“Why don’t you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Dim lamp light and the rain on the roof molded the office in soft shadows but Jenissi’s head seared with pain.  His hand seemed permanently attached to his temples. 

“I am tired,” he answered with worn out irony.  He was slouched in the chair like only a man dying or months removed from a night’s sleep could be.  At this point he was feeling like both.

“Last time we met you said your doctor prescribed a new medication for you.  Has it been helping at all?”

This was enough motivation for Jenissi to slide his hand down from his eyes so the man could feel the full brunt of his patronizing expression.

“I take it there’s been no change yet.”

Jenissi would have rolled his eyes if it didn’t promise to hurt.  Also, under the influence of the little shame he suffered to maintain, it felt wrong to mock a priest.

“Now, Taeyang,” the clergyman chastised lightly, forgetting to call him the name he had recently taken to using, “I understand this process must be incredibly frustrating for you, but you can’t give up hope that something will change.  God has a plan for you.  You were given a second chance at life.  He sustains you even now.”

“This isn’t my life.  This is death.”

The words seemed to physically upset the priest, pushing him into even more extraordinary pity.

Further under his breath than his words already were, Jenissi added, “Actually, I imagine death would hurt less.”

“Your parents and I were very close, Taeyang, and I know they wouldn’t want you thinking this way.  Such fatalistic, life-hating words from someone your age are terrible to hear.  The hardships you’ve experienced I sincerely sympathize with, but you can’t lose faith.  It’s not what your parents would hope for you.  They were such faithful people.”

“Were,” Jenissi emphasized.

Taking a breath to pause and reassess his approach, the priest continued, “When you woke up after the accident you told me right there from the hospital bed that God spoke to you:  that he called you by a new name.  It meant something to you then.”

“I had a traumatic brain injury.  There was a day there I couldn’t remember how to tie my shoes,” he responded, balking at the spite in his own voice.  He wasn’t sure if he believed the skepticism in his words.

“After a loss it’s natural to question your beliefs for a time, to be angry at God, but His plan is absolute.  We can’t know why the accident happened, but we can be reassured that you have life.  This too shall pass.”

It all sounded like hypocrisy to him now.  “I have been living with this,” he said, digging his hand into his hair to get at his skull, “for so long I don’t remember what it’s like to not have a headache.”

“The doctors said that headaches like this can linger after traumatic brain injuries.  They will fade one day.”

Even though he knew it was unfair, Jenissi wanted to blame the man for being ignorant of the things he had never been able to tell him.  It was difficult to tell a priest that there were nights you pressed your face against the window screen and begged for the energy to push through it and fall.  It was impossible to tell a priest that you had dreams of the crash you supposedly couldn’t remember where your mother purposefully turned the wheel into the tree.  He had been dragging himself through life with fading steps.  He couldn’t press on any longer.  He wanted to sleep.

“Have I lost you again, Jenissi?”

He shook himself back to the present, lingering on the choice of words and thinking finally that yes, perhaps he had. 

“Jehovah Nissi:” the priest stated out of the blue, looking over at the bible on the side of his desk, eyes tracing the cover thoughtfully.  “At Rephidim, Moses sealed an altar with that name.  When the Israelites were engaged in battle, Moses held his arms over his head all day to secure their victory despite every pain it must have caused him.” As if sensing the building contradictions inside of the younger, the man interrupted the boiling thoughts with his gaze and said, “and I’m sure he experienced great suffering but he didn’t do it alone.  He had Aaron and Hur beside him holding his arms.  Strength can not come from standing alone."

“I suppose,” he responded to the parable.

“Jenissi,” the priest said pointedly, “I just think you need to keep your ears and your heart open.”

At long last something in Jenissi that had been hanging on like a dead leaf snapped free and floated to the ground.  The words sounded as hollow as he felt.  He heard again the rain on the roof.

 “Thank you,” he said, standing and reaching out to shake the priest’s hand.

“Do you need a ride home?” the man asked, holding Jenissi’s hand for a moment longer than normal.  It was almost as if he knew that when he let go the young man would be lost.

“I’ll walk.”

The words were brittle but too matter-of-fact to be contradicted.

It was late in the night when Jenissi arrived home.

He did not turn on the lights.  Many no longer had bulbs since he’d smashed them in a fit of rage.  He trailed through the house to the stairs, knocking his shoes into broken glass he had never bothered to clean.

There were too many rooms that no one used.  There was no one really living in the house anyway.  What he did wasn’t living.

He made it halfway up the stairs before he had to sit down.  The pain behind his eyes was pulsing.  Leaning his full weight against the railing he waited for it to pass.  His body was chilled by the rain dampened clothes clinging o him and his bangs dripping water down his forehead.

The pain only grew, pressing against his skull until he hoped it would crack open to give him some relief.  He was biting back a shout by the time a flash of darkness swooped disjointed through his mind: 

He saw his mother's eyes in the rearview mirror, his father's voice playing in the background faded in the glint of her eyes.  Then a sharp turn, a hard impact. . . a flurry of snow and silence and black feathers. . .behind the fog a massive shape or form rose with a sound like thunder rattling under the earth. . .then fire and a woman in white.

His whole body jerked.  The headache is throbbing now and he curls his forehead to his knees.  The images are gone.   

It's was impossible to tell a priest that you saw things.  Things you couldn't always understand but felt and tasted and heard.  He wasn't lying when he said he couldn't remember the accident, but somehow he saw it and other things.  Things that were strange and impossible but also real.

He had stopped questioning it months ago but still hoped that one day it would end.  If this was the so called plan God had for him then he politely declined.  The images didn't seem to mean anything.

When enough time had passed for him to move he dragged himself wearily up the rest of the staircase,

He wound up in his room and sat down crumpled at the edge of the mattress in the dark.  The only relief he had was that no one would bother him. 

The phone rang.  With closed eyes, he counted three rings before he felt the headache threatening him and picked up the line, wondering when he’d plugged the phone back in.

There were no words of greeting from Jenissi who held the phone loosely in his lap, waiting for the dial tone so he could hang up.  Being ignored usually made them stop calling.

“Ta—” the caller corrected himself, “Jenissi,” even with the phone so far away the voice was clear.  “I know you’re there, dude.”

With a deep sigh he lifted the phone to his ear.  “What?”

“I need you to pack yourself anything you need and be waiting outside your house tomorrow morning at 9.”

“Gohn, what are you talking about?

“I’m packing up the car tomorrow—moving out to the great wide somewhere and I need you to come make music with me.”

Jenissi sighed and spoke with his eyes closed, “I can’t make music anymore, Dongsung,” he only used his friend’s real name when he hoped to snap sense into him “noise makes me dizzy.”

“Who said anything about noise?  You just need to write.  Heck you can recite lyrics from the inside of a blanket cocoon and I’ll copy it down for you—but you’re coming.  I’m not leaving without you.”

Gohn had been this way since they were kids.  He had blamed it on the fact that he was younger once but now he knew better.

“Dongsung. . . “

“Sunye said she’ll let you take shotgun so you won’t puke.”

“Your sister’s going?”

“I need someone to play piano since you’re an invalid.  Plus she’s looking into an arts program out there.  Just because you and I are total losers doesn’t mean she has to be.”  He took slight offense to this since he'd stopped attending college because he couldn't concentrate whereas Gohn had never bothered to apply.

He heard a commotion on the other end of the phone and then suddenly a more melodic voice was speaking.  “Tae, I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I wasn’t convinced that my little bro will actually not go without you.”

An easily decipherable: “I’m an adult, stop calling me your little brother,” carried over the line.

“Please?” Sunye’s voice asked, “I don’t think I can survive alone with him.”

In the sound of her voice, Jenissi felt something stir in him and the tension slid away from his skull.

“Okay,” he answered impulsively, hanging up before another syllable could be spoken. 

Flopping back on the mattress he tossed the phone away, wondering if he actually meant it as he drifted off to sleep.  

He slept for 7 hours straight that night. 

That was how Jenissi ended up sitting on the front steps with a backpack and a suitcase.  Somehow he felt more exhausted than he had in weeks, but there was no headache. 

It had only been about half a day of course, but it was hope.

When the old hatchback plodded up and stopped in front of his house, he stayed put, having no energy to move and basking in the relief of a clear mind.  In the reassurance of their arrival he closed his eyes.

Car doors opened, footsteps approached, and then two shadows fell over him.

“Is he even awake?” one whispered, musical and soft.

“Jenissi. . .”

His mouth quirked.  “I am conscious and I am exhausted and you’re late.”

“Then stop sitting there wasting time," Gohn said. The two raised him to his feet. “It’s a long drive."

“You can have shotgun though. Special onetime only offer,” Sunye said.

“Actually I think I’ll take the back,” Jenissi said.  “I’m going to catch up on some sleep.”

There was a pause like Gohn and Sunye had exchanged a look over his head, but then each one taking an arm, they walked with Jenissi to the car.

"You seem good today," Gohn commented lowly to him, "have you stopped having those dreams?"

"I wouldn't say that much," Jenissi answered, blinking his eyes open.

It was bright out but it didn't hurt his eyes today. 

Gohn left them by the car to go back and grab the suitcase from the front steps. 

Jenissi held back for a moment, then snuck a furtive glance at Sunye.  A smile threatened to betray him:  she looked good in white.

Sunye caught him staring.  She smiled subtley.

He was almost returning the look when she moved her attention to her brother aproaching.  The sun caught her face in such a way that her eye glinted and the smile fell from Jenissi's face.

"Everyone in!" Gohn said, opening the trunk to put the suitcase inside. 

Jenissi faltered, something flickering behind his eyes like embers. 

"You okay?" Sunye asked.  He shook his head to clear his mind.

"Yeah," he said uncertainly.

He was the last to enter the car, taking a moment to look across to his house and then toward the sky thinking maybe it was a good day to start over.

A/N  Thank you for reading! 

Sunye is a fictional creation who does not feature in the main story.  She's only relevant to this particular backstory.  You can imagine her however you'd like.  (I know there's a Sunye in the Wonder Girls.  I don't follow the Wonder Girls at all but if you'd like to use her face that's fine!)

Also I did not include Gohn in the chapter breakdown in the foreward because this chapter tells you very little about Gohn as a character (whereas the second chapter focuses on both Seogoong and Xero so they're both included).

Also thank you very much to all of you who have subscribed and those who have commented!  It really encourages me to have feedback! ^_^

And a reminder that this is a collection of backstories and not a linear plot.  These are meant to accompany a bigger story I am working on but haven't yet posted.  So, if you're confused about anything, please feel free to ask questions!  There's a chance that something that doesn't make sense will not be explained otherwise!

And again thank you so much for reading! <3