Chapter Text
Taeyong was dreading the day before it even began.
It wasn’t uncommon that the male would wake up with a sense of dread hanging over his head, clouding his mindset for a good few hours until his mood brightened, and he fell into the swing of leading NCT.
With such responsibilities, Taeyong had almost mastered the art of pushing aside his own issues to support the other members; ignoring his own pains to help carry a tired Chenle, or stuffing down his exhaustion to help Taeil and Kun around the dorm.
To make his members, his boys, happy; that was enough for Taeyong.
Sometimes, however, the day was just never meant to be.
Taeyong had woken up that morning with a dull, but irritating, headache that thudded listless behind his eyes and drew a soft groan. Jaehyun tossed in his bed across the room, burrowing further under the blankets and leaving a tuft of brown hair showing.
No migraines today, please, God, Taeyong prayed to any deity listening as he pulled himself out of bed and trudged to the shared bathroom down the hall. It didn’t take him long to freshen up before the day began – after a record-fast shower time, skincare routine and the popping of two pain medication, Taeyong was in the kitchen and deftly boiling eggs for the boys to grab as they got ready.
“Morning, sunshine.”
The grin in Ten’s voice was clear, even with Taeyong’s back turned to him, and the older male sighed happily when wiry fingers reached to scratch through his hair.
“Morning, Ten. Are you ready for today?” Taeyong asked as he pulled three more boiled eggs from the pot and deposited them in a nearby bowl. Ten leant against the leader’s back, and Taeyong could feel him nodding.
“You know I love getting out of the dorms, and I love filming these videos.”
Taeyong’s mind drifted to their schedule, Ten’s words clarifying NCT’s actions for the day.
All the members of 127 and U, asides from Jungwoo, were going to be travelling down to a resort outside of Seoul to do filming for NCT – a series similar to NCT Life seasons, but not entirely the same.
Which brought another fresh set of issues for Taeyong, taking over his mind so quickly that he dropped the freshly-boiled egg back into the pot and sent scalding water over his fingers.
“Fuck!”
After ten minutes of holding his hands under cold water, and a determination that his hands were not badly burnt and just needed to relax, Taeyong was left sitting in his room whilst everyone else ate outside.
Stuck in his thoughts and anxieties.
See, there were many things about idol life that Taeyong disliked but had learnt to get over – the early mornings, the constant hate from a select number of netizens, really weird fashion statements.
One thing he’d never been able to fully grasp and overcome were the long road trips they’d take for schedules.
Taeyong absolutely hated driving for an extended amount of time, especially when he wasn’t at peak performance and not feeling too well (aka, right now).
The other members were aware that Taeyong didn’t do well when driving in buses and cars – he usually sat at the front when he could, and always carried a small band that prevented his illnesses – but only few knew just how bad his motion sickness could be.
(Taeil; he had found Taeyong after the plane flight from Seoul to Bangkok in the SMRookies days. Taeyong had been in the hotel bathroom, hunched over the toilet and paler than ever. Taeil had helped him through the next hour until he finally felt well enough to fall asleep.
Doyoung; Doyoung was just observant and noticed how tense Taeyong was during long car rides, or how he grew quieter and always looked either front or out of the window. He was usually the one who worked so Taeyong could get the front seat.
Yuta and Johnny … of course they know.)
Taeyong could already feel nausea mounting, the boiled eggs sitting heavily in the pit of his stomach now. He groaned softly before standing up, getting his luggage ready before leaving the room to herd everyone else into order.
He couldn’t worry now – it was an inevitability.
“There will be two seven-seater vans!” NCT 127’s manager was standing in front of the vans, the other managers helping pull suitcases and bags into the backs of the vehicles. “I have the list of who is in which van, and each van will have spare seats – there will be a manager driving each one, and the rest of us will meet you up there, okay?”
A chorus of okay! came back to him.
“The drive is a good three hours long, maybe two-and-a-half if we’re lucky, so bring stuff to occupy yourself.” Taeyong tried not to physically shudder, already feeling miserable.
A hand snaked around his waist, pulling him to a broad chest and familiar scent, and tension bled from the leader’s body without him even realising.
“I talked to manager hyung – they couldn’t get you, Johnny and I in one van, but you and I are together going up,” Yuta murmured softly, Taeyong nodding faintly. The prospect of Yuta sitting with him brightened him up – at least he had someone who knew how bad he could get.
“Are you feeling alright?” Yuta was always perceptive of his best friend, Taeyong turning to him with a failed attempt at not looking miserable. He shook his head slowly, letting the foreigner begin to direct him into the van.
“We’ll sit in the back this time? I know it doesn’t help like the front, but it’s easier to lie down,” Yuta reasoned softly as he herded Taeyong over the seats and let him settle in the back. As soon as Yuta was in, Lucas attempted to clamber into the back as well – only to be stopped by both Yuta’s hand and expression.
“Ah – hyung! I wanted to sit with you and Taeyong hyung!” Lucas whined, his complaints being cut off by Sicheng pushing him over to a seat.
“Shut up, Xuxi, and sit down.”
The last two members filed in quickly – Mark and Donghyuck (a combination that already brought Taeyong’s headache back).
“We ready?” The manager in the front called out, and a loud cacophony of agreements pierced both the car and Taeyong’s poor, already aching head.
It had been half-an-hour and Taeyong already felt like crying.
He was sitting tensely next to Yuta, ignoring both the roiling in his stomach and the fingers softly dragging along his knee to calm him. The ride had been smooth so far – no bumps or turns, and the members had stayed silent. It was …better than Taeyong expected.
However, there was a definite reason why you never let Lucas, Donghyuck and Mark ride together.
“Ah – Mark!” Lucas’ loud whines echoed throughout the car, the older members’ heads shooting up. “You can’t just take my phone like that!”
“I can, and I will!” Mark shot back, voice not as loud as Lucas but well on his way. “Talk to Duckie and me instead of hiding on your games!”
A silent moan of pain escaped Taeyong as their voices, pitching higher with irritation, shot through his aching head. His eyes closed, and he leant forward to rest his head on the back of their seats.
(Faintly, he could register Yuta’s fingers stilling, and moving to rub at his hips)
“Yah, you two, shut up!” Sicheng was angry now, having been woken up from his front seat position, and turned around to glare at the younger members. “You’re so loud!”
“He’s annoying!”
“He won’t get off his phone, hyung!”
“You’re both so loud, hyungs!”
Taeyong sunk lower against the seat, feeling anxiety pile inside of him and aggravate his stomach even further, until he was pulled from his seat and across Yuta’s lap, seatbelt unbuckled swiftly. Now supported by the wall of the car and Yuta’s body, with his legs over the Japanese male’s lap, Taeyong immediately buried his head in his best friend’s shoulder and hid his faint whimpers of pain against his skin.
“Hey, you three, shut up!” Yuta’s voice was nowhere near as loud as the others – he was aware of Taeyong, thumb smoothing out the tenseness of his brow before carding through his hair – but it conveyed his genuine annoyance. “Mark, don’t snatch Lucas’ phone. Lucas, stop yelling. Hyuck and Sicheng, calm down.”
The car immediately quietened, and Yuta ignored Sicheng’s brief look of confusion and curiosity as he turned to face the front, instead taking that moment to press a soft kiss to Taeyong’s temple and rub his back slowly.
There was only half-an-hour left and Taeyong felt drastically worse. The road had gotten curvier and there were more bumps in the road, every jolt sending pain through his abdomen. At this point he was fully on Yuta’s lap, face still buried in his neck and feeling Yuta’s hands rub softly over his stomach. He still felt awfully sick, body tense and trembling slightly, and whined softly – soft enough so the others wouldn’t hear – into Yuta’s shoulder.
It wasn’t until they’d gone over a particularly rough bump that Taeyong sat up suddenly, face paling drastically and hands clutching at Yuta’s sides.
“Yu-Yuta, I’m –“ Taeyong whined desperately, tears building in his eyes at the cramping and pain rolling across his abdomen, and Yuta noticed Mark turning around in concerned curiosity. He ignored the younger rapper to rub Taeyong’s back, hoping to calm the man down from his anxious fit over getting sick.
“Hey, hey, Yong-ie – look at me. You’re fine, okay? Just a rough bump making you feel worse, but you’ll be okay,” Yuta whispered, other hand letting go of Taeyong’s waist to wipe the stray tears slipping down his cheeks. “Plus, it’s fine if you end up getting sick – you’ll feel better, won’t you?”
“I-I don’t want to …” Taeyong sounded so sad, so anxious, and he paled even further and curled up further in Yuta’s lap.
“Yuta hyung …” Oh, great. “What’s the matter with Taeyong hyung?”
“He’s fine, Duckie,” Yuta whispered, ignoring the wetness from Taeyong’s stifled tears and his occasional, faint spasms from abdominal pains and nausea. “He’s not feeling well at the moment.”
“Is he car sick?” That was Sicheng, looking back from the passenger seat.
“Taeyong hyung gets car sick?” Lucas was now piping up, immediately getting a hissed “lower your voice!” from Mark.
Yuta sighed, nodding and sliding his hand up the back of Taeyong’s shirt to rub his skin softly, hoping the direct contact calmed the male down even more.
“We’re almost there, Yuta,” came the manager’s voice, calming and comforting. He was driving more carefully now, but still at a respectable speed. Yuta could feel Taeyong minutely relax from that statement, mouthing a “relax and turn around” to the younger members before kissing Taeyong’s hair and holding him close.
They had finally made it to the resort, the other van already unloaded and members inside. It took all of twenty seconds for everyone else to vacate the van and grab their luggage from the back, but Yuta still held Taeyong in his lap.
“You feeling better?” Yuta asked softly, gently guiding Taeyong from his neck to look at him; ruddy cheeks from stifled tears and glossy eyes. There was a moment’s hesitation before Taeyong shook his head, and Yuta could see how hard it’d been for him to even admit that.
“I feel like I’m going to throw up, and I want to sleep and cry-“ Taeyong’s voice broke and tears spilled over his cheeks again – feeling sick on top of his miserable mood from his headache proved too much for the leader, and Yuta made a vague noise of distress before pulling Taeyong closer to kiss his forehead once more, allowing him to then shakily clamber from the van.
“I’ll just take you straight to the room, then, and I’ll stay with you. The managers won’t mind.”
Taeyong nodded slowly, letting Yuta wind an arm around his waist and support him through the resort and to their room.
(It turned out that he was sick upon arrival to their room – shared with Yuta, thankfully – but the feeling of Yuta coursing fingers through his hair and down his back, coupled with his soft comforts, was calming enough to bring Taeyong down from the height of his anxiety)
(No one ever told Taeyong how the other members had been filming when they walked through the resort, and that in the background of actual footage posted for the public, Yuta can be seen supporting someone to walk. Luckily, they passed easily enough as other attendees of the resort)
(Johnny came to their room later that night, immediately curling up behind Taeyong and letting the other male roll over to hide his face in his chest and sigh shakily.
“How was it?” Johnny murmured softly, and Taeyong’s weak “fucking horrible” was enough to bring both worry and amusement to the foreigner, meeting eyes with Yuta across the room to share a small smile)