“Ana,” interrupted Yunho. “Go on. I’ve got him.”

Yet, to Yunho’s surprise, Jaejoong looked up and though he still pressed himself very close to his elder brother, he asked, “You want to see the game, Ana-Ana? And Yunho will come too?”

“Of course,” she replied. “Me and Yunho will come.”

The dark eyes blinked once, and then again. Then Jaejoong stood up straight and in an instant, as if there had been no break in-between his running down the hall moments ago to get Yunho and now, Jaejoong clapped his hands and skipped off.

And once again, Yunho was alone.
* * *

A sort of wonderful fullness rang throughout the house. A swelling sound made of laughter, excited conversations and jokes so old they were funny once more. A sound that filled the entire house with more than just voices, for these voices, all of them, were connected. Each voice belonged to one who knew he was tied to the person standing next to him. Each voice was made of the next because each belonged to family. And the sound, the knowing that everyone is connected, that all share a vibrant chord caused the conversations to grow louder, more joyous until the walls could no longer contain this delightful discord and everyone was forced to go outside, sending the filial harmony outwards where it bustled and bubbled with all the wonderful clamor to its heart’s content.

Silent, Yunho found himself pushed out along with everyone else into the back lawn. His own voice was not part of the excitement; all the noise rang in his ears sounding to the young man crass and harsh. It invaded his mind pushing out thoughts, thoughts he wanted to dwell on, memories he was not finished mourning. Hatreds he wanted to nurse longer. But caught between several cousins and two great-aunts, Yunho was made to head outside with the rest of the family, where lunch was soon to be served under a sprawling white tent. But the sounds were too much for him, too soon for him to pretend he was enjoying himself. As it was now, Yunho fought to remain civil; he was not yet ready to sit down to a meal with his family members and smile and say pleasant things and act as if more than a decade of pain had not passed by. So, free from the confines of his doting relatives, on a plea of wishing to walk the grounds, Yunho slipped away from the rest of the family.

In fact it was a reasonable thing to say he wished to see the outside lawns and gardens of Yee’s extensive home as they were impressive and had, much to her pride, been featured in a number of local publications over the years. A devotee of horticulture, Yee kept gardens teeming with every flower imaginable, blooming in rainbow colors. Gardens made to be walked, admired, complete with tasteful stone benches shaded by gracious trees, many of which had been transplanted for the purpose. Warmed under the sun, the flowers offered up their heady aromas, the trees their verdant scent and one might inhale half-expecting to feel the very rush of nature unfurl within himself.

Away from everyone, following a perfectly pleasant winding path throughout one of the gardens, Yunho could hear his own steps, the sound of smooth round pebbles displaced under the weight of his stride. Quiet opening up around him, he listened to the sound of himself walking, the way each step sounded slightly different than the one before. He listened. He felt the sensation of his foot sinking ever so slightly into the pebbles, their little round forms just perceptible through the soles of his shoes. Not yet warmed by the sun, the smooth stones wafted up a coolness towards Yunho as he walked. A freshness he breathed in. And for the first time since arriving, Yunho felt a certain sense of quiet. Alone in the garden, he could breathe; away from everyone, he was with himself. His fingers unclenched, the tightness in his chest subsided and he risked slumping his shoulders just a bit.

Apart from wanting to be alone and have the chance to regain his composure, Yunho did have another reason for wanting to walk through the gardens. He sought a memory. A promise. Something he only half-expected to be there. A childhood fancy that surely had not stood the test of the years, the march into adulthood. In fact it might be more correct to say he sought only the place of the promise in those early years. Yunho wanted to stand in the spot he had back then with Jaejoong when all life’s importance hung on this promise between them. Back then, all could be solved, saved because they had been there together and planted a seed together. He had dreamed of that moment, that day when he had carried Jaejoong outside to the backyard, his thoughts flying apart. Blank though many of Yunho’s sleeps were, that time, feeling the moist earth beneath his fingers, pushing Jaejoong’s frail hand into the cool ground came to him every now and then. And the part of Yunho that was only alive when he slept, the portion of him that longed to be happy once more longed to stand in that spot again. Part of Yunho hoped that the seed had grown into a big beautiful tree and one day, someday, he and Jaejoong would return to the spot together. And together they would kneel down as they did years before. And everything would be okay. Of course, Yunho realized that the odds of that seed growing into anything more than a bush were very slim. What he had done then had been the impulse of s child, stuffing a seed into the dirt, believing it would grow into a tree. Yunho did not expect to find anything in the spot, but he longed to stand there just the same. Stand where he knelt. Come now as a man where he fell as a child.

Walking on, Yunho knew where to go without having to recall a great deal. That being the case, he walked with his eyes cast downwards, watching the path unwind underneath him. The spot he headed towards was around a hedge-lined corner and could not be seen without turning off the path. And at the moment he was nearly unaware, enjoying the freedom when something caused him to stop. A vibration that ran the course of his body made him look up, look towards where the promised place was. His gaze climbed upwards and what Yunho saw made him stagger and reel. Nearly falling, he stumbled forward, turned the corner and stopped, rooted to the spot. His throat swelled and Yunho could hardly breath. Rising up before him, long green branches spread out towards the sky rose a thick sturdy tree. A magnificent elm whose shade reached out to touch Yunho’s face with its coolness.

It couldn’t be real. This tree, this tree that looked exactly like the one Yunho dreamed of. It was as if the promise burst up from the ground, standing here now for all to see. Roots reaching deep into the earth never to be shaken, never to be moved. Yunho could not believe it. Things like this-real things like this did not happen. But here he was, just as he hoped, standing in front of the tree, the tree he had promised with Jaejoong. To remain standing was too much. With a gasp, Yunho sunk down onto his knees, his chin resting on his chest. His thoughts over-whelmed him; his emotions stifled him.

Hours Yunho might have remained thus, but the sound of footsteps running along the path caused him to tear himself away from the incredible, though it was with an effort. Turning around, Yunho saw Ana running towards him.

“Yunho, I’ve been looking for you. Lunch is ready. What are you-” Ana stopped suddenly, noticing that Yunho was on his knees. “Are you okay,” she asked, bending near him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

For an answer, Yunho pointed to the tree. “It’s. . .here,” he said at length.

“Of course it is,” replied Ana with a smile. “You didn’t think I’d break my promise did you?”

“Your promise,” Yunho repeated, not understanding.

“Yea. I promised Hero. Don’t you remember? That day after court? He asked me to keep the tree. I promised him.”

Confused, Yunho’s thoughts struggled back to the day Ana spoke of. The day he practically carried Jaejoong out of court, when Ana came running after. Jaejoong had called after her. “Y-yes. I remember that day. But I don’t understand Ana. This tree. . .” he trailed off.

“I had it transplanted. I don’t know what seed you planted but it certainly wasn’t going to become a tree. But I promised Hero, so a couple of weeks after you and he left I had it transplanted here.”

Her answer was very simple. Very honest. She had done what she promised Jaejoong. And Yunho admitted that he would have done the same. To keep the promise. To show Jaejoong the magic. But her answer, so honest and simple, cut through Yunho. He looked away, a bitter smile passing over his lips. Had he been so foolish? Such a hopeless fool to think that his own faint gleam would remain, that his own secret dream would come true. Idiot. He was an idiot to think that. To think that anything good remained here in this house; to think anything of loveliness remained of his childhood. He was even a fool to let it hurt now. It shouldn’t. Finding that the tree, the promise he made with Jaejoong, belonged to Ana instead stung. Why ought that to hurt? For all he suffered in this house to hope that something of a gentler nature might remain after all these years-to even whisper to himself, in a shrinking corner of his soul that anything good remained-was ridiculous. And yet, this was exactly what Yunho hoped for in finding the tree, in standing where he once had with his brother. A memory of good. A fleeting moment wherein he had called upon a love stronger than all surrounding them.

But it was not his to claim, even after all this time.

Yunho stood up, brushing the dust from his knees. “You had me there for a sec, Ana. I thought this really was the tree,” he said with a forced laugh.

“Are you angry? I mean, should I not have done that?”

“No. I’m not angry. I suppose I’ve done the same with him. Santa. You know, things like that.”

“Well, I thought maybe you could show him and then-I don’t know. It’d be just like old times. And Hero really would have his promise tree with you. I guess.”

She shifted between her feet, her wide eyes on Yunho, looking for his approval. Yunho smiled, saying, “Thanks Ana. He’ll love it.”

She motioned then for Yunho to follow her back to where the family was sitting down for lunch. Nodding, Yunho trailed after. There was a smile on his face; his steps were steady. But his insides hurt.
* * *
A faint breeze ruffled the sprawling white tent, which spread out over the lawn shading quaint round tables around which the Jung family had collected. Yee had spared no expense in making sure this lunch was more than a simple family get-together, but a luncheon complete with snappy waiters serving food that might considered epicurean for a family reunion. So as Yunho found himself seated between Uncle Heen and Ana lovely little plates passed in front of him in some well-timed march boasting of food made almost as much to look at as to eat. Far from him sat Aunt Yee triumphant in her version of what a family gathering ought to be.

During the march of the plates, Yunho made show of pushing food around on his plate as if he had eaten some of it. He tried to listen attentively to what was being said around him, smiling and nodding and even speaking up slightly some times. But his attempts to engage were more out of a hope that no one would notice how much he hoped this would end speedily and evening come. Yunho wanted a moment to be away from all of this, though for another day he was prisoner. But to have some hours in which he didn’t have to smile, didn’t have to take part on conversations he was not following-did not have to pretend. At least at night, alone in a room, there was no one to see, no one to hear what ached within him now.

Setting his fork down, making sure the other family members at his table were deeply engaged in conversation so his own comments would not be missed, Yunho let his eyes wander. At the far end of the lawn, on tables less elegant, were the kids. And Jaejoong. Yunho watched him; the slender hands were clasped excitedly in his lap and the dark eyes shone in delight. All around him his cousins talked and laughed, and Jaejoong seemed to breath in their energy. Jaejoong’s mouth slightly parted, Yunho watched the small chest heave up and down as his brother inhaled these moments. So new to him. And so wonderful. The kids reached out to Jaejoong, touching him, taking his hands, tapping him the shoulder. Sometimes they pulled him to get up, to come see something so very important. Sometimes, they held up food in a dare for him to eat. All with laughter, all in bubbling world of their own. And sometimes, sometimes-it was the oddest thing. But one of the children would reach out, their hand even smaller than Jaejoong’s, leaning over the table, and ever so gently, touch his face. Their little fingers lay upon his skin curiously, knowing he was not made of this world, that he did not hear the sounds of this world. Jaejoong’s eyes met theirs; he lay his own hand atop theirs. And together they remained motionless, each lost to the other. The child of this earth to the child of the clouds. It lasted maybe no longer than a moment, but seemed as though ages passed, to be broken by the Jaejoong’s laughter.

Yunho watched out of breath. Pity it took a child to understand something so simple, to see what an entire world could not. Pity that transparency confounded the wise and could only be seen by those who, by all other standards, appeared to know very little. But it was not so-the children saw exactly who Jaejoong was-a child like them.

Shaking his head, Yunho pulled himself back to time and place, realizing that for all the fun Jaejoong was having, he was not eating. Jaejoong was having such a high time that he forgot completely that there was food in front of him. Not that that was strange though. Numerous times Yunho needed to remind his brother to eat. Beginning to stand up, Yunho felt a tug on his arm from Ana.

“Are you okay,” she asked, looking steadily at his face.

“Yea,” Yunho replied with a smile. “I’m fine. I was just gonna go over to Jaejoong and tell him to eat his lunch.”

“Isn’t he eating,” asked Ana, quickly looking over.

“Don’t worry about it. He does it all the time.”

“I’ll go,” she said. “Sit down Yunho. I’ll go over there. You’ve had a long day.”

And without waiting for him to answer, Ana hurried over to where Jaejoong sat. Sinking back into the chair, somewhat in a stupor, Yunho watched as she came over to Jaejoong, laying her hand on his shoulder. Yunho watched Jaejoong turn towards her, his eyes bright over something, pointing excitedly to a unseen object. Yunho watched Ana nod patiently, pointing then to the plate of untouched food. Jaejoong looked at it as if he had not realized it had been there, looking back at Ana and shaking his head. Again, Ana pointed to the food. Again, Jaejoong shook his head. Yunho stood, about to come over. Ana picked up the fork, slid some food onto it and held it up, no doubt for Jaejoong to take hold of. Instead, and to Yunho’s surprise, Jaejoong leaned forward and ate the food off the fork as Ana held it. She smiled, ruffling the dark hair between her fingers, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Then, Jaejoong dutifully took the fork and began to eat his meal.

Yunho had long since crashed back down onto his chair- a strange ache pinching his sides.

Nighttime came at long blessed last. Everyone went back inside the house, each settling into the rooms. A kind of quiet settling commotion could be heard intermittently. Lowering voices, doors opening and closing and a general shuffling of feet. Lights were turned out and shadows stretched down through the hallways, blanketing all in a dusky sleep.

Far on the end of the house was Yunho and Jaejoong’s room. A large window over-looked the back yard, now letting in a wide view of the night sky opposite of which stood a small bed. Next to the bed was a small night-stand with a small lamp and a small framed picture. In fact, apart from the window, the whole room seemed tiny and sweet.

Beginning to unpack Jaejoong’s duffel bag, Yunho listened to Jaejoong talk happily of everything that happened today and how excited he was for tomorrow. Taking out his brother’s clothes, folding and un-folding, the sound of Jaejoong’s voice filling the room, Yunho sank into routine. He moved to and fro from the dresser, placing clothes inside of it. He picked out what Jaejoong would wear for tomorrow; the water for Jaejoong’s bath. A routine he might perform without thinking. It settled him now. He blessed it now. And as he moved about the room, Yunho thought it funny how a pattern so daily could soothe him so much when so much hurt.

As Jaejoong took his bath, Yunho listened to the running water, as he had done so many times, knocking on the door and telling Jaejoong to wash, not play. And when the water shut off, Jaejoong emerged from the bathroom, not fully dry, his pajamas sticking to him and his hair in a dripping mess. Grabbing an untouched towel, Yunho took to Jaejoong’s head first, ruffling the dark hair dry. He then picked up a brush and began to comb out Jaejoong’s hair. His were short and gentle, as Jaejoong sat in front of him on the bed, legs folded neatly underneath. Parting the dark tresses off to the side, the young man reached then for his own robe and wrapped his brother in its substantial folds. Delighted with being able to wear Yunho’s robe, Jaejoong cuddled it closely, bringing the plush fabric up to his chin and settling himself comfortably, all but disappearing in the lengths of fleece.

Clean and mostly dry, Yunho moved now to wash himself for the night.

“Jae, I’m gonna wash up, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” came the reply, as Jaejoong petted his brother’s robe.

Careful to only partially close the door, Yunho stepped inside the bathroom. Confining himself to a sink-shower, the young man splashed his body with cool water. It made him shiver against the heat of his limbs and the aches pinching his sides numbed away. And for the first time that day, Yunho sighed. Letting his head droop down upon his chest, he sighed, long and heavy. Had he really made it though this day? It seemed so. And though he hoped for little better in the next, at least today was over.

“Yunho?” came Jaejoong’s voice from outside the door.

Quickly pulling his shirt over his head, Yunho rushed out, “Yea Jae?”

Still on the bed, Jaejoong held in his hands the small framed picture that had sat atop the night-stand. He stared at it very closely, the gentle face furrowed in confusion. Yunho tried not to smile.

“What is it, Jae?”

“Yunho,” he began, holding out the picture for his elder brother to see. “This man looks likes you. Who is it?”

Taking the picture, Yunho no sooner looked down at the photograph before almost dropping it. Out from an old photo, one obviously taken years before, Yunho saw his father. His and Jaejoong’s father. The young man coughed, his vision suddenly blurring with tears and looked away. His father. The same steady gaze that watched him so long ago, when all the world was falling apart, saw him now when all seemed so very hard. And though Yunho had never forgotten what his father looked like, in all this time, he had never sought to remember either. The handsome face staggered him. With a trembling hand, Yunho handed the picture back to Jaejoong.

“Who is it, Yunho? This man-he looks just like you.”

Swallowing very hard, Yunho strove to reply. “Jaejoong that man. . .he’s. . . . Father.” The word hurt to say.

Jaejoong peered closer at the picture, his head titling off to the side. “He is?”

“Y-yes.”

“Really? But Yunho, how come I don’t remember?”

Yunho’s eyes swam and he crashed down onto the mattress on the floor. Those early times during the accident had been so dreadful. And when Jaejoong at last proved that he would survive-everything moved so quickly. When their father died, Jaejoong, though awake, was hardly conscious of his world and Yunho saw no point in trying to tell Jaejoong of someone he had never really known and would never hope to really know. In all these years, Yunho had never questioned that decision. Until now. Until he met his father’s gaze, with no words to defend why own son did not know him.

Oh God.

“Jae,” Yunho began, coming to sit next to him and placing his arm around Jaejoong’s shoulders. “Jae, listen to me.” The dark eyes looked up and Yunho fought to steady his voice. “That picture is of our father. Yours and mine. He was the best, Jae. The best man. But. . .he couldn’t stay here. He had to go back to-”

“Heaven?”

Oh God!

“Y-yes,” Yunho croaked.

Yunho felt Jaejoong’s hand catch his own, the slender fingers holding tight. “Yunho? Did he love you?”

“Yes Jae.”

There was a long pause. “Did. . .he love me?”

“Yes Jae. He loved you very much.” Yunho waited, watching as Jaejoong stared at his brother’s hand. “Okay?”

“Okay. Okay-okay!” Jaejoong exclaimed happily, slipping himself under the covers with Yunho’s robe still around him.

Yunho stood, tucking the covers around Jaejoong and went to turn out the lights. As he himself settled into the air-mattress on the floor he listened to Jaejoong turn and twist till he was settled. Yunho listened to his brother’s breathing, if it was steady and even. He listened to make sure everything was really okay. To make sure he was the only one who couldn’t breath, whose insides churned.

In the dark, assured his brother was asleep, Yunho felt a stinging warmth cascade down his cheeks. Closing his eyes, he felt the tears streak down, their heat nearly burning. A stifled sob rose in his chest and Yunho pressed his hand over his mouth to keep it from escaping. He coughed, gasping for air.

“Yunho?” came the gentle voice.

“Go to sleep, Jae,” Yunho croaked.

“Yunho?” The bed springs creaked and Jaejoong slid off the bed, coming to kneel beside his brother.

“Jae, go to sleep,” Yunho again commanded, sitting up and pointing to the bed.

“But Yunho,” replied Jaejoong in disbelief.

Despite the darkness, the velvet eyes had seen his tears and reached out to touch. Catching his hand, Yunho uttered the same command as before. But instead Jaejoong, as Yunho had done only moments before, put his arm around his brother’s shoulders.

And for an instant, a lapse of time-the roles changed. Suddenly it was no longer Jaejoong who needed Yunho, but Yunho who needed his younger brother. There, in the silence of night, Jaejoong seemed taller, his grasp firm around Yunho. The tender face, always in amazement, steadied now. The wide eyes saw this moment for exactly what it was. And the hurt, the burden-for one strange moment was placed on shoulders so slim, but suddenly strong enough to withhold it all.

And in a voice firmer than Yunho had known, Jaejoong said, “It’s gonna be okay, Yunho. Because-because we’re brothers.”

Yunho looked up. The moment had passed. Jaejoong’s eyes were full of stars again.

It will be okay. Yes, because we’re brothers. Because in this house I promised you. No one can shake that. Not this house either. Dad, I promised you too. I’ll keep him safe. I will.

I swear.