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
* * *
Until the small hand relaxed, until the fingers, so tightly grasped around his brother’s hand, began to drift away, one by one-Yunho kept his hand in Jaejoong’s. Until he knew that Jaejoong had fallen completely asleep, he would stay there.

In the quiet of the room, Yunho listened to those tiny sounds only to be heard in the dark of nighttime, the gentle pool of shade that washes over the slumbered with so much care. Only here, when the busyness of the day releases its hold, all those small cares that seem to mean so much right at that moment, the worries that consume our minds, fears of failing, dread of even the next day-of how we shall meet it, of what it holds for us-all these nagging voices, in the stillness and the whisper of the night, are silenced.

And here, resting his head back on the chair, his eyes closed, Yunho listened to the movements of the night. The small tick-tock, tapping out its time, coming from the clock. Creaks and snaps from the wooden floors, too shy to adjust themselves during the importance of the day, feeling now, when they were not walked upon, it was acceptable to find their own comfort. Even from outside, trees exhaled, rustling their leaves in the hope of sleep.

All these sounds, these quiet sounds, too small to be heard in the day, were now just loud enough to be heard at night.

To these Yunho listened. Closing his eyes, letting the heaviness of his body sink deep into the chair, Yunho listened in the vain attempt that here, in the quiet, when all else was settling into slumber, he too might feel the reprieve nighttime promised. His body ached. Sharp pains throttled his neck, making it very hard even to lay back. Tight, constricting pulses smacked through his chest, making every breath a trial. It hurt, just to be. His arms and his legs were chained down, making every movement a struggle, a fight just to move.

How desperately he wanted to-to just collapse into bed, feel softness enfold him, warm blankets over him, and let everything of this day ebb away. He wanted to sleep for hours and hours, without any reason to get up, no duty to call him forth. Sitting there in the darkness, for a moment, Yunho entertained the idea of there being nothing but himself. No one he needed to care for but himself, and that self would lay and revel in the glory of no responsibilities. Nothing to worry about, no one to care about, no threat from each day that, somehow, he was going to fail, that life, as Yunho knew it, would slip out from his hands. For a brief, wild moment, he wished for-Nothing.

And it was then, almost as to stop him, to bring him back from the dangerous regions his mind lurked, a tantalizing taste he flirted with, the young man felt Jaejoong’s hand slip away. The boy, his body so overwhelmed, so worn out, had fallen into a deep sleep. And the hand that had sought for his brother’s only moments before, slipped now in total relaxation and fell away. Yunho, so lost to his own thoughts, feeling only Jaejoong’s hand slip from his, fall away, he nearly jumped, clasping his brother’s hand tightly in his own.

But then, his precarious thoughts broken, Yunho looked at Jaejoong and saw how deeply he breathed, heard the steady rise and fall of his inhale and exhales and realized Jaejoong was actually asleep. Smiling at himself for his folly, Yunho placed Jaejoong’s hand back upon the bed and stood up carefully, walking out of the room as quietly as he could and shutting the door behind him.

Standing outside Jaejoong’s door, Yunho hesitated between his urge to just take a long hot shower and climb into bed, and the need to go back downstairs, clean up any misplaced items, toys that Jaejoong had left out, get a load of laundry into the washer, lock the doors, and turn off all the lights. Granted, it was a routine he went through nearly every night, a routine that he hardly ever thought about. Except tonight-just tonight, he did not want to. Perhaps, one night he might keep to himself.

Still hesitating between what he wanted to do and what needed to be done, Yunho’s attention was drawn to the clink and clatter of dishes moving about in the kitchen and to the smell of food being cooked. He had been so distracted by Jaejoong, by getting him into bed, cleaning him off, trying to stave off any remembrance of the day, that Yunho forgot all about Yoochun, who had gone back to the park to drive Yunho’s car home. No doubt, Yoochun had returned, without announcing himself, and was the one making all the racket in the kitchen.

Glancing back one more time to Jaejoong’s door, to make sure it was closed all the way, so the boy would not wake up, Yunho went downstairs into the kitchen.

Standing in font of the stove, Yoochun’s hands moved quickly as he sliced vegetables and threw them into a skillet, gave a few turns of the spoon to a pot of boiling noodles, and whisked together the makings of a sauce. And though he did not acknowledge Yunho’s entrance, so focused was he on cooking, nevertheless the young man knew his friend had come in, for he said-

“There’s hardly any food in that refrigerator of yours my friend.”

Laughing, Yunho sunk into a chair and replied, “Yea, I know. I was gonna go to the store tomorrow after I pick Jaejoong up from school. Why you gotta shame me in my own house like this?”

Turning around, his expression quickly full of concern, Yoochun answered, “Cuz it looks like someone hit you over a bat. You look awful, Yunho.”

Looking down, Yunho replied, not so much to Yoochun’s comment, but to the concern it came from, and said, “Thanks, Yoochun.”

Nesting the sautéed vegetables inside the noodles and pouring over it a tart, spicy smelling sauce, Yoochun set down the plate of food in front of Yunho, handed him a fork and gave him the monosyllabic command-eat. And Yunho, realizing for the first time how hungry he was, a loud groaning growl whining up from the pit of his stomach, clasped the fork gladly and began to eat.

Possibly much has been written on the importance of a meal after a long day. How the body needs the nutrients, how it aids in clear thinking and good, clean, healthy blood. No doubt, much has been said. Yet, has there been enough spoken on what a hot meal can do for something else inside a person? Has enough been said on the subject of a warm meal, prepared by care and concern, doing as much good as eight hours of sleep? Because for all that it may sound trite and condescending to say that food can be a comfort to the soul, when Yunho twirled around his fork a long wind of noodles, and felt, as he swallowed, their wonderful warmth going inside him-he felt much better.

Yoochun, watching his friend, looking at the young man he had known for years, his face cut and bruised and dirty, thinking back to the first moment he came upon Yunho on the field, only a few hours ago and the desperate look on his face at that moment-Yoochun had very little to say right now. In fact, he almost dreaded to ask any question-to ask and fear that haunted expression coming back to Yunho.

However, it was Yunho who spoke first, leaning back from his dinner.

“You haven’t asked,” he said.

“Haven’t asked what? How you like my cooking? I don’t have to. I know it’s good,” Yoochun replied smartly.

Yunho smiled, “No-no. You haven’t asked what happened out there.”

“I don’t want to, Yunho,” came the quiet reply, as he shoved the plate closer to the young man in request for him to keep eating. “I don’t think I need to. Besides, you put me through enough tonight.”

“Hyung,” Yunho began.

“Shut up, Pabo!” Yoochun smacked the table, although he smiled, “You and your adventures.”

Yunho nodded, picking the fork back up and beginning to eat. “Yea,” he said, more to himself than Yoochun. “I only wish-I wish it hadn’t happened tonight. What with that reunion and all this weekend.” Yoochun’s expression inquired as to what Yunho meant. “Oh. Yee called. I told her no. Going back to that house-how could she think that-I’d-But Jae was right there and he heard me. And well-” He shrugged. “I just wish it wasn’t this weekend. Going back to that house. I’m worried.”

“For you or for Jae?”

Yunho’s eyes shot up to Yoochun, his face tight, “For Jae, of course. Don’t you remember Yoochun? She kept him down there like an animal!”

“Of course I remember,” came the quick reply.

“And I’m not sure if he’s okay right now. He seems okay. He went to sleep and all. But-”

But Yunho did not have a chance to finish his thought. He did not have a chance to explain to Yoochun that Jaejoong’s first reaction upon waking up frightened him. Sitting there, Yunho wanted to explain how Jaejoong had come to in a fit, his nerves strung to their utmost, how Yunho had to yell at him, struggle against him. How it hurt him to do so.

He wanted to say that, and maybe more but the chance was taken from him. For, out of the silence, splitting the quiet night in two came a scream, shattering Yunho’s nerves. Cutting him to the quick.

It was Jaejoong.

Nearly throwing over the table in a mad bolt to get up, Yunho stumbled over the chair and tore up the stairs, taking them three at a time, Yoochun right behind him. Jaejoong’s shrill voice took over the house, swallowing both young men whole and piercing all that remained intact within them. As if a raw nerve had been cleft in two, they moved in desperate haste to repair what had been split wide open.

Throwing open the door, Yunho the light, revealing a horrific sight. There, on the floor, rolling over and over, pounding the floor, smashing his face into the ground, was Jaejoong. He kicked and wailed. His eyes were wide open, as if he saw a frightening image, bloodshot and stark. He pawed at the air, tore at himself, howling over and over-

“Bad! Bad! BAD!!!!!”

Choking at the strain he put his voice under, Jaejoong gulped for air, wheezing and coughing. Yunho heard his jaw crack as he fought to open his mouth wide enough to take a deep breath.

Rolling around on the floor, as if his entire body was on fire, the boy, his face turning a ghastly livid shade, was a terrible sight.

Yunho dove for him, Yoochun hardly a step behind. Yunho grabbed Jaejoong under the arms while Yoochun hooked both his legs. Their first attempt was unsuccessful. For Jaejoong, so wild, his movements so spastic, both feared to force him down, as he seemed for fragile, so close to breaking. In the first moment of grabbing him, feeling the strain Jaejoong’s body sunk under, Yunho shook his head and they both let go.

But Jaejoong’s screams continued. He did not even see Yunho, nor feel him. Lost to the images haunting his eyes’ sight, Jaejoong knew nothing. Was reachable to no one.

Fearing what even a few more seconds of this might bring, watching Jaejoong, exhausted, a victim to himself, begin to hit his own person more and more, Yunho bent over his brother once more, saying to Yoochun, his voice barely audible over Jaejoong’s cries, “We gotta pin him down. Come over here. I’ll take one shoulder-you get the other. We gotta stop him!”

Then, in one swift motion, both Yunho and Yoochun dove at Jaejoong, knowing that if they could pin him down at the shoulder, it would be enough to force him out of his nightmare.

Yet though Jaejoong was slender, his frame slim, the fear coursing through him right now made him twice as strong, nearly fighting off both Yunho and Yoochun. It took practically all their combined strength to force Jaejoong down, leaving both young men breathing hard and perspiring.

Still wild, though he had been halted, Jaejoong cried out, “No-No! Bad! Bad! Go away! Away-Away!”

Turning to Yoochun, Yunho said, “I need to cover his mouth. Can you keep him down, Yoochun? He needs to see me and unless he stops crying-he won’t.”

“Sure,” called Yoochun. “I gotcha!”

So then, as Yoochun moved to lay across Jaejoong, Yunho put both his hands over Jaejoong’s mouth, and cried out, “Jaejoong!”

For the first time, Jaejoong’s eyes focused. Hearing his brother’s voice, Jaejoong blinked, the wild light in his eyes beginning to flicker away.

Seeing the change, Yunho, cautiously pulled his hands back.

“Yunho,” he gasped. “Yunho! Bad! Scared!”

“Jaejoong, I’m here. It’s not bad! Not scared! I’m here!”

Shaking, blinking over and over, Jaejoong repeated, “Not bad. Not scared. Here. Here!” And suddenly, as if he understood all at once, as if his brother suddenly appeared where the nightmare had been, Jaejoong said, his voice quiet, “Yunho? Here?”

“Yes!” Yunho cried. “I’m here. I’m here, Jae!”

Yoochun moved, slipping his arms under Jaejoong to help him sit up. And the boy, feeling his touch, turned to Yoochun.

“And Yoochun-here?”

“I’m here, Jae,” said Yoochun, taking one of the slender hands in his own.

A bright smile slowly blossoming over his mouth, Jaejoong, though his voice was still hoarse, asked, a great deal of hope lighting his face, “Everything’s okay?”

And Yunho, his voice hoarse for another reason, a tight stinging relief welling up in his throat, replied,

“Everything’s okay, Jae.”

And Yunho, giving way to the swell in his throat, clasped Jaejoong to himself, grateful hot tears streaming down his face. And Yoochun, still holding Jaejoong’s hand, reached over and clasped Yunho on the shoulder, saying gently-

“Everything’s okay.”