my head to see the intern come in again.

"Sir, if you'll just let me - " he said to my father, indicating the stool.

My dad got up, and the intern took the seat instead and started rolling up my sleeves again.

"How're you feeling?" he asked.

I nodded. No worse than before.

He smiled. "It seems that you're doing really well right now. So much better than we expected."

I closed my eyes with relief. So that meant I wasn't going to die?

"We think you're ready to be taken off the ventilator later today. Are you up for it?"

I hesitated. I wanted to breathe on my own again more than anything, but what if my body wasn't ready?

As I hesitated with the response, the intern spoke again. "It'll be done very slowly, so you can get used to breathing again."

Those words rang so strangely in my head. Get used to breathing...

"We want to get you off the ventilator as soon as possible so that your breathing muscles don't deteriorate even more."

I nodded, and the intern smiled before putting the needle to my arm for blood. "You're going to be fine. Don't be nervous."

I nodded and closed my eyes again.

There was nothing I could do right now except trust my doctors completely.

I saw the intern a few more times that day when he came for more blood. The next time he came, he came with a needle and more information, and started speaking while tying the rubber band around my arm.

"It's going to be a difficult process. You'll have to force yourself to breathe at first, and your diaphragm will get tired very fast," he said. "So, if you think you're having trouble in any way - " He finished tying the rubber band, then took my hand and guided it towards the side of the bed until my fingers soon ran over a round plastic button. "Push the button and - "

He pressed my finger against the button, and there was a beep in the room. He reached into his pocket and took out his pager and turned it off.

"I get paged, as do..."

The door slid open, and two nurses ran into the room.

"What's the mat - " They stopped, seeing the intern sitting beside me and my dad watching by my side. I saw their eyes move towards the monitor displaying my normal vitals.

"Sorry," said the intern with an apologetic smile. "I hit the button by accident."

The nurses looked at him skeptically, then back at me.

"Are you really okay?"

I nodded. When the nurses sighed and left the room, the intern looked at me again.

"Do you understand?"

I nodded again, and I ran my fingers around the small button, familiarizing myself with it.

"But it seems that your father will be here with you to make sure you're okay, so don't be afraid," he said. I looked at my dad, and he nodded encouragingly. I nodded back, and mentally prepared myself to be taken off the ventilator later that day.

It's strange how much you take for granted. Breathing. You take breathing for granted. Eating. You take that for granted too. Walking, speaking, sitting. Even things like rolling over, being able to go to the bathroom, being able to tell someone you're sorry, or that you love them... you take all of that for granted without realizing it. And then when it's taken away from you, it's more frustrating than ever. Especially when you think that you may not ever get some of those back.

Breathing on my own again was the first thing I got back though. After two days of struggling later, the doctor finally declared me well enough to be taken off the ventilator, and left the intern to taking it out. I watched in half-anxiety and half-excitement as he worked on unsecuring the tube from the entrance of my mouth. And when he finished, he finally spoke.

"Okay, this might feel a bit uncomfortable," said the intern, then within a few short minutes, I felt the long tube being pulled out through my mouth. I gagged and retched until it was pulled out halfway, and then I felt my throat closing up among fruitless tugs of the tube from the intern.

"Deep breath through your mouth," said the intern, taking hold of the back of my head. "Come on, Kyuhyun. Deep breath."

I gagged once more before gasping for a breath, during which the intern pulled out more of the tube. I felt my throat closing again when the intern supported my head up again. "One more. Almost there."

I squeezed my eyes shut and gasped for another breath, at which all of it was pulled out. And when it did, I was left teary-eyed and sore. I gasped for a breath without the tube, but then I saw an oxygen mask being held close to my face. And then breathing became less labored again. The intern supported my head up and pulled the strap of the mask behind my head.

"Does that feel okay?" he asked, sighing his own breath of relief.

I nodded, and then I realized that I might actually be able to speak, now that I had nothing in my mouth. But to do that, I needed to take this mask off first...

I lifted off the oxygen mask a tiny bit and then looked at the intern. And then I took a breath to say something when the intern grabbed my wrist with one hand and the mask with the other and set it down on my face again gently.

"Slow down. One at a time. Focus on breathing, not talking."

I sighed and closed my eyes and focused on breathing like he asked.

I didn't try speaking until later that day, when I was alone in the room. My father had finally gone home just for a few hours for the first time since I'd woken up after being assured that I'd be okay.

I was definitely speaking, but I could only whisper.

And this put me in a bigger panic than it probably should have.

But when I remembered that I sing for a living... Blood pounded in my head, and I felt my face flush. My heart was beating out of my chest...

And I found my shaking hand pushing the button that the intern had shown me a few days before.

He was the first to rush in, followed by two nurses. He looked at the monitor.

"O2 sats are good. Elevated heart rate and BP, but neither is high enough to do anything..."

He looked at me watching him in panic, and he spoke.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I can't speak," I whispered, lifting off the oxygen mask a little.

The three of them looked dumbstruck for a second as though they didn't understand why that was such a problem. But they didn't realize how important my voice was for me.

"It's because the muscles you needed to speak have weakened from disuse," said the intern calmly. "You'll get your voice back."

I sighed with relief and closed my eyes.

And then I opened my eyes to look at him.

"Sorry," I whispered. The intern shook his head.

"It's no problem. You still don't know what happened to your body, so it's a legitimate concern," said the intern. The two nurses left the room, and he followed halfway out of the room, but then he turned around and came near me again. And then he sat down on the stool next to my bed.

"Well, I wanted this talk anyway, but I think it's probably necessary to let you know what's happened to your body and what we're doing about it. That way, you'll be less confused and you'll be able to do what you can to make yourself better. How does that sound?" he asked.

I nodded slowly, considering.

"How much do you want to know?" asked the intern.

How much did I want to know?

The sight of my bruised forearm crossed my mind, and I shuddered.

How much did I want to know?

I hesitated, then lifted off the oxygen mask a little.

"Just - just enough to get by," I whispered. I let the oxygen mask settle down on my face again.

He nodded. "Well, you had hemothorax, and that means you had bleeding into the space between your lungs and your chest wall," he said.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to block out his words. That was not what I wanted to hear, I didn't need him to tell me how hurt I was. I just wanted to know what I needed to do to get better. I didn't want to know how close I got to death, how terrible the state of my body is -

"And the bleeding started because you broke six of your ribs, and on impact, a few of them seem to have pierced - "

He stopped as I reached up for the oxygen mask again and lifted it.

"Please," I whispered. Tears welled up in my eyes. "Just - just enough to - to get by."

The intern stopped and looked into my pleading eyes. Then he nodded.

"Okay," he said finally. "For your breathing, we'll keep the oxygen mask on you for a week or so. And then we'll do some tests after that to see whether you need to keep it on for much longer. And I know you're probably really hungry and thirsty, but we're giving you everything you need intravenously right now, so don't worry. We won't let your body starve, even though your stomach is starving a little. As for your legs, we'll change the dressing every day until the end of this week, then we'll change it every other day. As for your pelvis - " He stopped and looked at me. "It's quite badly broken."

I waited for him to continue, but he didn't say anything. What does that mean?

The intern looked uncomfortable, then continued. "We recommend a surgery called internal fixation."

I closed my eyes at the thought. The idea of a surgery was just so scary... I was still hesitating when the intern spoke again.

"We think you're strong enough to go through the surgery now. We're hesitant about waiting for your chest to get much better than now because waiting too long may misalign the bones. We don't want it to stay the way it is right now."

I closed my eyes.

"But Kyuhyun, there are some risks, as there are to every surgery. This one in particular because there are some important arteries there."

"So what - what could hap - happen to me?" I whispered.

"The - the worst case scenario would be that we accidentally cut through one of these blood vessels, and there is major blood loss."

I thought for a second, considering. And then it hit me.

"And that means - that means I could die?"

The intern hesitated. "I mean, there is a very small possibility, but - "

"B - but I'm alive now," I said. "It doesn't make sense for - for me to get the surgery."

He paused. "We - we think the surgery will be necessary if you want to be able to walk. And definitely necessary if you want to be able to dance later on."

As soon as I heard it, I felt my heart sink to the bottom of my stomach, and everything around me went blank.

Did that mean I had to choose between my career and putting myself in the way of death again?

From then on, I didn't even know if the intern was talking. And I didn't snap myself out of the state until I had fully understood what choice he was asking of me to make. And when I did, I looked at the intern.

"I need - need a moment," I managed, without even lifting up the mask.

My speech was muffled, but he understood.

"Of course," he said, then he got up hastily and left the room.

I just lied on my bed staring into space blankly, thinking about nothing. And a few minutes later, the door slid open. I opened them to find that my father had returned, and as soon as he sat down, he took my hand again.

"Is everything okay?" he asked with concern. "I heard about the surgery."

I shook my head to stop him from talking.

I didn't want to wait to say it anymore.

I squeezed his hand, then lifted up the oxygen mask to finally say the words that I hadn't been able to say for days, and hadn't said for almost a year.

"Dad," I whispered.

"Yeah, Kyuhyun," he said, leaning in closer to listen.

I looked into his eyes and smiled.

"I l - love you."

My dad paused for a second, then he bit his lip.

"I love you too," he said. And then we held each other's hands and we both cried silently with the relief of having said and heard those words.

I don't know what my plan was, but I didn't give the surgery a single thought for the whole day. I think I was just in denial that I would have to choose very soon. Either way, though, I didn't think about the surgery, and so my stomach tightened when the intern next came into the room.

"Hey," he said with a smile. "How're you doing?"

I didn't say anything.

"You know, this surgery... We've booked it for tomorrow afternoon, but we still have a few minutes to cancel it, if you don't want it," he said carefully. "Have you decided?"

I shook my head and moved my hand up to my mask to lift it up. "I - I can't," I whispered. "C - can you help - help me decide?"

The intern chewed on his lip. "Well, how important is your career for you?"

"It means ev - everything," I whispered. "But is - is it worth my life?"

He smiled a little. "Nothing is worth your life," he said. "But it's not like the surgery will kill you for sure. There's a much, much greater chance that you'll do well in the surgery."

I hesitated before looking at him. "So you think I - I should do it?"

He tilted his head. "I'm just here to inform you, and to give you your options," he said. "But - "

I looked into his eyes.

Please someone just decide for me.

"The career seems also to be important to your father."

"What - what do you mean?" I asked. I looked up at my father just in time to see him turn his back on me. The intern looked at my father too, and spoke quietly.

"Sir, would you rather explain?" asked the intern.

My dad didn't respond.

"D - Dad," I whispered.

He turned around to look at me, then he faced the intern.

"He doesn't have to know right now. This is his decision. I don't want mine to influence his."

The intern looked flustered for a second, then he nodded and turned to face me again.

I looked at the intern and my dad in turn, wondering what I was missing. And then realizing that neither of them was going to tell me, I sighed and closed my eyes, considering.

What impact would I make on those around me if I didn't have this career?

The people around me now - they're only here because of this career. And if I didn't have that anymore... what will happen to me and everyone around me?

Would anyone care about me anymore?

Would it be a life worth living if I didn't have this anymore?

I squeezed my eyes shut.

The team, my beloved managers, everyone outside right now who is praying for me... they're only here because of this career. What would I do with my life if I didn't have it anymore?

I opened my eyes, then drew it a breath to speak before letting it out again.

"Okay," I whispered. I looked up and into the intern's face. "But - but I want to say good - goodbye to everyone first this time."

That was when I really found out what had happened to everyone.

Leeteuk had just been discharged from a smaller hospital, after a huge ordeal with stitches. Eunhyuk and Shindong were both able to walk away from the accident, and further testing at the hospital revealed that neither had injuries. Seunghwan hyung was here in this hospital, but he had just undergone surgery on his leg for a compound fracture and was in one of the rooms upstairs, and the DBSK manager that was driving was being treated here as well. My dad assured me that he let one of our managers know that I wanted to see them all, and had told me to get some rest before the surgery tomorrow.

But I didn't sleep that night. I was just so scared. The word "surgery" rang around my ears. Surgery... surgery... surgery...

I didn't know whether I made the right choice.

I just lied there in the darkened room with my eyes closed with my dad sitting on the stool, holding my hand the entire night.

When the lights finally came on again, I looked up to see a nurse at the doorway.

"Mr. Cho, Kyuhyun has some visitors who want to see him before the surgery. Are you willing to switch off?"

My dad stood up, then he looked at me. "Should I let them in?" he asked. I nodded, and he kissed the back of my hand before leaving the room. Moments later, Leeteuk had entered the room.

"Hey," said Leeteuk, taking the seat next to my bed.

"Hyung," I whispered, and then I slowly and painstakingly pulled the oxygen mask up and over my head. I had a lot to say to him, and I didn't want the mask to get in the way. I was about to put it beside me when Leeteuk took it from my shaking hand and held it over my face again.

"Hey, look at you, you look so good," he said with a forced smile.

I shook my head. I knew that wasn't true.

"Who else is - is here?" I asked.

Leeteuk bit his lip, and looked at me apologetically. "Kyuhyun, no one else could come. There were too many fans outside. I got a ride here by ambulance last night straight from the hospital I was at because I asked for a favour, but - but none of the other members could get here. And Seunghwan hyung - it just wasn't possible to get him down here to the ICU."

Disappointment flooded over me as I realized that I wouldn't be able to say goodbye to everyone after all. Tears welled up in my eyes, but then I took some deep breaths and looked at Leeteuk.

"Hyung, please hold my hand," I whispered.

Leeteuk hesitated, then put the oxygen mask down beside me. And then he reached over and put his hands on top of mine, which were folded together on my chest.

The touch was so needed. I held on tightly to his fingertips. And I finally spoke between my belaboured breaths without the help of the oxygen mask.

"Hyung, if - if I - I don't - I don't make it - " I felt the tears fall from my eyes. " - Tell - tell Ryeowook I loved him always. And that I - I am so sorry."

"Kyuhyun..."

"And Seunghwan hyung - I - I really hope things go well be - between him and - his girlfriend - and his work."

"You're going to make it. Don't say things like that," rebuked Leeteuk.

I looked at him and smiled faintly. "Just - just in case," I said. I saw Leeteuk chewing on his lips, and he started massaging my hands. There was a long silence as he continued rubbing my hands and I cried silent tears.

"Our maknae," he whispered. I saw tears well up in his eyes. "Our little, lovely maknae."

He squeezed my hands.

"I am going to be so mad at you if you don't get better," he whispered. "I'm going to yell at you like I've never yelled at you before if you don't get better."

I looked up at him. "I d - don't want you to yell at - at me. I - I don't - "

"So you have to get better, okay?" he said.

I held back the tears and nodded. He smiled and rubbed my hands a final time before finally letting go.

"None of the team could be here, Kyuhyun, a hoobae of yours from the office is here," said Leeteuk. "Jonghyun?"

Jonghyun...

I frowned. "I - I don't want him to - to see me like this," I said quietly.

"So... So you're not going to see him?" he asked.

I hesitated. Jonghyun...

I'd always been the strong one for Jonghyun, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to show myself like this.

"C - can you tell him to come back af - after the surgery?"

"Kyuhyun, are you sure?" he asked quietly.

I nodded reluctantly. "And hyung, if - if I don't make it - can you ask Donghae hyung - to take care of him for me? He - he just got put - on a team, and he - might need someone."

Leeteuk didn't say anything for a few moments, then he nodded.

"And - and Kyuhyun, Heechul's here."

My eyes widened. "But - you said - "

"He - he actually didn't come back to the dorm since he first got here from what I've heard from him," said Leeteuk quietly. "I know you don't really - but do you want to see him?"

So he was here - for days? Because of me?

My heart clenched.

"He's here be - because I did s - something wrong," I whispered, tears welling up in my eyes. "I d - don't know what I d - did wrong. This - this wasn't my fault. I di - didn't know this would happen."

"No, of course this isn't your fault. He's just here to see you, to say hello. He isn't going to scold you," explained Leeteuk softly.

I shook my head. "Ask - ask him what I did wrong," I said. "And t - tell him I - I'm so sorry."

"Kyuhyun," said Leeteuk, then he sighed. "You don't have to see him if you don't want to."

"I - I'm sorry, sor - sorry," I said. The tears fell from my eyes. "I'm too sick - too hurt to do my chores around - around the dorm right now. B - but I'll get caught up on them as - as soon as I - I can."

"Kyuhyun, stop it," said Leeteuk, biting down on his lip.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I'm sorry, I - I'm sorry, I'm - "

"You don't have to see him. I won't bring him in if you don't want me to."

"Tell him I - I'm sorry. P - please. I'm sorry," I pleaded.

"Kyuhyun. Just relax."

"Say you'll do it," I whispered.

"Stop it, Kyuhyun, he's just - "

"I'm sorry," I said louder, willing Heechul to hear me from outside the room. "I'm sorry!"

"Kyuhyun!" yelled Leeteuk.

"I'M SORRY!" I bellowed with all my strength. "I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!"

"KYUHYUN!" shouted Leeteuk over me, squeezing my hands. "Stop it, that's not why he's here!"

"No, that is - is why he's here, he - he's n - never even c - called my name with - without sc - scolding me before," I said.

"Just don't see him then," said Leeteuk, looking frustrated with me. I felt my heart squeeze. I didn't want him to be angry at me. Especially if there was a chance that I wouldn't wake up after the surgery, that I'd die on the table...

"Hyung, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I said. "I'm sorry."

Leeteuk buried his face in his hands for a second, then he patted my cheek.

"It's okay. Just get better and it'll all be okay."

I looked into his eyes. I wanted to believe him more than anything else. "Really?" I asked, exhausted from all the yelling I'd done a few moments ago.

"Yeah," he said.

"P - promise?"

"I promise," said Leeteuk.

"I need to get better," I whispered.

"Yes. You need to get better. And then everything will be okay," said Leeteuk, then I saw his face scrunch up and his eyes welling up with tears. "Kyuhyun, please get better."

Then I lifted my hand with the biggest effort I'd ever had to put it on his cheek and wipe away his tears. I didn't want him to cry because of me.

"Okay," I managed. "I'll get better."

"That's it," whispered Leeteuk, then he kissed the top of my head while I closed my eyes.