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Changbin watches with disgust as Jisung slurps a rather large spoonful of his jjambbong—it smells positively revolting, even across the table. His own bowl of pork ramyeon is nowhere near as olfactory, though much safer in terms of ingredients.
Chan leans across the table, reaching for a napkin. “You going to eat, Bin?”
“All I can smell is Sungie’s soup,” he complains, scrunching his nose up. “Did you both seriously have to order seafood?”
Chan’s own plate is filled to the brim with haemul pajeon. Changbin thoroughly believes whoever thought Korean pancakes and seafood would be a good combination deserves a special place in hell.
“It’s a seafood restaurant, what else did you expect?” Jisung scoffs.
“I didn’t expect anything,” Changbin reminds him, “you sent me an ominous address and told me to be here at six.”
“Chan offered to buy,” Jisung shrugs, “this is what I chose.”
Chan rolls his eyes, “Just eat your soup, guys.”
With one last horrified glance at his friend’s meals, Changbin dips his chopsticks into the broth and finds a harmless looking piece of pork. It’s no secret he has a distaste for seafood, Changbin has always preferred red meats or chicken, there’s just something repulsive to him about eating slimy ocean creatures.
“You know, seafood is an aphrodisiac.” Jisung muses to no one in particular.
And then, “Maybe if you ate it you could finally get laid.”
Changbin just glowers at him, whereas Chan snickers around a bite of pancake. “Binnie doesn’t need to get laid, right?”
“Shut up.”
“Felix likes seafood,” Jisung adds.
“Well maybe you should have invited Felix instead,” Changbin says sulkily.
Jisung quickly holds up a small finger heart—an appeasement, and as usual, Changbin can’t help softening for his dongsaeng and his stupid little smile. Sungie is cute, it’s hard to stay mad at him.
Chan elbows Changbin, nearly causing him to drop a chopstick into his soup. “Come on, how long has it been since it was just us three? 3racha?”
“Like, last week.”
“A week is a long time.” Chan defends weakly.
Changbin just shakes his head and focuses on his soup. Somewhere around the halfway mark, he begins to notice a strange fuzziness on his tongue. It’s hardly noticeable at first, until it begins to spread throughout his mouth. He takes a sip of water—and proceeds to cough wetly.
Chan thumps his back helpfully, “Okay?”
“Yeah—“ Changbin chokes out, waving him off. “Just thought I’d try out drowning, see if I like it.”
Jisung snorts, soup almost coming out of his nose. “And?”
“Wouldn’t recommend,” Changbin replies, licking his lips. He’s uncomfortable, the fuzziness growing heavier and heavier in his mouth but he ignores it and tries to focus in on the conversation around the table. His soup is mostly untouched now, he focuses instead on sipping his water slowly and the pounding of his heart.
“Oh, did you see that new movie? The one with—“
Jisung is interrupted by the small but audible wheeze of Changbin’s throat. He clears it, feigning normalcy but it’s too late.
Chan eyes him suspiciously, “Are you feeling okay, Bin? Your face is red and you’re sweating.”
“Actually—” he coughs. Once. Twice. Again. And then he’s no longer coughing, he’s just flat out choking. His tongue feels thick, like it’s obstructing his airway and making it difficult to take in a healthy amount of oxygen. Chan stands abruptly, coming to stand behind Changbin.
“Is he choking?” Jisung is wide eyed, looking between Changbin and Chan for an answer.
“Changbin? What’s going on, speak to me buddy,” Chan says worriedly, leaning over his shoulder.
Changbin can’t answer, he can’t breathe—
Jisung surges forward, grabbing his jaw tightly and forcing his mouth open. “Oh fuck, Chan-hyung! His throat—“
Chan checks quickly and then swears under his breath. He’s already fishing his phone out of his pocket, nearly dropping it in his panic. Meanwhile Changbin grips the table tightly, his vision going black around the edges. While he can still take in air, it’s a small percentage of what his brain needs and he registers dimly the very real possibility of losing consciousness.
Chan is yelling something into the phone, drawing the attention of other people around them. Jisung grasps Changbin tightly around the shoulders—he was falling, right out of his seat. Someone lays him down flat on his back, there’s an unfamiliar face hovering over him but he can’t bring himself to care as he coughs and wheezes.
“Can’t—“ wheeze, “breathe!” He manages in between words, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He’s so scared, fuck his reputation, he’s absolutely terrified as his body betrays him and tears prick at his eyes. His hand is frantic at his side, searching—
“I got you, you’re okay.” Jisung shushes, grasping his hand tightly. “Chan-hyung called the ambulance, okay? They’re gonna be here real soon, just hold on—“
“Bin?” Chan is kneeling by his head now, the phone still up to his ear. His hand is shaking, and some distant part of Changbin’s oxygen deprived brain realizes he’s never seen his friend so scared. “Changbin-ah, I need you to nod yes or no, are you allergic to any seafood?”
Changbin shakes his head wildly, confused. All his life, he’s never had any allergy or reaction to food or the environment. Why would they be asking him that right now, out of all things? He can’t breathe—
“He says no,” Chan relays into the phone. “But he’s always avoided seafood—“
Changbin coughs again, this time so hard it hurts his head and then he’s gagging. Jisung quickly realizes what’s happening and rolls him onto his side and Changbin empties his stomach, right then and there on the restaurant floor.
“Oh fuck, it’s okay,” Chan soothes, his free hand stroking Changbin’s hair. “The ambulance is almost here, just keep breathing.”
Somewhere between then and when he next opens his eyes, Changbin begins to drift. He’s barely conscious, eyes fluttering shut and his wheezing slows. And then someone jostles him, it’s sudden and unfamiliar and he cries out a little as something stabs him in the thigh.
There’s hands on him, rolling him onto his back and a light, insufferable and bright shining into his eyes and he groans.
“Changbin-ssi? Can you hear me?” There’s a woman’s voice, it’s loud and persistent. “You’ve just had an allergic reaction but we’re going to take care of you now.”
“Sungie, Chan-hyung,” he whimpers hoarsely, barely audible and yet she seems to understand.
“Your friends are right here, they’re gonna ride with you to the hospital.” The paramedic’s eyes crinkle softly, suggesting she’s smiling behind her mask.
In response he feels pressure on his hand and is able to catch a short glimpse of Chan’s reddish hair. It comforts him, enough to relax a little as the paramedics lift him onto a stretcher.
The ride to the hospital is a blur—he feels exhausted, sore and still a little distant. The female paramedic keeps talking to him, asking him questions and her eyes keep crinkling at the corners. Changbin thinks he might like her, she’s nice to him and even cracks a joke or two.
Jisung holds his hand the entire time, whereas Chan occasionally reaches out to pat his leg soothingly. They arrive at the hospital and he’s taken from his friends for a while, wheeling him into the back. The doctor comes and goes, there’s nothing memorable about him and Changbin almost misses the nice paramedic.
It feels like hours later when he cracks his eyes open again, squinting against the harsh fluorescent lights and makes eye contact with Chan.
“Changbin! How’re you feeling bud?” Chan surges forward, grasping his hand where it lays limp on the hospital bed.
“What… what happened?” Changbin frowns, looking down to note the catheter in his arm and the bag of fluids it’s connected to.
“You don’t remember?”
Changbin shakes his head, wincing as it pounds in protest. “No—like, why? Why couldn’t I breathe?”
Chan sucks in a breath, “Well it turns out you're allergic to shellfish. You had an anaphylactic reaction.”
“What? I don’t have any allergies.” Changbin insists, his voice sounding hoarse and dry. He wishes he had water.
“It turns out you do,” Chan says quietly, looking away. “I watched you turn blue, so don’t argue with me on this.”
“I didn’t even eat any seafood..?”
“The restaurant said it’s possible the ramyeon you ordered was cross contaminated,” Chan looks at his phone quickly. “Ah, the rest of the guys are here if you’re up for visitors.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure.” Changbin answers on autopilot, his brain still far away. Allergic? To seafood? He definitely wouldn’t have forgotten something as serious as a food allergy, nor does he remember having any reaction when his mom used to force him to finish his dinner as a kid. His parents served all kinds of seafood when he was young, insisting it was healthy for him. Why now?
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a certain blonde haired Australian throwing himself at Changbin.
“Hyung! Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re okay.” Felix cries, hugging him tightly.
Oh.
It takes Changbin a fraction of a second to catch up, but then he does and he’s wrapping his arms around Felix too, ignoring the pull of the IV in his arm.
“I’m okay,” he coughs. “Just got in a fight with ocean wildlife and lost.”
Someone snorts loudly—Minho, he takes up the spot Chan vacates to make room for the new arrivals. “And then some, I hear you didn’t even eat it directly!”
Felix loosens his grip and slides away, but Changbin selfishly holds on, forcing the boy to seat himself next to him on the bed. Felix smiles with the warmth of the sun, his hands resting on Changbin’s forearm lightly.
Hyunjin sits on the armrest of Minho’s chair, his eyebrows furrowed—a tell-tale sign the boy is concerned. “Are you feeling better now?”
“I feel like crap,” Changbin complains honestly. “When can I get out of here?”
“They want to keep you for a couple hours of observation,” Chan inserts. “They gave you some Epi but they have to make sure you don’t start reacting again.”
“Epi? What is that?” Seungmin asks, he’s standing next to Jeongin and Jisung who’ve just filed into the room last.
“Epinephrine, right?” Felix asks with wide, doe-like eyes.
“Oh! Like that commercial?” Jeongin pipes up, “Blue to the sky, orange to the thigh?” He quotes in English.
“Exactly.” Chan nods, and then turns to Changbin. “Speaking of which, they’re gonna send you home with a prescription for an Epi pen. We’ll get you a couple and spread them out in our bags just in case.”
Changbin scrunches his face with displeasure. “I don’t want any of you stabbing me in the thigh.”
“Maybe I won’t,” Minho teases, “maybe I’ll just let you perish. It would certainly be quieter around the dorm.”
“That’s not nice, Hyung.” Felix pouts, gripping Changbin’s arm tighter.
“It’s alright Lix,” Changbin says softly, nuding him with his arm. They share a private smile before Jisung interrupts.
“So, you didn’t recommend drowning in your own cup of water. How does choking on your own tongue compare?”
“I hate you,” Changbin declares. “We’re no longer 3racha, we’re just 2racha now.”
“Yah,” Chan smacks his leg lightly from where he stands at the end of the hospital bed. “Since when do you get to decide who’s in the band?”
“Yeah, and what did I ever do to you anyways?” Jisung whines, stomping his foot a little.
“Made me come to dinner at that stupid restaurant.” Changbin replies effortlessly—smoothly, in fact.
Felix laughs, “He has you there, Han-hyung.”
Changbin may have lost his battle with seafood that day, but he sure as hell won the battle against Jisung. He’ll take what he can get, he supposes.