They hadn’t even realized what had happened at first. It had been a green light for Minho, but they were barely in the intersection when the truck had plowed right into his side of the car, still going until the black vehicle had been pushed off the road. It had finally stopped pressed between the truck and the traffic light post, all sounds of metal screeching and bending. Jinki was yelling into the phone, still on and live in Key’s hand. He didn’t even know where to begin telling the leader, but the bloodied mess of Minho seemed like a good place to start.

It had seemed strange to be able to see the driver from the front, but it took Key only a few seconds to realize he was outside the car and on the sidewalk looking in. “Minho? Are you alright? Can you hear me?” It had hurt, but he had raised his voice for the younger.

There was silence for a few seconds and Key had just begun to fear the worse when there was a groan. “I’m fine…” A shaky and red hand came around to unbuckle his seatbelt and he shifted the slightest once free from the restraint. That might have worked slightly, but he was held in place by his leg crushed and pinned somewhere in the wreckage. Blood dripped down his face from a large gash across his forehead where it had hit the steering wheel, but he still gave a small smile with worry-filled eyes ruining it when he finally spotted the other. "Are you? And how'd you get out there?"

Key gave a smile that didn’t fit the situation at all, blood smeared across all the teeth from somewhere. He lifted the phone to his ear, listening to Jinki sob for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. “Minho’s okay, Jinki. He’s okay.”

“What about you?”

“Can you record this?” Jinki didn’t question Key, only did as the boy asked and began recording the conversation. “Are you?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay…” Key was slightly breathless now as he spoke, but he didn’t let it stop him. “Minho, you listen too.” He saw the younger nod and locked eyes with him, looking through to the boy’s soul it seemed with how hard he stared into them. “I’ll be the donor.” Now that he had finally said what he had wanted to, he dropped the phone down beside him and laid down on the cool concrete that was becoming red from the puddle of his very life that was growing. "Minho?"

His voice was already noticeably weaker and the rapper looked at him with tear-filled eyes. "Yeah?"

"Can you call an ambulance?"

"Yeah. I can." He shuffled through his pockets until he got to phone and dialed the three digit number everyone knew. The dispatcher speaking was the only noise he heard for a while until they asked how many there were. "My friend and me. I don't know how many in the truck."

"Is anyone hurt seriously?"

"My friend... He was thrown from the car. He's not moving, but he was talking earlier. And I can’t get out to him. I’m pinned in the car.” He probably seemed too calm to be saying that, but he knew if there was any feeling in his leg, he would have been the complete opposite. That was one thing he was thankful for.

"Just keep your friend talking for now, okay? I'll stay on the line until you guys get help." Minho nodded though she wouldn't even see him and looked back out at Key.

"Key. Please answer me Key." His voice was pleading and he watched for movement that didn't happen at first.

And then, a groan and Key's head turned to face him. "What, frog face? I'm trying to sleep."

"Please don't sleep now. Please..."

"Fine. Then talk to keep me up."

"Do you remember when we were trainees?"

"How could I forget? You had a major superiority complex." There was annoyance in his voice, even this close to death and it had Minho screwing his eyes shut.

"I know. I... I'm sorry for that. For everything I've ever done to you that annoyed you or anything."

"Why are you acting like we are dying? Oh..." It seemed like he had forgotten at first, but when he realized, he gave Minho a smile that could give the sun a run for its money. "It's okay. I forgave you a while ago."

"Just... Know I'm sorry. For everything." He was literally biting his hand so the sobs didn't take over his body, but Key didn't even notice. In the distance, they could hear the sirens, but they were still a far ways off.

"Can you do me a favor, Minho?"

"Anything."

“Take care of Taemin for me. He always loves waffles for breakfast and banana milk snuck in when we are supposed to be on diets."

"I got it."

"And... Jonghyun. Make sure that dino doesn't do anything rash. For his small size, he sure is strong. He can do a lot of damage." The sirens were a lot closer now and they could see the lights reflecting in shop windows around them, but Key's voice was also a lot weaker.

"I know... Kibum?"

"What, frog face? I'm Kibum to you know that I'm dying?"

Minho ignored that, finally letting the sobs overtake his body. "I'll never forget you. You're one of the best friends I've ever had."

"Oh..." He let out a ragged sigh, sputtering some blood out of his mouth with it. The drops landed back on his face and ran down slowly, eventually mixing the rest of his blood on the ground. "If I can man, I'll miss you too." They were silent for a few seconds, watching the racing lights. "I’m going to make a video for Taemin, okay? Make sure he sees it.”

“I will.” Minho watched as Key found the phone he had placed down what seemed like forever ago and flipped through it, finally holding it away from his face. He heard the elder boy talking, but didn’t hear the actual words. A minute later, it was closed again and he looked back at Minho. “Can you sing for me?"

"Y-yeah. I’d do anything for you Kibum." He cleared his throat, feeling a growing pain in his chest, but he ignored it for the moment. “Saranghaeyo ihanmadi cham joheun mal…”

For over a week, three chairs were always filled beside Taemin’s bed in ICU, a fourth forever left open. For over a week, there was no sign of life. The room was only filled with the noises of the heart monitor, of the tube down his throat giving him air since his own lungs wouldn’t, of the drips giving him medicines that made them all have to be suited up before entering.

And the tears. Those would never leave the room. Not then, and possibly never.

It was October third when the doctors spoke with Jinki in hushed voices that made him break down in the hall. Then was when their world was falling apart—after losing one, they were told they should lose the other.

None of them wanted to pull the plug. And it stayed that way. Taemin still laid in the bed, lifeless and alive on only machines. But they wouldn’t lose him too.

It was a week later when they were finally going to give in to the doctors. They’d found the letters, the request to just end it if he was only artificially alive.

Who were they to ignore a last request, even if they didn’t want to do it?

But that was when their miracle happened. The breathing tube had been the only things keeping Taemin alive and breathing. If it was take out, he would die, they said.

It had seemed like that at first. The tube was removed and Taemin’s body struggled to try and breathe on its own. And it didn’t work. Then…

Then Kibum was watching down on the boy, because he took in one breath, and then another. They were weak, but there. The doctors and nurses were only left in shock, but their battle had been won. The common mask was put on the boy and it became a waiting game again.

They wouldn’t know how long.