However, it would be longer than hours that Yunho waited, for indeed Jaejoong did not wake. And the days passed. Weeks went by. A month. Still, Jaejoong remained far from the world.

Six months passed before Yunho was called into Dr. Meade’s office one day. A day, like every other, when Yunho went to spend with his brother.

“I have news for you, Yunho. Jaejoong is showing signs of returning to consciousness.” And here Dr. Meade rested a hand on Yunho’s shoulder. “But-maybe you should sit down for this, my boy.”
* * *
Odd how catastrophe strikes us and there is a time when it feels as if nothing shall ever be the same again. Surely time has stopped and we are locked in some sort of endless chamber where nothing moves forward and nothing moves back; there is only the now-and it has stopped as well. An event has befallen us so harshly and so suddenly that we are thrown from the Time Stream, doomed to float ever and ever in a river without motion, in a pool where we hover without life between surface and the deep. Tragedy crashes down and we fall, stricken, never to rise again. In these times, we are sure that life, as we once knew it, can never return. Doomed, we shall remain captive to our pains.

In those days, Jaejoong laying on a hospital bed, terrible cords and syringes hooked up to him, inserted into him, Yunho wondered how there could ever be any other life than this. This moment here. Where his brother lay nearly dead to the world of the living; the only sign of life being the faint rise and fall of his chest to prove that death had not claimed him. Yes, that and the horrible beeps and snaps from the machines that hovered near him, their tentacles burrowed into him searching, grasping his small body. Standing next to the bed, Yunho would watch the tender face and promise to himself that if these times never really did end, then it was just as well-for what could life be now when half his heart, half his soul-lay senseless by his brother.

Yet, in spite of it all, slowly a certain normalcy began to return to Yunho’s days. In the morning he would wake up and go to school, finding a kind of relief in the books and the homework and bending his thoughts entirely to his subjects while he was there. Then, when school let out Yunho would take a bus ride back to his house, always getting off at the stop just before, walk five blocks and board another bus which would take him all the way downtown to the hospital where Jaejoong was. Once there, he would spend the next few hours at Jaejoong’s side, often doing his homework in the room as well. Sometimes he would even talk to Jaejoong, no matter how often the nurses told him his brother could not hear Yunho’s voice-sure that Jaejoong did hear him, no matter how far away he was. And then, as dusk would begin to settle over the city, Mr. Jung would come, often alone as Mrs. Jung had taken ill since Jaejoong’s accident, spend little more than an hour with Jaejoong before taking Yunho home for the night. Once at home, the Jungs would eat dinner, Yunho would then go upstairs wash himself and go to bed. And the next day, it was the same.

Six months passed like this and though Yunho had felt he might never believe time to begin moving again, the young boy realized, to his surprise, that the days were passing-that life was returning. And though he was not happy, though there was never a moment when he felt whole, Yunho found the days to be bearable, livable.

And the day that Doctor Meade called Yunho into his office, telling the young boy he ought to sit down, that the news was serious-began as any other. Yunho had gone to school, rushing out of the house, making only small note of the fact that his mother seemed unusually weak that day, took his ride on the two buses and walked in through the large revolving doors of the hospital at the same time he always walked in, greeted by the nurse at the front desk. Yunho remembered walking into Jaejoong’s room, setting his book bag down on the floor and pulling up a chair next to Jaejoong’s bed. All the beeps and snaps of the machines no longer bothered him; they seemed now as normal as the myriad of tubes stuck to Jaejoong’s arms, as normal as the oxygen mask that sometimes covered his face. Having pulled up the chair, Yunho leaned in to Jaejoong, kissed him on the cheek and began to tell him of his day. Yes, the day seemed very normal, the only exception being a slight flush spreading throughout Jaejoong’s face, one that Yunho had not seen before.

However, it was not long after Yunho had sat down, settling himself into what would be the next four hours or so, when Dr. Meade came into the room. The physician’s calm expression seemed today to be on edge as he smiled and asked Yunho to follow him into his office. Once there, Dr. Meade asked Yunho to sit down, telling him that he had some news about Jaejoong. Yunho remembered how at those words breathing became impossible. Very quickly, the room began to rock back and forth.

Up to this point, Yunho had accustomed himself to the idea that life with his brother endlessly asleep, would go on. And on. The young mind did not think, perhaps could not imagine that anything more would happen. That anything else could happen. Surely not. This was it, was it not? Jaejoong asleep and Yunho by his side. Nothing would dare to change.

His knuckle white from gripping the arms of the chair, for fear he might tumble over, Yunho braced himself for the news.

“Yunho-ah,” began the doctor, his voice very soft as he looked at the strained features across from him. “I have something to tell you. I’ve already called your father and notified him and he should be here very shortly-but I wanted to tell you myself. It’s about Jaejoong.” He paused here, taking a long deep breath. Yunho waited, his eyes nearly starting from his sockets. “Yunho, we have every reason to believe that before this night is through, Jaejoong will wake up. He’ll come out of this coma.” Yunho started, but the doctor kept talking. “So far none of the doctors have been able to explain why he should just snap out of it like this, but over the last few days, his readings on the charts have been very promising; the activity in his brain has been restored. We have every reason to believe Jaejoong will come to tonight.”

“Jaejoong will-” Yunho gasped, trying to make the words come.

“But wait a moment Yunho,” interrupted Dr. Meade, holding up his hand. “Wait a moment. You must know something. When Jaejoong fell, the damage to his head was very severe; if you remember, his prognosis was an indefinable comatose state. That he’s coming out at all is beyond hope. All the same though, the damage to the brain was severe. Yunho,” and here the doctor came round, placing his hand atop Yunho’s. “My dear boy, when Jaejoong wakes, there is every possibility he won’t remember you are his brother. And on top of that, we have every reason to think that, mentally, he will never be more than a child of eight.”

There is a moment, when lightening strikes, just as the snarling current bolts down, everything explodes into white. A blistering hot white wherein all is melted to a frightening transparency. Instantly, all is clear and there is no way to not see. All is made plain; there is no escape.

Transfixed, Yunho found himself hurled headlong into this neon vortex, seeing the doctor’s words before him. Jaejoong would not know him. Jaejoong would never be the same. He was coming back from his voyage, coming back from places where none could reach him, coming back to those who loved him-and he would not remember. Jaejoong had sailed far to a never-land and chosen to stay there.

Looking up, Yunho’s eyes wide and moist, the young boy said, “But-but I’m his brother. How, how can he not know me? I-I’d do anything for him-anything!” Yunho stood up, his chest heaving, hot tears beginning to stream from his eyes. “I’d do anything, Dr. Meade! I’d die for him right here and now! How can he not know me?!”

Dr. Meade caught Yunho in his arms, pressing the trembling form as tightly as he could. “Yunho! Of course you’d do anything for him. Of course. Look at me,” and here he raised Yunho’s face, wiping away some of the tears. “And listen. This is your chance. You only have to do one thing, Yunho. Jaejoong has been on a long journey; he’s gone far from us and gotten lost. The only chance to return, the only way was for him to give something up. Sometimes great prices are asked of us. And because he loves you, he’s coming back, but not unscathed. You’d said you’d do anything for him?” Yunho nodded, holding onto the doctor very tight. “Than love him. Love him, Yunho. More than you did before; he’ll need you now more than ever.”

“Yes, Dr. Meade,” Yunho choked.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise. I’ll love him; he’s my brother.”

As the doctor said, late in the night, Jaejoong came to. Yunho was breathless by the bedside, holding onto Jaejoong’s hand, waiting and watching. And it happened so naturally, the way it happened a hundred times at home if Jaejoong happened to fall asleep but Yunho did not. A hundred times, maybe more, Yunho had watched his brother wake up from a nap; the dark lashes would lift, revealing the two gemstone eyes, still dim from slumber.

And so it was that night. Slowly, the feathered lashes lifted off his cheeks and the dark eyes sparkled once more. Jaejoong had awakened; he had come home.

Now Dr. Meade had given instructions that Jaejoong should be left unto himself for as long as he required. The doctor stated that his system was fragile now and needed time to readjust itself. No one was to speak to Jaejoong or attempt any type of contact with him. And for several hours, though Jaejoong was awake, the dark eyes remained locked on the ceiling, as if only his eyes were awake, and the rest of him was coming bit by bit.

In those hours Yunho did not move.

When at last animation was restored to the face, when at last Jaejoong made some sign of movement, his first look, his first words were to Yunho.

Slowly, the fair face turned towards Yunho, looking first at his own hand, still held by Yunho. And then, the dark eyes raised to look at Yunho’s face in wonder-as if he had never seen a human face before.

“Hello,” said Jaejoong in the same voice, as soft and as musical as ever, straining on Yunho’s heart’s chords till he thought his heart might burst. “Who are you?”

“Hello,” began Yunho, striving to steady his own voice. “My name is Jung Yunho. I’m-I’m your brother.”

“Oh? My brother? What does that mean?”

“It means-it means I’m here for you. It means I love you, very much.”

“It does,” Jaejoong asked, as a flower might ask the wind why it blows. “Then, who am I?”

“You’re Jung Jaejoong. You’re my brother.”

“So that means I love you? Right?”

Yunho’s chest was on fire. “Yes,” he gasped. “That’s right Jaejoong.”
* * *
There are lives for which we would give dearly. There are lives for which our own mean little. Yunho knew it well but never more so than in the year after Jaejoong returned. For within that year Yunho lost both his mother and his father. His mother only weeks after Jaejoong came to; his father eight months later. And Yunho wondered if they had done what he would have; if they had given their lives in exchange for Jaejoong’s. If both his mother and his father had laid down their lives for Jaejoong’s; for the one life that meant more to them than their own.

And it would be some time before Jaejoong learned that he had parents at all, Yunho explaining to him that his parents had left this world early and were waiting for both of them far above the skies.

During this time both the boys were sent to live at an aunt’s house, her being the legal guardian; Yunho had met her only a few times before, as she was a far-removed relative.

Years later when he could look back on these days as an adult, Yunho would swear these were the years he lived in blood. Days when his soul throbbed and ached; nights he felt he could not breathe. These days, these early years were painful and Yunho feared he might never survive them.

In the first place, even though his aunt’s house was very grand, even though everyone believed that he and Jaejoong were to have the best of care-how very opposite turned to be the truth. For Aunt Yee was a selfish woman who believed the purpose in living was to have as much fun as one might possibly have. A constant stream of friends flowed in and out of the house, into the very late hours of the night. Yee was on committees, she managed to belong to nearly every social group in town, from the weekly book club, to a group of women who met monthly to discuss the current state of women in the world. Many called her a social butterfly, marveling at the fact that she simply never seemed to stop. At first, she enjoyed the idea of taking in her two nephews, as everyone said how generous she was and for a few weeks she was the talk of every social circle. However, the charms of benefactress soon wore thin, as the dirge of Jaejoong’s disability set in; as a result, every time company arrived, Jaejoong was quickly into the basement, which Yee swore she had furnished royally, and the door locked behind him. Until no one was home to see him.

And it was true, Jaejoong was wild in those days-those first years. It seemed as if his body could not adjust to his mind. For the body had not suffered an accident, the body was the same-but Jaejoong’s mind was not and the two seemed to be in constant war. It took little to set him off into a fit of hysteria that might last for hours. Kicking, screaming, tearing at his own face, ripping at his clothes, biting anyone who tried to come near. In those early days, Jaejoong did not seem human. He was a wild flower, howling in the night. Sometimes, looking at him, Yunho told himself this was not his brother. Staring at the writhing form on the ground, helpless to himself, Yunho told himself that this was not Jaejoong but some dreadful replacement.

However there was one day, a year after Yunho and Jaejoong had come to live with Aunt Yee-Yunho would never forget, one day that lived in his nightmares always. He had come home from school late and Aunt Yee met him at the door, her expression wild.

“Where have you been,” she snapped, grabbing Yunho by the arm and yanking him in the house.

“I’m sorry, Aunt. The teacher asked me to stay; she had something to give me.”

“I told you to come straight home, didn’t I? I can’t stand it anymore. Listen to him!”

“Who, Aunt,” Yunho asked, rubbing his arm.

“Who? Ha! As if you don’t know. That brother of yours. He’s down in his room right now. I thought he might like some something to eat, now that my sewing circle is gone. I took him down some of our leftover sandwiches and do you know what he did?” She did not wait for Yunho to answer. “He knocked the tray right out of my hands! And then he started screaming and dashing himself against the walls! I tell you, I can’t stand it! I don’t have one moment to myself. Go make him stop Yunho.”

“Yes, Aunt.”

Having taken only a few steps from her, Yunho did indeed hear Jaejoong below in the basement, thrashing about, howling. Hurrying, he ran down. In the dim light, Yunho paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust, searching for Jaejoong. He saw him, far on one end of the room, backed up into a corner, his arms and legs sprawled, as if something horrendous was in front of him. The pale face was scratched and bleeding and Jaejoong’s clothes were in tatters as he heaved for breath.

By this time, Yunho knew he was beyond reach, beyond his own power and the only aid might be in a sedative. Going over to a dresser that was kept locked at all times, Yunho went into one of the drawers and took a small pill from a box-Jaejoong’s medication. Sighing, he came over to where Jaejoong stood, plastered against the wall; Yunho did not like to make Jaejoong take the medication, he did not like having to force it down his throat, make Jaejoong swallow. Nonetheless, feeling very weary, the young boy went over to his brother, expecting little.

Yet this time, Jaejoong pushed him back with a strength Yunho had never known in him. Tumbling to the floor, Yunho saw Jaejoong reel and stagger, sweat streaming from him. His eyes were Heavenwards, bloodshot and starting from their sockets. For a time, Jaejoong stood thus and then-with a shattering cry, he crashed down into the floor, as if he no longer had the strength to stand. Though frightened, Yunho crawled to where Jaejoong lay, the pill firmly grasped in his hand.

“Jae,” he began, speaking as softly as he could. “Jae, come on and take this. It’ll make you feel better.”

The dark head shook.

“Yes, Jae. Come on. You gotta take this.”

Again, Jaejoong shook his head, but this time he turned and looked at Yunho. And in spite of himself, Yunho jumped back. For he saw-in the dark eyes, usually so unfocused-a plea. As if Jaejoong’s soul cried out. And the gentle voice, frighteningly strained now, wafted out. “Brother. Help-help me. Please.”

Throwing the medicine out of his hand, Yunho grabbed Jaejoong up in his arms, holding the weak frame as tightly as he could. And without thinking, he stood up, Jaejoong in his arms, making his way up the stairs, out of the basement. He heard Aunt Yee screech as she saw Yunho pass her with Jaejoong, but he did not stop. All the way outside Yunho went, carrying Jaejoong till he got to an opening in the backyard. Once there, Yunho dropped down to his knees, setting Jaejoong next to him.

“Jaejoong,” he said. “Jaejoong, here take this.” And Yunho put into the small hand a seed from his pocket, clasping the fingers around it. “Do you feel it, Jae? It’s a seed. Look, it’s ours Jae. We’re gonna plant it and a tree’s gonna grow. Our tree, Jae.”

The dark eyes looked up to Yunho, a flicker in them. “Ours? Because-”

“Because we’re brothers Jae. We’re brothers and I’m always gonna be here for you. Okay? I love you Jae and I’m never gonna leave you! We’re gonna grow up together, Jae. And we’re gonna have a house. I’ll take you away from here just as soon as I can. And nothing’s gonna hurt you and me anymore. Okay, Jae? I promise!”

And there, the smallest of smiles appeared as Jaejoong said, “Okay. . .okay.”
* * *
“Yunho?”

The voice called once but Yunho could hardly hear him.

“Yunho?!” Again. It sounded so familiar.

“Yunho, wake up!”

Startled, Yunho turned around, his body stiff and cold to find Jaejoong bending down over him. And for a time, the young man could not figure out what had happened.

“Yunho? Are you okay? You’re on the floor.”

Looking around, Yunho saw he was indeed on the floor, that he had fallen asleep in the living room last night. “Yea-yea, Jae. I’m okay, I guess.”

And Jaejoong, folding his legs underneath him, sat down alongside Yunho and smiled. “I’ll sit here too.”

“On the floor,” Yunho asked, laughing somewhat.

“Yes,” Jaejoong declared. “With you.”

And then, the small hand reached out to his brother’s, as Jaejoong took Yunho’s hand in his, holding his brother’s hand close to himself.