Striding through YG building, Daesung felt more disturbed by his exchange with Seungri than he had about anything connected to the whole nightmare of YoungBae’s death.  Still breathing heavily, Daesung shoved though the back door and into the huge silent car park of YG Building.  For a time he simply wandered around in the bracing winter air, hands clenched into his hair.  Why had he reacted so uncharacteristically to Seungri’s pain?  He was beginning to understand why couples fought and sometimes broke up over intense pain like losing a baby.  BigBang certainly hadn’t lost a baby but the person they had lost was no less a part of them.  It had felt so freeing to loose his voice, let it rise at will and watch Seungri step back in shock at his force.  Frighteningly freeing.  It was a welcome distraction and vent for long constricted emotions slowly rising and suffocating him.  It had felt so good to allow offense into his brain when Seungri had reacted to Daesung’s attempt at blanking his own grief.  To his own ears Daesung’s words had sounded cliché and empty.  He had intended them too.  Manufactured replies: “Learn for the future…” “Don’t wallow in senseless grief”  “YoungBae wouldn’t want that…” “It doesn’t help anything…”they enabled Daesung to skip over the problem just a tiny bit easier.  It meant he didn’t to face once again his own hidden guilt.  It meant he didn’t have to rebuke himself for the umpteenth time about wallowing in his own “senseless grief”.   Senseless grief that could be compared to being slowly drowned in fire.  But above all of that, ran the overarching stress of… something else that Daesung could not define.  Lowering himself with an exhausted sigh onto the concrete Daesung let his head flop back into his hands against the floor and stared up at sky, so far above him.  Finally his fatigue-worn thoughts managed to decide that, while he could articulate for other people, he was a guy who didn’t cope with delicate little feelings well.  Even his car accident had not called for such complex emotions as YoungBae’s death and Daesung simply did not know how to cope with this need.  Daesung was used to letting any excess complications in his life flow into wonderfully earnest singing.  But Daesung felt he would rather die than let a screaming fan-girl hear the emotion YoungBae’s death had awoken in him.  Having so many different expressions of grief pressing down on him, placing him under the largest amount of stress Daesung had ever had was indescribably taxing.  His own pain was impossible enough to carry for any amount of time without having three other separate ways of grieving to bear for a long period as well. Sliding his hands out from under his head, Daesung spread them above his head and let some of his confusion, frustration and terribly inexpressible heartache push from his body in another far heavier sigh.

Staring at the stars reminded him for some reason of God.  He brought his arms back off the concrete above his head and folded them over his chest.  God was supposed to be all-powerful.  IF God was all-powerful then God had decided to let YoungBae die.  Daesung scrunched his eyes shut and groaned tiredly.  He didn’t want to fight God as well.  He wanted to keep the wonderful reassurance that Jesus understood him and not think about anything else.  Pulling both hands up to clench over his face he let words drag from his chest.  “Why… God… Why… you’re supposed to be… God!  Why’d you let him die?”  Once again his voice was gaining intensity.  “Don’t you see how much everyone is hurting?  Seunghyun is broken almost past repair, JiYong’s just angry although at least he doesn’t blame Seungri anymore and Seungri… God, why Seungri?  Can’t you see what you’re doing to that poor kid?? He loved his brother!”  Daesung’s breath caught in a sob.  “And…” his voice dropped to a quivering whisper, unwilling as always to put himself in any position of importance.  “I loved my brother too.  I have to fix all of them.  But I can’t.  I can’t fix everyone else when there’s no one to fix me.  You said your son wept when his friend died!  He was supposed know how this felt!  Why isn’t he here then?!  Why did you let it happen? WHY?”  His last word was shouted, angrily at the sky.  Realising that he could probably be heard from outside the concrete wall around YG building he stopped; breathing hard.  Getting up he kicked viciously at gravel on the concrete, taking unhappy glee in the scuffs that appeared on his expensive sneakers.  In the back of his head Seunghyun’s words were still echoing.  Echoing in complete and utter bewilderment mixed with raw shock and insensible pain.  Daesung raised both shaking hands to his hair, trying to drive the memory of Seunghyun’s agony from his mind.  For several minutes he strode round in circles, watching the scuff marks get bigger before letting himself drop back onto the ground and groaning into his hands, unable to handle his own thoughts anymore.  Finally he arched one hip off the ground so he could yank his phone from a pocket in his pants.  Opening his browser he typed slowly, “why do people die if God is love?”  It was not the neatest search question and Daesung frowned at it even as he tapped enter.  Unseeingly he scrolled down links then let the phone drop onto his stomach as his hands slid back into his hair.  Nothing helped.  Nothing could distract him from the awful fact of YoungBae’s death.  Not listening to Seungri’s grief, not dragging Seunghyun back from his crazed mindlessness and not listening to whatever JiYong would undoubtedly be ranting about after the funeral if Daesung had taken the time to listen.  Everything seemed to just add to the raging fire of feeling in Daesung’s being.  He couldn’t express it or even begin to pin point it anymore.  YoungBae’s death was not just the loss of Daesung’s friend anymore.  It had become completely overwhelming and Daesung’s gently good natured heart was completely baffled by the battering variety of depressing issues yelling into his mind.  Without really understanding it, his brain was groping for something else to concentrate on, something to pull his thoughts off all the agony pressing onto him.  The thought came to him like a golden shaft of exploding relief.  Bom.  She had been crying when Daesung met her gaze during the funeral service and he hadn’t seen her since.  Had it really only been that morning that he had wept beside the coffin of his brother, feeling shattered emotions course through his hand into the timber of YoungBae’s death bed? The dazzling ray of relief faded with terrifying suddenness as Daesung remembered feeling desperate hopelessness and the raw sobs struggling to express his longing to wake up from such a horrific nightmare.  Once again the horror of seeing his own unacceptance reflected in Seunghyun’s insensibility swept over him.  Daesung dragged himself up and staggered back inside YG building.  He was going to find Bom and make sure she was alright before he found himself wanting to jump off YG building in much the same way as YoungBae had fallen with such terrible gracefulness.

It took some time to find Bom and when he did, she was sitting on the kitchen floor.  Empty mug beside her, arms resting outstretched on her drawn up knees.  Bom’s head was dropped back against the cupboard as she slept in absolute exhaustion.  All the 2NE1 members had met to have dinner but it was a silent meal and when Minzy finally broke down against Dara they had given up any pretence of normality. It had been hard for Bom to watch Dara struggle against her own pain before finally letting her tears drop against Minzy’s hair as she bent over the younger girl.  It had been Dara who stood Minzy up and took the overwrought girl to bed.  ChaeRin had not looked at Bom for long minutes afterwards until finally she made a definite gesture and glancing up at her Bom had been shocked at the hard pain glinting in her leaders eyes.  “Minzy will be asleep by now.  You better go to Dara.  She’ll be in your bedroom and you’d be the only one who could help her.” ChaeRin had stated flatly and Bom was suddenly illuminated to the reason of the hardness.

“ChaeRin-ah…” Her voice was unsteady, a wistful question forming in her word.  Once more ChaeRin looked at Bom and saw the sheen of tears across her eyes.  Always both ChaeRin and Minzy had felt slightly awkward around their unnie’s tears but not this time.  A wave of gratefulness washed over ChaeRin as she stood to round the table and wrap her arms around Bom’s shoulders.

“It’s ok Bom Unnie.  Don’t cry.  Please, don’t be sad.  Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine, Dara will be fine.  Even the boys, they’ll be fine too.”  Once again ChaeRin had been the competent leader, surrounding and sweeping away any negativity.  She did not fight it, she simply ignored it and her utter disregard braced the older girl.  Finally Bom stood up and ChaeRin straightened searching her unnie’s eyes questioningly.  Bom had managed a half smile and ChaeRin had suddenly thrown her arms around Bom again.  “Gomawo Bom Unnie.” She had whispered quickly then shoved Bom in the direction of Dara’s bedroom. 

Before she drifted asleep on the kitchen floor, Bom had been aching intolerably for ChaeRin.  Poor ChaeRin who had always been able to fix things for her members, organise everything and make it right.  She couldn’t organise any of the last few day’s events and she certainly couldn’t fix the ragged emotions of her members or BigBang.  Bom had guessed and rightly that ChaeRin was feeling horribly useless. 

ChaeRin’s hug had been needed.  When Bom entered her bedroom Dara was flung over the end of the bed, completely still.  With a brusque sigh, Bom had dragged her around so she was lying right way on the bed then, curling up beside her Bom had hugged Dara and demanded to be told everything.  Dara had answered by slowly beginning to cry.  Her wringing loss had so worn Bom out that while she was waiting for the jug to boil in the kitchen she had slid to the floor, too tired to stand any longer.  So Daesung found her, asleep on the floor next to her empty mug.  Looking down on that face; wrung by grief and marked deeply with concern and trouble Daesung felt his heart first melt in worry for her then something else that arrested him.  Slowly going onto his knees beside her, Daesung let his eyes travel over Bom’s whole face, drinking in every detail.  This woman had given so much for him:  so much for everyone in YG family!  And not just for the past few days.  For as long as they had been YG Family, Bom had always been a giving person, unselfishly putting everyone before herself.  In her own shyly, blunt way Bom was continuously offering and Daesung had taken.  Daesung wondered just how much pain Bom had been going through since YoungBae died.  He wanted to see her smile again.  Reaching out he let his fingers brush lightly against her face and watched her lips turn up momentarily.  For a moment, one brief, frozen moment in eternity, Daesung’s grief was suspended as fascination at Bom’s intriguing facial expression caught his full being.  Then her face fell once again into lines of troubled sadness that made Bom look more than ever like a hurt little girl. A hurt little girl, so cold, she was shivering even in her sleep.  Lowering himself onto the floor beside her Daesung put one arm around Bom and pulled her quietly to rest against him.  Unconsciously Bom moved closer to the warmth and her body relaxed against Daesung’s as she curled slightly in his embrace.  Daesung stared out into the kitchen and felt strangely, blessedly… blank.  Gradually, gently, gratitude rose from his heart.  He didn’t know to who it was rising but it rose and resting his head gently against Bom’s on his shoulder, Daesung dozed in that cradle of vacancy.  Soon his dozing deepened into sleep and Daesung began to dream.

He was back in his car.  It was that night again.  In his dream a feeling of inevitable dread aded the whole atmosphere as he drove up to that same wretched corner.  But when he found himself once more standing outside his car; staring down in shocked, dreaming disbelief at the killed human at his feet, it was no longer a complete stranger.  In the strange manner of dreams, Daesung found that the motorbike rider had somehow become YoungBae.  It was YoungBae whose face was now stiffening into agonised death lines.  And it was YoungBae whose lips were now spurting lifeless blood as part of Daesung’s car impaled through his chest and lifted to mock Daesung.  In his dream Daesung felt his sickening horror become a physical wave that hit both him and the murdered YoungBae.  Daesung’s guilt smashed the road beneath him and the scene changed; melting away unnoticeably until Daesung was again watching YoungBae fall.  Blood was falling with him from the dreadful gash speared through his heart.  Scenes that Seungri had described to Daesung rendered his dreaming vision luridly and horribly real.  As YoungBae fell in the dream, Daesung was reaching after him, desperately trying to atone for his murder that seemed in his dreaming mind to be committed against his hyung, reaching after his brother, straining to catch hold of him, ever stretching; and ever falling short.  Then Daesung himself was falling.  For a moment Daesung in his dream felt with every fibre in his being the sheer shock of fantastic freefalling that would have pulsed through YoungBae’s entire body as he fell.  For what seemed like an eternity in his dream Daesung knew what it was like to fall into death.  Then his body shocked itself into wakefulness.  With a harsh gasp Daesung jerked himself off the kitchen floor.  Scrambling upwards, still gasping like a man who had just been drowning.  Bom was on her hands and knees staring up at him in astonishment as he stood there gripping the kitchen counter.  Almost in shock, Bom continued to stare at Daesung.  She had seen him wounded, grieving, broken, despairing; but she had never seen him weak, shaken to this extent.  Daesung was still dragging in harsh needy breaths, his whole body shaking from the raw power of his dream.  Standing beside him, Bom saw his face and froze; unnerved.  Stamped on Daesung’s face was fear, terrible guilt and such awful knowledge that Bom wanted to draw away from him.  “I know.”  Said Daesung, not speaking to Bom.

“Know what?”  Whispered Bom. 

Daesung turned his head slightly to stare through her and Bom shuddered at the combination of emotions and realisation in his expression.  “I know what YoungBae felt like when he died.” As he spoke, Daesung was gulping his words slightly.  Almost as though he wanted to throw up and rid his body of what he had just experienced.  Bom felt torn.  She wanted with all her being to somehow help Daesung but she was afraid to go near him.  Fingers whitening around the edge of the bench, Daesung felt all the emotions he had been trying to fight under the stars, sweep into his mind.  He had thought it was unbearable.  But combined with the new, more powerful awfulness he was feeling from his dream?  Those minutes out under the stars were a picnic compared to this.  That terrifying moment in his dream where he had fallen into death then jerked awake, re-lived itself in his mind again and again.  Helpless fear drenched him and waves of sickening comprehension dizzied him.  When Bom’s fingers came in contact with his shoulder Daesung started so violently that Bom jumped as well.  Daesung had forgotten her existence. 

“Daesung-ah.”  Bom suspended his name in the air, lending no expression to it other than simple speech.  “Talk to me.  Now.  Tell me.”

“I can’t.”  Daesung’s voice betrayed the vulnerability he was feeling.  “Bom, I never understood how someone could want to kill themselves.  After the accident, I half did.  I thought about thinking of it but I never really… was serious about it.  But Bom, I want to die.  I can’t… live with this Bom.  I dreamed that it was YoungBae I killed and then he was falling, and I could see everything just the way Seungri told me. And there was his blood in the air.  His blood that I shed!  Then it was me falling.”  His voice broke at the still fresh shock and he swallowed desperately.  “I died Bom.  Just after I woke up.”