“I can’t find Jae.”

He dropped the phone. The entire room swirled. Thrashing into the table, Yunho, barely able to see, tore out of the house, nearly ripping off the door. The stinging scent of rubber burned in the drive way as he peeled out, speeding down the road.

Driving, Yunho did not know if he drew breath. In truth, he did not care. Only one precious thing mattered now. A form that at this moment could be laying hurt, alone, lost. A form, dear, that right this very instant could be beyond reach. Beyond where Yunho could find him. Save him.
And as he slammed the car against the curb of the park, Yunho thought his insides should burst.

Yet what more would he feel when, coming over a hill, he saw Jaejoong-surrounded by a group of five adolescent boys. The subject of their fun. The victim of their violence.
* * *
Changmin saw Yunho pull in, his car thrashing into the curb. He watched as the young man practically ripped the door off as he scrambled to get out. His steps were uneven as he ran; the expression in his eyes, wild. He seemed an animal in a cage, taunted and jarred at; and now, the blood in his veins boiling, he was ready to lunge at and tear off any hand that came near.

Watching Yunho come towards him, Changmin found it hard to believe that what had started out as such a wonderful day, what had promised to be so special, ended now so dire.

Watching Yunho race forward, haggardly, he wondered what had happened. He wondered at what point things had gone so dreadfully wrong.

A few hours ago, everything seemed fine.

Pulling out of Purple Line, Changmin glanced in the rear view mirror to see Yunho lingering in the parking lot. A funny thing, really, that no matter how much we trust another with our treasure, when we hand it off, albeit briefly, we stand by, looking on, as if right at the very last moment we should be needed, called upon-a trouble only our hands can fix. Changmin himself had done it countless times, watching as Madeline went over to a friend’s house. True, Yunho was only Jaejoong’s brother, but watching his remaining figure shrink in the distance, Changmin would have dared anyone to say that that was all the young man was. No. His love ran as deep as any father’s.

From the backseat Changmin listened. Pockets of laughter bubbled up as they drove. Delighted snickers. Glancing back, Changmin saw it was the game Jaejoong and Madeline played so often when they together on a car ride.

Yet though their laughter flickered up, tickling his ears the way a butterfly‘s wings might, he tried not to listen. For something too near his heart for safety happened every time they played. And like some gifts that are too delicate to be touched, the father considered moments between these ones to be held out of reach.

Having driven Jaejoong and Madeline enough times, Changmin had finally figured out what the game was; though the rules, as with the best of all games, did not matter.

Changmin often wondered if there were any rules at all. The object of the game being to point out as many colored cars as one could. Each new color was met with much delight and should two of the same colored cars be spotted in a row-well, that was the best.

And in those moments, listening as his daughter played the game-to hear her cry out “I see a blue one”-many had been the times Changmin thought he should lose control of the car. To hear his little blind girl cry out, “I see!”-it was-wonderful. They were words he thought she should never say. And what was more, the few times he hazarded a glance in the rear view mirror, in her face there shone a joy he never imagined to behold. To see Madeline as she pointed triumphantly out the window, at that moment, Changmin wondered if, maybe, she really did see something. If with Jaejoong, there was a dawn in her dark world.

Smiling to himself, Changmin wondered who enjoyed Madeline’s play dates with Jaejoong more-her or himself.

Pulling into the driveway at the house, Changmin got out of the car, coming around to help Madeline get out. Unbuckling her seatbelt, Changmin’s arms slipped carefully around her, placing the withered hand in her lap, so that it would not get caught or bent in any strange way. He made sure as well that when he lifted her up, the small legs, the ones Madeline had said herself were confused, might slide easily out. In the meantime she, this being a process daily to her as brushing her teeth, reached to put her other arm around her daddy’s neck, explained to Changmin all that she and Jaejoong planned to do when they got inside the house.

Waiting outside the car, stood Jaejoong. The deep dark eyes watched in wide concentration at the process unfolding before him. Sometimes he shifted from foot to foot, seeming ready to move out of the way if needed. Other times he almost mimicked Changmin’s movements, bending over slightly, placing Madeline’s hand in his own lap, her arm around his neck. And when Changmin did finally lift Madeline out of the car, the fair head nodded in much approval.

Jeanette, Changmin’s wife, who had been watching from the window, opened the door for the three of them as they came near, kissing both her husband and daughter as they came in. And to Jaejoong, who held a special place in her heart, she placed a kiss on his cheek as well.

Jaejoong giggled and ducked down in delight.

“Hello, Jae,” she said. “I’m glad to see you today.”

Bowing, Jaejoong managed to reply, though he blushed all the way up to his ears, “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Shim.”

“Hero,” cried Madeline, as Changmin placed her carefully upon her feet, “You sound so funny when you talk to Mommy!”

To this, Jaejoong only managed to clap his hands and bounce over to Madeline, who promptly sought his hand in her own, and led him off to a large play room, explaining that he had to meet her new baby doll. But they needed to be quiet, for she was probably still taking her nap. Nodding in great ascent, Jaejoong promised to be quiet.

Walking out of the front room, Madeline made her way with much assurance, for she knew every turn and corner of her own house, leading Jaejoong down three small steps, into a sunken room. On the far end, wrapped in a blanket, lay a small baby doll. Upon seeing the doll, Jaejoong covered his mouth with his hand and took a deep breath, whispering to Madeline-

“Ohhh. Maddy-Maddy. She’s so pretty.”

Madeline, picking up the small doll, re-arranging the blanket to her satisfaction, began to rock the doll, sitting down upon the couch. “I know. Daddy told me she was the prettiest.” And looking to Jaejoong, she asked, “Do you want to hold her, Hero?”

“Can I,” he asked, his mouth parted in disbelief. “I’ll be really careful.”

And Madeline, with all the care of a young mother, placed in Jaejoong’s arms, the tiny doll, instructing him to support the head. And Jaejoong, his eyes very wide, cradled the doll whispering to her soft gentle words.

From outside of the room, Changmin watched. It was a painting no artist could hope capture with brush .

There were no colors in the rainbow to dip into, no canvas fine enough, no skill great enough to touch, to keep the scene before him ever new. For what he saw was the exhale of a dream. A moment never to be lived. Before him now was the shadow of an intimacy these two would never know. And the life that emerged from that oneness-never to be theirs.

What he watched now was a scene from a Never Land.

For little over an hour, Jaejoong and Madeline played. Sometimes their laughter would blossom throughout the house, its sound a perfume sweeter than any flower. And then, just as quickly as it burst forth, gloriously loud, both their voices would blow into a hush, as private words of lavish worlds were spoken and great secrets were made.

How quickly the hours passed. Play time, dinner, both of these sped by. And when Changmin and Madeline and Jaejoong made their way to the park, it seemed as their time together had only begun a few moments ago. It seemed as if the day itself had whisked by; was it not morning only a short while ago? How could it be that already, evening yawned wide, steeping the sky into blue?

And quick as the hours passed, the energy between Jaejoong and Madeline floated higher and higher. The world around them did not exist; they saw only one another in a world far from the one mortals reside in. For in their land, they were the only two, endless space stretching before them, infinite possibilities created for their joys alone. A magic world. A wondrous island far beyond stars, far from our sight. A place for these two alone.

What had happened then? When had this dream shattered?

Changmin did not know.

As much as he wanted to let them play, and as much as both begged to remain just a little longer, eventually, Changmin said that they must be going home. It was getting late.

Picking up Madeline, Changmin began to walk back towards the car, calling for Jaejoong to follow him. He told the young man that after he got Madeline in, they would wait in the car for Yunho to come.

And Changmin was positive that Jaejoong did indeed come along. That he nodded and was only a step behind. Granted, Changmin did not turn and look back at him as they went along. In truth, he was paying special attention to where he walked, as it was getting dark and he did not want to trip with Madeline in his arms. But after a few minutes, wondering if it was only his imagination that the only set of steps Changmin heard were his own, he turned around. Jaejoong was not there.

No. He couldn’t believe it. Frantically, he turned round and round, straining to see, in the fading light, if Jaejoong were not possibly near by. Perhaps just distracted, or straggling behind. Yet no matter how hard he stared back, looking at every inch of the playground, scanning not only all that was behind him, but in front as well-Jaejoong was not to be seen.

He should have called out. He should have screamed Jaejoong’s name at the top of his lungs. But what stopped him was the gentle pressure of his daughter’s head upon his shoulder. Madeline had fallen asleep. To cry out now, to wake her up and have her know that Jaejoong was nowhere to be found-no. He couldn’t.

Trying to push back terrible images from his mind, attempting to shut down reproaches and backlashes to himself, for his carelessness, his irresponsibility, Changmin, his head feeling as if it were going to explode, his temples throbbing, raced back to the car, laying Madeline inside. And gasping to catch what little breath he could, Changmin fumbled to open his phone and call Yunho.

“I can’t find Jae.”
* * *
Yunho stood now, in front of him, panting, sweat already dripping down.

“What happened,” he gasped.

“Yunho-ah. I don’t know. He was right behind me. I told him we needed to go back to the car and I thought he was right there. But when I turned around-Yunho-I-”

Yunho nodded. Words were beyond him. An icy hand was stretching through his body, freezing in its wake every vein, stopping his blood, and it reached now into his lungs with a blow, knocking any breath from him.

Raising a trembling hand to his brow, wiping away the perspiration, Yunho wondered if he might faint. His body was frozen. A trembling rocked him, threatening to tear down his insides, shatter them to pieces. Even standing was an effort.

And at this moment, just to stand was all Yunho wanted to do. It didn’t seem possible to walk, to run. Yes, every fiber in him screamed that he should move, that he should yell his brother’s name until his voice cracked and he could speak no more. Yes, terrible images swarmed his mind, crying out with their shrill voices, reaching towards him with long, thin arms. They threatened to rip his mind apart, shred what remained of his sanity. But-

~My hands are red.

I saw him fall.

Isn’t anyone there? My brother-he’s hurt.

Mommy, I’m afraid.

Please Jae, don’t die.~

“Yunho!”

Yunho looked up at the sound of Changmin’s voice. “Huh?”

“Jaejoong, we gotta find him.”

“Y-yea,” Yunho replied, clasping his hands to either side of his head, trying to control the fires in his mind. “Yea. But listen Changmin, where’s Maddy?”

“What? She’s in the car. She’s asleep.”

“Take her home” he said. “If she wakes up-I don’t want this to be worse. Take her home.” Changmin nodded, though it was obvious he did not understand. “And Min, do me a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Call Yoochun for me. Have him come here. In case-” he shuddered, “Well, just in case.”

Changmin nodded and ran back to the car, the blue light of his cell phone glowing in the night air as he ran.

Yunho started to run. His body ached, his temples throbbed and his chest felt as if it were about to explode. He could scarcely breathe. But he ran. The sound of his voice was foreign to him as he called out Jaejoong’s name. It was a hollow voice, barely human. Even just to hear it piercing the night frightened him. Yet, with ever step he took, coarse and rasping, Yunho called Jaejoong’s name.

Running, he felt nothing. The tears that ran down his cheeks, he did feel their heat. His eyes burned, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing, except Jaejoong.

Shapeless prayers. Desperate cries. Wordless all of them. These prayers belonged to every throb of his heart; swelled forth with each beat. He did not pray-he begged with every inhale, every exhale.

Please. Please! Oh God.

The park was a large one, taking up a great deal of varying grounds. Having searched the playground area, Yunho ran down a near by hill, hoping that perhaps Jaejoong, as he loved to roll down steep hills such as this, would be down at the bottom. And yet, Yunho was not half-way there when he knew that his brother was not.

Nearby, a thick clump of trees stood. Tripping over his own feet, Yunho darted in that direction. Branches whipped him in the face. Vines risen from out of the ground caused him to stumble. He called out. Again and again. Nothing. Never a sound in return.

Please. Please!

He’s my brother.

Turning from out of the thicket, Yunho stopped. How cruel the silence seemed. Mocking him. It’s deafening quiet screamed to him that Jaejoong was nowhere to be heard and his own futile cries were useless. With a convulsive gasp, he clasped his arms around his stomach and sunk down, to the ground. He bent forward till he could feel the soft earth on his face. It was cool and he seemed to be burning up.

Please. He’s my brother. Plea-

Out of the silence a faint cry rose up.

“My brother!”

Yunho sat forward. That voice. It was Jaejoong! Scrambling to his feet, he turned around and around. Where was he? Yunho did not see him. Running up the other side of the hill, Yunho listened to hear if Jaejoong’s voice would come again to tell him if went the right way.

Yet, as he came to the top, he did not need to hear Jaejoong again. For down at the bottom, he saw him.

Standing in the middle of a large field, Jaejoong was surrounded by five adolescent boys. The subject of their fun. And the victim of their violence. They laughed at him, pushed from one side to the other. When he tried to break out, they caught him, shoved him down. Poking him, laughing when he cried out. They kicked him, slapped him. Laughing all the while.

“What are you, huh,” they jeered. “Are you a man or what? Maybe not, huh? Maybe you’re a baby.”

Jaejoong, wringing his hands, shifting his weight from foot to foot, shaking his head back and forth, said, “No. No. I’m not. No. Please. I want-I want-”

“Who? Your mommy?”

“My brother! Yunho. Yunho. Yunho!!!”

He screamed and fell to the ground. The slender hands clasped either side of his head. He buried his face into the ground, curling up into a fetal-like position.

The group moved towards him, vibrating with energy. It was as if Jaejoong’s cries, his fear were some arousing scent, like blood to a wild animal. They closed in around him. Snickering, threatening to him what they would do if he didn’t get up, if he didn’t move.

Jaejoong coughed and sputtered, gasping for air as dirt clogged his face. But he didn’t move.

The yell that severed the night then made all the boys look up. On top of the hill, stood a figure. Livid with rage, he came down it seemed in one great leap. Eyes burning, he grabbed one of the boys with a wild strength and threw him down to the ground.

“Leave him alone,” he screamed.

Yunho grabbed Jaejoong, wrapped his arms around him, trying to get him to stand up. He wanted nothing more at this point than to get Jaejoong out of here. But the young boy was beyond his brother’s touch, or strength to move.

One of the group called out, “Hey! Are you the brother he keeps yelling about? What’s with him, anyway? Is he, like, retarded?”

And in that moment, Yunho lost control. He pounced on the boy, gabbing him by the shirt and hurling him some twelve feet off. To the next, he buried his fist into the boy’s stomach, leaving not an instant to thrash him once more in the jaw. Another went down as Yunho kicked him in the groin. And to the fourth and fifth, in a swinging motion, he knocked both down. Panting, foaming at the mouth, a murderous desire to go back and thrash each one of them, to break their bones, Yunho turned around, and started to go back to Jaejoong.

But a sharp cuff on his back seared through him. He gasped, all the wind going out of him, and fell down on his knees. The group of boys, not wounded bad enough so that they were incapacitated, were getting up and coming at Yunho. They left no time in between blows, punching him in the stomach, in the jaw, slapping him, kicking him in the back. And though Yunho fought back, like a wounded lion, his violence in the face of the five, was not enough. Slowly, they were beating him down.

Suddenly, from behind him, a voice rose up. It came in a melody not from this world. A song ancient and luminous heard in the dawn of ages.

“That’s. My. Brother!”

Jaejoong had stood up, had seen Yunho being beaten down.
The boys were frightened by what they heard, by the sight of Jaejoong rising, a beaten, pale prince. And they ran off, as fast as they could.

Yunho spun around. Jaejoong’s eyes were dilated and the small chest heaved violently. His mouth moved in wordless motion. He was shaking.

“Jae-”

“Y-Yunho!”

Jaejoong howled, collapsing to the ground. Yunho caught him, clutched the slender frame as tightly as he could.

And in the dark night, there were only two figures to be seen. One, very slight. Weak and tender. The other, a powerful figure, bent down over his little brother, humming a broken tune, and cradling this crumbled form.