A migraine of epic proportions pounded through Taemin’s head, making it hard for him to concentrate on much else, besides where he was putting his feet. He’d almost given up on walking a few different times, but decided that he’d rather walk and put up with the headache than get mugged and still have to cope with it. Most anyone would have chosen option one.

He kept walking, not hearing the oncoming car that was headed toward him until it was too late. He barely had time to blink in the split second before he was hit with a solid ton of metal. The car had braked at the last moment, lessening the impact some, but the small boy still flew a few feet before landing on the asphalt hard.

He couldn’t feel anything beyond his pain, he could barely hear the frantic driver trying to – albeit tentatively – wake him up. He found it exceedingly hard to breathe, his lungs painfully compressed and coughing every few seconds to expel the liquid seeping down the back of his throat. It came out red, and it never occurred to Taemin, in his delirious state, that it was in fact his blood.

In his last few moments of coherent thought, Taemin contemplated the irony of the situation. He’d been sentenced to a slow and painful death just earlier in the week. Yes, he was dying. But at the moment, it wasn’t cancer that was killing him. It was internal bleeding.

The world went black and Taemin happily sank into that merciful darkness, wishing for the pain to be gone. It remained just out of reach, however, and as Taemin coughed again, he couldn’t help but be slightly mad at whatever force was taunting him with false promises.

~~~

Key ran down the street, trying to find Taemin, but so far having no such luck. His legs burned from running, but he was determined not to give up until he found the boy. A part of him thought that he’d just gotten tired and started home, but the other part of him, the more dominant part, insisted that Taemin was in trouble somehow.

When he passed a circle of bystanders gathered around the side of the road, he almost brushed it off, figuring it wasn’t any of his business. But, as usual, his curiosity got the best of him and we went over and pushed his way to the front of the cluster of bodies, elbowing others aside.

“Taemin!” he cried, jumping forward and falling to his knees beside the younger boy.

Key sighed in relief when he saw his eyes open a bit in response to his voice. But the only thing he could manage was an infinitesimal, wavering smile before he coughed out his last breath lying there in the street.

And for the first time in years, Kibum broke down and cried.

~~~

The absence of pain was the first thing that struck Taemin as being…off. The second was the realization that he wasn’t dead. The next thing he discovered was that he was breathing, which normally wouldn’t have come as such a shock, but under the certain circumstances, it was quite startling.

Was he really alive? He couldn’t tell, not really. So, he did what anyone would do in his situation. Steeling himself to see just about anything, he opened his eyes.

Was he dreaming, or was he really in his room? He was pretty sure it was the real thing, not just a rendition of it.

His next thought was a bit unimportant compared to other things that could have and most likely should have been going through his mind: Why am I on the floor?
But he got up and looked around, searching for any clue that this might not be real.

Everything was exactly how it had been before he’d left that night – the tear-stained letter still laid on the floor, the rip was still in the curtain, and the clock on his bedside table still read the same as it did when he’d left.
Had he ever died at all? Or was this a strange version of the afterlife? The world certainly was a strange place.

Then an idea struck him upside the head – metaphorically, of course. If it had been literally, he probably would have been back on the floor again, which wasn’t a good thing at the moment. He could call Kibum, surely he’d know something. After all, he’d been there when Taemin had kind-of-died. 
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҉҉҉Ṩὣὲέṱ┘ṧ Ṥἔḉṱỉổṇ҉҉҉

This, my dears, is what is known as filler. It happens when someone writing a story can’t think of much to write and so invents a way to fill a chapter with words that no one really ever wants to read. Personally, I wasn’t too fond of this chapter. *goes back to edit stuff* Okay, that’s better.