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.
* * *
Ten thousand sensations broke over Yunho. Instant after instant he felt strong enough to move mountains, to lift Jaejoong as if he weighed nothing. Yet just as he felt a rolling power surge through his limbs, in the very next moment, the very next instant, like a flash of lightening, Yunho felt weak. Sitting there, feeling the body of his brother lifeless and so far from him, it seemed as if life drained from him with every exhale. Far too soon, he would collapse alongside Jaejoong-beyond any aid. All at once, Yunho wanted to stand up, to take Jaejoong home; yet all at once, the young man felt as if it was all he could do to lift his head-and even that nearly exhausted him.

Sitting there in the dark, not caring that night had fallen so quickly, not caring for himself that it was starting to get cold and a wind was picking up, Yunho was afraid.
In those moments when he saw Jaejoong surrounded by the teenage boys, in those moments, feeling as if his soul were on fire, there had been no time to think. To think, that is, of any more than freeing Jaejoong from their grasp. In that space of time, Yunho’s entire being culminated in saving his brother. But now, alone with his thoughts, seeing his hand shake violently as he clutched Jaejoong in his lap to keep him from falling onto the damp ground, and finding it hard to draw a full deep breath for it seemed to Yunho that his lungs had collapsed-he was afraid.

Afraid of himself. What had taken over him? Yunho closed his eyes to try and block out the sight. And yet, even in the black of his vision, he saw himself-a terror. In that moment, seeing Jaejoong pushed and kicked, Yunho lost control of himself, of his reason. He became a beast. A raging animal ready to lunge in and shred to pieces for its young. Ready to kill. Yes. It sounded inhuman to say it, to even dare think it. But it was true. Yunho admitted to himself that in that moment such a frightening vile urge charged through him that he thought nothing of the fact that the boys who taunted Jaejoong were not much younger than his brother. That they were kids. Right then, none of that mattered to Yunho. He was ready to draw blood.

Of course, in one breath, if someone had asked him if the blood to be drawn were his-if in exchange Yunho would have laid down a year, ten years of his life to save Jaejoong he would have said yes. And if someone asked him if his own life were a fair price to save this boy-the answer would still be yes.

But that had always been true. And always would be.
Funny thing though, for all that he wanted to thrash those boys, for a moment, Yunho felt helpless. As if he could do nothing more than watch. He felt, right then, that his strength was not enough, that it was all futile.

And that frightened him too. To think that he might have just stood there-doing nothing! Nothing while Jaejoong suffered. In those moments, it seemed to Yunho, as he came over the hill, standing looking down, that he stood on the shore of an ocean. Far out, was Jaejoong being swallowed by the waves, hacking and spewing sea water. Drowning. And Yunho stood there on the shore for he could not swim and would not risk trying. To think that he might have stood there, fascinated, and let the horror unfold before him-Yunho hated himself.

Tears wouldn’t come. It would have been a relief if they had. His eyes burned and itched; he coughed, choking on the urge to weep. But those tears and the stifling self-reproach laying behind them were caught inside. Buried too deeply for Yunho to reach, to feel any relief from a release. What remained churned within.

How long Yunho might have remained lost to his thoughts and bitterness was interrupted by the sound of a gasp. Yunho looked down, grabbing Jaejoong by the shoulders and turning him over. In the dark it was hard to see. But Jaejoong’s fair skin, capturing what little light the stars cast, trembled in a glow as if his magic, nearly broken in the fight, strived now to flicker.

And looking down at his brother, the young man saw that Jaejoong’s mouth was open wide and he panted for breath. Yunho watched as his small chest heaved to inhale, collapsing each time under the effort. Jaejoong choked, gasped and coughed-trying to take a breath. His eyes, usually so rich and dark, stared blankly now at the sky, a glazed film over them, shutting off all their shine. His head was bent back in a strange position.

Yunho feared to try and turn rigid neck. Yet, at the same time, if he didn’t get Jaejoong into another position, if he did not at least, get him to sit up-the boy would not be able to take a full breath.

His world, a land where every morning dawned in a celestial choir, and evenings fell as sweetly as a kiss, lay shattered now. In the lands where he walked, a child of endless light, a prince of everlasting moonbeams, he stood now among ruins. All the palaces had been torn down. The animals, the ones whom he spoke so freely to, lay deaf and dumb, unable to hear him any more. Jaejoong, surrounded by music, hymns and themes played only for his ears, remained now in the absence of sound, alone. He was lost; a stranger in a dank place where there was no light, nor no sound-only a dim gray all around him.

Jaejoong fell far beyond over-stimulation. He was senseless and numb.

Yunho moved to get his arms around Jaejoong, to lift him just enough so that he was no longer laying down. But Jaejoong was limp and did not respond. And for all that Yunho tried to lift him, maneuver him, try to force him into another position-Jaejoong only tumbled back down, lifeless.

“Jae,” Yunho whispered. “Please. You have to sit up.”

Jaejoong gasped, his mouth panting for air, trying to take in enough to speak at the sound of his brother’s voice, “Y-Yunho.”

And then, as if saying his brother’s name was too much, as if it cost him much more than his worn body could keep up with, Jaejoong coughed, wheezing for air.

Yunho, listening to the rasping sound beginning to come from Jaejoong’s chest, stood up and was about to try once more to get him into another position when he heard footsteps running up behind him. Turning, the young man saw Yoochun, coming as fast as he could, tripping on the uneven ground.

“Yunho-ah,” he called. “I’m here. I got here as fast as I could!”

“Thanks,” came the quiet reply. “I’m sorry to bring you out like this-”

“No. I’m here. What do you need?”

For a moment, Yunho looked away, fighting to swallow the stinging lump rising up in his throat. He did not have the words to thank Yoochun; they would not come. His friend had come here. Dropped everything most likely. And in coming, asked no questions. He came, as he said, only to help.

Biting his lip to master himself, Yunho replied, “We need to get him up. He’s so over-stimmed Yoochun, I can’t move him. And he’s having trouble breathing. Help me carry him to the car.”

With a nod, Yoochun bent down over Jaejoong, wrapping his arm around Jaejoong’s waist, while Yunho did the same on the other side. Then, in one motion, the two young men lifted Jaejoong up, Yoochun moving to hold his legs, while Yunho held Jaejoong’s torso.

Progress was slow. As it was, the night was a dark one and there were no field lamps of any kind to mark where the ground dipped. Each took small steps and it was a solid hour before they came to the crest of the hill, both Yunho’s and Yoochun’s car visible.

As they walked, Jaejoong’s head tipped in towards Yunho, whether it was the nearness of his brother, the smell of Yunho’s cologne and no longer that of the ground, or whether it was hearing, in the haze of his mind, the two familiar voices, speaking softly as they carried him-Yunho was not sure. But it was not long after he and Yoochun lifted him up that his brother’s breathing became easier. The rattling sound in his chest faded away and Yunho saw that his inhales and exhales were now longer and deeper. And in a few moments, Jaejoong exhausted, fell asleep.

As they came nearer both cars, Yoochun looked at Yunho as if to question what he wanted to do now. Yunho nodded, implying that he understood and said in a whisper-

“Yoochun, do you think you could drive? He’s asleep and I-I’m worried if I put him down, he’ll wake up and-”

“Yea,” Yoochun said quickly, “I’ll drive you in my car and then I’ll walk back and get yours.”

“Thanks.”

Then, very carefully, Yoochun took Jaejoong entirely in his arms while Yunho slipped in the backseat. Then, Yunho reached out as Yoochun leaned in and placed Jaejoong next to Yunho who held the limp frame with both arms.

And in the quiet night, the only sound on the street was that of a car, driving very slowly away from the park-home.
* * *
Inside the house, Yunho swung his brother up into his arms and carried him quickly up the stairs. He wanted to get him in his bed, where all was familiar, clean off his face and hope that sleep would wash away the rest of what he could not.

Yunho was tired; his arms shook as he carried Jaejoong up the stairs. And coming into his room, the young man laid him down with a grunt, wiping the beads of sweat from his own face.

Then, not wanting to have left the room and risk Jaejoong waking up to find no one there, Yunho, though his head throbbed and his arms felt like long dead weights at his side, moved as quickly as he could into the bathroom to get a damp cloth, some hydrogen peroxide, and a few band-aids. Coming back in, with his free hand, he swung a chair next to Jaejoong’s bed, placed what he carried on the floor, and began to take the cloth to his brother’s face.

Wiping away the dirt, Yunho could barely hold his hand steady as the dirt revealed the extent of the damage. Welts, bruises and long cuts stretched across the pale face. To each one, Yunho applied the antiseptic-swearing ugly words to himself as he did so. For the cuts that were deep enough not to scab over in a day or so, Yunho placed a band-aid, promising to himself that for every cut, he would have given a year of his life.

And just as he was finishing, the dark eyelids fluttered open and Jaejoong looked quietly at Yunho.

“Hey Jae,” he said gently, trying to steady his voice, looking at the pale face cut and bruised.

“Yunho?” There was a long pause. Jaejoong sat up somewhat, clasping his hands in his lap. “I-I was scared.”

“Sure,” Yunho said, putting his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “I would have been too. But it’s okay now, Jae. We’re home. I’m here. Everything is okay now.”

“Yunho,” came the soft voice, “Why-” he stopped, wringing his small hands, the pale face furrowed, as if he tried to understand something. “Yunho? Did I do something wrong?”

“No Jae,” replied Yunho quickly, clasping his hand over his brother’s.

“But-they were mean. I wasn’t mean. Was I? I was nice to them.”

Yunho nodded, feeling a hot tear race down his cheek, thinking it was good the room was dark, so Jaejoong would not see.

“I know,” he muttered. “You were very nice, Jae.”

‘But then,” Jaejoong paused, looking to Yunho, very puzzled, “Why were they mean?”

Why were they mean? What a question.

For a moment, Yunho did not know how to answer. What answer could he give? The truth? No.

The answer was unspeakable. Unthinkable. How do you tell someone that, just by being, by living, you are a victim, worthy of the world’s harm. You have done something wrong. You are different. We do not understand you. We live by rules and have nice neat holes where the rules go. You do not fit these holes. It would be better for you, for us, if you did not exist. You remind us that we are not in control, that we cannot predict this world. You remind us that there are some things unexplained. Maybe wondrous-that we cannot control. So be gone. Rid yourself from our sight. Or we will rid you from out of our sight.

Yunho, fighting to remain soft-spoken, replied, though his voice was barely audible, “ Some people don’t know how to be nice, Jae.”

Jaejoong nodded, and for a moment, remained very quiet, looking at his hands. And then, like a bird turns its head, like a butterfly bursts from flower to flower, Jaejoong looked up, an amused smile on his face.

“My shoes are still on,” he said, pointing.

The moment was gone. And whatever image Jaejoong bore of those boys, whatever havoc it tore into him with at that moment, here, in the quiet of his room, his brother’s hands over his own, everything familiar around him, everything he knew and understood-that awful time on the field was gone from his mind.

Coughing to hide a grateful sob, Yunho said, “Why, so they are. Well then, why don’t you take them off Jae and get into your pajamas. Brush your teeth too.”

“Do I have to brush my teeth?”

“Yes you do. Go on. I’ll wait here.”

“Okay!”

He popped up, not bothering to reach down and untie the laces of his shoes, but instead, struggled to wriggle them off using his feet alone. That done, Jaejoong bounced over to his dresser, rummaging around for some time until he found both the top and bottom pajamas that he wanted to wear. Consequently, neither of which matched. These he took with him into the bathroom, emerging several minutes later, ready for bed.

“Teeth,” Yunho said.

Jaejoong stomped his foot, spun around and went back into the bathroom, coming out a moment later, possibly only long enough to swirl the brush around once in his mouth. But he smiled, showing Yunho how clean his teeth were.
Then, pulling the covers back himself, Jaejoong climbed into bed, nestling his head into the pillow.

“Yunho, will you read me a story?”

“Sure, Jae,” he replied, moving over to the bookshelf, reaching for Jae’s favorite book.

And, in the quiet of the room, as Jaejoong pulled the covers to his chin, Yunho read from ‘The Secret Garden‘-

“The rainstorm had ended and the gray mist and clouds had been swept away in the night by the wind. The wind itself had ceased and a brilliant, deep blue sky arched high over the moorland. . .A deep cool blue which almost seemed to sparkle like the waters of some lovely bottomless lake, and here and there, high, high, in the arched blueness floated small clouds of snow-white fleece.”

And when he finished, Yunho looked down. Jaejoong had sought his brother’s hand and had fallen asleep