Chapter 5

It’d been a couple of hours since they took him for a thorough examination. They triaged and patched up what they could before wheeling him back out where he would get MRI and x-rays. As far as I could tell, three of his fingers on his right hand were broken as they looked crooked and bruised. His face was black and blue as well, some were yellowing, which meant he sustained some of it days before. His neck showed a faint hand print which clearly looked like the bastard choked him hard enough that it had left marks. The doctors were worried about a fractured larynx, but since he was able to breathe on his own, though barely, they were hopeful. The bruise on his face showed the possibility of a broken cheekbone, which is another cause for concern since it was too close to his orbital bone.  

I couldn’t cry anymore. I was fresh out of tears. All I had left in me was anger and worry, two competing emotions that had already led me to the nearest washroom where I violently vomited again. I sat with James; he still had his arm around my shoulders. My eyes were closed continuing to pray to whichever deity would listen. I was grateful for James' strength, though he must've struggled as well. Like I said, they're close, but while Jju mostly took care of me, James was the person that treated Jju like his younger sibling. 

Jju’s parents arrived half an hour after I told them where we were. His mom cried softly as the police spoke; they clutched at each other - Jju's parents, anchored by each other's despair. His dad remained stoic, tears rolling down his face. His hands shook as he tried to comfort his wife. When they saw me, I stood and met them. I gathered them both, the span of my arms was long enough to hold them against me. 

“H-how?” His mom sobbed. “How did this happen, Martin?”

I let them go briefly and guided them to the bench where James and I sat.

He stood up, hugged Jju’s mom, then his dad. We’ve been quiet, James and I. Unable to process the horrific reality of what had happened to our brother. Our gentle and kind brother who could never find it in him to say a bad thing about another person. The horror that he went through for days and what kind of anger drove that monster to inflict harm in such a horrific way.  

“I-mo, we didn’t know,” I said quietly. “We only knew the bastard who did this as a colleague. We didn’t know how far their relationship went." Her shoulders shook, laden with grief.  

"Our son is too soft for this world," she mumbled tearfully. "What kind of monster would do such a thing?" She lifted her head, tentative accusation clear in her eyes. "Why didn't you protect him, Martin?" An angry flush of red coloured her cheeks. "He treated you like his brother and loved you as one, too. How could you not know?!" 

I choked on a sob. That was the second time I was asked that question hours apart and both times, they were both accusatory. What could I say? At which point in time should I have inserted myself in Juhoon's life to have prevented everything that had happened? Why was I so oblivious about Jju's life for that matter? Was it because I was too scared to find out that his life outside of mine could mean he had a person that loved him the way he wanted to be loved? Or that he loved someone more than he loved me? Was it rooted in jealousy that I could not face? But at the end of it all, I was still a bastard, wasn't I? A coward, and a selfish son of a bitch who took advantage of Jju's friendship and pretended that he had no life outside of my own needs and wants. So, yes. Their accusations of failing Juhoon were warranted.

When we were just starting, we were contractually obligated to live together for two years, after that, we were allowed to seek other living arrangements. When Jju moved out, I felt his absence right away. I missed how accessible he was to me. He found a simple condo where his security was guaranteed, so he bought it and moved into it in no time. It was during this time that I had a taste of what it was like if the company didn't forbid us from pursuing relationships. And it sucked. It wasn't because Jju flaunted it, no in fact, he hid it from me. 

It was in the way his phone would vibrate and he would look down at it with a small smile tugging on his lips. Or the way he would leave the room when he picked up a call. Once, I watched him through a glass door as he talked to someone with so much animation. It was almost uncanny to see him like that. His face was lit up. With every single phone call he took where I knew it wasn't any of us or his parents, I treated him coldly soon after. He always sensed it, though. He always knew I was seething with jealousy but we both refused to ask the questions that needed to be asked. In a way, we were both cowards. We couldn't face the realities that our relationship, though, mostly brotherly, had slowly ventured into a scary territory. 

“I’m sorry, I-mo,” I cried. But before I could continue, the doctor came back. 

He looked at all of us, in various states of sorrow. 

"The good news is that there are no permanent and irreversible damages. He has fractured both his radius and ulna but since it was close to his wrist, it should heal with a cast. Three of his fingers are broken but we've managed to realign them. The injuries on his face are all superficial, which was lucky, considering how severe it looked when they brought him in. The bruises on his neck will heal; nothing too irreparable happened there. All his cuts and wounds are superficial that will heal with care and regular dressing." 

Here, the doctor paused, then looked each of us in the eye. 

"I must tell you the injuries we found when we took off his clothes," he took a deep worrying breath. "He has bruises on his ribs indicating he was kicked repeatedly. His x-rays show three broken ribs. The person who did this," he swallowed audibly. "The monster who did this also marked his name on your son's back with a sharp object, possibly a knife." 

"Oh God," I-mo fell to her knees. I couldn't even catch her; I was in severe shock. James knelt in front of her and gathered her in his arms, tears slowly running down on his face. Jju's dad was as shell-shocked as I was. 

I trembled. 

The doctor crouched down in front of I-mo. "Are you okay, Mrs. Kim?" His face was full of concern, with a tremble in his voice asked, "shall I continue?" 

We all nodded.

"The affected area on his back is highly infected, so we put him in an aggressive antibiotics treatment. The cuts are deep as well and the scarring may last a long time, but we could talk about plastic surgery in the future if he so chooses."

He stood up slowly, taking both I-mo's hands and led her to the bench to sit. "The road to recovery will be long. He might need physical therapy for his left arm and hand, and well,  extensive psychological therapy as well. But the most important thing is, and despite the gravity of some of his injuries, in due time, he will recover."

I-mo nodded despite herself. Her arm extended out to me, pulling me beside her on the bench. It was an apology, an olive branch for accusing me of being a terrible brother. She held my hand tightly, as if she was telling me that she would need me to help his son on his journey to recovery. And I will be there, every step of the gruelling way. Because while I'm hurt that Juhoon hid half of his life from me, I understood why. 

"For now, he will be under heavy sedation for at least two days, then we'll reassess. His wounds are superficial, like I said, but due to neglect, the worry remains to be sepsis. We moved him to a private room, so you may see him now." 

I was overcome with relief and fear. Relief that he would eventually be okay and fear of what awaited us. I've always hated seeing him cry or in pain for that matter. 

There was a time when he sprained his ankle while practicing and didn't tell anyone. He worked through it until it got worse. The next morning, I woke up because I thought I heard someone whimpering. I found him on the couch, with a bag of ice on his right foot. He was crying, the kind that told me he was in agony. 

"Juhoon-ah, what's wrong?" I dropped down in front of him and assessed his entire body, looking for injuries until I saw his foot. I moved the bag of ice and gasped. "What the hell?!" I noticed the discolouration right away. It was bruised, swollen as well. "When did this happen?" 

He couldn't answer, he was in so much pain. "Y-yesterday," he said tearfully. "It didn't hurt as much but once I stopped moving, it started throbbing. I..I couldn't sleep, it feels like it's on fire." He sobbed, like actually sobbed. He's a quiet crier. His tears may stream down his face but his expression rarely changes. I once teased him that he's a pretty crier. I actually made him blush. That time though, he was making a sound, like a child or a hurt animal. All I wanted to do was comfort him. 

"Okay, let me call managernim." His face was red and blotchy. He didn't even stop me from asking for help. Normally, he would say, it was way too early for a phone call or some excuse but he didn't stop me at all. 

Thankfully, he picked up right away and as soon as I told him what happened, he didn't even hesitate. 

"He'll be here in an hour. He said we must elevate your leg." I looked around for a foot stool, or something and found a box of shirts that were sent to us as PR merch. I put it in front of him and grabbed a small cushion on which to rest his foot. Carefully, I picked up his leg, rolled up his pjs, and winced. It was awful. The discolouration spread through almost his entire foot, swollen like a balloon. 

"Jju, this looks awful." I didn't know what to do. 

"I know," he mumbled quietly, pain evident in his voice. "I didn't say anything, because we were actually in sync for once. This week had been hard and we couldn't seem to agree on anything. But yesterday, we actually clicked. I didn't want us to lose the momentum just because I sprained my ankle." 

He was still new then and we were working on our first album. So, he was very determined to prove himself to the point of obsession. 

I sat beside him, careful not to jostle his leg, then side hugged him. "Still, you could've made it worse, you stupid boy. Let's get you checked. Hopefully, you didn't injure it badly."

He was out of commission for two weeks. Thankfully, we were not in the middle of promotions. He stayed with his parents for a week, then, when he was more mobile, he came back to the dorm. The whole time he was gone, I felt like a lost puppy, which was weird because we hadn't had the chance to bond as closely as I did with Eom & Ahn. I supposed that was a clear indication of how connected Jju and I were without even trying. I texted him regularly during his absence, sending him random stupid things I found on the internet and well wishes from our fans. The dorm didn't feel the same without him, though. When he came back to the training room, I found myself checking on him a number of times until he got annoyed with me and told me to stop fussing. 

I won't let him hide his pain away this time. I'll never stop worrying about him, caring for him. 

When we got to the room, his parents quickly ran to his side. He was asleep; he had several tubes connected to him even more so than when the ambulance first picked him up. He had a vitals monitor that kept track of his oxygen levels and blood pressure among other things. James and I hung back, letting his parents see him first. But my heart was going a mile a minute, jumping in my throat. I didn't fully see his face or the extent of all his injuries. Once again, I was consumed with the need to go to where they held the son of a bitch who did this to him and kill him with my bare hands. 

I started hyperventillating.

James pulled me outside. "Brother, just breathe," he said, rubbing my back. I was bent low, head down and trying desperately to pull air into my lungs. "Just breathe. He's alive, he's here and in time, he'll be fine." 

"I-I can't," I stammered. "I can't, James. I can't breathe."

"I got you, I got you." He crouched down to my level and stared into my eyes. "I'm here, shhh." He tried to quiet me down, but I shook severely. It was like I couldn't catch my breath fast enough that every time I tried, I just suffocated even more.  

"Is he okay?" A nurse who was walking by stopped. "Do you want some water?" She asked, looking at me with concern. 

"Ye-yes, please." I said convulsively. My teeth were chattering, full on panicking. And in all my life as a performer, I've never felt that kind of anxiety before. The one where it didn't look like it was going to end. 

"Focus on something, Martin. Focus on something good." 

Jju was the only good thing in my life. So, I tried to focus on Jju. But when I closed my eyes, all I could think about was the torture he went through. How much pain, suffering and the horrors. The abandonment he must've felt. What he didn't know was that,  I would've turned the world over to find him. 

The nurse came back with a paper cup of water but my hands were shaking so hard that I couldn't hold it steady. 

"Here, let me." James took the water from my hands and lifted it to my mouth. A couple of sips and I choked, coughing so hard that the water spewed out of my mouth and into James' shirt. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I said. I must've been a sight, because tears and slobber dribbled down my chin; my face and neck were red as beet.

"It's okay, brother. I just need you to calm down a little, okay?" The nurse offered him a wad of tissue then proceeded to wipe my face. "I need you to calm down so we can go in and see Jju. He can probably sense all the things you're feeling right now, so I need you to calm down and focus all your good energy on Jju."

I nodded, took several deep breaths and tried to straighten out my facial expression. I couldn't do much about my red, swollen eyes or my tear-stained cheeks. But I'm going to try. For Jju, I will. 

We walked back inside, James had his hand on my back. Keeping me steady and as grounded as possible. I stood next to his mom, who was trying to hold it together. 

"Juhoon-ah, your brothers are here." She said, talking to Jju in her soft tone. She took my hand and placed it on Jju's right hand that seemed to have been saved from any injuries. The rest of his arm, however, was bandaged. I knew he had several cuts on it, scratches and open wounds when he was found. His dad stood on the other side of the bed, where his left hand all the way to his elbow was in a plaster cast. As I assessed the rest of what I could see, the hand print on his neck was very visible. His face was marred with bruises and the cut on his lower lip had scabbed with dried blood. 

I was having a hard time coping but I promised James I would try.

"Talk to him, Martin," I-mo murmured. 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Juhoon-ah, I'm here, my brother. I'll be here when you wake up and I'll never leave you alone, ever. No matter how angry you are with me. I'll never let you push me away again. Do you hear me?" I moved closer to his face and kept talking.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry for keeping so many things from you and for being the worst brother in the world. I wish I told you sooner how much you mean to me." I stroked his head, moved closer to his ear and murmured. "I wish I could tell you how much I love you, my brother. I've always looked up to you because of who you are. You are the best part of me and I don't know if I can do this without you. So, please. Please," I sobbed. "Don't fucking leave me." 

Carefully, and without thinking about James or his parents, I placed a soft kiss on his mouth. I didn't move right away, I just leaned my forehead on his shoulder and closed my eyes. 

"Please be okay, Jju. Please be okay."