Finding Eden [contest fic] 1/2
Title: Finding Eden
Rating: PG-13
Form: 1/2
Genre: Drama, angstish?
Summary: Yunho wakes up in a world very different to his own, and has to question everything he's ever known.
I wrote this for the Good Friday / Twist Yunjae competition, & it got 4th in the extended piece category. I had to write this horridly fast (as my first idea just didn't work out. >_<) and it ended up not quite being what I'd have liked it to be. I hope you enjoy it anyway. ^^;
Beat. Beat. Beat.
BEEEEEEEEEP.
White. Why was it so bright? So many lights…
“Morning.”
“Morning.” He automated back, but then could figure out why. The sheets were ripped back, disappearing into the end of the bed. He stared at them as they retreated. What…
The room was white.
“Teeth.”
“Teeth.” He automated back, and really didn’t understand why. But he was moving, feet resting on a soft floor. Also white. To the side of the room. A toothbrush appeared from the wall, white foam bubbling up to coat its bristles.
He stared at it.
“Teeth.”
He looked up, for some reason looking for the source of the voice in the ceiling. There was nothing but white though, and nothing else in the room but white. Toothbrush. Sink. Bed. No sheets. Everything wais smooth, plastic looking.
Where the fuck was he.
“Hello?” He asked, his voice cracking like it’d never been used, even though he’d spoken already since he woke. He stepped back from the sink and the foaming toothbrush, and looked for a door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Silence answered him. He noticed though that there was a faint buzzing noise that filled the whole room, irritating in its constancy.
He knocked on the wall, oddly not worried about being in a room with no doors, no windows and nothing inside it but the stark whiteness. Everything just was, like it was perfectly normal.
When nothing happened, he went and sat on the end of the bed.
Time has no meaning when there is nothing to measure it by, so he had idea how long he sat there before cracks appeared in the wall and a door emerged. A man in white walked through.
“Hello Yunho.” He said, in a calm, even tone.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Yunho asked abruptly, wondering what is going on. The man came over to stand in front of him, and Yunho felt obliged to stand too.
“Do you remember anything Yunho?” The man asked, not answering anything. Yunho frowned. Of course he did.
“Of course I do.”
“Tell me the last thing you remember then.” The man requested, still very calm and even.
Brow furrowing, Yunho didn’t quite get the question.
“We had practice… a long one, for the concert.” He frowned a little, suddenly realising he was having trouble recalling. “Then… then… I think there was a problem, with the set? I hit my head… or something. I think.” He remembered sharp pain, and then a giddy dizziness that made the world spin; a blur of faces and hands crowding him. “But then... I think we went home after that.” He hoped. Guessed.
His hand reached up, absently, trying to find a bump, a wound. There was nothing there but short spiky hair though. His frowned deepened. What had happened to his hair?
“But you don’t have a memory of going home?” The man asked, and Yunho shook his head slightly, slowly.
“No… no, I can’t. What’s going on - why am I here?” He asked again, trying not to get sidetracked.
“No need to worry Yunho, no need to worry at all.” The man said, for the first time showing a hint of humanity.
He pulled out a syringe from somewhere, and Yunho found himself offering his arm without thinking about it.
“It’s good to have you back.” The man said, something like sincerity lacing the words. Yunho didn’t have too much time to ponder what that meant however, as the man found his vein and pressed down.
The needle slid into his arm before he could even jerk himself away, and then the room span away into cool blackness.
“Yunho?” The voice was far away, and fuzzy around the edges, but so very familiar. Yunho frowned a little, and struggled to bring himself to wakefulness.
“Mnn..” He coughed, his throat unbearably dry, and tried cracking open his eyes. It was damned bright, but the warm hand that grasped his made him want to see who it was, where he was.
“Oh god, Yunho…”
The brightness faded, his eyesight coming back into focus, and he could finally see the man by his bed. Yunho let out a sigh of relief, and drunk in the reassuring, familiar sight of his lover.
“Jaejoong…” He mumbled. For there Jaejoong was, leaning over him with a soft, ever so relieved expression, his hand tightly clasped around Yunho’s on the bed. Jaejoong lent forward and pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead.
“Thank god you’re alright.” Jaejoong whispered, and Yunho blinked bewilderedly, swallowing to wet his throat. Jaejoong immediately reached over to give him a glass of water, which he sipped at gratefully, finding cool relief as the liquid slid down his throat.
“Alright? I had the weirdest dream Joongie…” He said, thinking back on the strange white room and the bizarreness of it all. Strange, what people’s subconscious could cook up. “Where are we?” He asked, suddenly realising that he was still not in their apartment.
“We’re at the hospital. You collapsed last night - they think that hit to your head did some damage. You’ve been unconscious for a day now.” Jaejoong explained, smoothing back Yunho’s hair. “God, I was so worried.” He murmured, before giving Yunho’s hand another squeeze.
Well. A knock to the head certainly accounted for the weirdness of his dreams. He couldn’t believe he’d ended up in hospital though! He was fine… a little dizzy maybe, but just fine. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Jaejoong shushed him before he got a chance to speak.
“Just take it easy. I’ve got to go get a doctor, and call the guys, to let them know you’re alright.” Jaejoong instructed, firmly. “Don’t you dare try to do anything stupid - like trying to get up.” The singer gave him a stern look, all too aware of Yunho’s persistent over taxing of himself. Yunho smiled wirily at him, but nodded, content to play the good patient for now at least. Jaejoong’s glare faded away and he returned the smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Yunho’s lips.
“Love you.” Yunho breathed against the softness of Jae’s mouth. Jaejoong gave him one last peck before moving back.
“Love you too.” The singer said. “Aish, I think you’ll be the death of me.” He went on with exasperated fondness, before turning to leave the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and Yunho’s attention was able to move to take in the room he inhabited.
He’d always hated hospitals. He had spent way too much time in them in pain or watching one of his loved ones in pain, in rooms like this one. Yet, at the same time, it was reassuring in its familiarity. It was white and generic, yet bore little resemblance to the strange stark room of his dream. He was glad. The room, the whole dream really, had been disconcerting and vaguely uncomfortable, and he got a slight creeping feeling up his back even now as he thought about it.
So strange…
His head throbbed a little, Jaejoong’s explanation bringing about the realisation of the wound there. He felt tired too, drained of all energy. He supposed it wasn’t uncommon really, given a head wound. It was lucky it wasn’t anything more serious then an egg and some weird dreams… knowing his luck, he’d have thought it more likely that a knock to his head would do something worse.
He was tired now though, and he let himself relax back into his pillow, taking Jaejoong’s advice to take it easy. Going back to sleep sounded pretty appealing…
Yunho’s eyes drooped, sliding closed slowly. It was only seconds before he slipped into a deep slumber.
“Yunho? Yunho!” The voice was female, insistent with an edge of near hysteria to it. It sounded familiar too, somehow, and as Yunho struggled to wakefulness again, he wondered why he had to get up. Wasn’t resting a good thing?
“Mnph?” It wasn’t so much a word as a grunt, as he blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to adapt to the sudden light.
“Oh my god, Yunho!” And then someone was hugging him. The scent rushed through him, even as his eyes widened in shock. He looked down to see a dark head of hair, streaked through with grey.
“Mother?” He whispered, in disbelief. What was his mother doing here? A hit on the head hardly constituted getting his parents to the hospital so quickly, and he hardly thought his mother would react like this, given that Jaejoong at least already knew he was okay.
“My baby…” she was sobbing against him now, and he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, wondering what was going on.
It was only once she released him enough to look into his face that he realised it was his mother… except, not, somehow. She looked like she’d aged about 10 years since he’d last seen her, her face creased with worry and stress.
“Mamma?” He repeated, incredulous.
“Oh my baby boy…” She said, cupping his face with a desperation that scared Yunho. He reached up to cover her worn hands with his own, trying to reassure not only her but also himself. “I thought you’d never come back to us.” She said, wet streaks adoring her cheeks as tears slid down them.
“Come back where, mamma?” He asked gently. “I haven’t been anywhere.” Well, no more then usual. She sniffed, shaking her head as more tears fell.
“Yunho… You don’t….?” She broke off, eyes closing tightly for a moment before opening them again, stroking over his cheeks with her thumb. “My baby…”
“Mamma, what’s going on?” He asked, more insistently. Her hands fell away from him slowly, and she sat back on the bed, sitting at his side. It was only then that Yunho afforded even a cursory glance at the room around them, and what he saw made his breath catch.
White. Empty whiteness… no windows, no door… the room from his dream.
“Mother! Where are we?!” He could feel his heartbeat speeding up, the strange, unfamiliar surroundings sending off alarm bells everywhere inside him.
His mother touched his hand, looking as if she was going to burst out sobbing again at any moment.
“Honey… we’re in your room, at Indok Institution.” She said gently. Yunho just stared at her.
“My room?” He repeated. He’d never heard of the place, and this definitely wasn’t his room. “This isn’t my room mamma.”
The light touch on his hand shifted, until his mother was holding his hand between both her own.
“Yes it is. Yunho, you’ve been living here for nine years now.”
Things had gone a little haywire after that.
The room blurred, and he could hear someone screaming angrily. His mother’s face flashed in front of his eyes again, and then his vision filled with white, the room taking over all of his senses until he felt himself falling, overwhelmed by the whiteness.
“Yunho!” Another voice, calling his name. His brain swum madly, trying to latch onto something solid.
“Hyung! Wake up!”
“Yunho!”
He jerked awake with a start this time, sucking in deep breaths of air desperately, like he’d been drowning.
His eyes flew around the room, searching for an answer - trying to figure out where he was, what was real. A generic hospital room and two concerned faces met his gaze. Yoochun was standing over one side of his bed, hand on Yunho’s shoulder; Changmin stood just next to him, looking down at him with worry.
“Are you okay hyung? You were thrashing around in your sleep.” Changmin asked, serious face knotted in his apprehension. “You wouldn’t wake up.”
“I think I should go get a doctor or something.” Yoochun dithered, not sure what to do. “I thought Jaejoong said you were okay!” He said almost accusingly.
“I am okay!” Yunho reassured quickly. He rubbed at his face. “I’m just fine.” He mumbled, almost to himself.
He looked up at his two band mates, eyes raking over every detail of them, as if trying to reassure himself that they were real, were right there, that this wasn’t a dream. They stared back at him, puzzled.
“Yunho are you sure…” Yoochun began, not liking the spacey way Yunho was looking around and the weird way he was eyeing Changmin and himself. Yunho shook his head though sharply.
“No, no, I’m fine, really. How long was I asleep?” He asked. Changmin looked at his watch, and then back up at him.
“Jaejoong rang us late last night… manager-hyung wouldn’t let us come til this morning though.”
“And I sent Jaejoong home. He didn’t sleep at all the last couple of nights.” Yoochun added, frowning slightly. “He was really worried. We all were.”
“Yeah… you end up in hospital far too often hyung.” Changmin chimed in, and Yoochun elbowed him for the comment. Yunho just smiled though, feeling far more at ease now. The image of that white room still niggled at him however, and he shook his head a little to try and disperse it.
“I know… I’m sorry guys. I think I must be accident prone or something.” He sighed out. Yoochun laid a hand back on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
“It’s okay Yunho, just get better quick! We suck at practice without you.” Yoochun said, and Yunho snorted.
“I’ve no doubt.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself! Just because you suck doesn’t mean the rest of us do!” Changmin protested, setting off a small fight between the two younger boys, inclusive of flailing arms and increasingly stupid insults. Yunho couldn’t help but laugh at their antics.
“Seriously hyung. Don’t stress yourself. We’ll manage fine for a few days while you rest and get better. Junsu’s out doing the Mnet interview piece about the concert right now, and he’ll take your spot tomorrow on the gameshow with Yoochun as well. We’ll be fine.” Changmin said, ever the pragmatist, and knowing Yunho well enough that worrying about their schedule would never be far from his mind.
Yunho gave him smile of gratitude, and tried to squash the part of him that was berating himself for being hurt yet again and forcing the others to take on his workload. He hated hospitals for this - not just because they were places of pain and sickness, but because they kept him away from his band mates and his job.
“Did the doctor say anything about when I could go home?” He asked them, hoping that it was a few days at the most. They had a lot to do before their next concert, and little time to do it in.
“Well, apparently, you’ve got a hard head.” Yoochun sniggered out. “So, the doctor said it doesn’t look like there’s anything really wrong with you, so you should be able to get out of here soon.”
”So long as you don’t damage yourself further by doing stupid things.” Changmin added in dryly, and Yunho shot him an unamused look, to which the youngest merely raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, so look after yourself, okay? And come back to us soon to stop the suckage.” Yoochun gave him a cheeky grin, and Changmin whacked him.
“We gotta go hyung, we’re meeting at the studio for more dance practice, since choreographer-hyung thinks some people need it.” The youngest was giving pointed looks at Yoochun the whole time, who squawked indignantly. The preschool fight looked ready to break out again any minute though, so Yunho spoke up quickly.
“Okay, okay, off you guys go then. Save it for the dance floor, yeah?” He commanded, giving them an ‘I’m the leader, do as I say’ look. Both of them looked suitably cowed.
“Yes hyung.” They chimed, like good little children, and then ruined it by sniggering.
“Aish! Get out of here you two!” Yunho exclaimed, looking around for something to throw at them.
The pair quickly scooted out the door, waving merrily at him in parting. The whole room seemed to deflate a little after they’d gone, like the energy had been sapped from it. Indeed, Yunho felt a little that way himself, leaning back into his pillows and fighting a bout of dizziness. He’d felt fine a minute before, fine when he was talking to the guys…
Maybe that hit to the head wasn’t healing as fast as they’d hoped. Yunho decided he didn’t want to think like that, and instead concentrated on breathing evenly.
It seemed to do the trick, and after a few minutes, he felt better. Not trusting himself further however, he remained lying down like that until a nurse came to bring him lunch. She checked his temperature and his head, upon his request, and told him it looked okay to her. His doctor would be by later on, he was told, and would he like to watch some TV?
So he ate his (horribly bland) lunch, and nibbled slowly on a bread roll as he half-heartedly watched some stupid variety show on TV, amusing himself by thinking about what DBSK would do if on the show.
His doctor came and went, assuring him everything was just fine, and suggesting he take a nap in the afternoon. He settled down for one, somehow dreading what he might happen once he did actually sleep.
When Yunho ‘woke’ this time, he was not on a bed, but standing in front of the white sink he’d seen in the first ‘dream’ he’d had, with a toothbrush in his mouth and the weird voice echoing around the room.
He spat out the foam in his mouth, finding it tasted like baking powder, and splashed his face in the sink. After that, the wall snatched back the toothbrush, and he was left alone again in the disturbingly empty room.
Sitting on the bed again, he waited for someone to come.
He wasn’t disappointed; a few minutes later a crack in the wall appeared, and a door emerged, just like it had the first time. And just like the first time, a man in white stepped through. This time though, he was followed by the woman that looked so much like his mother.
The woman who had told him he’d been living in this room for nine years.
“Yunho.” The man said, keeping himself between Yunho and his mother in a way that unsettled Yunho slightly.
“Yes…?” He replied hesitantly, unsure as to what was expected, or what to expect.
“Honey, do you remember what happened last time you woke up?” His mother asked, and Yunho frowned. Last time he woke up? Last time he dreamed…
“You said I’d been here for years…” He said slowly.
“That’s right. Do you re-” The man was cut off abruptly when Yunho ploughed over the top of him, not content to let this encounter proceed like the last two, generating more questions then answers.
“Where is here? What is this ‘Institute’ place for?” He demanded.
The man and his mother exchanged glances, before the man nodded slightly. His mother stepped forward a little, biting her lip in apprehension as she thought about how to proceed. Yunho just eyed her levelly, waiting. He was sick of waking up confused.
“It’s… a hospital, of sorts.” His mother began slowly. When Yunho didn’t speak up, she hesitantly continued. “It’s a place to help people that have… certain problems.” She was fidgeting, a familiar movement of fingers tumbling over each other that she only did when very upset. Yunho didn’t take it as a good sign.
“What kind of problems?” He prodded, looking to the man and back to his mother.
“We help those that aren’t quite ready to interact with the outside world.” The man supplied, when his mother looked lost for words. Yunho just frowned, a creeping suspicion coming upon him.
“Wait… are you saying…” He stopped to consider his words, but nothing else seemed to fit. “You’re saying I’m in a crazy house.”
The apprehensive look on his mother’s face was enough to confirm it, even as the man spoke up to say that wasn’t really the preferred term. To Yunho’s mind though, it didn’t matter what you called it - it amounted to the same thing. He was in a mental institute.
This was some messed up dream he was having. What made it worse was that it felt so undeniably real.
“Why?” Was all he could come up with, eyes shifting from one face to the other, searching for a clue.
The man cleared his throat, almost as if he were uncomfortable. His mother didn’t answer either, her eyes welling up with more tears.
“Why?!” He repeated, more forcefully, standing now. The man took a step back, and even his mother seemed to shrink in the face of his question.
“Oh Yunho… my poor baby boy…” She whispered. His eyes turned on her, begging for answers. “When you were 13, you had- ” Her words stuttered, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, looking completely stricken. For a moment, Yunho felt terrible, making his mother live through such obvious pain. But then he remembered that this was just a dream, and this was not really his mother.
“You had an accident.” She finally said, after a few deep breaths and a struggle to contain her emotions. “You were hit by a car on the street, on your way to school. For a long while you wouldn’t wake up, and the doctors told us there was brain damage.” Yunho stared at her in disbelief.
“I’ve never been hit by a car!” He exclaimed. The woman just looked at him, expression near broken.
“You were, honey. Hit by a drunk driver. You didn’t wake up for weeks and weeks, and we thought you might never wake again.” His mother stepped forward, leading him back the bed. Yunho all but dismissed the presence of the man from his mind, focusing solely on his mother and the story she was telling, no matter how disbelieving of it he was.
“About two months after you went into a coma, you woke up.” She choked a little, swallowing hard before gathering herself enough continue. “You woke up, but… it was like you were seeing something completely different from what was in front of you. You started to talk to people that weren’t there, acting strangely and ignoring everything around you. The doctors said the brain damage had affected you heavily, that you were delusional and living in a world of your own. You didn’t see any of us anymore… you just saw your band and the life you’d created for yourself.”
Yunho’s breathing had sped up as she spoke, getting more and more indignant as the story unfolded.
“You’re trying to tell me I dreamt up the last nine years of my life? That I’m just some crazy kid with delusions of grandeur?” He retorted angrily. “I didn’t make up Dong Bang Shin Ki. I didn’t!” He exclaimed, at a loss as to why she’d be claiming something so absurd.
She shook her head sadly though.
“No, you didn’t. Dong Bang Shin Ki is real enough, Yunho. It’s just, you were never a part of it.”
>>> On to Part 2
Rating: PG-13
Form: 1/2
Genre: Drama, angstish?
Summary: Yunho wakes up in a world very different to his own, and has to question everything he's ever known.
I wrote this for the Good Friday / Twist Yunjae competition, & it got 4th in the extended piece category. I had to write this horridly fast (as my first idea just didn't work out. >_<) and it ended up not quite being what I'd have liked it to be. I hope you enjoy it anyway. ^^;
Beat. Beat. Beat.
BEEEEEEEEEP.
White. Why was it so bright? So many lights…
“Morning.”
“Morning.” He automated back, but then could figure out why. The sheets were ripped back, disappearing into the end of the bed. He stared at them as they retreated. What…
The room was white.
“Teeth.”
“Teeth.” He automated back, and really didn’t understand why. But he was moving, feet resting on a soft floor. Also white. To the side of the room. A toothbrush appeared from the wall, white foam bubbling up to coat its bristles.
He stared at it.
“Teeth.”
He looked up, for some reason looking for the source of the voice in the ceiling. There was nothing but white though, and nothing else in the room but white. Toothbrush. Sink. Bed. No sheets. Everything wais smooth, plastic looking.
Where the fuck was he.
“Hello?” He asked, his voice cracking like it’d never been used, even though he’d spoken already since he woke. He stepped back from the sink and the foaming toothbrush, and looked for a door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
Silence answered him. He noticed though that there was a faint buzzing noise that filled the whole room, irritating in its constancy.
He knocked on the wall, oddly not worried about being in a room with no doors, no windows and nothing inside it but the stark whiteness. Everything just was, like it was perfectly normal.
When nothing happened, he went and sat on the end of the bed.
Time has no meaning when there is nothing to measure it by, so he had idea how long he sat there before cracks appeared in the wall and a door emerged. A man in white walked through.
“Hello Yunho.” He said, in a calm, even tone.
“Where am I? Who are you?” Yunho asked abruptly, wondering what is going on. The man came over to stand in front of him, and Yunho felt obliged to stand too.
“Do you remember anything Yunho?” The man asked, not answering anything. Yunho frowned. Of course he did.
“Of course I do.”
“Tell me the last thing you remember then.” The man requested, still very calm and even.
Brow furrowing, Yunho didn’t quite get the question.
“We had practice… a long one, for the concert.” He frowned a little, suddenly realising he was having trouble recalling. “Then… then… I think there was a problem, with the set? I hit my head… or something. I think.” He remembered sharp pain, and then a giddy dizziness that made the world spin; a blur of faces and hands crowding him. “But then... I think we went home after that.” He hoped. Guessed.
His hand reached up, absently, trying to find a bump, a wound. There was nothing there but short spiky hair though. His frowned deepened. What had happened to his hair?
“But you don’t have a memory of going home?” The man asked, and Yunho shook his head slightly, slowly.
“No… no, I can’t. What’s going on - why am I here?” He asked again, trying not to get sidetracked.
“No need to worry Yunho, no need to worry at all.” The man said, for the first time showing a hint of humanity.
He pulled out a syringe from somewhere, and Yunho found himself offering his arm without thinking about it.
“It’s good to have you back.” The man said, something like sincerity lacing the words. Yunho didn’t have too much time to ponder what that meant however, as the man found his vein and pressed down.
The needle slid into his arm before he could even jerk himself away, and then the room span away into cool blackness.
“Yunho?” The voice was far away, and fuzzy around the edges, but so very familiar. Yunho frowned a little, and struggled to bring himself to wakefulness.
“Mnn..” He coughed, his throat unbearably dry, and tried cracking open his eyes. It was damned bright, but the warm hand that grasped his made him want to see who it was, where he was.
“Oh god, Yunho…”
The brightness faded, his eyesight coming back into focus, and he could finally see the man by his bed. Yunho let out a sigh of relief, and drunk in the reassuring, familiar sight of his lover.
“Jaejoong…” He mumbled. For there Jaejoong was, leaning over him with a soft, ever so relieved expression, his hand tightly clasped around Yunho’s on the bed. Jaejoong lent forward and pressed a lingering kiss on his forehead.
“Thank god you’re alright.” Jaejoong whispered, and Yunho blinked bewilderedly, swallowing to wet his throat. Jaejoong immediately reached over to give him a glass of water, which he sipped at gratefully, finding cool relief as the liquid slid down his throat.
“Alright? I had the weirdest dream Joongie…” He said, thinking back on the strange white room and the bizarreness of it all. Strange, what people’s subconscious could cook up. “Where are we?” He asked, suddenly realising that he was still not in their apartment.
“We’re at the hospital. You collapsed last night - they think that hit to your head did some damage. You’ve been unconscious for a day now.” Jaejoong explained, smoothing back Yunho’s hair. “God, I was so worried.” He murmured, before giving Yunho’s hand another squeeze.
Well. A knock to the head certainly accounted for the weirdness of his dreams. He couldn’t believe he’d ended up in hospital though! He was fine… a little dizzy maybe, but just fine. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Jaejoong shushed him before he got a chance to speak.
“Just take it easy. I’ve got to go get a doctor, and call the guys, to let them know you’re alright.” Jaejoong instructed, firmly. “Don’t you dare try to do anything stupid - like trying to get up.” The singer gave him a stern look, all too aware of Yunho’s persistent over taxing of himself. Yunho smiled wirily at him, but nodded, content to play the good patient for now at least. Jaejoong’s glare faded away and he returned the smile, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Yunho’s lips.
“Love you.” Yunho breathed against the softness of Jae’s mouth. Jaejoong gave him one last peck before moving back.
“Love you too.” The singer said. “Aish, I think you’ll be the death of me.” He went on with exasperated fondness, before turning to leave the room. The door clicked shut behind him, and Yunho’s attention was able to move to take in the room he inhabited.
He’d always hated hospitals. He had spent way too much time in them in pain or watching one of his loved ones in pain, in rooms like this one. Yet, at the same time, it was reassuring in its familiarity. It was white and generic, yet bore little resemblance to the strange stark room of his dream. He was glad. The room, the whole dream really, had been disconcerting and vaguely uncomfortable, and he got a slight creeping feeling up his back even now as he thought about it.
So strange…
His head throbbed a little, Jaejoong’s explanation bringing about the realisation of the wound there. He felt tired too, drained of all energy. He supposed it wasn’t uncommon really, given a head wound. It was lucky it wasn’t anything more serious then an egg and some weird dreams… knowing his luck, he’d have thought it more likely that a knock to his head would do something worse.
He was tired now though, and he let himself relax back into his pillow, taking Jaejoong’s advice to take it easy. Going back to sleep sounded pretty appealing…
Yunho’s eyes drooped, sliding closed slowly. It was only seconds before he slipped into a deep slumber.
“Yunho? Yunho!” The voice was female, insistent with an edge of near hysteria to it. It sounded familiar too, somehow, and as Yunho struggled to wakefulness again, he wondered why he had to get up. Wasn’t resting a good thing?
“Mnph?” It wasn’t so much a word as a grunt, as he blinked his eyes open slowly, trying to adapt to the sudden light.
“Oh my god, Yunho!” And then someone was hugging him. The scent rushed through him, even as his eyes widened in shock. He looked down to see a dark head of hair, streaked through with grey.
“Mother?” He whispered, in disbelief. What was his mother doing here? A hit on the head hardly constituted getting his parents to the hospital so quickly, and he hardly thought his mother would react like this, given that Jaejoong at least already knew he was okay.
“My baby…” she was sobbing against him now, and he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, wondering what was going on.
It was only once she released him enough to look into his face that he realised it was his mother… except, not, somehow. She looked like she’d aged about 10 years since he’d last seen her, her face creased with worry and stress.
“Mamma?” He repeated, incredulous.
“Oh my baby boy…” She said, cupping his face with a desperation that scared Yunho. He reached up to cover her worn hands with his own, trying to reassure not only her but also himself. “I thought you’d never come back to us.” She said, wet streaks adoring her cheeks as tears slid down them.
“Come back where, mamma?” He asked gently. “I haven’t been anywhere.” Well, no more then usual. She sniffed, shaking her head as more tears fell.
“Yunho… You don’t….?” She broke off, eyes closing tightly for a moment before opening them again, stroking over his cheeks with her thumb. “My baby…”
“Mamma, what’s going on?” He asked, more insistently. Her hands fell away from him slowly, and she sat back on the bed, sitting at his side. It was only then that Yunho afforded even a cursory glance at the room around them, and what he saw made his breath catch.
White. Empty whiteness… no windows, no door… the room from his dream.
“Mother! Where are we?!” He could feel his heartbeat speeding up, the strange, unfamiliar surroundings sending off alarm bells everywhere inside him.
His mother touched his hand, looking as if she was going to burst out sobbing again at any moment.
“Honey… we’re in your room, at Indok Institution.” She said gently. Yunho just stared at her.
“My room?” He repeated. He’d never heard of the place, and this definitely wasn’t his room. “This isn’t my room mamma.”
The light touch on his hand shifted, until his mother was holding his hand between both her own.
“Yes it is. Yunho, you’ve been living here for nine years now.”
Things had gone a little haywire after that.
The room blurred, and he could hear someone screaming angrily. His mother’s face flashed in front of his eyes again, and then his vision filled with white, the room taking over all of his senses until he felt himself falling, overwhelmed by the whiteness.
“Yunho!” Another voice, calling his name. His brain swum madly, trying to latch onto something solid.
“Hyung! Wake up!”
“Yunho!”
He jerked awake with a start this time, sucking in deep breaths of air desperately, like he’d been drowning.
His eyes flew around the room, searching for an answer - trying to figure out where he was, what was real. A generic hospital room and two concerned faces met his gaze. Yoochun was standing over one side of his bed, hand on Yunho’s shoulder; Changmin stood just next to him, looking down at him with worry.
“Are you okay hyung? You were thrashing around in your sleep.” Changmin asked, serious face knotted in his apprehension. “You wouldn’t wake up.”
“I think I should go get a doctor or something.” Yoochun dithered, not sure what to do. “I thought Jaejoong said you were okay!” He said almost accusingly.
“I am okay!” Yunho reassured quickly. He rubbed at his face. “I’m just fine.” He mumbled, almost to himself.
He looked up at his two band mates, eyes raking over every detail of them, as if trying to reassure himself that they were real, were right there, that this wasn’t a dream. They stared back at him, puzzled.
“Yunho are you sure…” Yoochun began, not liking the spacey way Yunho was looking around and the weird way he was eyeing Changmin and himself. Yunho shook his head though sharply.
“No, no, I’m fine, really. How long was I asleep?” He asked. Changmin looked at his watch, and then back up at him.
“Jaejoong rang us late last night… manager-hyung wouldn’t let us come til this morning though.”
“And I sent Jaejoong home. He didn’t sleep at all the last couple of nights.” Yoochun added, frowning slightly. “He was really worried. We all were.”
“Yeah… you end up in hospital far too often hyung.” Changmin chimed in, and Yoochun elbowed him for the comment. Yunho just smiled though, feeling far more at ease now. The image of that white room still niggled at him however, and he shook his head a little to try and disperse it.
“I know… I’m sorry guys. I think I must be accident prone or something.” He sighed out. Yoochun laid a hand back on his shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.
“It’s okay Yunho, just get better quick! We suck at practice without you.” Yoochun said, and Yunho snorted.
“I’ve no doubt.”
“Hey! Speak for yourself! Just because you suck doesn’t mean the rest of us do!” Changmin protested, setting off a small fight between the two younger boys, inclusive of flailing arms and increasingly stupid insults. Yunho couldn’t help but laugh at their antics.
“Seriously hyung. Don’t stress yourself. We’ll manage fine for a few days while you rest and get better. Junsu’s out doing the Mnet interview piece about the concert right now, and he’ll take your spot tomorrow on the gameshow with Yoochun as well. We’ll be fine.” Changmin said, ever the pragmatist, and knowing Yunho well enough that worrying about their schedule would never be far from his mind.
Yunho gave him smile of gratitude, and tried to squash the part of him that was berating himself for being hurt yet again and forcing the others to take on his workload. He hated hospitals for this - not just because they were places of pain and sickness, but because they kept him away from his band mates and his job.
“Did the doctor say anything about when I could go home?” He asked them, hoping that it was a few days at the most. They had a lot to do before their next concert, and little time to do it in.
“Well, apparently, you’ve got a hard head.” Yoochun sniggered out. “So, the doctor said it doesn’t look like there’s anything really wrong with you, so you should be able to get out of here soon.”
”So long as you don’t damage yourself further by doing stupid things.” Changmin added in dryly, and Yunho shot him an unamused look, to which the youngest merely raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, so look after yourself, okay? And come back to us soon to stop the suckage.” Yoochun gave him a cheeky grin, and Changmin whacked him.
“We gotta go hyung, we’re meeting at the studio for more dance practice, since choreographer-hyung thinks some people need it.” The youngest was giving pointed looks at Yoochun the whole time, who squawked indignantly. The preschool fight looked ready to break out again any minute though, so Yunho spoke up quickly.
“Okay, okay, off you guys go then. Save it for the dance floor, yeah?” He commanded, giving them an ‘I’m the leader, do as I say’ look. Both of them looked suitably cowed.
“Yes hyung.” They chimed, like good little children, and then ruined it by sniggering.
“Aish! Get out of here you two!” Yunho exclaimed, looking around for something to throw at them.
The pair quickly scooted out the door, waving merrily at him in parting. The whole room seemed to deflate a little after they’d gone, like the energy had been sapped from it. Indeed, Yunho felt a little that way himself, leaning back into his pillows and fighting a bout of dizziness. He’d felt fine a minute before, fine when he was talking to the guys…
Maybe that hit to the head wasn’t healing as fast as they’d hoped. Yunho decided he didn’t want to think like that, and instead concentrated on breathing evenly.
It seemed to do the trick, and after a few minutes, he felt better. Not trusting himself further however, he remained lying down like that until a nurse came to bring him lunch. She checked his temperature and his head, upon his request, and told him it looked okay to her. His doctor would be by later on, he was told, and would he like to watch some TV?
So he ate his (horribly bland) lunch, and nibbled slowly on a bread roll as he half-heartedly watched some stupid variety show on TV, amusing himself by thinking about what DBSK would do if on the show.
His doctor came and went, assuring him everything was just fine, and suggesting he take a nap in the afternoon. He settled down for one, somehow dreading what he might happen once he did actually sleep.
When Yunho ‘woke’ this time, he was not on a bed, but standing in front of the white sink he’d seen in the first ‘dream’ he’d had, with a toothbrush in his mouth and the weird voice echoing around the room.
He spat out the foam in his mouth, finding it tasted like baking powder, and splashed his face in the sink. After that, the wall snatched back the toothbrush, and he was left alone again in the disturbingly empty room.
Sitting on the bed again, he waited for someone to come.
He wasn’t disappointed; a few minutes later a crack in the wall appeared, and a door emerged, just like it had the first time. And just like the first time, a man in white stepped through. This time though, he was followed by the woman that looked so much like his mother.
The woman who had told him he’d been living in this room for nine years.
“Yunho.” The man said, keeping himself between Yunho and his mother in a way that unsettled Yunho slightly.
“Yes…?” He replied hesitantly, unsure as to what was expected, or what to expect.
“Honey, do you remember what happened last time you woke up?” His mother asked, and Yunho frowned. Last time he woke up? Last time he dreamed…
“You said I’d been here for years…” He said slowly.
“That’s right. Do you re-” The man was cut off abruptly when Yunho ploughed over the top of him, not content to let this encounter proceed like the last two, generating more questions then answers.
“Where is here? What is this ‘Institute’ place for?” He demanded.
The man and his mother exchanged glances, before the man nodded slightly. His mother stepped forward a little, biting her lip in apprehension as she thought about how to proceed. Yunho just eyed her levelly, waiting. He was sick of waking up confused.
“It’s… a hospital, of sorts.” His mother began slowly. When Yunho didn’t speak up, she hesitantly continued. “It’s a place to help people that have… certain problems.” She was fidgeting, a familiar movement of fingers tumbling over each other that she only did when very upset. Yunho didn’t take it as a good sign.
“What kind of problems?” He prodded, looking to the man and back to his mother.
“We help those that aren’t quite ready to interact with the outside world.” The man supplied, when his mother looked lost for words. Yunho just frowned, a creeping suspicion coming upon him.
“Wait… are you saying…” He stopped to consider his words, but nothing else seemed to fit. “You’re saying I’m in a crazy house.”
The apprehensive look on his mother’s face was enough to confirm it, even as the man spoke up to say that wasn’t really the preferred term. To Yunho’s mind though, it didn’t matter what you called it - it amounted to the same thing. He was in a mental institute.
This was some messed up dream he was having. What made it worse was that it felt so undeniably real.
“Why?” Was all he could come up with, eyes shifting from one face to the other, searching for a clue.
The man cleared his throat, almost as if he were uncomfortable. His mother didn’t answer either, her eyes welling up with more tears.
“Why?!” He repeated, more forcefully, standing now. The man took a step back, and even his mother seemed to shrink in the face of his question.
“Oh Yunho… my poor baby boy…” She whispered. His eyes turned on her, begging for answers. “When you were 13, you had- ” Her words stuttered, and she raised a hand to cover her mouth, looking completely stricken. For a moment, Yunho felt terrible, making his mother live through such obvious pain. But then he remembered that this was just a dream, and this was not really his mother.
“You had an accident.” She finally said, after a few deep breaths and a struggle to contain her emotions. “You were hit by a car on the street, on your way to school. For a long while you wouldn’t wake up, and the doctors told us there was brain damage.” Yunho stared at her in disbelief.
“I’ve never been hit by a car!” He exclaimed. The woman just looked at him, expression near broken.
“You were, honey. Hit by a drunk driver. You didn’t wake up for weeks and weeks, and we thought you might never wake again.” His mother stepped forward, leading him back the bed. Yunho all but dismissed the presence of the man from his mind, focusing solely on his mother and the story she was telling, no matter how disbelieving of it he was.
“About two months after you went into a coma, you woke up.” She choked a little, swallowing hard before gathering herself enough continue. “You woke up, but… it was like you were seeing something completely different from what was in front of you. You started to talk to people that weren’t there, acting strangely and ignoring everything around you. The doctors said the brain damage had affected you heavily, that you were delusional and living in a world of your own. You didn’t see any of us anymore… you just saw your band and the life you’d created for yourself.”
Yunho’s breathing had sped up as she spoke, getting more and more indignant as the story unfolded.
“You’re trying to tell me I dreamt up the last nine years of my life? That I’m just some crazy kid with delusions of grandeur?” He retorted angrily. “I didn’t make up Dong Bang Shin Ki. I didn’t!” He exclaimed, at a loss as to why she’d be claiming something so absurd.
She shook her head sadly though.
“No, you didn’t. Dong Bang Shin Ki is real enough, Yunho. It’s just, you were never a part of it.”
>>> On to Part 2