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Chaewon’s knee bounced in the makeup chair as the artist dabbed pastes and creams all over her face, ordering her to open her eyes or pucker her lips. Her face felt hot, and she knew for a fact that she was frustrating the artist by sweating so much.
The fansign was due to start in a matter of minutes, but she felt sicker than ever.
She had the worst brain fog she’d had in months, and her head felt too big for her body, tilting to one side then the other as she over-corrected. She was either getting sick, or…
“Eunchae,” she said, standing from the makeup chair and grabbing the youngest’s wrist, as she was the closest member. “I need to lie down.”
“Now?” Eunchae asked, glancing at the staff members flitting around busily. “Are you going to have a seizure?”
She nodded. “I think so. I don’t know.”
“Okay, here.” She led Chaewon to the couch and cleared the coats and bags, setting a pillow down for her. “I’m going to let the manager know what’s going on; I’ll be right back.”
Chaewon couldn’t object. She just clutched the cushions below her tightly, trying to breathe slowly even as the hair on her arms stood up and her stomach flipped. It was too loud, too bright, too hectic. The fansign was too close; she’d never recover in time.
Suddenly, a pair of legs appeared in front of her. “Chaewon, can you talk to me?”
“Mhm,” she hummed, looking up at their manager’s face. “Yes. I’m- can.”
“Are you sick?”
“Sick,” she responded, nodding. She certainly didn’t feel well . Perhaps sick was the right word to describe what she was feeling. “Where’s Eun…chae.”
“She’s getting ready for the fansign. It’s starting in a few minutes. Do you need anything right now? Some water, or a painkiller?” The manager pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You don’t feel warm, but you’ll need to retouch your makeup before you go out there.”
“I need…uhm- I need-”
“What is it?” he asked again.
Chaewon saw the rest of her members moving around in a flurry near the door, and her heart lurched. Was she going to be left alone? “I need Eunchae. Eunchae. Eun-” she tried to sit up, the maknae’s name the only word she could seem to remember. She needed somebody next to her. “Eunchae!”
The maknae turned around, eyes wide, and excused herself from the staff member trying to pull her towards the stage. She squatted by Chaewon, brushing the hair out of her face. “I’m here, it’s okay.”
Chaewon reached for her and held her tightly. “Are you leaving?”
“No,” Eunchae responded assuredly.
“Eunchae, it’s a fansign. You need to be there.”
“I can't leave right now,” Eunchae refused. “The other three can entertain the fans for a few minutes, or we can push the start time back. She’s going to have a seizure.”
“This is the worst time for this to happen.”
“She doesn’t get to decide when it will happen. Would you rather she go out there and have it on the stage?” Eunchae couldn’t believe the stupidity of some people. The other three members waited by the door, unsure of what to do next. Eunchae gave them a thumbs up. Go, I got this . “Lie down, unnie. I’m not leaving.”
Chaewon reclined until she was on her back, head on the throw pillow, heavy shoes on the cushion. Eunchae worked to unlace the boots and pulled them off her feet, protecting her legs from bruises if she accidentally kicked herself. She grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over her legs, then found her backpack and retrieved a towel for her head.
Everything was set with not a second to spare as Chaewon hands balled up by her abdomen, her arms going rigid, her legs hovering off the couch and trembling underneath the blanket.
“It’s okay, unnie; I’m still here.” She turned Chaewon onto her side and adjusted the blanket to cover her again, checking the clock on the wall. “You’re doing well. It’s alright.”
“We’re starting in one minute,” one of the staff said, poking his head through the door. “Where are the other two?”
“Busy,” he snapped. “Postpone the start time by ten minutes, and if there’s still a delay, send out the other three to entertain the crowd.”
“But sir-”
“Do it,” he interrupted. “They’ll be ready soon.”
The staff member bowed and closed the door softly behind him, leaving the three of them alone again. The manager watched as Chaewon entered the most violent part of her seizure, biting her cheek and making grotesque grunting and gurgling sounds.
“There’s a chance she won’t feel well enough to do the fanmeet,” Eunchae said, rubbing her unnie’s shoulder and pulling her further onto her side. “You know that, right?”
“We’ll worry about that when we need to,” he said distractedly, raising his phone to his ear and stepping away.
Eunchae turned her attention back to Chaewon. She had one arm in front of her and the other awkwardly stretched above her head. Her legs and face twitched as she breathed harshly, wheezing every so often. “You’re almost done, just keep breathing slow and deep.”
She wiped Chaewon’s mouth and cheek, then dug in her bag for her medicine, setting it out on the table.
“Good, just relax,” she coaxed, continuing to rub large circles on her back through her performance clothes.
Chaewon melted into the couch, cheek squished against the pillow, a dark spot of saliva and blood coloring the towel beneath her mouth. If she felt well enough to perform- even if only a small fanmeet performance- it would be a miracle.
More than an hour of hi-touch, mini-games, and interview questions from fans seemed near-impossible.
“Is she awake yet?”
Eunchae shook her head in response to the manager’s question. “She just finished a few seconds ago. She should wake up soon.”
“Okay.” He observed her with sharp eyes. “She’ll need a retouch on her makeup.”
No shit . “One thing at a time,” Eunchae said instead, biting her tongue. Chaewon’s eyes were half-lidded, pupils dilated and roaming, seeing nothing. Her lips were parted and raw, breath catching every few seconds.
Hic.
Hic.
Hic.
She groaned softly, breath catching in another hiccup, and coughed up the remaining fluid in her mouth. Eunchae wiped her mouth again, repositioning her arms into a more comfortable recovery position and brushing her hair out of her face.
“Hey, unnie. Take your time. Everything’s okay.”
Chaewon blinked, reaching for Eunchae’s hand and coughing louder, wincing as she hiccuped again. “Eun- hic- chae.”
“Yeah, unnie, I’m here.” She patted Chaewon’s hand. “How do you feel?”
“I’m- need water.”
Eunchae grabbed a bottle from the table next to the couch and unscrewed it, helping Chaewon sit up and holding it for her as she drank. Once finished, Eunchae covered her lap with the blanket and stayed in a squat in front of her, waiting patiently.
“Is she ready for makeup? It’s been five minutes now.”
Eunchae whipped her head around to stare at the manager, who was checking his watch with the makeup stylist behind him. She looked apologetic and uncertain. “No, she’s not ready,” Eunchae responded plainly. “She just sat up.”
“We’re running out of time to get her on stage.”
“I told you, she might not be able to-”
“I’m ready,” Chaewon interrupted softly, beckoning the makeup artist. “You can do my makeup. It’s- hic- okay.”
“You don’t have to go if you don’t feel up to it,” Eunchae reminded her, standing in between her and the manager. “If you need to nap or take time to recover, you’re more than entitled to that.”
“No, it’s okay, just-” she beckoned at the pill bottles. “-give me one of each please.”
“You’re nauseous?” Eunchae asked, to which Chaewon responded with a nod and a poorly concealed gag. “And you have a headache? Unnie…”
“It’s fine, Eunchae,” she said, throwing her head back and swallowing the pills thickly. “Come on, quickly; I don’t want the show to be delayed any more than it already has.”
Eunchae watched the stylist finish her makeup. Her eyes were still dilated, and her expression was drained. Even the thickly caked makeup couldn’t cover the bags underneath her eyes or the red marks on her face. Chaewon was determined to perform, though, and there was nothing that Eunchae could do to stop her.
The stylist finished quickly, and Chaewon stood, smoothing out her outfit and tugging on her boots. “Let’s go.”
The manager led the two idols to their entrance point and made a few calls, and before long, a countdown was starting in their in-ears, and they were in front of the fans, waving and smiling, and apologizing for the delay due to ‘technical difficulties’.
“We’ll make this performance extra special to make up for it!” Yunjin promised. “Are you ready?”
The music began, and they all danced like they hadn’t missed a beat. Like Chaewon wasn’t just unconscious on the dressing room couch. Like there was absolutely nothing wrong.
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“How did you sleep?”
Chaewon poked a bite of rice into her mouth, scrolling through her phone and glancing at Yunjin as she approached her. “Fine.”
“What time did you wake up?”
Surprised, Chaewon glanced at Yunjin. She was wearing a too-large shirt and brushing her messy hair out of her face, looking at Chaewon expectantly. The leader glanced at the clock. It was eight in the morning; she’d been up since four, but Yunjin didn't need to know that. “About a half hour ago.” She continued to scroll until Yunjin’s hand blocked the screen, pushing the phone away. “Stop, I’m reading that.”
“You don’t need to be reading that.” So she'd seen it too, then. "Unnie, seriously, it's stupid. The rumors will blow over." Yunjin finally grabbed the phone and tossed it onto the couch across the room. “Ignore it."
“They think I’m on drugs.”
“You are on drugs.”
“They think I’m on illegal ones, not anticonvulsants. Don’t try to be funny.”
“Sorry, too soon,” Yunjin admitted. “What do you want to do about it? Have the company acknowledge it by issuing a statement saying that you’re not on drugs?
Chaewon just sighed, rubbing her eyes. That wouldn’t go over well, but letting the internet call her a drug addict for her zombie-like behavior at the fansign wasn’t going over particularly well, either. The third and most terrifying option was coming clean to everybody.
“I had a seizure. I was postictal and exhausted, and I still wanted to perform for you. That’s all.” Even just thinking about how she’d explain the situation was enough to make her heart race.
Perhaps the third option was most terrifying because it was imminent and unavoidable. She’d come close to having a seizure in front of cameras and fans before, but never that close. It was only a matter of time, really. She didn’t feel ready.
“The internet is my worst enemy,” she declared. “They’re all so stupid . I’m not a fucking drug addict.”
“I know,” Yunjin said softly, realizing just how upset this was making her. “We know. You were incredibly strong to recover quickly from your seizure and still put on a decent performance. If you wanted to tell the fans, they’d all know how strong you are, too.”
“I hate that those are my only two options. Give up my right to medical privacy or have my name dragged into a scandal. Oh, wait, I could’ve stayed backstage and rested, but then, I would be called lazy and told that I don’t care about the fans. I can’t win.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”
Chaewon shook her head softly. “Just- when the truth finally does come out-” Because- inevitably it would. It always did. “-there’s going to be a lot of opinions. I just want the support of the members. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Always,” Yunjin said assuredly, wrapping her arms around her and hugging tightly. “We’ll always support you.”
“Even if I like, throw up on something you really like?”
“What?”
“Or- or I make you late for an appointment, or I don’t have the energy to do fun things, or I embarrass you in public, or I make people pay attention to our group for the wrong reasons, or-”
“Kim Chaewon,” Yunjin interrupted, spinning her around on the barstool and pulling her in for a proper hug. “I will always support you. Even if you throw up on something I like or do any of those other things. Okay?”
Chaewon relaxed into Yunjin’s arms. “Okay.” Yunjin loosened her hold, but Chaewon wrapped her arms around her, clasping her hands. “Just- a little while longer.”
Yunjin chuckled but indulged, holding Chaewon until she pulled away.
Whatever you need.