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Jisung realizes there are things he could have done differently. Logically speaking, he knows that he should have recognized his familiar behaviors, that he should have paid more attention to the signs and taken them as a legitimate warning and then acted accordingly.
But the funny thing about stress is that it's hard to overcome... And the funny thing about epilepsy is that it gives absolutely no leeway, no slack.
It's just that he's always been so smart about it. It hadn't been an issue in his adult life because he understood the limits of his body and he understood what he had to do to take care of it. That's not to say he doesn't push his body to (and sometimes past) those limits, but he always draws a line somewhere.
He'd gotten to the root of his triggers a long time ago, long before Stray Kids. He knows what stress and poor body management does to his brain and his nervous system. It's all about balance, really. If he's on a strict diet and exercise plan, then he makes sure to sleep well and not take on more schedules than he can handle. If they need to go days without sleep, he makes sure he's eating, drinking water, and taking breaks. When he has back-to-back performances that all require a great deal of physical and mental effort, self care becomes almost as much of a priority as his stages. And he always, always takes his medication. He knows that drugs can only do so much, but he still acknowledges their importance to the general function of his body. Because of this, he makes sure to take his medicine every 24 hours without fail- even when he's in a different time zone having just landed from a 12-hour flight and the last thing he wants to do when he gets to his new hotel room is dig through a carry-on for a bottle of pills before collapsing into bed.
It certainly helps that the managers, executives, and his fellow 3RACHA members are aware of his condition and how to handle him if needed. They always give him opportunities to take naps on those especially long weeks, providing him with empty studio space or dressing rooms for 20 minutes here and there to rest up without drawing any extra attention to the somewhat special treatment. Over the years, they have even managed to work out a system of looking after his nutritional health without seeming condescending or controlling. Jisung is thankful for their efforts, especially for his hyungs' vigilance and advocacy, and it hadn't been an issue for so long that his condition was no longer a constant presence in his mind.
Perhaps he should have thought about it a bit more.
He's getting his makeup done when he begins feeling withdrawn. He doesn't even realize it himself until he's asked a question by an approaching stylist and can't seem to comprehend the words coming out of her mouth or the thoughts in his own head. He had simply allowed himself to mentally check out sitting in a tall chair surrounded by fluorescent lights with his eyes closed as the makeup artist carefully applied the finishing touches to his look. It's only him and Hyunjin left in the dressing room, the others already in the space preparing for their... what was it? A performance? An interview? Ah- that's it- They were due to record another TV interview this afternoon following the two they did live for separate radio stations this morning as a part of their packed American schedule. They were only in town for a few days and were probably well overbooked.
"Han-ssi?" the call of his name fights hard to break through his consciousness, but his eyelids and tongue are simply too heavy to respond to his body's commands; he couldn't even quirk up his lip in a smile when he heard Hyunjin's infectious laughter, likely assuming he'd fallen asleep in the makeup chair. His name gets repeated yet again by the same stylist, and he knows her- he knows her very well, she is their head stylist. She had traveled with them to many different countries, he'd signed photocards for her children, even exchanged gifts on birthdays... but for the life of him, Jisung could not picture her face nor remember her name in that moment.
Jisung's eyes open in what feels like supersonic speed (but looks more like he's trying to move through molasses) as the realization dawns on him that this is it- he's going to have a seizure. His mouth goes dry and he needs to communicate what's happening, but the words are jumbled in his head. His eyes glance around in a panic, trying to find something that might help. He knows what he's supposed to do, he's learned this, he's practiced this. He's supposed to tell someone what's happening, and then he's supposed to lay down. He runs through the instructions over and over in his head in the following seconds, but can't muster up the ability to follow them. The two commands occupy his mind so much that he finds himself incapable of acting, incapable of identifying his surroundings or the physical aspects of his own body.
It's only when Hyunjin comes closer, much too close to his face, that he can focus on anything but his circular thoughts. He's speaking, and he looks concerned- downright frightened, more likely. Jisung can relate; he's afraid and confused right now too. He wants to look beyond Hyunjin's face to get a better grip on reality, but when he tries, all he can see is his own reflection in the mirror in front of him, and wow, that's not me, why are the lights so bright, who are these ladies around me, what was I just doing?
That's just too much for his mind to handle, and he knows there are more important matters at hand, he just can't remember what- Oh! Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registers that he only has a few minutes to settle things before he loses what little communicative ability he has left.
"Help," and he's gasping, hands clasping around the plastic arm rests of his chair. He was never able to tell if the shortness of breath was a symptom or just the manifestation of his anxiety with the situation. Regardless of how long he's been living like this, he always hates the seizures- hates them so much. And it's been so long, truly, since his last that he's even more afraid that he's not as mentally prepared as he used to be.
In his early teenage years, he would have insisted that he's never fully prepared, that they're always like this and that there's nothing he could change at this point. He only got serious about preventative measures once he began thinking seriously about auditioning as an idol, because as scary as the seizures may be, perfection in all other aspects of his life took precedence: rap, appearance, dance. But the motivation to train and perform on the larger stage, doing what he loves for a living with others who depended on his health as much as he did caused him to crack down on his destructive habits. It worked throughout his trainee period, though he was required to disclose all information about his medical condition to the company just in case. That proved to be useful just weeks after Stray Kids' debut when Jisung's body failed him several hours into a private vocal lesson. After that incident was handled by their head manager, the company found it necessary to clue Chan and Changbin in as well as they spend so much time alone together, and after heavy discussion with everyone involved about how to avoid a similar situation, there had never been another slip-up.
Hyunjin is about three seconds short of combusting. He doesn't spare a thought to the fact that he's ruining Jisung's newly styled hair by running his fingers through his bangs to brush them up off of his face. "Jisung-ah, can you hear me?" he asks gently, thankfully contrasting his unnerved mind. He only noticed something was amiss when Jisung became unresponsive after appearing to wake up in the makeup chair. "Hey, Sung, are you alright? Are you feeling anxious?" He's speaking slowly and clearly in hopes that Jisung will be able to hear and understand him.
Suddenly, Jisung's unfocused eyes lock with Hyunjin's as the younger's body tenses slightly. "Help," he gasps out, and Hyunjin's brain goes into overdrive.
"What can I do?" he's asking, worried that his slightly younger friend is having a panic attack. He knows Jisung usually responds positively to physical touch within his sight range when he panics, so Hyunjin doesn't think twice about reaching his hand out slowly and holding the back of Jisung's head while the other cups one of his little cheeks. "What's wrong? How can I help?" he reiterates after several moments of silence while Jisung's eyes flit between each of Hyunjin's.
It's quiet for a bit longer, but Hyunjin sees Jisung's mouth moving slowly and his throat contracting in attempts to produce sound. "I- ... I- I- no," he gasps again after the utterance. "I'm- seizure, help." One of Jisung's hands moves from the arm rest to grasp at Hyunjin's sleeve.
The taller is at a loss. "You- you what?" he asks dumbly. He averts his eyes for only a moment to meet those of the woman who had been doing Jisung's makeup, potentially an Asian-American who may or may not speak Korean, and he's unsure in which language to address her. Her eyes are wide and she stands back a few steps holding the small makeup brush suspended from her fingertips in the air. Hyunjin panics a bit more, wants to ask her to go find one of their managers, but every English word he's ever learned slips from his mind in that moment, and he's not even sure she'll know who to look for. He's saved when he recalls that their own personal stylist is still here. He turns around frantically searching for her, calling out "Noona!" until she steps into his line of vision, wide-eyed and ready for action. "Please get help, hurry!" he begs, not bothering to watch her go as he turns his attention back to Jisung.
The younger is swallowing repeatedly, tears collecting in his eyes, and Hyunjin's fingers tremble against Jisung's hair. "Please, Sungie. I need you to tell me what you need."
'Need' seems to be a good word to use, as Jisung is nodding and repeating it aloud. "Need... I need- I need to, need to lie-" He's gesturing oddly with the hand that's not tightened into the fabric of Hyunjin's jacket.
"You need to lie down," Hyunjin prompts, a statement to both Jisung and himself, to which the rapper nods shakily. "Can you make it to the couch?" he asks, glancing up to see it a good few meters away.
Thankfully, Jisung understands enough of what he's asking to shake his head. He's still swallowing whatever excess saliva seems to be in his mouth, which makes it difficult for him to form words of disagreement, but he tries. "No," he gasps again. "No, ground, I need to- on the ground. I need-"
"Okay, that's fine," Hyunjin says as calmly as he can manage in an attempt to keep Jisung calm as well. The other man is on the verge of hyperventilation, and Hyunjin is worried he'll pass out if he continues. "Let's just get you down from here," he narrates as he removes his hands from Jisung's head to grasp his waist. Jisung's actions seem delayed, but he tries to help as much as he can while Hyunjin struggles to lift him from the chair and moves them both to the floor. The makeup artist has enough sense to pull the chair out of the way so the there is room on the carpet. Hyunjin kneels beside Jisung after he gets situated flat on his back, one of his hands still clutching Hyunjin's sleeve and refusing to loosen.
"Jisung-ah," he calls to get the man's attention again. After a few moments and a few more utterances of his name, Jisung is looking back into his eyes silently. "You said something about a seizure, is that what's happening? Do you know what's going on?"
Jisung does nothing more than huff out a breath as a tear falls out of the corner of his eye, trailing down towards his ear. Hyunjin's finger instinctively swipes it up while he continues staring unwaveringly at Jisung's frightened face.
"Come on, Sungie, I need you to answer me, okay? Do you hear me?" He can no longer manage to keep his voice steady, and he's worried that the younger can sense his nervousness. Hyunjin has experienced Jisung going unresponsive before public appearances, but nothing like this.
"Hear?" Jisung asks in a whimper.
"Yes," Hyunjin confirms, somewhat relieved. "Yes, you can hear me?"
"Okay," Jisung says, as if he's processing something different than what the dancer is actually saying.
The other man sighs, placing a hand on Jisung's chest defeatedly. "Don't worry, someone's coming to help. You'll be fine, okay?" He feels how fast his friend's heart is beating and prays for answers.
"Okay," Jisung repeats sluggishly. "Yeah, I'm- I need to- um, I need to tell som-someone."
"Yes, tell me Jisung, tell me," Hyunjin begs. Time moves so slowly yet so quickly.
Jisung squeezes his eyes shut before opening them again. This pattern continues for several moments before Hyunjin taps at Jisung's chest in an attempt to redirect his focus back on their one-sided conversation.
"Yeah," Jisung nods again. "Need to- to tell someone, and- I- I- lie down."
"That's right," Hyunjin confirms, desperate to connect with Jisung in some way so he might understand what's going on in his head.
The door busts open at the same time as Jisung's hand clenches tighter into the fabric in his grasp, closes his eyes, and starts muttering "no," on repeat. Hyunjin chances a look up to see one of their managers approaching with Chan hot on his heels. Jisung is squirming slightly beneath him, simultaneously fidgety and lethargic. Chan drops to his knees on Jisung's other side while the manager heads to the sofa to grab a stray cushion.
"Bangchan, you need to calm him down- I'm sure he'd be more comfortable with you than me," their manager reminds him, standing close by and passing him the pillow, which Chan dutifully slips under Jisung's head unnoticed by the younger.
The leader looks distressed. "I don't know what to say," he huffs in a hushed tone. "Do you turn him on- I don't know what to do."
"It's alright, leave him there," the manager confirms. "Just let him know you're here."
Chan knows he's rehearsed this, confirmed with Jisung what would help him the most in case of emergency. He racks his brain before leaning in to press his forehead to Jisung's own. "Hannie," he says confidently. "Hannie, you're okay. It's Channie-hyung."
The youngest stops his murmuring in favor of holding his breath as he opens his eyes to identify where the new voice is coming from. Chan grabs Jisung's free hand, holds it up so his arm is bent at the elbow, and he remains close to the other's face.
"Yeah," Jisung whimpers, short of breath and now crying. "Okay. Need to tell- and I- lay- need to lie down, I-"
"You did," Chan affirms. "You did good, Hannie, you told someone and you laid down. You did really well, Sungie, you just need to try to take a deep breath, okay?"
Jisung nodded jerkily, his fingers trembling. Chan can sense somehow that Jisung is seconds away from losing whatever coherence he has left, and he tries to stay focused. Beside them, Hyunjin is sitting stunned, jacket still within Jisung's grasp and unable to move. Chan would pay him more mind if he wasn't closely observing Jisung's breaths. The manager's gaze flicks to his watch and then back to the boys on the floor. The makeup artist is long gone.
"You're doing really well, yeah?" Chan says after Jisung's fourth breath hitches in a half-sob.
" 'm gonna- ... no-" Jisung cries pitifully, and Chan's heart breaks. He may have discussed the potential of this happening at length, but he'd never actually seen Jisung quite so afraid and distant.
"It's okay, don't forget to breathe, yeah?" the leader says, though he knows it falls on deaf ears as soon as he feels Jisung's hand squeeze the life out of his own and sees his jaw tighten.
Hyunjin sits back on his heels as soon as Jisung's hands release their hold suddenly, and he and Chan watch on worriedly as he begins convulsing mildly. The leader sits back as well, glancing briefly at Hyunjin. "Thank you, Jin, you were very helpf-" he whispers before a groan from below interrupts him mid-word. "You're okay, Han-ah, everything's alright," he says softly, though he was previously told by Jisung that he's unable to hear anything around him when he's in the middle of an attack.
"What's happening?" Hyunjin demands in a horrified whisper, afraid of speaking too loudly. "Is this- why-"
"Hyunjin, step back here with me," the manager requests, noting the way the dancer became more frightened by the second. "Keep an eye on the time, will you? Let me know when each minute passes," he says, removing his watch and holding it out. Hyunjin usually handles himself better when he's busy, and doing something useful might help him get ahold of himself. With that reasoning, Hyunjin obeys his manager. He would leave the room to cool down if he thought he would be capable of it. Instead, he takes the man's place while he goes to retrieve his bag against the wall.
Chan keeps mumbling reassurances from his knees, and Hyunjin eyes the seconds-hand on the small watch like a hawk. He tries to close his ears off to Jisung's occasional choked off noises, doing his best to avoid even looking down at the pair on the ground.
Once Hyunjin announces that two minutes have passed, their manager rejoins the small group with an injection pen in hand. "Just in case," he mumbles.
"Shouldn't we call an ambulance?" Hyunjin asks, sinking down onto the sofa without moving his focus from the watch.
Chan tunes out of their manager's brief explanation to their other group member, concentrating back on Jisung's tensing body. He looks to be in pain, and Chan has to keep reminding himself that the younger didn't say anything about it being a particularly painful experience, just exceedingly disorienting and uncomfortable. He works at controlling his breathing now that his initial panic has passed and he feels more confident in his ability to handle things.
If Chan hadn't been hypervigilant, he might have missed Hyunjin mumbling a quiet exclamation of "three minutes" accompanying the tapping sound of what he assumes is the manager typing out messages on his phone. Chan had almost forgotten they had been less than 10 minutes away from filming their next interview when the stylist came running down the hallway, short heels clacking intrusively, and announced that they were having a situation in the dressing room involving Jisung. Chan felt bad when he had to insist that the rest of the group stay behind on stand-by with no news of what's happening, but it would have been much too crowded in here if they came. He hoped the manager was handling it over text- updating the members and probably putting the start of the interview on hold for the moment.
Chan's busy contemplating how it would go filming without their lovable, loud rapper when he notices Jisung's small whimpers growing progressively less gutteral and his muscles shift from convulsing to trembling. Chan snaps his fingers behind him to alert the attention of the other two and encloses one of Jisung's hands back into his own larger one.
"Han-ah?" he calls out. "Hannie, do you hear me?"
Jisung turns his head to the side panting, squeezes his eyes shut tighter. "Hmm," he hums in reply, though whether or not he actually understood the question, Chan has no idea.
"You back with me?" he asks again, receiving another hum, though Jisung makes no moves to open his eyes. "Are you feeling alright?"
Jisung shakes his head gently, and that's when Chan knows he's at least coherent again. "What doesn't feel right? What do you need?"
The younger only huffs and clenches his jaw. The movement in his face draws Chan's attention to the dried tear tracks. He wants to ask more questions, but he doesn't want to overload the kid. Jisung takes his time, swallowing heavily as he continues to huff. He seems to realize that the leader is holding his hand, and tightens his shaking fingers over Chan's just a bit, proof that he's regaining control of his body.
"Jus' feel sick," Jisung slurs after nearly a full minute in tense silence. Chan nods even though Jisung still hasn't opened his eyes, having expected that response.
"Do you know where you are?" Chan asks, receiving a single head shake. Slowly, Jisung's eyes squint open, and try to find the source of his older friend's voice. It takes a while for him to be able to focus on Chan's figure. "We're in America," Chan explains slowly, not sure how broad he needs to be right now. "We're at a television station, in the dressing room." He pauses to let the information sink in. "Do you remember what happened?"
"Uh... maybe."
"Do you have your medication? The anti-nausea one?" Chan presses gently.
Jisung sniffles and shakes his head, and Chan is worried he'll start crying again. "Left it at the hotel," he clarifies. " 'm sorry."
"Don't apologize," the leader asserts. "There's nothing to be sorry for." At least now he knows Jisung is a little more aware of his surroundings. "Do you think it would be okay if we moved you to the sofa?"
Jisung doesn't answer, only closes his eyes again.
"We can stay here," Chan says conclusively. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Sofa's okay," Jisung sighs. Chan nods and glances back at a wide-eyed Hyunjin, nodding his head towards Jisung to request his help. After scrambling up from his seat, Hyunjin helps their leader lift the younger member as carefully as possible, making slow, short steps towards the couch until they are able to spread Jisung out lengthwise on top of the cushions.
"Can I sleep?" Jisung asks, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
"Of course," the manager butts in. "I have someone getting your medication from the hotel." He doesn't want to bring up the fact that he won't be able to participate in the interview, because he's not sure if Jisung even remembers why they're here and he doesn't want to make him feel obligated to try to recover quickly out of guilt.
Jisung just hums, torn between keeping his eyes open or closed because both make him dizzy in different ways. "Sorry," he says again, aware of Chan and Hyunjin's eyes on him. "Wasn't taking care 'f myself."
"Hannie, it's fine," Chan says in a tone that could be construed as exasperation but Jisung knows that it's just relief. "We can talk about it all later. Get some rest, hyung will wait."
"Mhm," Jisung agrees absentmindedly, already half asleep. He curls into the back cushions of the couch, hardly noticing when a jacket is thrown over his torso to keep him warm.