The tour is finally over. Yoochun can finally see Haneul.

 

Hold on, Haneul. Appa's coming.

 

He sits in the van with JYJ, practically tearing his hair out with the need to see Haneul. A month is too long to be away from him - he can't cope with it.

 

His performances on stage had been wavering in quality, voice cracking sometimes with lack of recent practice and worry for his only son. But he'd think of Haneul sat in his hospital bed, watching his appa's performances, and he'd find himself singing with all his heart again.

 

Now, the van speeds back to Seoul from Incheon airport, going round the corners on two wheels because of Yoochun constantly nagging the driver. Jaejoong sighs and claps a hand on his shoulder, smiling at him, "Calm down, Yoochun. We all miss our families - I understand that you do, too. Just let him drive carefully, yeah?"

 

Yoochun pushes his hand off his shoulder and turns to glare at the older male. "SHUT UP, JAEJOONG! You don't understand, so don't pretend that you do!" His tone is bitter and hard, taking out his frustration and lonliness on his friend. His eyes are cold in their glare, unwavering anger visible in his eyes.

 

Jaejoong's eyes are wide, shocked at Yoochun's behaviour - he's never been like this before towards him. He'd dropped all the honorifics and had flat out yelled at him, shocking the others, too. The tension between the two was so thick it could be cut with a chopstick, the fury radiating from Yoochun silenced everyone in the van.

 

Yoochun let out a frustrated growl from the back of his throat. He gave Jaejoong a shove away from him, pushing him against the door and turning to look out of his window again, fuming. Jaejoong's eyebrows furrow at his strange behaviour, wondering what on Earth had come over the vocalist. He's a little ticked off, but for the sake of his health, he decides not to say anything to him. Instead, he rubs his elbow where it hit against the car door and turns to Junsu in confusion, who's sat behind him.

 

Junsu puts an apologetic hand on Jaejoong's shoulder and pats it in sympathy, "Sorry, hyung, but don't talk to him right now. He's not in a good state of mind."

 

Jaejoong scoffs and looks to Yoochun, who is still glaring out the window, angry tears pushing their way through. "I can see that. Just wish he'd tell me why."

 

Yoochun pushes away his tears with the back of his hands, willing himself to be strong again. With a deep, shaky breath and a long sigh, he puts his headphones on to block out the rest of JYJ. He doesn't need to hear them right now. Just hold on, Haneul.

 

"Mr Park, it's Doctor Kim again. Come back from where ever you are as soon as possible - we have a situation."

 

He still remembers Doctor Kim's grave tone as if it was yesterday. It wasn't. It was a week ago.

 

"The bone marrow match wasn't good enough - it's him at the last minute. Haneul is in critical condition, Mr Park. Come as quickly as you can - we can still help him if you sign some papers."

 

He'd spoken to the chairman and his manager about leaving the tour early, but they'd declined. He's never hated someone so much before. They've kept him from Haneul when he needs him most.

 

"We're sorry, but Haneul is past the point of help. He's on his last legs, Mr Park. Please come as soon as you can - he's been asking for you."

 

Apparently all his hair has fallen out again, leaving his head red and sore. His skin has a frail, colourless hue over it, he doesn't have the energy to chew anything and he can't eat without bringing it back up again - they've resorted to feeding him through a tube in his nose. They've had a few scares where his heart has momentarily stopped, and most of his days are spent sleeping.

 

He hasn't got the energy to watch his appa on telly.

 

"Park Yoochun, your son needs you. Now. This is serious."

 

Upon remembering the call from last night, something within him snaps. "STEP ON IT!" he bellows, kicking the back of the drivers seat. "MY SON NEEDS ME!"

 

Too scared to talk, the driver just nods and speeds up, soon reaching the familiar streets of Seoul. Yoochun glares out of the window again, ignoring the looks he gets from his manager and Jaejoong. They know nothing.

 

His gaze softens as he sees the care home in the near distance, the one that Haneul had once lived in. The darkness of the late evening tries to hide it, but it's not yet dark enough to be hard to see. It speeds past his window, but he still manages to see the back garden of the home, still looking as gentle and loving as it ever did.

 

The bench where he'd given Haneul his mother's ring still stands there, a trigger of the past memory, where Haneul was still happy. Where he played with other children as if he was perfectly healthy.

 

 "No! Appa, you're weird, she's my best friend! I can't lurve her!"

 

He briefly wonders if Sang-Hee is still there, drawing pictures with another little boy, now. Does she miss Haneul? Does she still visit him in hospital?

 

His heart jumps in his ribcage, and his eyes widen at what he sees. Or rather, who. There's no mistaking those blue eyes. Haneul asks, "Is she pretty, Appa?", the face on the picture lovingly.

 

Yoochun's fingers join Haneul's in tracing the lines on the paper. "She's beautiful."

 

Oh, how he misses his wife, too. She was taken from him too early - he just hopes that Haneul won't join her in a rush. What will he do if he's left on his own?

 

And little Haneul - how has he been coping with his appa not around? Has he been okay? Hopefully he hasn't been lonely. But then, his mother's ring is hopefully still around his neck; he won't feel lonely if he wears it.

 

"This is Umma's wedding ring. They wouldn't let her take it to heaven with her, so she gave it to me instead. But now you can have it, Squishy. Just don't lose it, or I'll have to come and sit on you." He his hair affectionately with a smile, as Haneul gazes down at the ring in wonder.

 

Well, that's what Yoochun always felt, at least.

 

"I'll never take it off, Appa."

 

The van slows and pulls into the hospital carpark, driving up to the drop-off point. However, before the van can fully stop, Yoochun has already thrown the door open and is flying through the entrance to the hospital, his feet barely having the chance to touch the floor.

 

Appa's here, Haneul. Just hold on...

 

He storms through the reception, in too much of a rush to sign in. He tears through the corridors until he comes to the elevator shaft. He groans in irritation upon seeing the queue and dashes past, heading for the stairs instead. He doesn't care if Haneul is on the sixth floor - he'll get there. He'll be there.

 

He's yelled at by passing patients and doctors for running. He gets many stares from random people, too, but he doesn't care. He pushes himself to his limit to get to his son.

 

His feet hurt, his legs are tired and his lungs are burning. But he doesn't care.

 

His head is spinning. Thoughts, fears and hopes confuse him. He's lost in his head that's being torn apart by worry. It's a whirlwind of panic, frustration and love.

 

All he knows is that his little warrior needs him. Hold on, Haneul.

 

Exhausted, light-headed, panting and a mess, Yoochun soon finds himself stood in Haneul's corridor. Yoochun feels strange and uncomfortable inside as he begins his way up the corridor on heavy foot-fall. He feels sick to his stomach and queasy. Why are you like this, Yoochun?

 

Haneul is strong. He's fine. 

 

But the sick feeling doesn't leave. Yoochun swallows the gulp in his throat and presses on down the corridor, only stopping to come face-to-face with the door. His hand shoots out to grab the handle upon its own impulse. It's rough and freezing to the touch. After a deep breath, he tries to slide the door open, only for it not to budge.

 

All the strength has left his arms - he can't seem to find the power to open the door, now that he's finally here. He doesn't know why - he knows Haneul is fine.

 

He'll be sat up in bed blabbering about something or other, chatting away to Doctor Kim. The window will be open to let in a fresh evening breeze as he giggles, the shine in his eyes displaying his innocence. There'll be hot chocolate on the side table and two cookies, like he always has after dinner. He'll be grinning like there's no tomorrow.

 

He'll be fine.

 

Yoochun nods firmly to himself and tightens his grip on the handle again, prepared to see his smiling face. However, before he can bring himself to slide the door, it's already done for him.

 

Doctor Kim Joonmyun stands on the other side, looking down to his feet. Once he sees someone is stood before him, he looks up and meets the worried eyes of Yoochun. He clears his throat and manages a minute smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Oh, Mr Park. You came."

 

Yoochun urgently cuts straight to the chase; "Is Haneul okay?"

 

Doctor Kim conjures up that small smile again, the one that speaks a thousand words. With a soft smile and sad eyes, he manages to keep his voice level so long as it's a whisper, "I'm sorry, Mr Park, but there's not much that we can do. You... You've arrived a little late, I'm afraid."

 

Yoochun senses the double meaning in his words and finds the regret in the Doctor's eyes. A stab to his heart tells him what he dreads. His mouth falls open and his eyebrows furrow in anger.

 

"...What?"

 

He can't believe it. He can't comprehend what's going on. It's all lies.

 

He shoves Doctor Kim away forcefully, driving him from obstructing his view into the room.

 

There, on the bed, is delicate Jung Haneul.

 

As if he could be sleeping.

 

No, wait...

 

He's wired up to so many machines that it's impossible to count and the thought of so many needles sticking into his son's limbs would usually be enough to make Yoochun cringe, but that's not on his mind right now. No, not at all.

 

His chest is rising and falling rhythmically, showing his light, but steady breathing.

 

Haneul, he's... Alive.