FRAGMENTED - Fragment 6, Part 2
- Monday, January 15th 2007
- 9:03 pm
A head thunked against the window pane with a resounding thud for the third time in only a matter of minutes as the vehicle bounced and shook on the pock marked road. A clumsy fist rose, scrubbing at the sore spot with a disgruntled groan, before ultimately a tired head lowered once more against the offending glass.
At that point he was too drained to find an alternative and too grumpy to ask for assistance.
Yet, when Changmin’s cranium collided with the car window for the fourth time, Junsu took pity on the poor boy and pulled him from his lounging sprawl against the wall. Gently, the young Kim guided the half asleep brunette against his own body, laying a heavy head atop his slender shoulder. The magnae for the most part, did not seem to notice, too deeply immersed in his trek into dream land to fight the kind offer.
A tired yawn split the boys wide lips before a cold nose dove into the fluffy sweater beneath his face, snuggling closer to the newfound warmth. Even if he wouldn’t vocally admit it, Junsu was a much more comfortable pillow then the hard glass of the window.
“Where are we going again?” Changmin mumbled into the fuzzy fabric tickling his lips, eyes closed and barely conscious of the world around him. Junsu shifted, chancing a glance at the tiny watch strapped about his slender wrist before his head plopped back against the head rest.
“To meet Yunho-hyung and the detective at the precinct.” The ill boy explained with a sniffle, and quietly extracted a tissue from his pocket. Dabbing a reddened nose caked with concealing powder, he stifled a cough before allowing his own tired eyes to close. Ever since this whole fiasco had started, not a single one of them had managed a decent night’s sleep. And the handful of hours they had managed to pass out just long enough to keep functioning, were few and far between and it was slowly taking its toll. Yoochun to his left silently shifted closer, seeking warmth as snow peppered the car windows and fog misted the glass encompassing the tiny space; yet he remained silent, lost in his own thoughts.
“Why?” Changmin queried after a long pause, and it was difficult to ascertain whether the boy was even still awake or not. His odd habit of conversing while sleeping was well known amongst them; neither of the older boys bat an eyelash at the possibility.
“I’m not sure.” Junsu replied, tucking his arm around the taller young man for lack of a better distraction and quietly fingered the youth’s hair. “They wanted us to look at something for the case, I think.” The sleepy brunette turned deeper into the sick tenors shoulder, quietly drawing comfort, both physical and emotional, from the warm embrace.
“Why didn’t they come to the apartment then, like before?”
“I don’t know Changmin-ah. Maybe they’re just too busy?”
“Mmm”
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, Changmin? It’ll be a while still... You too, Su-ah.” Yoochun finally entered the lazy conversation; however his gaze did not leave the solitude of the frozen world beyond the glass.
“…Mm…” The magnae sleepily replied, his head dipping against his fleshy pillow, succumbing to the tempting draw of unconsciousness. Junsu gently tightened his hold, supporting the slumbering youth as he slipped into dreamland while suppressing the annoying urge to cough. A glint of silver at Changmin’s neck drew his attention suddenly, and he eyed the familiar makeshift necklace, easily recognizing it.
“He misses hyung more then he lets on...” Junsu observed softly, combing idle fingers through long brunette locks and down a slender neck in an unconscious habit. Caringly, the ill boy grasped the familiar cross and tucked it back into the sleeping tenors’ shirt for secrecy and safe keeping. Somehow he knew that their little magnae hadn’t intended anyone to see his newest piece of jewelry. Yoochun cocked his head, turning from his quiet contemplation of the cold landscape just beyond the window and glanced at the sleeping sing. His own hand fell to seek out the sick youths’ unoccupied one without a thought; easily grasping the small hand that fit so perfectly inside his own.
“I think we all do.” The baritone replied, and there was something in that tone that hinted at the desire for the tenor to open up. It was soft and faint, and far from urging. But whether the dark haired vocalist caught the subtle nudging or not, he did not know.
He did not reply to it however.
“Mm.” The ill boy merely nodded a faint acquiesce and settled deeper into the folds of his seat. The baritone eyed the sick young man, studying the lines of his beautiful face with an appreciative yet scrutinizing glance. Ever since his initial breakdown all those days ago, Junsu had remained firm; once again the gentle but calm boy he had always known and loved. Yet, the former American could not decide if that was reassuring or troubling. While he was pleased to see the boys tears had dried, he was worried that Junsu was merely burying his pain instead of dealing with it. And that, in and of itself was anything but healthy.
With a weary sigh, the blond slipped his free arm around the smaller boy’s shoulders drawing Junsu into his side and rested his cheek against the petite singers’ hair. He drew comfort from the familiar warmth against his skin and the clean fragrance of that shampoo he found so relaxing.
As umber orbs slipped closed, for that single moment, he forgot everything; and simply existed.
The rest of the trip was traversed in silence.
As the car pulled to a stop in the precinct parking lot, Junsu was loathed to awaken the slumbering brunette. Changmin had sunk so deeply into a much needed sleep for the first time in days, and staring down at the exhausted youth, Junsu felt terribly for the boy. “Yoochun-ah, we don’t all need to go in do we?” The ill youth inquired softly, turning his gaze to the boy in question who was currently settled on his left shoulder.
He was almost amazed to find the blond also deep in slumber.
The youngest Kim blinked, surprised and momentarily at a loss. Both boys looked so peaceful, and yet the mark of exhaustion clearly decorated their features. He wanted so badly to simply allow them to sleep, and meet the authorities himself. Yet as he glanced between his slumbering companions, he realized that would be impossible. He was currently not only a pillow but a multipurpose cuddle toy, not just for one, but both of the singers; life and limb snugly entwined with more arms and legs then he could recognize.
If he so much as attempted to shift a foot, it would most likely awaken them both.
The engine cut, and Song Man-Young swiveled in his seat, glancing with mildly amused yet pitying eyes at the huddled cluster of limbs and light snores. His heart went out to them. It really did. In that moment, all three young men really looked their age. Innocent and small, cuddled together for warmth and comfort. The squeak of leather drew Junsu’s attention as the elder man shifted and he offered a faint smile. “I don’t want to move.” The ill boy whispered, careful to keep his timbre soft and breathing quiet. The manager nodded, leaning over the seat to gently brush a lock of hair from the magnae’s sleeping eyes. “Do they really need us all hyung?... I don’t want to make Yunho-hyung go alone but.. They really need some sleep.” Junsu asked, his hand, still comfortably curled inside Yoochun’s, gently squeezing the warm appendage unconsciously.
Song sighed, gazing from one familiar face to the next, before locking his eyes on the only awake vocalist. “They wouldn’t have requested all of us, if they did not need us.” He replied regretfully. The ill boy lowered his gaze. He knew the man could not consciously agree to his request, but he felt he had to at least ask.
Yoochun at Junsu’s side stirred, but did not awaken. Instead, his arm tightened about the sick youths’ waist, and he turned to nuzzle into the warm flesh of the younger man’s soft neck. The tenor could not help but smile at the small sound that escaped the sleeping baritone, and his fingers fondly squeezed his hand once again.
Junsu glanced down at the former American as best he could, listening to the continued beat of light snoring before cute puppy dog eyes rose to again meet their managers normally stern gaze. And those adorable orbs latched onto the man’s heart and refused to let go. Between that heartbreakingly sweet look, and the rather ‘aww’ inducing sight of the boys snuggled in such a haphazard and carefree way, he found he could not deny that simple request.
Shaking his head, he caved like a landslide.
“Tell you what. I’ll go in and ask if it’s really necessary that you all be present. If not, then you three can stay here and get some rest alright?” Man-Young conceded, and Junsu’s face lit up brighter then he had seen in days.
“Thank you, hyung.”
At that moment, Song was resolved to fight for the boys rest, even if the officers demanded their presence. The past week had been hell, and if they now found some small shred of comfort and peace in a few stolen moments of sleep, so be it. He’d fight tooth and nail for them to enjoy it as long as possible. “Here, cover up. And I’ll leave the heater running.” Song insisted, snatching up a spare blanket that had been tucked beneath the front seat. Rising onto his knee’s he carefully spread the warm fleece over all three youth’s legs, offering what little shield he could against the cold. With one last glance at the dually heart warming and heart breaking sight, the elder Korean slipped out of the vehicle and ever so gently shut the door; pleased when neither of the sleeping boys stirred.
Quickly he made his way into the building, and was easily directed to the correct floor.
Within moments he found himself in a rather comfortable, but blandly decorated office, sporting two desks, a worn couch that had seen better days and a plethora of filing cabinets with little else.
“Song, thank you for coming so quickly.” Futamaki, Utatane’s partner, welcomed him, offering a kind bow as he slipped into what he assumed was the man’s customary chair. Man-Young returned the gesture politely, but quietly refused an offered seat. “Where are the others?” The man queried, glancing momentarily to the closed door.
”I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
“Is everything alright? Did something happen?” The detective asked, sounding genuinely worried as he leaned onto his desk; brow knit in concern.
Futamaki Akiya appeared to be the exact polar opposite of his partner. Where Utatane was stoic, somewhat curt and to the point, occasionally bordering on harsh, Futamaki was polite, with an eager and earnest smile and an all around pleasing manner. He found it somewhat interesting that two men, so blatantly different, seemed to work so well together. Both were rather infamous detectives, quite famous for their accomplishments. He had been pleased when he was initially informed of their assignment to Jaejoong’s case. If anyone in Tokyo had the ability to bring the absent singer home, he honestly believed it would be them.
Shaking his head, the Korean returned to the topic at hand and offered a quick, “Oh, no, nothing like that. Its just.. well, what exactly did you need to see us for?”
“Ah. They did not tell you?” Futamaki shifted back in his seat, lifting elegant fingers to curl beneath a slim chin. Man-Young shook his head.
“No. We were simply asked to come to the precinct; we were not given an explanation.”
The detective sighed, leaning deeply into the welcoming embrace of what was once an expensive leather chair. “My apologies. You should have been informed.” He paused long enough to click a blinking light on his phone board before returning his attention to the older man. “We actually discovered a few articles of interest that we would like you all to examine. We were hoping you could identify them.”
“Articles?.. Are they Jejung’s?”
“That is what we were hoping you could confirm.”
“Alright, I’ll be happy to take a look. But, I need to ask, do you need all of us for this? Or will one or two do?”
Futamaki blinked, a plump bottom lip pouting out in an unconscious action of contemplation rather reminiscent of another young man Song was quite fond of, and sorely missed. “I don’t see why it’s necessary. Two should be plenty… Were the boys..” He paused as if searching for the right words. “not able to make it?” The detective stressed the term, hinting at a hidden meaning. And it was not all that hard for the Korean to catch. Man-Young shook his head, and silently slipped into the hard chair perched before the man’s desk.
“Actually, they’re in the car. Two of them fell asleep on the way here, and since this whole mess started, they’ve gotten so little rest... I really didn’t have the heart to wake them.” The manager explained and an understanding smile crested the younger man’s lips with a nod.
“That’s quite alright.. I really can’t say I understand what they’re going through, this case is rather unique.. But I’ve seen enough damage done to good people over the years to know the kind of toll something like this can take on a person. And I agree with you. They need what rest they can manage.”
“Thank you.”
“Will the other two be joining us then?”
“One, actually. But I’m not sure when, he came by different mean’s.”
“I’ll send someone down to the parking garage for now, to keep an eye on them until he arrives.” Futamaki offered and slid from his chair. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” He smiled politely with a quick bow before disappearing out the door.
Not more then a minute passed before voices neared the room.
The door opened to admit the solemn figure of Utatane, trailed by a talkative Futamaki and a silent Yunho brought up the rear. The eldest Japanese man carted what looked to be a small box in his hands, with a file perched almost precariously atop it. It was a wonder the manila folder did not tumble to the floor in the jumble and jostle as Akiya flitted about, whispering in an agitated and almost excited matter. Man-Young barely had a chance to glance over the mute figure of his charge, standing unobtrusively next to the door before the younger detective whirled on him with a brilliant smile.
“Wonderful news!” The man chirped, all but clapping a hand atop the box to snatch the dangling file. Song blinked, but the moment of exuberance quickly won over his curiosity and he climbed to his feet. “We don’t need you anymore.”
“What?”
“Initially we needed your identification of the items found earlier today to prompt a rush order on the processing of the DNA we discovered. But, now it’s not necessary.”
“Wait, what? What DNA? What exactly did you find?” Man-Young queried, moving to stand next to the taller officers as Utatane lowered the box atop his desk. He was confused, clearly, but from what he gathered, it was good news this time. Futamaki flashed a smile and flipped the folder open, extracting a long and rather complicated sheet of figures.
“We finally, it seems, located the exact abduction point. And with it, we discovered three separate strains of DNA. One of which, was just confirmed to belong to Jejung-san.” The man explained, passing the print out to the older Korean, his gaze flitting to the still silent singer hovering in the background before turning back to the box his partner was guarding. Song blinked, it sounded like good news, but he was uncertain why.
“Which means?”
“Which means, your missing charge managed to wound at least two of his abductors. The labs are processing the DNA now in hopes of finding a match. If they are successful, it may lead us to who exactly is holding Jejung-san.”
“Which, in turn, may lead us to where he is being held.” Futamaki finished for his partner, drawing the lid from the small box and a hand disappeared inside. “These were the items we discovered with the DNA. They’ve already been dusted and processed, but we were unable to lift any prints. Which was why we needed your help.” The younger of the two officers explained as he extracted two small plastic bags, setting them atop the desk. Utatane watched a moment before turning to meet the surprised Korean’s.
“The lab just managed to get the cell working again a few minutes ago, it suffered some pretty heavy water damage, but no one in the precinct could figure out how to navigate it. Our techs tried to download the information on it too, but they didn’t get any more than a few pictures. Incompatible software.” The man stated off handedly with a shrug, and took the small device his partner offered, free of plastic. Yunho’s eyes widened as he gazed at the familiar phone. He’d recognize it anywhere; he had been on the receiving end of one too many embarrassing photos from that very device.
“That’s.. Jejung’s.” He stated, entering the conversation for the first time and took a hesitant step forward. Utatane’s eyes slid to the young man, and he held the phone out urging the boy to take it. Yunho paused a moment longer before quietly padding into the ring of elder men and accepted the small device. The screen was cracked, and the case was horribly scuffed. Flipping the small cell phone open, he was surprised to find it still worked, despite the man’s earlier statement. It was just so damaged; it didn’t look like it was possible. He was even more surprised however, to realize it was Jaejoong’s Korean phone and not his Japanese one.
‘That’s odd. Why would he have had that with him?’
The detectives collectively watched the young man, as if expecting another confirmation of what they were already certain of. Yunho nodded as he realized this, loathed to let go of the reminder of his best friend. “It’s his.” He stated, lowering his attention once more to the screen and without a thought pulled up the boys’ photo album. The image that greeted him made his heart flutter in the oddest of ways, and he found he could not draw his gaze away from the soulful doe-eyes that peered back at him.
Man-Young shifted as the boys grip tightened on the small device, and a hand fell to the youths shoulder. “Yunho, that’s evidence. Give it back.” He stated; there was just a hint of sympathy coloring his voice but the tone was otherwise stern. The wide-eyed expression the leader donned suddenly looked startled, maybe even defiant, and the older man quickly realized just how callous that statement had been.
“No, it’s alright.” Utatane countered, slipping a hand into his pocket as the other snatched up the second bag; offering it to the youth as well. The dancer gazed at the remnants of what must have been Jaejoong’s music player. It was now in several pieces. What exactly had they done to him? “As Futamaki said, they’ve already been processed. And considering the... sensitive nature of some of the contents of that phone, I think it best that you keep it.” The man explained, and there was a faint curl of an amused smile ghosting over his lips. Yunho was elated and held the device close before a soft dusting of embarrassment slid across his cheeks as realization dawned on him. He must have seen Jaejoong’s strange collection of not so innocent photographs.
“Thank you.” He stated softly. He couldn’t quite look the man in the eye. Instead, he slipped into the nearest seat, and returned to his quiet starring at the beautiful picture forever frozen in time nestled firmly in his hands.
Man-Young gazed at the young man a moment longer before turning to the Japanese officers, a brow arched in contemplation. “So.. then, if there is a match… We can bring him home?” It was curious, but hopeful sounding and both detectives shifted, sharing a knowing look that made the Korean manager a little uneasy. The elder of the two Japanese officers sighed, and leaned back against his desk; propping a hip into the hard wood.
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. This guy, he’s smart. Too smart. If we find a match, I have no doubt that it will simply be an accomplice. And it’ll take time to track down any loose ends and trace them back to the source; if we’re lucky.” Utatane informed, meeting Man-Young’s gaze with that infallibly stern glance. Futamaki nodded, and made his way to a small tea pot set upon a portable hot plate atop one of the stuffed filing cabinets and poured himself a mug.
“Tea?” he offered as he sipped the steaming beverage, and Song shook his head. “It’s a very long process unfortunately. But we’re scratching away at it bit by bit. Almost every shred of evidence we could have hoped to find at the abduction point has been destroyed by the snow. It was a miracle we found what little we did…” The younger man continued, pausing only long enough to add a hint of honey to the strong brew then slipped back into his chair. Despite the somewhat solemn news, he bore a hopeful smile. “But, with all the recent discoveries, I know we’ll find something. What and when, however, well, there’s just no way of knowing.”
“What about your search at the river? Has it turned up anything?” Man-Young queried after casting a quick glance at the seated dancer. Yunho seemed to be lost in his own world, deeply entrenched and Song had a feeling the youth would not find his way out for a while.
“Not as much as I would have liked… Unfortunately, your charge was mistaken. Or we misinterpreted his clue. Either way, there are no train yards in the vicinity of the river. We’ve extended our areas of interest to any section heavily congested with tracks, old station stops, and switch lines.” Utatane informed, following his partners lead and made his way to his own desk; carting the file and flipped it open as he sat.
“And..” Song paused, wondering if he should ask with Yunho still in the room, but somehow, he didn’t think the boy was even listening. “The girl who made that call? Did you find anything on her?” The stern detective shook his head.
“We’ve found no sign of her or the other. We’re combing all country roads for evidence, as well as monitoring every incoming patient to all hospitals that handle cases in the area. No one we could match to what little we know of her has been admitted, and no bodies in her age range have been found since. The authorities have posted an anonymous tip requesting any information on her. But as of now, no one has come forth…”
Man-Young sighed and slumped in his shoes, letting his gaze fall to the tiled floor. It all seemed rather hopeless, and that realization left a foul taste in his mouth. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“We’re doing everything we can. If they’re still alive out there, we’ll find them.” But even that mild reassurance couldn’t cleanse the helpless feeling.
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- Tuesday, January 16th 2007
- 1:47 pm
“Nervous?” Yunho questioned softly, eyes trained on the bland ceiling; tracing erratic patterns to keep his mind blessedly blank.
Yoochun shifted, pulling the thick blankets tight beneath his chin and turned to face their steadfast leader.
They were all currently tucked into a large make shift bed that took up nearly the entire width of the room.
The four remaining boys of Dong Bang Shin Ki had quickly discovered that they did not want to, nor could they, sleep well alone. As a remedy, late Saturday evening they had banded together, hauled an extra mattress and bed frame into Jaejoong and Yoochun’s quarters and pushed all three beds together. They had spent each night since curled beneath the collection of sheets and blankets that smelled blessedly of their missing friend.
Upon returning from the precinct, Junsu and Changmin had almost immediately passed into the realm of slumber on either side of the elder musicians. But try as he might, Yoochun’s nerves were too raw and frazzled to find the peace of sleep. “A little.” He admitted quietly after a soft sigh. Down cast eyes avoided the older youths in the darkness; voice hushed so as not to disturb their sleeping band mates. “I suppose that makes me a bad person..” He continued averting his gaze in shame.
Yunho blinked, surprised by the comment and glanced at the younger man for the first time that night. “Of course not. Why would you think that?” The dancer asked gently. Yoochun snorted softly, wrapping an arm around an adjacent pillow and squeezed it tightly against his chest. Changmin was sprawled against his back, legs poking at odd angles against his own, and despite the discomfort of bony knees and crowding limbs, he did not have the heart nor will to force the boy away. Maybe it was the guilt over his own fear which kept his mouth shut.
“He’s trapped, going through hell at the hands of some crazed psychopath.. for us. Yet, here I am fretting over a couple of broken bones. How pathetic is that?.. I don’t even deserve to call him my friend.” The younger man mumbled mournfully, saddened eyes closing; trepidation and remorse heavy in his somber tone. Yunho frowned, gazing down at the upset youth and his arms tightened instinctively about himself. Since they had viewed that nights’ task video, they had all steadfastly ignored talking about it. The others had practically pretended the entire situation just didn’t exist anymore, while he, well, he had withdrawn and simply kept to himself. Consciously, they knew they didn’t have a choice; they would have to do as instructed. But that didn’t make accepting the reality of letting someone break their fingers any easier. It was obvious how affected they were by it all, it was almost sad how scared they really were, but he really couldn’t fault any of them for it. He was terrified himself. For more reasons then he dared to consider…
“Yoochun-ah, it’s normal to be frightened.” He assured in that kind yet firm ‘leader-ssi’ tone they were all familiar with and stubbornly ignored that nagging inner voice that whispered un-pleasantries at him. “It doesn’t make you any less of a man or a friend to admit it.”
The blond fell silent, nosing down into the warm blankets; a deep frown marring his brow as he lost himself in his inner musings.
After several long moments of cold silence, he gathered what courage he could and glanced up, finally meeting expectant chocolate orbs. “Do you think.. he’s afraid?” Yoochun breathed, so soft Yunho had to inch closer to hear it. “I know I would be terrified.” He continued. The dancer studied the shorter man for a moment, silent and contemplative, a nameless expression dancing in his glassy orbs before he nodded and returned his brighter than normal gaze to the ceiling.
“I would be too…” The older boy admitted quietly, and his mind threatened to once again slip away from him; dwelling on thoughts he’d rather forget.
“Are you?.. Nervous, I mean. Is that why you’re still awake?” Yoochun questioned softly, his voice hollow beneath the constant hum of the rattling heater.
The room was so quiet, even the ever present sound of breathing was muted and so faint that the roar of hot air almost sounded ominous. It sent a chill down the baritones’ spine and his nose quickly buried itself deeper into his pillow. Yunho hesitated in supplying his explanation, lifting a hand to idly finger the hem of the shared comforter. He was unsure if he should burden his band mate further with his own issues, yet the desire to answer was so strong, it was almost impossible to ignore. Closing his eyes, images he could not eradicate from his mind danced through his memory and he felt a familiar tightening in his chest.
“Honestly?” The boy queried, heavy and apprehensive. The tone was so uncharacteristic of the older male, so almost defeated sounding, that it caused the younger boy to blink and sit up a bit in surprise.
“Yunho-ah?”
The man in question sighed, unblinking eyes refocusing on the ceiling; refusing to meet the curious and worried gaze he could feel studying his features. “I’m.. unnerved…. Well, maybe.. haunted, would be a better description.” He replied softly. Feeling the young man on his right shift, he glanced down at the sleeping tenor; scrutinizing the narrow back for signs of life. When he was certain the youth slept on, he lowered into his pillow and turned his gaze to the quietly waiting man at his left. He was not surprised by the obvious curiosity in the others patient glance.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see him… I see his face… bleeding,. Begging… Bl-..” Yunho paused, swallowing as he averted his gaze; steeling his voice and quaking nerves. “I see him asking us to let him die… How could he do that?” The brunette breathed, his voice shaken and strained despite his best efforts to remain strong.
Yoochun remained silent, his grasp tightening as he studied the older man; uncertain what to say. As close as they all were and as hard as Jaejoong’s capture and torture was on all of them, he realized then, that it had to be twice as hard on their leader. Even though the blond himself considered Jaejoong his best friend, and as meaningful as their relationship was, he knew their friendship could never be quite as deep and special as Yunho and Jaejoong’s. They were one and the same, no matter the differences in their personalities. They were brothers; real soul mates. Swallowing hard, the younger man momentarily forgot his own inner turmoil’s in light of the others suffering. Gazing at the dancer with compassionate eyes, he listened, reaching a hand to rest against the leaders’ broad shoulder in a silent show of support.
“Sometimes… I think, he’s too strong for his own good.. Too stubborn. You know?” Yunho continued suddenly, a tired hand raking through his mussed locks. “If only he would give in sometimes, just, let go.. Then, maybe.. he wouldn’t…” He choked on the word suffer, unable to push it passed dry lips.
“You’re right. He is.” Yoochun replied suddenly head cocked against the pillows as he gazed at his band mate; forcing a dry smile. “But, he wouldn’t be our Jaejoong if he wasn’t.”
Yunho blinked, studying the younger boy with a queer expression, before a tired yet honest smile curved the corner of his lips. Then, almost instantly dropped again with a deep sigh. “You’re right... I just pray our Jaejoongie can survive this…”
Yoochun didn’t know how to reply to that. His head told him without a doubt that their lead singer could beat this; that he could beat anything. But his heart… his heart was afraid that this was too much for anyone to survive…
“We’ll bring him home Yunho, no matter what it takes. We’ll bring him home.”
Surprisingly, this came from Junsu, whom had stirred during their quiet conversation. Yunho turned and Yoochun sat up, both gazing at the sleepy young man currently snuggling deeper into the fragrance permeating the sheets. The black haired vocalist glanced up, meeting twin pairs of curious eyes, and his own shone firm but hopeful. “We will.” He repeated with a soft determined smile crossing his unique features. Both older youths stared at him quietly, caught off guard, yet, they were strangely soothed. Smiling faintly, Yunho gently ruffled the ill vocalists’ hair, before lying back in bed; visibly relaxing.
“We will. No matter what.” He parroted softly, pulling his blankets up higher, tucking he and his band mates in gently.
“Get some sleep hyung.” A half conscious sounding Changmin mumbled around his pillow. Whether he was truly awake or not however, was unknown.
“You better not drool on me tonight.” Yoochun snorted with a reprimanding glance at the tall tenor then snuggled deeper into his own bedding; his heart momentarily lightened. The brunette shifted without opening his eyes, and with a lazy plop dropped his cheek against the former American’s arm. Lips parted before the baritone could protest and a tongue lulled out, effectively smearing saliva on the older boys flesh.
“Eyuh!” Yoochun groused in disgust, palming the sleeping youth’s forehead and effectively shoved him and his tongue away. “That’s it! I refuse to sleep here any longer.” He grumbled and without warning lifted the comforter. Yunho blinked as the shorter boy bodily crawled over his own form, and squirmed down into the tiny gap between himself and Junsu. Not bothering to ask permission, Yoochun planted his hands and feet against the taller boys frame and shoved him aside and almost atop Changmin as he made room in his new spot. The dancer snorted; amused by what he was sure was just a ploy to lighten the mood. Reaching out, he grasped the blonds shoulder and playfully shoved him back, sending the boy into Junsu’s chest. The baritone didn’t seem to mind however, he merely wrapped his arms around the sick tenor and snuggled into his side.
That is, until Junsu accidentally sneezed in the boys face.
“Yah! I don’t know what’s worse. Drool or snot.” Yoochun grumbled, wiping the moisture from his skin on the tenors T-shirt, before turning to cling onto their leader. “Protect me from the foul bodily fluids, hyung.” He whined in his infamous baby voice, bottom lip pouting almost cutely as he flashed what he hoped were adorable puppy dog eyes in the older singers direction. They didn’t quite have the mind to laugh at the amusing antics, but at that moment the sleepy smiles the four shared were enough.
“Goodnight, you big baby.” Yunho bade softly, for one instant forgetting the darkness that awaited them and settled deeply into the comfort of blankets and close companions.
Silently the younger three shifted closer, and snuggled beneath the sheets.
“Goodnight hyung.”
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TBC..
Authors note: Well, here is the next installment. I am very sorry it took so long. I am STILL stuck on chapter 8 >.< And I felt terrible making everyone wait so I went ahead and posted. Hopefully I can figure that chapter out soon and start posting quicker. Wish me luck? ^^
I’m sure any and all readers hate me now for putting the poor boys through all this. Especially sweet Jaejoong. But I promise this isn’t the end. Take that how you will. Good or bad. As long as I’m able, I am planning several more chapters. So there is a lot to come. (good & bad XD). I hope this chapter answered a few questions though and I hope the glimmers of light were more noticeable. I’m not one hundred percent happy with this chapter either. But I tried. Forgive my pathetic attempts at humor and fluff in this bit. I’m really terrible at it. Anyway, thank you to everyone for reading. All comments, questions and criticisms are greatly appreciated. I love hearing from you guys. It motivates me to write more. Thanks again.
-hides-
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