As Yunho sat up, a sudden ease upon him, he saw Jaejoong. He saw his brother, now a man. No longer the prince in his castle of clouds, he was a new king riding a fantastic winged horse, the world below him. His fingers did not play the keys; he the keys as one might the feathers of a swan. And the piano, in Jaejoong’s hands, did not simply respond to the chord struck; the instrument breathed, inhaled and exhaled for the first time in its long life.

Yunho watched, every chord played inside him. He watched, his thoughts wandering-

I know, I said You took him from me. I accused You, in my hurt, my pain.

But You found a way for me to have him back. Of course You did. And If I’d had more faith-I might have known that.

It’s only a minute. While I can hear him play.

You give my brother back to me.

Thank you.
* * *
Perhaps, there is a place, as some have said, perhaps there is a moment where time stands infinitely in the now and in the past. A wondrous world where one is endlessly in the present and in the past at the same time. There is no now. No yesterday. For the time in front of one, and the time behind has become one long flowing current, like a river deeper and clearer than any to be found in this life. And as Yunho sat, listening to Jaejoong play, he floated on this river, being carried where he knew not, watching years wash by. Watching as that moment when time froze so many years ago, burst forth now and Jaejoong went from child to man in an instant. Sitting there, Yunho watched Jaejoong grow up before his eyes, while he remained the same. All at once, the past flooded into the present and Yunho had only to watch.

Yet, the moment, this wonder lasted only as long as Jaejoong’s fingers the keys, only as long as the melody lilted over the room. For when it stopped, time came back to the present-to this moment; Yunho sat forward with a jolt. And what had, an infinite number of moments ago, been so clear, began to fog. As Jaejoong’s song drew to a close, as the slender fingers pulled away from the ivory keys, the clarity before the dark eyes began to dim and before the face bright as morning itself, a fog rolled in clouding the light. Morning misted away into twilight. Into an endless half-light where dawn was no longer known.

Yunho sat forward as Jaejoong leaned away from the piano and turned to look at Mr. Lune. The gentleman, who had been sitting next to Mrs. Morton, heaved a tremendous sigh; Yunho wondered if he had been holding his breath. The care-worn hands fiddled and pulled at his shirt, as if he was not sure what to do, as if he no longer remembered. Mr. Lune’s gaze remained fixed on Jaejoong, the way one might stare at a shooting star, unsure if what they have seen has really been there-for it is gone in a flash. Gone much too soon. Dazed and confused, the conductor fumbled for words. Stumbled for something to say.

Yunho turned to look at Mrs. Morton. The elderly lady sat with her hands folded across her lap, as she always did when Jaejoong played, content to remain very still. Yet she looked on the boy with deep delight. A tender warmth shone from her features, beaming affection and a pride for Jaejoong. Not a pride in him, as if he was some sort of creation she molded, but a pride for him-proud to hear him play, to be able to hear him play.

And Yunho smiled. He thought of all those times she had asked him why he did not send Jaejoong to a piano teacher with more experience. Often had been the times she nagged him to take Jaejoong to someone who could train him as she said he deserved to be trained. Yet every time she asked, Yunho only shook his head, telling her Jaejoong adored her too much for him to even think of bringing his brother to anyone else. And that was true. Jaejoong did love her and refused to go to any other teacher. But that was not the only reason. No. Watching her face now, as she looked on him with all the devotion and adoration of a grandmother-this, this was the reason Yunho continued to bring Jaejoong to her. Because she loved him.

After some time, though Jaejoong still stared at the keys, as was his habit even when he was no longer playing, Mrs. Morton got up and came over to him. Jaejoong did not see her, as he petted the keys, whispering something to them-a great secret no doubt. To get his attention, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He turned towards her, a great smile on her face, pointing to the keys, as if it had been a game, as if he and the piano had played together and now that it was done, now that the game was over, Jaejoong wanted to tell Mrs. Morton about the game, about the funny things the piano had done, had told him. She nodded and smiled, asking Jaejoong to turn around to Mr. Lune. Jaejoong nodded, spinning around on the bench, his legs flailing about in several directions all at once.

At the sudden sight of Jaejoong’s face, the dark eyes so quickly turned to him, Mr. Lune reached for his tie to make it seem as if there had been a logical explanation as to why his hands remained floating in mid air for so long, clearing his throat at the same time, lending to the credibility of the scene. He stood, hesitating in just what to do. The conductor did not seem sure if he ought to go over and congratulate Jaejoong, or if he was to come to Yunho and thank him for-letting him (Mr. Lune) hear Jaejoong play. And though Yunho knew the gentleman’s dilemma to be a real one, watching him rock between his feet made it very hard for Yunho not to laugh.

At last, with a sort of deciding “harrumph” Mr. Lune came over to Jaejoong, offering his hand, “My boy, that was-was lovely.”

Jaejoong stared at the hand offered him, clasping both of his own together, and blushed, pulling back a bit.

“Jae,” Yunho chided, softly, “Take Mr. Lune’s hand.”

Nodding, though he did not look at Yunho, Jaejoong reached out and placed his hand in the conductor’s, his voice very quiet, as he said, “Yes, thank you.”

Then, as gingerly as he placed his hand in Mr. Lune’s, the boy timidly pulled his hand back. Yunho came over to him and patted him on the shoulder, offering him an approving smile. At the feel of his brother’s hand on his shoulder, at the smile that he had done the right thing, Jaejoong wriggled excitedly on the bench, clapping his hand together softly.

Then, keeping his hand on Jaejoong’s shoulder, Yunho turned his attention to Mr. Lune and said, “Thank you for coming to hear him play. We’re very honored. Even if he doesn’t get the chance to play in the concert-I still want to thank-”

“Not play,” Mr. Lune gasped. “Why of course he is going to play! He must! I’ve never heard anything-I mean, never in all my years of music have I listened to anything-anything like this. Your brother, Mr. Jung, has been given a great gift. Of course he will play.”

“Thank you,” Yunho replied, if a bit uneasily.

Mrs. Morton spoke now, but to Jaejoong. “Well Jaejoong. Are you ready? We’re going to practice very hard. This is going to be very special.”

Jaejoong clapped several times, “Okay! Okay-Okay!,” he replied, excitedly. “I’m ready!”

“Lots of people are going to come and hear you, Jaejoong,” she continued, watching his face closely, watching to see the reaction.

“Yes lots,” he repeated, happily. “Yoochun and Junsu and Mr. Shim and Madeline and-lots!”

At that moment, as if Yunho had been pricked by something, he moved suddenly, mumbling something about having left his wallet in the car. Very quickly, he strode out of the room. And though Jaejoong did not notice it, only feeling the lack of his brother’s hand upon his shoulder as a new freedom to get up and go tell Mrs. Morton’s collection of tea pots that he was to play in front of lots of people-a significant glance passed between Mr. Lune and Mrs. Morton. She moved to follow Yunho, but Mr. Lune held up his hand and went to find Yunho.

Over course Yunho did not need his wallet. In fact, he even resented making such an obvious excuse just to get out of the room. But oh. How he needed, right then, to get away. To just not be there for a moment. To have a moment to collect himself. Of course, he accused himself of being selfish. Standing there, rummaging through his car, as if he were truly looking for the wallet that was sitting in his back pocket, the young man reproached himself for having the all-out gall to stand there at a moment when his brother finally got a chance to shine and refuse to see the moment through. It was petty and juvenile. Was this all his self-control came to? How very sad. How unworthy.

Yet, while he hated himself for feeling this way, for acting on it as well-Yunho could not deny that he resented this whole thing. A grand gift coming down. But a gift from a stranger. From someone who, after the moment was gone, would have nothing more to do with Jaejoong. All the hard work and worry and fears-these would not be had by him. Only the glory of presenting to the public this wonder-child. And when the presentation was over, when the novelty ceased to be new-he would go. It was not fair. To give without having earned it. To give as if that, in and of itself, was the right. No. It was not fair. All his life Yunho stood to make every step Jaejoong took safe, to make sure nothing came to his brother without having passed in front of his eyes first. Now, here comes this stranger to discard it all.

Yunho shook his head. It was not as if he wished he could have given this to Jaejoong-no. It was just that-that-something was coming down. There had been a tree and Yunho picked the strongest branch to build a house up in the tree. A house where Jaejoong could stay. Where he could play, away from the eyes of the world. No, not to keep him out of the world-no! But now there was a knocking, a peering eye reaching to come inside the house; a force understanding nothing. And Yunho felt as if he might fall from the tree.

“Mr. Jung,” called a voice. Yunho turned to see the conductor coming quickly to him. “Mr. Jung! Oh, I am sorry! There I was, all ready to set your brother up on the stage and I did not even ask your permission. I am sorry, Sir. It was rude of me.”

“Well,” Yunho began, feeling foolish, “I-uh-found my wallet.”

“Oh? Very good,” came the quiet reply. “Well, then. Have I your permission to place Jaejoong in the concert?”

Yunho did not answer the question asked, but snapped instead, “Mr. Lune, I’m sure you’ve noticed. My brother,” he paused.

Yes, you have noticed it, although perhaps you are too polite to come right out and say it-the best always have that kind of blasted civility. Polite enough not to stare, or make a rude comment. But you will go behind closed doors and talk about it to other high-minded people like yourself to whom a disability is nothing more than an article in a magazine. A thirty second blip on the news. But you have notice it. Noticed that he’s not quite right. And that ugly word comes to your mind, the one politically correct society no longer uses.

Go on. Say it.

Retarded.

Feels awful in your mouth, doesn’t it? Like some kind of jagged, bitter pill. A foul taste. Can I make it better? Let’s use another word. How about, “special.” That’s everybody’s new favorite term. Sounds pretty. And no one can be offended by saying someone is special. But I’ll tell you, as they say it, with that conceited, pitying grin on their face-the word is just as bitter to me.

No one stops to say-this is my child. My daughter. My son. Not special, nor disabled-nor any other term. This child is not a term. But a child. A life.

Do you understand? He’s my brother.

“My brother,” Yunho repeated, “Is not quite-”

Mr. Lune cut him off, “Your brother is a great talent, Mr. Jung. That is what I noticed,” he said, looking Yunho straight and firm.

Yunho coughed, and choked for a response, “Y-yes. Thank you. Yes, he can play. Of course. I wouldn’t keep him from it.”

Mr. Lune smiled and offered Yunho a gracious bow, motioning that they might go back inside. And the young man, returning the politeness offered to him, nodded and followed the conductor inside the house. There, Jaejoong sat once more at the piano with Mrs. Morton; she was talking quietly to him, and he nodded, listening to her, the slender fingers reaching out to the ivory keys. As Yunho came in, Mrs. Morton looked up from Jaejoong. And though he begrudged himself the urge, Yunho’s first response was to look away, to try and avoid meeting her gaze. For he was embarrassed. For being so petty. And selfish. However, whatever her thoughts, they were not displayed on the careworn face and she offered Yunho a warm expression, as if nothing had happened. The young man was grateful.

There was some brief talk of particulars and such, Mrs. Morton mentioning that she would gather the necessary information from Mr. Lune and have it ready by Jaejoong’s next lesson on Monday. Perhaps then, she suggested, they might begin to plan just how much extra practice would be needed to prepare Jaejoong for this opportunity and discuss when he would visit the stage. Yunho nodded to most everything she said, mumbling “thank you’s” every so often.

Soon, Yunho took Jaejoong’s hand in his own, bowed once more to Mrs. Morton and Mr. Lune, and walked out to the car. Jaejoong did as his brother, bouncing out after him happily. And as they got in the car, Yunho pausing a moment to make sure Jaejoong buckled his seatbelt, he tried to breathe easier. He tried, as he got in himself and started the engine, to relax the odd stiff feeling in his body. But it seemed as if his limbs were all locked in strange positions, making it hard to move freely-or at all.

Yet as Yunho struggled with the freeze that had taken over his body, Jaejoong’s voice wafted out towards him. With an effort, Yunho turned to him to try and listen. His thoughts were far from this moment, far within himself and Yunho felt he did not have the presence of mind to listen to whatever it was Jaejoong was bubbling about. Not right now. But, with a kind of mechanical response, one so innate to him the young man was in no way aware of it-Yunho did turn to his brother, forcing himself to pay attention.

A funny thing really. It has been said that children live their life very much in the present moment. That whatever is happening right now, is all that is happening right now-and whatever happened a little while ago no longer exists, and whatever might be happening in the future does not exist either. Their days are an island. A fantastic island whereupon each new breeze is wholly and entirely new, as if there has never been a breeze before. An oasis in which every moment is a wonderful surprise-a present. Each second, life is a beautifully wrapped gift only to be opened.

Like now. Sitting alongside Jaejoong in the car, Yunho listened as his brother beamed excitedly, as the Jaejoong wiggled in the seat in pure delight. Not because he was excited about the piano concert, but because he was tickled over going out for dinner, going out to eat with Yunho. And there, watching him, listening to him, Yunho’s thoughts and aches, stiff and harsh as they had been, seemed so far now. As if they had no right to be. Not now. Not here. For here and now was something new-something fantastic to be awaited with glee.

“Yunho?”

“Yes, Jae.”

The slim hands clapped together, “Are we going to eat now?”

“Yes, Jae,” Yunho replied, looking at him.

Jaejoong popped up in the seat as far as the seat belt would allow, “At a restaurant? Can I pick the restaurant, Yunho? Can I pick? Please?”

“Sure Jae,” came the gentle reply.

“The noodle restaurant,” Jaejoong said definitely, and with a certain amount of authority.

And though Yunho reached out to take one of Jaejoong’s hands, to steady the frame practically vibrating, the young man realized how easy he breathed, how light he felt.

Yunho realized, for the first time yet today, the sun was out today.