Archive of Our Own

The dorm was quiet in the pale light of the early morning, gentle glimpses of a sunny yellow casting long shadows across Yeosang’s room.  

Curled beneath the soft blanket Seonghwa had carefully tucked around him the night before, Yeosang lay sound asleep- still nestled in the comforting crumbles of little space, wrapped in the lingering warmth left behind. 

The younger blinked awake, lids heavy and breath catching on a dry, scratchy throat. A dull ache pulsed behind his eyes, and every muscle felt as if it had been wrung out and left to dry overnight.  

He let out a low huff, already resigned to the kind of day that feeling like this promised.  

Still, he stayed where he was for a moment longer, knowing he should get up soon- but not quite ready to face the schedule ahead yet. 

It’s fine, he told himself- pushing away the warning hum in his skull. It’ll pass.

He figured that maybe after a long, hot shower, the feeling could be rinsed off- shake the heaviness loose, clear his head.  

He knew the weight of what lay ahead, and despite the dull ache clinging to him, he couldn’t let it slow him down. Not today. He had to be fine. He would be fine. 

This wasn’t just any regular day- he’d been invited to his first solo photoshoot, personally chosen by one of the industry’s most iconic brands. 

Just him. No shared spotlight, no backup angles. His face, his effort, his name- front and center in a campaign that could open doors, not just for him, but for the group they’d all fought so hard to lift. 

Opportunities like this didn’t come around often.

Not in an industry where group dynamics so often took the lead and were chosen by means of fame and potential. 

This was his moment to prove he could hold the frame alone. There was no room for weakness. No space for excuses. 

And so, he forced himself out of the comfort of his bed, barely ready to start the day but pushing through anyway. 

He peeled himself out of bed with slow, measured movements. The ache deepened as he stood, joints tight, spine protesting.  

Still, he padded to the bathroom, ignoring the way the floor felt unsteady underneath his cold feet. 

The shower steam wrapped around him like a blanket he hadn’t asked for. Too warm. Too thick.  

His vision blurred for a moment, and he had to grip the wall, forehead resting against cool tile as the world swayed beneath him. 

'Come on,' he muttered under his breath. 'Just for today.' 

By the time he stepped out, skin flushed and head spinning, his limbs felt like they belonged to someone else- someone heavier, slower.  

He reached for the cold medicine, eyes scanning the label, not really reading. Two doses.

Maybe it’ll speed things up. 

The moment the syrup hit his system while he hastily gathered his shoes and jacket for later, he knew it was a mistake. 

His thoughts dulled like the end of a song- slurred, stretched out.  

The dizziness bloomed into a fog that refused to lift, and his limbs moved with the drag of underwater resistance.  

He dressed quickly, yanked on a hoodie and jeans, and shoved his feet into sneakers without tying them properly. 

The dorm was quiet- either the others were still asleep or already gone. Perfect.  

Relief settled in his chest like a fragile thing. He didn’t need their concern this morning. 

Didn’t want the questions, the soft gazes, or the way Seonghwa’s voice always dipped into that gentle register when he was worried.

Not today. Especially not today. 

If anyone had seen the way his steps faltered, the dazed way his eyes blinked slowly like he was still half-dreaming, he knew there’d be no chance they’d let him go out like this. 

Not on his own. 

And most definitely not to a solo shoot. 

'I can’t let them worry,' he whispered, easing the door open like it might betray him if it creaked too loudly.

'I can’t slow things down.' 

'Just get through today.' 

He kept the words on loop like a mantra, repeating them with every shaky breath, every clumsy step during the twenty-minute walk to the KQ building, where a van arranged by the inviting brand would be waiting to take him to set. 

What he didn’t know was that Hongjoong had been awake the whole time, tucked on the couch in the living room, working delicately on his laptop.  

He’d glanced up just once when the younger passed, offering a soft 'morning,' too focused on his screen to register more than a glimpse. 

When no reply came, he simply assumed Yeosang was in one of his quiet moods- it happened more often and the sun had just recently began to shimmer through the windows- Hongjoong didn't blame him for an attitude this early. 

And so, he let the younger take off without another word said. 

- 

Yeosang arrived at the studio looking composed.

The thirty-minute drive had really seemed to have done him a favor, allowing the haze of drowsiness to settle just enough to pass as collected. 

After the stylists got to work, every inch of him slowly became beautifully styled and polished, and being able to sit- eyes half-lidded while hands fussed with his hair and outfit- offered a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could power through the shoot. 

But the moment he was asked to wait in the dressing room for his call time, everything started to go downhill rapidly. 

Standing made the dizziness return with a vengeance, his legs wobbling under him like they weren’t fully his to control.  

The floor felt unsteady, shifting beneath his feet.

He felt his eyes droop though he tried to fight it by pinching his wrist- a desperate attempt to not slack off and push through. 

The bright lights on set only made it worse.

The heat, the chatter, the constant flicker of movement around him. 

Underneath those same bright lights, the make-up team added the lasts bits and pieces, layering product to sharpen his features and add the finishing touches since his state seemed to worsen by the minute. 

But even make-up concealed to an extent. 

His skin, pale and almost ghostly beneath the studio lighting couldn't be masked easily. 

The flushed pink blooming stubbornly over his cheeks and ears seemed to highlight his features concerningly. 

His eyes, dull and heavy-lidded, struggling to stay open. His limbs, slow and stiff, swaying just slightly when he stood too long in place. 

It didn’t take long before the staff began to notice. 

He caught their worried glances and met them with a faint smile, soft and breathless as he murmured, '-just a bit under the weather. I’ll be fine.' 

But he wasn’t fine. 
And neither were the photos. 

No amount of retouching could disguise the sickness that clung to his expression.

Even through the lens, his discomfort managed to bleed through.  

His expression lacked life, and each pose sagged with effort rather than confidence.  

The crew, professional and empathetic, didn’t push him. Not at first.  

They tried working around him, shifting angles, softening lights, easing the pace- 

'Let’s try something seated,' one of them offered gently.

'Maybe resting against the speaker set? Lean slightly to the right, yeah?' 

Yeosang did as told, settling on the edge of the set prop, one arm resting on his bent knee.  

But the way his body compressed made his stomach twist, and he swallowed thickly, blinking hard as he forced a tight smile. 

'Great, now tilt your chin a little higher… no, just a bit more- yes, like that.' 

He tilted it up, vision fuzzing at the edges. His shoulders sagged slightly, and he had to clench his jaw to keep from swaying. 

'Yeosang, could you try squatting for this next one? Left hand on the knee, slight lean forward- it really brings attention to the label on the jeans.' 

He hesitated. That pose seemed to be triggering every inch of his already sensitive frame. 

Still, he obeyed, lowering himself slowly into the squat.

The moment his torso bent, his stomach gave a loud, miserable grumble that turned several heads. 

He winced and brought a hand instinctively to his middle, pressing lightly as if that could silence the roiling discomfort. 

They’d worked with idols long enough to recognize when someone was pushing through pain, and Yeosang was clearly doing everything he could to hold himself together. 

'You okay?' A stylist whispered nearby, just under her breath. 

The younger gave a shaky nod, lips pressed into a faint smile. 'Stomach’s just a little... off.' He was trying to make it sound casual. It didn’t land. 

The tension shifted in the room. 

That was the final sign they needed. 

Quietly, one of the senior staff members stepped away from the set and pulled out their phone. 

She spoke low, careful not to draw attention, but her tone was edged with quiet urgency. 

'Hi- this is Mina, from the shoot team working with Yeosang today. I... I think someone from your side should come.' 

There was a pause on the other end. Then, a concerned reply came not even seconds later.

'What’s wrong?' 

'He showed up this morning and said he was fine, but... he’s clearly not. He’s pale, unfocused, looks close to passing out at points. We tried adjusting things, giving him time, but the poses are making it worse. He looks like he’s going to be sick, and he won’t say it, but it’s obvious he’s not okay.' 

Another pause. 

'I know he probably didn’t want to reschedule, but this really can’t go on. There are other idols involved in this campaign, so pushing his shoot back a few days isn’t a problem for us. But I doubt he’ll agree to it unless it comes from someone he knows by heart.' 

'…I understand,' the voice finally responded. 'I’ll come get him.' 

Because if there was anyone Yeosang might listen to in this state, it was Hongjoong. 

- 

Hongjoong arrived at the studio twenty minutes later, with his hood up and his hands in his coat pockets, the cold air doing little to settle the worry simmering in his chest.  

He didn’t need directions- he could see the set through the large glass wall, and right in the middle of it all was Yeosang. 

At first glance, Hongjoong thought the younger almost appeared to be smiling.

Sang's outfit was cleanly styled, makeup done to perfection, posture pulled upright like a soldier at attention.

He looked like he belonged in the frame. 

However, it was then that the younger turned just enough for their eyes to meet. 

And the illusion shattered. 

His skin was pale and slightly clammy, flushed only where the fever had taken root. His eyes were glossy, blinking slow and unfocused, and there was a subtle tremble in his limbs that no angle or lighting could hide. 

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, throat tightening. 

How did I miss this this morning?  

It was there- the signs were right there- but he hadn’t looked close enough. 

He thought back to that quick glance in the dorm- Yeosang passing by, timid and unreadable.

He’d assumed the younger was just having a fatigued frame of mind. 

He should’ve known. He always knew. But this time, he didn’t. And that simple oversight wrapped cold fingers around his chest and squeezed. 

He was their leader for fuck's sake. The steady one.

The one who wholeheartedly became appa on the days Yeosang couldn’t quite hold himself together- when the world felt too loud, too heavy, and being the youngest in spirit outweighed being grown. 

As Yeosang caught sight of him, something shifted- barely there, but unmistakable.  

His eyes, dulled by hours of discomfort, sparked with the faintest light.  

A subtle, almost involuntary lift in his brows, like his heart had skipped a beat before he could stop it, feeling touched by the gesture.  

Hyung came to watch his photoshoot.  

But the initial glance didn’t last long. 

Not when Hongjoong’s expression shifted into something more serious and unreadable in a way that made his skin crawl.  

Yeosang’s fragile hope slipped away the moment the older stepped forward with purpose.  

Whatever quiet happiness had sparked in him vanished, replaced by something colder-the realization that this wasn’t what he thought it might be. 

'Hyung…?' Yeosang’s voice cracked just slightly, startled at the shift in attitude and the fact that he came here in the first place. 

Hongjoong didn’t hesitate. 

'You’re done here, Yeosangie.' He said gently but firmly. 'We’re going home.' 

The younger blinked, perplexed. 'W–what? No, I’m okay, hyung. Please, let’s just-' 

'You’re not okay.' The older's voice held steady, calm like stone, yet never harsh or disrespectful.  

'And I’m not going to stand here and let you hurt yourself just to prove something.' 

The younger's shoulders sagged at the words, shame already settling within the frame of his chest, but he didn’t argue again.  

He physically couldn’t- not with the way his head throbbed and his knees wobbled beneath him. 

Hongjoong offered the staff a deep bow and a soft, grateful smile, barely waiting for the younger to follow him accordingly towards the dressing room, knowing he wouldn't dare to be disobedient when the older was in a clear leader-mode, anyway.  

'Thank you for taking care of him. Really.' 

They nodded, silently reassured by his presence near yeosang, and watched as the leader gently guided the other backstage. 

Hongjoong headed straight for the dressing room after ensuring his round of gratitude towards staff.  

His expression remained unreadable to the younger, but his movements seemed to be sharp with intention.  

Behind him, the soft shuffle of socks against the floor followed- slow, hesitant steps that said more than any apology could. 

Without a word, the older stepped inside and reached for Yeosang’s coat, carefully taking it from where it hung beside his own. 

As his eyes scanned the room, he glanced toward the younger- a sympathetic look, asking without asking if there was anything else they needed to bring that wasn't in his hands already. 

Yeosang’s breath hitched. He kept his gaze glued to the floor, humiliation prickling hot in his chest. He shook his head in response, measured and small. 

He felt like he had messed up even though he had tried so hard to do the opposite by pushing through his sickness.  

It was humiliating- being the reason the shoot had been paused, being too stubborn to stop himself, and now having a teammate- no, their leader- stepping in to clean up the mess. 

He swallowed hard, throat burning as Hongjoong turned around, coat in hand. 

'Arms wide,' Hongjoong said, voice low but kind.  

Yeosang shook his head faintly, not lifting his gaze. 'I’m too hot,' he whispered, cheeks burning.  

'Don’t need it.' 

The older didn’t flinch- didn’t argue.

With careful hands, he reached for one of Yeosang’s wrists and gently tugged it upward, slipping it through the sleeve. 

The younger squirmed weakly, half-hearted in his resistance, but his limbs were sluggish and uncooperative- more suggestion than action.  

Yeosang didn’t fight harder after that, but he didn’t help either- just stood there like a grumpy little statue, blinking furiously at the floor. 

'You’re shivering.' 

'I said I don’t-' His words cracked mid-sentence as the older succesfully tugged his arm into the fabric, and he looked away fast, blinking hard.  

His arms stayed limp at his sides, fists clenched like he was bracing for something. 

The other sleeve came next, and then Hongjoong tugged the fuzzy coat all the way around his shoulders, adjusting it with quiet precision like he’d done this a hundred times. 

It only took a few moments before the coat was fully around him, enveloping him with frustrating ease. 

The coat swallowed him. Oversized and plush, engulfing him like a warm hug against his feverish skin, the collar nearly reaching the curve of his cheeks, sleeves hiding his fingers entirely. 

Only the soft curves of his cheeks and the tips of his ears peeked out- pink, fever-warm, and trembling slightly in the cold. 

Hongjoong didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, steady and patient, eyes soft in the way they always were when he was worried. 

The older eased a hand against his forehead, checking for a fever and finding him uncomfortably burning up beneath his fingers, just like he had suspected. 

'You’re burning up, sweetheart.' Hongjoong said, stating facts.  

Yeosang didn’t respond- couldn’t. Because Hongjoong was already looking at him again, properly this time, and the moment their eyes met, something in him crumbled, his waterworks threatening to break right there and then. 

The younger’s lower lip was quivering. 

His fingers scratched faintly at the hem of his sleeve, restless and aching for comfort. 

And a moment later, when the quiet got too thick and his eyes started to sting, Yeosang stepped forward- coat sleeves swinging- and bumped lightly into Hongjoong’s chest. Not quite a hug, but close enough. 

The other held him steadily, arms secure around the bundle of fur and fragile pride.

'Let’s get you in the car, hmm?' 

Yeosang sniffled, swaying slightly, and nodded once- small and reluctant.  

He didn’t speak as Hongjoong gently placed a hand on the lower side of his back and led him toward the exit. 

The walk to the van was wordless, each step softened by the hush of cold air brushing against their skin.  

Yeosang didn’t bother pretending anymore- not within Hongjoong's presence.

He trembled openly now, every shiver betraying just how much the drop in temperature had worn him down. 

Hongjoong stayed close, slowing his pace without needing to be asked, keeping just enough space to offer safety, not pressure. 

Then his stomach gave a deep, painful rumble.  

It twisted so sharply it stole the air from his lungs, and it made the younger stumble backwards mid-step, clutching at his middle with both hands.  

He froze there on the sidewalk, eyes wide and glassy while he crumbled inwards a bit to steady himself, holding his fingers tightly against the fabric of his coat. 

A beat passed. 

And then- barely audible- he released the tiniest sound. A soft, shaky whimper that sounded more confused than anything else. 

'M-my tummy…' he whisper-cried, blinking down at his hands like they’d betrayed him. 'Tummy hurts real bad…' 

The words came out small, round at the edges. Unfiltered. Like they hadn’t passed through the usual wall of practiced calm he always seemed to wear.  

Hongjoong paused, instinct kicking in- but before he could speak, Yeosang’s breath hitched, and his whole face crumpled. 

'Hu-urts- a-appa- Sangie's s-sorry-' He staggered, tears spilling fast now, his voice cracking open.

'Didn’t mean to- m-messed it up- Hyung, I-' 

And just like that, the younger teetered on the edge of regression, each shaky step toward the car pulling him closer to that soft, wordless place he couldn't hold off much longer. 

Ofcourse, Hongjoong knew this too. One glance at the younger told him all he should know. 

And so, he was quick to approach, lifting the distressed younger into his arms with practiced ease, cradling his hair by brushing his fingers through the soft strands, shushing and rocking him until only sad little whimpers released themselves every other second. 

'Shhh, tiny one.' He whispered, grounding him with a warm hand tracing patterns against his back.

'It’s okay, baby. Appa's got you now, you can slip, darling.' 

Yeosang hiccupped in response, clinging to Hongjoong’s jacket as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.  

'Hyung’s here,' he soothed, brushing back sweaty strands from Yeosang’s forehead. 'You’re sick, that’s all. You didn’t do anything wrong. You tried so hard, and now it’s time for our Sangie to rest.' 

The other gave a distressed shake of the head in refusal, trying his hardest to suppress the edges of babyspace. 

Hongjoong’s heart clenched. 

'S-sangie no can be l-little.' He sobbed, heartbroken by the realization that his body wouldn't quite let him regress back to his regular mindset even though he tried, the distress taking its toll on him. 

The older didn’t argue. 

He didn’t tell Yeosang it was okay to be little, didn’t coax or explain or try to reason with him. There was no point.

Sangie never gave in because someone told him to.  

He was stubborn on the best of days- fiercely independent, fiercely proud.  

If his body didn’t knock him flat, he’d keep pushing, keep insisting he was fine even when he was wobbling on his feet.  

Relaxing wasn’t something he did willingly. Not without a fight. 

And Hongjoong knew better than to waste words on a battle already lost.  

He just held him tighter, kept the rhythm of the rocking slow and steady, grounding him with soft shushes as the younger trembled and clung like something unraveling in his arms. 

And then it happened. 

Yeosang’s breath hitched in the middle of a hiccup, and his eyes unfocused for just a second too long.  

The kind of dazed, watery look that always came when the headspace got too small.  

The kind that meant he wasn’t just scared or tired anymore- he was slipping to the edge of babyspace, deep and fast.  

His fingers twitched where they clutched Hongjoong’s jacket, and he let out a soft, almost curious sound. 

And that was the moment the older knew. 

Because when the younger slipped this far, he forgot how to sit up properly. Forgot how seatbelts worked.  

He’d get distracted by the lights outside the window or the shape of his own shoes and end up slumped sideways, boneless, or kicking his feet too hard against the dashboard just because they could move. 

It wasn’t safe. 

So Hongjoong’s eyes flicked to the van. Specifically, the back seat. 

The car seat they’d installed weeks ago- deliberately and without hesitation- after one too many close calls.  

Because sometimes, when regression hit too hard and too fast, it wasn’t safe to rely on seatbelts and grown-up posture. They’d learned that the hard way with Wooyoungie the other day.  

And so, the seat stayed- cleaned, adjusted, and ready. 

For moments exactly like this. 

With one last sweep of his fingers through Yeosang’s sweat-damp hair, he stood and gently adjusted his hold before turning toward the van. 

The second the younger caught sight of where they were headed, he tensed- limbs twitching in slow, delayed resistance. 

'Hy-Hyungie no…' he whimpered, breath stuttering. 'No, no-‘m n-not- don’t wan- don’ wanna…' 

His voice cracked mid-sentence, the words collapsing in on themselves.

What started as a protest trailed into broken cries, mouth working but not keeping up with his thoughts.  

His head gave a frantic shake, tears slipping past his lashes. 

'I know, Sangie,' The other said softly, but his grip stayed firm nonetheless.

'I know you don't. But you’re sick. And tired. And this keeps you safe, baby. That’s what matters.' 

The moment the car door opened and he angled him down, Yeosang began to squirm again- frustrated, weak protests tumbling from his mouth as his fists pressed against the other's chest.  

His legs kicked, but they were loose and floppy, more instinct than strength. 

'Na- nooo, a-appa- no seat, n-no seat for S-sangie-' 

But the words were getting fuzzy, the consonants losing shape in his mouth, dissolving into sniffles and sobs and shaking breaths.  

His orbs were wide and hazy now, rimmed with red, darting between Hongjoong’s hands and the car seat as it seemed he couldn’t keep focus on either. 

He tried to make himself small, curling inward as best he could while being guided down- but his body was too exhausted, too warm and soft and slow to resist properly. 

And the other handled him with swift ease. He knew this headspace- right on the edge of babyspace, where speech started to fall apart and gestures did all the talking.  

Where the fight never truly left, but it grew small and blurry around the edges. 

He worked quickly and gently, sliding Yeosang down into the car seat. The harness came up.  

The buckles clicked. 

And that was it. 

Yeosang let out a soft, crumpled wail- defeated and shaky, the kind of cry that didn’t know where it wanted to land. 

His cheeks were flushed deep pink, pout trembling, hair clinging to his damp forehead.  

He blinked up at the older, eyes glossy and confused and full of exhausted protest. 

Hongjoong crouched beside the seat and took in the sight- his tiny fighter, frame visibly shaking with leftover sobs and stubbornness.  

But there he was- strapped in, safe and sound, swallowed by the cushioned sides of the car seat.  

His flushed face peeked out from beneath the coat, his hair mussed, his bottom lip wobbling in frustration. 

The younger released an unhappy sniffle- but the way his body slowly melted into the gentle restraint of the seat told the older everything he needed to know. 

The other's expression softened into something warm and unbearably fond, tilting his head with a sweet smile, eyes going soft around the corners. 

'Oh, look at you,' he cooed, brushing the back of his hand along Yeosang’s cheek.  

'All bundled up like my sweet little dumpling. You make such a precious picture, Sangie.' 

He gave another tired whimper and kicked weakly under the harness. 

Hongjoong just chuckled delicately but didn't push him further, reaching into the side pocket for the emergency blanket they always kept in the van.  

He draped it over his lap and up to his chest, tucking it in around his sides with practiced, careful hands. 

'There we go. Warm and safe. That’s all we want right now.' 

He pressed a gentle kiss to Yeosang’s temple, lingering for just a second before closing the door with a soft click and circling around to the front. 

From the rearview mirror, he could just see the top of Yeosang’s head, the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath the blanket, and the stubborn little pout that still clung to his lips despite the regression fog settling in deeper by the second. 

He started the engine. 

'Home soon, baby,' he murmured, voice soft as the hum of the car. 'Appa’s got you.' 

- 

The ride home was quiet, save for the soft sniffles and pitiful sobs that continued to bubble up from the backseat.  

Yeosang regressed further with every passing minute spent in the car- his thoughts dissolving into fuzz, his words forgotten altogether, leaving only instinct and emotion behind. 

Rain speckled rhythmically against the windshield while the younger fought a losing battle against consciousness, eyes fluttering with stubborn effort. 

He fussed quietly at first, then louder, his cries coming in hiccupy waves- sharp whines fading into breathless wails before falling quiet again, only to rise once more. 

But Hongjoong never let the silence feel lonely. 

He kept his voice low and gentle, filling the space with soft lullabies and sweet nothings- tender reassurances woven through every verse as he kept track of the navigation. 

'You’re doing so good, baby… shhh, that’s it… appa’s right here. Just rest now, mmkay? You’re okay. All safe. All warm.' 

And each time he whimpered or kicked weakly against the seatbelt, Hongjoong’s voice would smooth over the panic, cradling him in sound the same way the car seat cradled his tiny frame. 

Eventually, the sobs faded into peaceful sniffles. 

Then soft breaths. 

Then silence. 

By the time the navigation softly announced they were five minutes from home, Yeosang had finally surrendered to sleep, his breaths coming out slow and steady. 

Hongjoong peeked at the rearview mirror every other minute- each time greeted by the same sight of the younger, fast asleep, bundled up like a sweet little slumberbug. 

His cheek was squished gently against the side of the car seat, lips parted, the emergency blanket pulled up to his chin.  

His lashes fluttered with each bump in the road, but he didn’t stir. 

Not until they were nearly home did Hongjoong reach for his phone and tap Seonghwa’s contact. 

It rang twice. 

'Joongie?' Seonghwa’s voice was warm and bright, like he’d been waiting for him to call. 

'Hey, Hwa,' Hongjoong replied quietly, eyes still flicking toward the mirror.

'I’m just about home. Got Sangie with me.' 

Seonghwa paused. “Isn't Yeosang at the photoshoot location? Did something happen?' The oldest was quick to worry, knowing Hongjoong never really had to come pick them up before. 

He exhaled slowly. 'Yeah. He wasn’t doing great at the shoot. The staff called me in, said he looked like he was gonna pass out.' 

'Poor Sang, how is he now? Can you hand the phone to him for a second?' 

Hongjoong glanced at the rearview mirror again, watching the rise and fall of Yeosang’s chest beneath the blanket. 

'I would,' he murmured, lips curving in something tender, 'but he’s fast asleep now. He slipped halfway down the sidewalk, clamping himself to stop the cramps in his tummy. He was already shaking when I got there- flushed, glassy-eyed- today really took its toll on him.' 

He paused, his voice dipping lower, more affectionate. 

'I tucked him into the car seat we installed earlier though. Didn't want to risk his safety since he barely kept his back upright.' 

Another glance in the mirror. A little smile ghosted across his lips. 

'He’s settled now, though. All buckled in and dreaming. His tummy’s warm, his hands are tucked. The rain lulled him to sleep.' 

Seonghwa let out a coo, gentle and aching. 'My poor baby…' 

'Should I make a bottle or prepare anything else in advance?' 

Hongjoong shook his head, but realized a tad too late that the other couldn't see, and so he answered anyway.

'No need, let's try to get him inside without waking him, first. He's too cute like this.' 

'I want to see,' Seonghwa said immediately, fond and already moving. 'I’ll be at the door.' 

By the time Hongjoong pulled into the driveway, the porch light had flicked on, and Seonghwa was waiting just outside in one of his knitted cardigans, arms crossed tight against the chill.  

As soon as the engine turned off, the oldest reached out for the door handle, opening the back door. 

'Aigoo…' Seonghwa whispered, instantly melting at the sight. 'Look at you.' 

Yeosang was still out cold, but the pout remained, bottom lip pushed out ever so slightly.  

His fists were tucked against his chest beneath the blanket, legs curled up a little to the side from where he’d shifted in sleep. 

Seonghwa reached in with delicate fingers, quietly unbuckling the harness bit by bit, pausing in between to minimize the risk of waking him. 

'Hi, sweet pea,' he murmured as he worked, eyes never leaving the younger’s face. 'Mama's here now.' 

Once, the last buckle clicked out of the lock successfully, he gently scooped the younger out of the seat and into his own arms, wrapping him in familiar warmth. 

A distressed, painful whine left the younger's lips as Seonghwa rocked him softly, unlashing his Vans with the other hand as Hongjoong gathered their stuff from the backseat. 

The younger seemed to become even more out of it upon slumbering, fluttering between shaping actual words to uttering syllables to- nothing in particular other than soft hums and mumbles. 

And then his stomach gave a deep, awful gurgle. 

Yeosang whimpered in his hold- his pouty face scrunching up- then let out a panicked breath as he fully jolted awake.  

Disoriented and aching, he clung to Seonghwa’s cardigan with trembling fingers, the soft knit twisting in his grip. 

'H-hurts-!' Yeosang whimpered as he dazedly recognized Seonghwa's presence and scent upon waking up a bit, tucking himself further into his hold. 

He didn’t fully comprehend his surroundings- only that someone soft was holding him, that everything felt too hot and too heavy, and that his tummy still ached painfully. 

He buried himself deeper into Seonghwa’s chest, pressing his flushed cheek to the crook of his neck, eyes fluttering open and shut.  

His hands clutched weakly at the fabric, body trembling as a low, unsettled sound rumbled from deep in his belly. 

His stomach twisted once more. 

But Yeosang didn’t understand the signals. Not really. Not in the hazy ambience of babyspace.  

He just knew something felt wrong- tight and yucky and scary- and he wanted his mama to make it go away. 

His legs gave a feeble kick as he whimpered again. 

A sudden convulsion tore through his frame, his body going taut in the older's arms.  

One broken sob escaped his throat just before his neck heaved forward with a thick, miserable cry. 

'Yeo- oh, sweetheart-' Seonghwa gasped, tightening his grip automatically even as warmth spilled messily across the side of his cardigan.  

He barely had time to brace them both before Yeosang gave another sickly lurch- this time across Seonghwa’s back, caught in the awkward crook where he’d been tucked for comfort. 

The younger broke into loud sobs the moment it was over, breath hitching between cries, his face buried in Seonghwa’s chest, clutching onto his arms in a way that made the older's heart clench.  

'Oh, baby, shhh, it’s okay- it’s okay, I’ve got you.' He whispered, voice calm despite the growing mess, one hand cupping the back of the younger's head as if to shield him from the world. 

Hongjoong was already there, hands on both of them in seconds. 

'I’ve got him- shhh, baby, come here,' he murmured, scooping Yeosang into his arms just as another wave of sick splattered onto the pavement beside the van. 

The younger let out a heart-wrenching wail, too far gone to be embarrassed, too exhausted to fight.  

His hands clutched at Hongjoong’s jacket with sticky fingers, face twisted in discomfort and confusion. 

'Your tummy is all upset, hmm, tiny one?' He rhetorically babytalked as a way to soothe the other, pressing a kiss to his hot forehead before brushing back his damp bangs. 

The commotion didn’t go unnoticed. 

San and Yunho came rushing out the front door, barefoot and alarmed at the sounds that came from just outside of their dorm.  

They froze at the sight of Seonghwa covered in sick, and Hongjoong murmuring soft, steady comfort to the boy trembling in his arms. 

Yeosang looked small. So small.  

Pink-cheeked and pitiful, tear tracks streaking his flushed skin, hair damp and clinging to his forehead as he whimpered against Hongjoong’s neck- lost and hurting and too deep in regression to understand what had just happened. 

Hongjoong had their bags clutched in one hand, awkwardly shifting them as he adjusted the younger in the other.  

Yunho stepped forward, calm and gentle in his approach as to not startle the already distressed little.  

'Here, let me take him so you can bring your stuff inside properly.' 

The older hesitated, eyes flicking down to the boy in his arms. 

'Just for a second,' he murmured, more to him than anyone. 'I’ll be right behind, flower.' 

Carefully, like he was made of glass, he transferred the other into Yunho’s arms, ensuring his fingers clutched onto Yunho instead of his own before letting go fully. 

Yeosang let out a heartbroken little whimper the moment he left his chest, fingers weakly grasping for the fabric of his jacket.  

'Shh, it’s okay,' Yunho whispered, cradling him close. 'I’ve got you, bub. I’ve got you.' 

Hongjoong brushed his hand gently over Yeosang’s hair, voice soft.  

'Go on. Yunho’s just gonna take you inside where it’s warm.' 

San was already slipping past them, holding the door for all of them as they gathered inside.  

'I’ll run a bath for you both,' he called over his shoulder, disappearing upstairs within seconds, Yunho and Seonghwa following close behind. 

Upstairs, Yunho eased into the bedroom with slow steps, careful not to jostle the upset bundle in his arms.  

The door clicked shut behind them, muffled by the quiet shuffle of socks on carpet and the faint sounds of water running in the distance- San, already prepping the bath. 

A soft blend of vanilla and something warm and earthy slowly settled into the room- a comforting scent, familiar and soothing, like home itself had exhaled upon them. 

He settled Yeosang onto the bed as gently as possible, cradling the back of his head as he laid him down on the towel that Seonghwa had already spread out for him, preventing the sheets from becoming dirty from the throw-up staining his clothes. 

But the moment the younger’s back met the mattress, everything soured. 

His stomach gave an angry lurch, loud and gurgling, and he released a high, broken sound- somewhere between a whimper and a hiccup. 

Yunho frowned, smoothing a hand over the younger’s forehead. Still burning. Too warm. Too flushed. 

'We need to cool you off, sweetheart,' he murmured, fingers going to the coat still cozily wrapped around his frame, unzipping it before tugging the sleeves, revealing Yeosang's shivering arms.  

'Let’s get you out of these dirty clothes, little one. Then it’s bath time, promise.' 

But the younger did nothing but squirm, his body stiff with resistance as he tried to curl sideways on the bed, whimpering low.  

He didn't want to be touched, didn’t want to move, and certainly didn’t want to be anywhere except in his mama’s arms. 

The sheets were soft, but they pressed weirdly against his tummy- too much pressure in the wrong places- and his legs kicked sluggishly in frustration. 

Yunho paused. 'Hurts when you lay like that, huh?' He smiles sympathetically, settling his coat on the chair besides the bed, as well as his shoes and socks. 

'Yun, please roll him back, he doesn't quite understand that this will make him throw up again.' Seonghwa urges, waving his hand softly to accentuate Yeosang frowning from where his stomach is trapped against the sheets. 

Yunho nodded without hesitation, his face softening as he reached to carefully guide Yeosang back, now facing forward.  

'Alright, alright, buddy. Let’s not make your tummy more upset, yeah?' 

The younger whimpered at the shift, a weak little noise that caught in his throat as he clung to the blankets beneath him. 

From the other side of the room, Seonghwa moved with purpose- barefoot now, sleeves rolled up as he grabbed a clean towel from the dresser and folded it neatly at the foot of the bed, always thinking ahead. 

Meanwhile, Yunho's fingers reached for the hem of the other's sweater- but he flinched, writhing away from the touch like it stung, face twisted in discomfort. 

'No?' Yunho asked softly, backing off immediately. 'Too much, baby? Okay. We’ll take it slow.' 

Yeosang didn’t answer. 

Instead, his face crumpled. 

It happened slowly at first- just a wobble in his lip, a tremble in his chin- but then the dam broke. 

A sob burst out of him- loud, ragged, and full of frustration he didn’t know how to name. 

He curled on his side as best he could, curling into the ache in his stomach and sobbing like it was the only language he remembered. 

Yunho’s eyes widened slightly. 'Sangie- hey, shh, let's not roll again, darling-' 

But Yeosang wasn’t looking at him. 

His cries pitched higher, reaching for something just out of grasp. Not pain exactly. Not words. 

Someone. 

Across the room, Seonghwa- midway through changing, shirt already shed and cardigan half-folded in his hands, knew exactly what the younger tried to tell Yunho, and was quick to approach. 

'I’ll undress him,' Seonghwa said gently, his voice dipping into that soft, steady register he only ever used when either Yeosang or Wooyoung were regressed.  

'He’s too far gone. He won’t fight me.' 

Yunho met his eyes briefly, something unspoken passing between them before he nodded and stepped aside, letting Seonghwa kneel by the bed. 

The moment the older reached out, Yeosang’s sweaty hands twitched, reaching clumsily for Seonghwa's chest with a faint, broken sound. 

'There you are, my darling,' Seonghwa cooed, brushing his knuckles along the flushed curve of his cheek.  

'You didn’t like that, huh? Being laid down like that without mama?' 

The younger whimpered again, lip wobbling.  

His fingers tangled themselves weakly into his mama's, humming when the older continued to brush his thumb against his fingers in reassurance. 

Seonghwa simply hummed, easing a hand beneath the hem of the vomit-stained sweater, careful not to tug or pull too quickly.  

The fabric was clinging to him, damp and unpleasant, but Seonghwa didn’t grimace- he just peeled it slowly away from his shivering skin, whispering reassurances with every careful motion. 

'One arm… that’s it, baby. Now the other. There we go. Good job.' 

Once the sweater was off and discarded into the laundry pile, he pressed a quick kiss to Yeosang’s temple before moving down to his jeans. 

The button came undone with a soft click. 

'Just your yucky pants now, sweetheart. I’ll be super careful, promise.' 

And he was. 

He worked them off gently, inch by inch, avoiding any sudden movements. The fabric slid down over his shaky legs, and Seonghwa gathered them carefully, keeping the younger as close as possible so he wouldn't feel exposed or cold. 

Then came the last bit- his underwear, just as damp and uncomfortable. 

'Almost done, baby. Just one more, alright?' His voice never wavered, not even as his heart cracked watching Yeosang’s lip tremble from the discomfort. 

'M-mama.' The little whimpered, trying to reach for the older's hands but failing miserably because his arms felt far too heavy upon lifting them from the towel beneath his frame. 

Seonghwa peeled the last layer away with practiced, maternal hands, cooing soothingly all the while.  

'There we go, darling.' 

The moment his body was bare, Seonghwa reached for the large towel at the end of the bed- the softest one, warm from the heater.  

He swept it open, cradled the younger’s limp frame, and wrapped him up snug. 

'There’s my tiny poppy,' he smiled, pressing the towel beneath one side of Yeosang’s body before folding the other side firmly around him, swaddling him with practiced ease. 

Yeosang let out a breathless, shaky sigh, visibly relaxing into the cocoon. 

'So warm now, aren’t we?' Seonghwa cooed, brushing a kiss along the younger’s damp hairline. 

'Is that his new nickname now, Hyung?' San chuckled as he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed.

'Bath’s ready, by the way.' 

'Bet. You going to tell me he doesn't look like a sweet, red little poppy all tucked in with that fever glow?' 

San snorted, walking over to ruffle Yeosang’s hair gently.  

'Mm, you got me there. But I’m still calling dibs on sweet one- suits him no matter how you wrap him.' San winks, redirecting himself to the bathroom again. 

Seonghwa beamed for a second before shifting his arms- one beneath the younger's toweled bum, the other against his back as he settled him onto his waist, effortlessly lifting him from the bed.  

Held close to his chest, Yeosang was warm, safe, and steady in his grasp. 

'Bath’s ready, lovebug,' he whispered as he carried him out of the room, towel and all.  

'San made it just right. Warm and bubbly. Isn't he the sweetest?' 

Yeosang whimpered faintly, the softest sound of protest escaping him- quiet but clear.  

He’d gone quiet earlier, left out of their small exchange, and now, with his fever blurring his thoughts a bit, the confusion over what they were talking about was leaving him a little fussy. 

Seonghwa felt it instantly. 

'Aww, poppy,' he cooed, adjusting his hold slightly so he could press a trail of kisses across Yeosang’s cheek, temple, and brow.  

'We weren’t ignoring you, I promise. We were just busy swooning over your sweet little face.' 

Another kiss against his cheek. Then another- slow, featherlight, comforting. 

'You’ve got us both wrapped around your pinky, you know that?' he whispered as Yeosang tucked his face against his neck, body already relaxing again. 

As they walked, the light from the hallway bathed them in gold, casting soft halos around their edges. 

The younger blinked drowsily at his mama, lids heavy but calm now, no longer fighting-just breathing, trusting, letting himself be carried like the precious little thing he was. 

Seonghwa leaned down just slightly, lips brushing against Yeosang’s flushed cheek. 

'Let’s make you feel all better, hmm? My tiny poppy’s got nothing to worry about anymore.' 

- 

Yeosang whimpered softly, wrapped like a little dumpling in the oversized towel that Seonghwa had just bundled him in.  

His fever left him sluggish and barely responsive, but even in his foggy babyspace, his eyes blinked slowly up at the soft lights of the hallway. 

Seonghwa hummed a quiet lullaby as he padded softly toward the bathroom. 

‘Mmm…’ was all the little could manage- muffled and unsure while he planted his head against Seonghwa’s chest as the other kept walking. 

He didn’t speak, didn’t try.  

Words weren’t working right now, not when everything felt too hot and heavy for him to comprehend all at once.  

He just curled deeper into the soft towel, letting the warmth shield him from the faint chill in the air. 

‘Poor flower,’ San whispered with a fond, sad smile as he watched from beside Yunho, opening the door for them to enter. 

San had already prepared everything for them- soft candlelight danced on the walls, the bathwater warm and cloudy with soothing bubbles, the scent of vanilla and blackwood lingering in the air like a soft blanket.  

The water gently lapped at the sides of the tub, steaming faintly. 

'Look what Sannie made, bubba,' Seonghwa whispered against the younger's temple.  

'Doesn’t it smell so nice? You’re gonna feel all better soon, just a little bath with Mama.' 

Yeosang didn’t respond, but the flutter of his lashes said he was listening, if only in that dreamlike way littles did when their minds were mushy and soft. 

‘Let’s get hyung in first. That way, Sangie can be handed into warm arms instead of only water right away.’ Yunho suggested, nodding to the bathtub in thought. 

San glanced over to Seonghwa, who had already started preparing to get in, understanding immediately.  

‘I’ll take him,’ he said gently, moving closer.

‘You get settled, hyungie.’ 

Seonghwa hesitated for a split second, often a little reluctant to let go of him when he was in this vulnerable state, but he nodded nevertheless, knowing Yeosang’s preference shouldn’t affect the others from taking care of him as well.  

‘Okay, be careful with him though- he’s shaky.’ 

San hummed in confirmation as he leaned in, gently easing the towel-wrapped boy from Seonghwa’s hold. 

The second Yeosang was shifted, he whimpered unhappily- a soft, unsure sound that trembled in his throat.  

His limbs tensed instinctively, and his lips parted in a shaky breath. 

‘Shhh,’ San soothed immediately, cradling him close against his chest, careful not to jostle him too much.  

‘Just for a moment, sweet bub. You’re okay. Sannie’s got you.’ 

Yunho moved past them with quiet efficiency, dimming the lights a bit further and checking the water temperature one last time while Seonghwa stepped into the tub, settling slowly with a sigh.  

The warm water rippled gently around him as he held his arms out in invitation. 

‘Okay, baby,’ San whispered, brushing his hand along the back of Yeosang’s towel-wrapped head.  

‘Mama’s ready for you now, love. Let’s go get cozy, huh?’ 

However, the moment the towel began to unwrap- when the warm barrier of fluff was pulled back and the steamy air rushed in to meet Yeosang’s hot, sensitive skin- he flinched hard. 

A gasp tore from his throat, followed by a high, broken sob.  

His fingers grabbed at the air, legs curling, and by the time San began to lower him gently into the water, the younger was already crying. 

He wailed the moment the warmth touched his back. 

His body tensed and jerked, the transition from wrapped to bare to submerged happening far too fast for his overwhelmed senses.  

And worse, the movement made his fever-sensitive stomach roll and ache again. 

The pain and confusion burst out of him in uncontrollable sobs. 

‘Nnn-nnnn--mm!’ 

‘Oh, sweet one- shh, it’s okay, it’s okay!’ San quickly soothed, but the tears only worsened when he was finally passed into Seonghwa’s waiting arms. 

The oldest immediately gathered him close, settling the boy’s trembling body into his lap and tucking his head beneath his chin.  

‘Mama’s here, poppy. Mama’s right here. You’re okay, baby. Shhh, now…’ 

But Yeosang kept crying, his face scrunched up in distress, little fists clenching against Seonghwa’s chest.  

His breathing was erratic, his entire body trembling with confusion and upset. 

San leaned in close again, crouching beside the tub with a gentle look in his eyes. 

‘Oh, love…’ he whispered, reaching to run a hand over Yeosang’s hair.  

‘You got a bit startled by the water, didn’t you, sweet one?’ 

The younger didn’t answer- couldn’t- but his sobs slowed just slightly at the familiar rhythm of San’s voice. 

He turned his head a little, eyes peeking through damp lashes. 

‘Poor flower… just wanted to stay in your towel where you were all warm, huh?’ San continued, his voice rhythmic, rhetorical, no pressure.  

‘And then that water snuck up on you. Gave your poor tum a little tumble too, hmm?’ 

Yeosang’s cries gradually dulled to quiet sniffles.  

Another hiccupping sob escaped from his lips, but it was softer.  

He blinked slowly again, those big fever-glazed eyes glassy and confused, like he didn’t know what had just happened or why he felt so upset. 

‘There we go,’ Seonghwa smiled, rocking him gently.

‘Sannie figured you out, didn’t he? That big brain.’ 

San grinned softly, leaning in to press a kiss to Yeosang’s temple.  

‘Don’t worry, lovebug. You’re safe now. We’re right here. Just some silly bath bubbles, nothing scary.’ 

The younger finally stopped crying, but he didn’t return to calm. Not entirely. 

His face settled into a sad pout, lips slightly parted as he breathed through his mouth. His expression remained blank and dazed, like his little brain had just checked out entirely- safely tucked away in the warmth of Seonghwa’s arms. 

‘M-ma.’ 

Seonghwa kissed the crown of his damp head and held him tighter.  

‘That’s it, baby. Shh. Mama’s got you now,’ he murmured. 

Yeosang didn’t speak after- didn’t even hum. He just nestled closer to Seonghwa’s chest, eyes open but unseeing, his pout lingering while his little brain floated in that safe, quiet numbness. 

San leaned over the edge of the tub after a few seconds, crouched comfortably, his arms crossed over a folded towel to cushion him.  

He smiled softly at the sight of Sangie all curled up. 

‘Should we wash him now?’ San asked softly, glancing at Seonghwa who nodded in response, caressing the small of Yeosang’s back absentmindedly. 

San reached for the small, plastic basin nearby, already filled with warm water and a clean, soft washcloth soaking inside, thanks to Yunho who returned with those before informing the others about Yeosang further down the hallway.  

‘Want me to start with his arms and chest while you hold him?’ he offered. 

‘Perfect,’ Seonghwa agreed, adjusting the younger just slightly in his lap, angling him so his arm and upper body were easier to reach. 

‘Go ahead.’ 

San dipped the washcloth into the basin again, then wrung it out slowly, letting it drip once before folding it neatly in his hands. 

‘Alright, darling,’ San cooed sweetly as he began wiping gently against his chest in soft, warm strokes. 

‘Sannie’s just giving you your spa treatment now. Gotta get you all clean, yeah?’ 

The younger flinched slightly at the contact- just a twitch of his shoulders and a faint squirm in Seonghwa’s lap.  

The older carefully pecked the top of his head a few times, resting his forehead against the younger’s in reassurance right after, and it made Yeosang melt into relaxation again. 

‘There we go,’ San praised softly. ‘You like that, huh? Just like a cloud. See? Nothing scary here.’ 

‘Doing so well, baby,’ Seonghwa whispered, one hand rubbing soft circles against Yeosang’s back, the other gently holding his thigh to keep him steady.  

San moved carefully to his arms next, washing each limb with featherlight pressure- never too fast, never too cold.  

They both chuckled softly when they caught Yeosang’s mesmerised expression as bubbles formed along the washcloth.  

‘We should’ve brought the ducky,’ San said in mock regret. 

Seonghwa grinned. ‘Next time, for sure. Maybe the little sponge crab too.’ 

The little didn’t react much beyond a sleepy blink.  

His fingers gave a faint twitch as the other washed his palm, instinctively curling around the cloth in response. 

‘Aren’t you just the sweetest little bundle of sunshine-’ San cooed with playful affection, fighting the urge to munch on his friend, who simply gazed back at him in wonder. 

‘It’s time to wash your hair now, bub.’ 

Seonghwa shifted, supporting Yeosang carefully as he leaned back just a little, one hand moving to cradle his head while keeping it above the water. 

‘Are you still comfy, Hwa?’ San checked gently while gathering the shampoo and conditioner from the cabinet. 

The oldest simply hummed, soaking into the warmth and scent of his surroundings contently. 

San nodded warmly, planting the vanilla-and-lavender shampoo near his knees, lathering a small amount between his hands, warming it gently before leaning in. 

‘Okay, angel,’ San murmured as he began massaging the suds into Yeosang’s scalp. ‘Sannie’s gonna make those pretty strands of yours all clean now.’ 

He twitched slightly at the sensation- another soft flinch- but then he melted, his head resting heavier against Seonghwa’s palm.  

His lips parted in the faintest breathy sigh. 

‘Ohhh, he likes that,’ Seonghwa said, beaming, watching how his little one’s lashes fluttered. 

‘Can’t blame him,’ San chuckled, still working slowly and rhythmically. ‘Feels good, doesn’t it, bubby?’ 

Tiny bubbles slipped down Yeosang’s temple, and San wiped them away gently, careful not to let anything trail into his eyes. 

‘Come here with your head, Hwa.’ San instructed, softly motioning for him to lean forward a bit.  

‘Ah, you don’t have to, Sannie, I can wash myself properly when Sang is done.’ The older reassured, always prioritizing his friend’s needs over his own. 

‘None of that, close your eyes.’

The younger worked gently, making sure Hwa’s head was fully shampooed too before moving onto the next step. 

‘Okay, I’m gonna rinse now,’ San whispered, dipping the cup into the water.  

‘Mama, tilt him just a bit more.’ 

Seonghwa gave him a look, but followed the cue anyway, supporting Yeosang’s head with practiced care as San poured the warm water over his scalp. 

Yeosang squirmed just a little again- the sensation unfamiliar- but he didn’t fuss this time.  

San quickly rinsed Seonghwa’s hair too, careful not to spill the remnants in his eyes. 

‘And done,’ He whispered, setting the cup aside and smoothing a gentle palm over their hair. 

-  

‘He’s so still,’ San whispered after a moment, watching the way Yeosang’s tiny fingers floated just beneath the surface. ‘He’s like a little leaf.’ 

Seonghwa nodded, his cheek resting gently against the other’s temple.  

‘We should finish quickly before he falls asleep in the water.’  

San smiled, kneeling beside the tub again, reaching for the warm washcloth he’d folded over the rim earlier.  

‘Alright. Can you turn him, hyung? Just carefully- his back to your tummy. I’ll finish his legs and his little toes.’ 

Seonghwa moved slowly, one hand supporting Yeosang’s chest, the other steady at his waist as he guided the little one into a new position- his back settling against Seonghwa’s torso, nestled safely against him with his head tucked beneath the older’s chin. 

The younger released soft sound- barely a hum- at the change in position, and his brows knit faintly as if to fuss, but he didn’t resist. 

‘I’ve got you, poppy,’ Seonghwa cooed gently, pressing a kiss into his damp hair.  

‘Mama’s right here, sweet pea. Just turning you a bit. You’re safe, promise.’ 

Once he was settled, San dipped the washcloth into the warm basin again, squeezing out the excess water with a soft squish before shifting closer. 

‘Hi, baby,’ San whispered sweetly, brushing his thumb over Yeosang’s thigh.  

‘Just gonna do the last little bits, okay? Gotta make sure you’re all fresh and clean.’ 

Yeosang stirred faintly, his legs twitching the tiniest bit in Seonghwa’s lap, toes curling instinctively under the surface.  

He seemed to realize he was a little more exposed now, his posture tensing slightly, even though he didn’t have the words to protest. 

Seonghwa noticed right away.

He curled his arms a little tighter around the boy’s middle and murmured gently into his ear, ‘It’s okay, flower. I’m covering you. Sannie’s going fast. Just your legs and your teeny toes. That’s all.’ 

San was impossibly gentle, starting at his thighs, washing in careful motions- his hand warm and practiced, voice a soothing rhythm alongside the water. 

‘You’re doing so well, Sangie. Just gonna do your knees now… and your feetsies, ooh, look at these little toes we’ve got here-’ San teased softly, giving the tiniest, playful wiggle to his foot as he gently washed between his toes. 

Yeosang twitched and let out a breathy, hiccup-like squeak- just startled enough for Seonghwa to press a soft ‘shhh’ against his cheek, rubbing small circles on his chest. 

‘All done, my lovebug,’ San whispered with a smile, wiping his hands dry on the towel.  

Seonghwa kissed the side of the younger’s head, nuzzling his cheek.

‘You’ve done so well, poppy. So, so good for Mama and Sannie.’ 

San stroked his cheek and whispered, ‘think he’s ready to be toweled and snuggled, huh?’ 

The older hummed, hugging Yeosang gently in his arms.

‘We’re gonna get you all dry now, baby. And warm. Then snuggles and maybe your bottle, huh?’ 

Yeosang didn’t answer, but he let his head fall back just a little more, body sinking fully into the warm embrace around him- trusting, quiet, and clean. 

He was safe. And his caregivers had made sure every single part of him knew it. 

- 

The bath had calmed him, but as Seonghwa shifted to sit up a little straighter in the tub, Yeosang’s feet kicked softly beneath the water, splashing in tiny, uncoordinated flutters.  

His little brows were drawn in a tired pout again, and the moment Seonghwa adjusted his hold, he squirmed with a faint whimper. 

He didn't want to be moved around anymore. He just wanted to sleep next to his mama and feel better again. 

'I know, I know,' Seonghwa murmured, carefully supporting him with both arms as he stood slowly, water cascading down both their frames.  

'You’re all done, poppy. Time for warm towel snuggles now.' 

San stood waiting just outside the tub, barefoot on a folded towel, holding a big, fluffy towel open like wings- arms outstretched, eyes soft with affection.  

The ends of the towel brushed the tops of his thighs, ready to wrap up their little bundle the second he was passed over. 

'Come here, baby,' San cooed gently, a fond smile pulling at his lips.  

'Sannie’s got the warm towel waiting, just for you.' 

Seonghwa stepped forward with slow, measured movements until he stood at the edge of the tub, centimeters away from the other since the tub was slippery and he didn't want to risk anything with Yeo in his arms. 

The younger whimpered again, limbs flailing a little more now from the change in temperature and the cold air brushing over his damp skin. 

 His feet kicked at nothing, reflexive and distressed. 

'Alright, alright, here he comes,' Seonghwa said softly, carefully lifting Yeosang out of the bath entirely and into San’s waiting arms. 

The second he gathered him close, wrapping the fluffy towel snugly around his shivering frame, the little let out a breathy, squeaky whine that cracked Seonghwa’s heart right down the center. 

'There we go,' San soothed, expertly folding the towel across his back and up over his head, nestling him into a bundle.  

'Wrapped like a little bun. All covered now, no more cold.' 

Yeosang whimpered softly again, but it was quieter now, his head drooping against San’s collarbone.  

The other cradled him securely and turned toward the hallway, glancing back once with a grin. 

'I’ll go start drying and lotioning him. Catch up soon, Mama.' He singsonged. 

'I will,' Seonghwa promised, smiling fondly as he watched them disappear toward the bedroom. 

He stayed only long enough to wash himself quickly- rinsing down, hair still damp as he dried off and pulled on a loose set of clothes before making his way down the hallway.  

The house was quiet, the bathwater already drained, the door to San’s room cracked open. 

When Seonghwa stepped inside, the sight made his heart flutter. 

Yeosang was laying bundled in a blanket on San’s bed, his towel now discarded beside him.  

His hair was damp but combed, body gently patted dry and lotioned.  

San was crouched beside him, applying the tiniest dabs of skincare cream to his fever-pink cheeks with a fingertip, humming softly to himself. 

The regressed boy blinked up at the ceiling, puffy-eyed and dazed, little legs twitching every now and then beneath the blanket as if unsure whether he wanted to kick or curl up. 

'How is he?' Seonghwa asked gently. 

San glanced up and gave a small, hesitant smile.

'He’s settled. But-' 

His voice softened, concern tugging at the edge of his words.

'I'm not sure, hyung. His temperature should’ve come down a bit from the bath, but he’s still shivering. Maybe even more than before.' 

Seonghwa sighed, the worry featuring his face instantly.

He walked to the side of the bed, brushing the younger's hair off his forehead with a touch that lingered. 

'I don’t want to give him fever meds until I know how bad it is, to be honest,' he murmured, brows creased.  

'If it’s still rising, I want to be certain before we medicate.' 

San simply nodded in understanding, eyes flicking briefly to Yeosang’s curled hand.

'I already figured you'd want to, I didn't diaper him yet.'  

Seonghwa sighed before leaning down and kissing his cheek.

'Keep him here. I’ll go find the thermometer.' 

'Okay,' he said, gently swiping one last bit of cream across the bridge of the younger's nose.

'We’ll wait right here, hmm darling?' 

Seonghwa exhaled, nodding slowly. 'Good call.'

As the oldest left the room, Yeosang released a faint, garbled little sound from beneath the blanket, shifting slightly- unaware of the conversation around him, but clearly unsettled.  

Eyes fluttering open again with the softest of whines, a clear, wordless reach for something familiar. 

His frame gave a few more trembles, one leg twitching under the fabric as his teeth softly chattered. 

'I know, baby,' San whispered, lying beside him and rubbing gentle circles over his tummy.

'Mama will be back in a second.' 

- 

Seonghwa returned a moment later, thermometer in one hand, a small tub of Vaseline in the other.  

His expression was calm, but focused- the way he always looked when he was shifting into full caregiver mode.  

It was one thing both Hongjoong and Seonghwa seemed to have in common. 

He laid both items down on the edge of the bed carefully, not wanting to startle the little one curled up on the mattress. 

San adjusted the younger into his lap gently as he let the little rest his head on his own knees, loosening the blanket around his lower half, and that’s when it started. 

At the first glimpse of the thermometer, Yeosang’s entire body jerked. 

A small, breathy whine ripped from his throat, and then he broke.  

The cries came fast- wet, choking sobs that shook his whole chest, paired with erratic kicks of his legs and arms.  

He arched his neck away from San instinctively, tiny fists flailing, mouth open in an uncoordinated attempt at wailing that couldn’t form into words.  

He couldn’t speak- his regression had pulled him deep, too far for language still- but the panic was written all over his face, blotchy and tear-streaked. 

'Oh, baby- shhh,' San murmured, catching one of his flailing hands and pressing it to his own cheek.  

'You’re okay. Sannie’s got you.' 

San turned to glance at Seonghwa for a second, adjusting his hold on Yeosang's shoulders softly before talking again. 

'I somewhat wanted to believe he wouldn't have minded, since he has been all droopy and small since he came home. Guess it was wishful thinking after all.' He sighed, brushing through a few strands of hair that fluttered in front of Sangie's face. 

'Sangie's sensitive, I didn't expect anything less than this. We are just in luck with Wooyoung for not minding these things, although he struggles with other things that Yeosang seems to be fine with. You win some, you lose some, I guess.' Seonghwa mumbles, chuckling sympathetically. 

The distress wasn’t stopping. If anything, it was building- shoulders jerking, legs kicking into San’s lap, sobs climbing higher, throatier. 

Yeosang's body thrashed like he didn’t know where to go, just that he had to go somewhere, and he didn’t know how to ask. 

Seonghwa stepped in right after, voice calm but firm.  

'Let’s shift him to me. I think we have to make use of his preference in order for this to work. You do the temping- I’ll handle the position and comfort.' 

San nodded and gently passed Yeosang over, keeping his upper half around the towel so the little one didn’t catch another chill.  

Seonghwa sat down on the bed, spreading a large towel over his lap before San moved him towards Seonghwa effortlessly. 

Yeosang's back pressed tightly against Seonghwa’s chest, his tiny frame cocooned by strong arms- the older's hands gently lifting his thighs, bending them up toward his chest to give San room. 

However, the moment the younger felt his legs being held in place- stopped from moving back down- he reacted even more fiercely than he had done before. 

His feet began to kick lightly at first, testing. Trying.  

He squirmed, whimpering softly in confusion, then more urgently.  

He tried again, this time pushing harder- knees tensing as he attempted to straighten his legs and close them. 

But Seonghwa’s hands didn’t move. His grip was firm. Steady. Immoveable. 

A high, choking sob burst from Yeosang’s throat, full of something deeper- panic.  

The kind of panic that clawed its way up from the belly and choked the throat tight. 

His entire body began to thrash, frenzied and frantic, hips twisting side to side as he tried again and again to pull his knees down, to close them, to cover himself.  

But he didn’t budge. Seonghwa’s hold remained unyielding- not harsh, never- but secure, and that only made him more upset. 

He felt stuck. Exposed. 

'Nn–nnnn!' His cries weren’t words- he couldn’t form any- but the meaning was clear as day.

He wanted to hide. To cover up. To not be seen.  

'Oh baby, ohh no, shhh,' Seonghwa symphatized, his voice laced with such immediate, aching softness as he adjusted slightly, holding Yeosang tighter against his chest to try and soothe his distress as much as possible.  

'I know, poppy. I know this is really difficult for you, huh? It’s too much. I’ve got you. Mama’s got you.' 

Yeosang’s quiet sobs wouldn’t ease, so Seonghwa gently offered him the pacifier he had picked up from downstairs earlier, just in case.  

With trembling breaths, he allowed his mama to put it between his lips, his tears still slipping down his cheeks, but the moment he began to suckle softly, the wailing started to fade into sobs instead, comfort slowly finding its way back to him. 

'That's better, hmm? Mama’s got you. Shhh.' 

He wailed again, legs trying to kick down and away from the bend as a last attempt, but Seonghwa held firm- gentle but steady- no room for incorrect measurements.  

Yeosang’s bottom rested over the towel, his frame tucked in snug, back pressing into Seonghwa’s warm chest for reassurance.  

His hands fisted the fabric of Seonghwa's shirt where he had caught the loose ends beside him, crying his heart out through the pacifier. 

San knelt in front of the bed, watching the boy’s face with soft eyes. 

'Alright, sweet one,' San cooed, his voice smooth, soft, like syrup over raw nerves.  

'Sannie’s gonna talk you through it, okay? Mama’s holding you safely. keeping you nice and snug. We’re just checking your temperature, that’s all. Just to see how warm your little body is.' 

Yeosang’s sobs didn’t stop, but his thrashing lessened slightly- more trembles than flails now, as if the narration grounded him just enough to keep still. 

'You’re gonna feel something kinda chilly down there,' San went on gently, dipping the thermometer into the Vaseline properly.

'It might feel icky, but it won’t hurt. Sannie’s being very careful. I’m gonna be super quick, too.' 

Seonghwa kissed the back of the younger's head, his grip staying firm but loving around the boy’s bent legs.  

'You’re doing good, poppy. Mama’s so proud of you.' 

Yeosang hiccuped hard, tears still streaming, eyes squeezed shut- but he didn’t fight, harshly suckling on the pacifier instead.  

He couldn’t do much more than tremble now, overwhelmed and nonverbal, soft keening sounds escaping between cries. 

San worked quickly, dabbing the Vaseline and gently inserting the thermometer without pause.  

'There we go. Just a little count now, sweet star. Ten… nine… eight…' 

The younger's body curled in on itself slightly, the sensation clearly uncomfortable, unfamiliar- but he clung to Seonghwa’s hands, fingers wrapped around his wrists with desperate trust. 

'…three, two, one… all done, baby.' 

San removed it just as carefully and immediately set it aside, then reached up to help Seonghwa ease Yeosang’s legs down.  

The second they did, the little one twisted and collapsed sideways into Seonghwa’s chest, still crying- but quieter now.

Exhausted. Shaken. But held. 

'There we go,' Seonghwa murmured into his hair, swaddling the towel gently around his hips.  

'You’re so brave. Mama’s got you, little star. All done.' 

San exhaled and checked the reading, his face falling slightly.  

'It's 102°F.' 

'I figured,' The older said, his voice low with concern as he rubbed soft circles into Yeosang’s back.  

'Let’s get him diapered and give him a little water first. He’s too upset to medicate yet.' 

Yeosang shivered again in Seonghwa’s arms, his sobs tapering into small hiccups, skin warm against both of them. 

Seonghwa took his time, gently lowering the younger onto the towel San had put on top of the blankets already, ensuring the transition was as smooth as it could be. 

The diaper he carefully unfolded was the softest kind they had- cream-colored with tiny, printed moons, thick and pillowy to avoid pressing too hard into Yeosang’s sensitive skin.  

His poor baby had already been through enough. He didn’t need a rash or extra pressure against his tummy on top of everything else. 

'Almost done, love,' The older hummed, voice impossibly gentle as he lifted the younger's legs with one hand and slid the diaper beneath him with the other.  

He reached for the baby powder and dusted a cloud-light layer between his thighs, making sure the warmth of his fevered body wouldn’t trap moisture against his skin. 

Yeosang whimpered, squirming weakly. 

'Shh, baby. I know, I know you don’t like it,' Seonghwa soothed, smoothing the powder out and lowering his legs again, keeping one hand over his belly as if to settle the fluttering inside.  

'I’m doing it extra gentle, promise.' 

The younger didn’t protest with words, though he felt his mind dragging him back toward a more verbal state, as if finding words could somehow help his body better endure the fever and twisting cramps. 

He turned his head away from the older, lips wobbling into the early shape of a pout. He didn't want all of the coddling and hands on him anymore.  

He felt as sleepy as ever, fighting to keep his eyes from fluttering closed while the other kept his touch light and gentle. 

The younger released a breathy huff, barely audible, and kicked out again when Seonghwa taped the diaper in place. 

'There we go…' Seonghwa whispered, brushing back the clammy strands of hair from Yeosang’s forehead.  

'Just your sweats now, and then we’re all done.' 

He lifted a soft pair of sweatpants from the side- thin and warm, easy on the skin.  

He slid them up one leg, then the other, until the little's protests became physical again, suddenly. 

Yeosang tensed. 

His distressed body arched, mouth parting in a soft whimper that cracked halfway into a sob. 

San looked up from where he’d been tidying up the lotion bottles.

'Wait- what’s wrong?' 

'I don’t know, I’m being careful,' Seonghwa said, startled.  

He paused, checking his legs, waistband- everything.

'It’s not too tight…' 

But Yeosang began to cry, one arm curling over his bare belly protectively.  

His legs kicked, not in protest of the clothing, but from something deeper- hotter- rising inside of him. 

Then Seonghwa saw it. 

'The cramping’s back,' he said quietly, resting his hand over the younger's trembling abdomen.

'His stomach’s all tight again.' 

He squirmed under the weight of the pressure, soft cries breaking out again.  

His small hands were too weak to push the pain away, but its didn't keep him from trying- pressing against his belly, then swatting at Seonghwa’s hand, too overwhelmed to understand the difference between help and hurt. 

The older reached for the bottle of water he’d prepared earlier, uncapping it with practiced care and tipping it toward Yeosang’s lips. 

'Here, sweet one. A little water will help. Just a sip, yeah?' 

But the younger turned his face away, lifting one trembling hand to push the bottle back.  

His lips pressed together in refusal, releasing a panicked whine to accentuate how much he didn't want that bottle. 

San knelt beside him. 'No, baby… You need this,' he said, his tone filled with worry. 

But the bottle was refused again, this time more harshly, using all of his energy to arch his back from Seonghwa's hold, just to fold into a little ball right after. 

And just then- like summoned by the tension in the room- Hongjoong stepped inside, eyes sweeping the scene in an instant.  

In one hand, he held a bottle of warm milk. In the other, a pre-measured dose of fever-reducing medicine. 

'Did you check his temp already?' He asked softly, walking closer. 

'Yeah,' Seonghwa said, eyes not leaving the little. 'It’s rising. I didn’t want to give him anything until I was sure, but he’s burning up.' 

Hongjoong nodded, wordless. Then, with one glance at the miserable state of the younger-his flushed cheeks, his clenched fists, the tears still trembling in his lashes- he uncapped the medicine and added it to the milk bottle in one smooth motion. 

San watched. 'You sure?' 

'He needs it,' Hongjoong said quietly. 

He stepped forward, offering the bottle to Seonghwa, but the moment it was brought near Yeosang’s lips again, the little one recoiled.  

He let out a soft, distressed sound and turned away, curling into himself as much as the cramping would allow, even though it was clear he had noticed the difference between the water and milk in the bottle. 

His fists clenched. His breathing grew sharp and quick.

The pain, the confusion, the overload of voices- it all hit him at once.  

He was becoming overwhelmed. 

'Okay,' Seonghwa whispered, defeated. 'We’ll wait.' 

But Hongjoong stepped closer again, gently reaching out, determined to get at least some medicine in his system since his cramps seemed to drop by more often.  

'Let me try.' 

Ten minutes later, the room was still, dimmed slightly as San drew the curtains.  

The leader sat in the feeding chair by the window, cradling Yeosang’s hot, feverish body in his arms, swaying slowly side to side. 

'Shhh, I know, little man.' He murmured, brushing his knuckles over his cheek.  

'I know it hurts. I know you don’t want it. But this will make your tummy happier, baby. Just a few sips, hmm? Just a little for appa.' 

Yeosang lay limp in his arms, head flopping to the side, flushed red with fever and exhaustion.  

His eyes were open but unfocused, tears still clinging to the corners. He didn’t try to fight anymore- he just trembled. 

With a slow, steady motion, the older tipped the bottle toward his lips and gently coaxed it in. 

'Just a taste. Come on, tiny one.' 

Yeosang suckled instinctively once. Twice.  

Sangie didn’t really understand why the bottle seemed so important, but with how insistently his appa kept pressing it to his lips, gently yet urgently, he figured he should trust him.  

He let the nipple slip into his mouth without protest, too tired to wonder why it mattered so much, only knowing that if they wanted this for him, it had to be the right thing- even though his belly already felt uneasy- even if something in the back of his mind tried to coax a warning within. 

Then he jerked in Hongjoong’s arms. 

His face twisted. His body tensed. And before anyone could move- 

He threw up. Again.  

Warm, thick milk spilled down his chin and onto the older's arm.  

His body curled in on itself, sobs exploding from him with all the force of a broken dam.  

His chest heaved as he cried harder than he had all day, arms flailing in a desperate, panicked attempt to be away from everything. 

Hongjoong froze- then immediately set the bottle aside, guilt washing over his face like a tidal wave.  

'Oh, baby…' 

'I shouldn’t have,' he whispered, holding Yeosang closer, one hand running up and down his back in frantic comfort.  

'I shouldn’t have pushed. I’m sorry, sweet boy. I’m so, so sorry…' 

Seonghwa was already at their side with a cloth, cleaning gently, quietly, trying not to jostle him too much. 

Yeosang didn’t even seem to know what had happened.  

He just cried, broken and overwhelmed, his tiny body curled tight into his appa's chest, but he didn't seem to settle all that well anymore, yearning for someone else after feeling so miserable. 

He wanted Mama. 

The cry tore from him without hesitation, high-pitched and trembling with need. 

'M-Mmhh- Ma…Ma-!' 

'Okay,' Hongjoong said instantly, guilt hitting him like a stone in the chest.  

'Okay, okay- hyung!' 

Seonghwa was already coming down the hallway where he had collected several dirty cloths, alerted by the fresh set of sobs before the other even called for him.  

He appeared in the doorway like a burst of light, eyes concerned, voice soft but urgent. 

'I’ve got him- give him to me.' 

Hongjoong handed the younger over with the utmost care, but the smaller one was already reaching, arms flailing the second he felt the warmth of Seonghwa’s presence. 

'Mhh- Mama- M-mam-aaa!' 

'I’m here, poppy, I’m here,' Seonghwa breathed, pulling him close, one hand cupping the back of his burning head, the other steady under his bottom as he rocked him tightly against his chest.  

'Shh, mama’s got you now, sweet baby. You’re safe.' 

Yeosang wailed harder at first, burying his face in the older's shirt and trembling like a leaf. His fists twisted in the fabric, clinging with all his strength. 

'There, love… There, my sweet poppy… It’s over now, it’s okay, shhh…' 

Seonghwa paced in slow, steady circles across the soft carpet of the bedroom, bouncing Yeosang gently in his arms, one hand smoothing over the younger’s sticky, tear-drenched cheek.  

'Shhh, mama’s here… You’re not alone, sweetheart.' 

The younger buried his fevered face against his collarbone with a quiet sob. 

San and Hongjoong shared a soft look from across the room, and without a word, both silently stepped out, ensuring the bedroom was wrapped in hush and golden light before closing the door behind them with a gentle click. 

Now it was just the two of them. 

The bedroom glowed softly in the low light of the fairy strings strung across the wall.  

The curtains were pulled mostly shut, casting filtered shadows across the floor.  

Seonghwa walked slowly, rocking the younger with each step- steady and patient.  

His hands supported the younger’s back and legs with the kind of gentleness only someone made of love could offer. 

'You’re my brave boy,' he whispered.  

'Mama’s sweet little one. You’ve been through a lot today, haven’t you? But I’ve got you now. It's time to close those sweet little eyes of yours and rest.' 

Yeosang didn’t answer. He only gave a small hum, lips pressed against Seonghwa’s chest, fingers loosely fisted in his shirt.  

His breathing was slowing again, each exhale a bit softer than the last. 

Seonghwa kissed his warm forehead. 

And then, barely above a whisper, he began to sing. 

'Edelweiss, edelweiss…' 
'Every morning you greet me…' 

The words fell like mist- light, gentle, surrounding them in warmth.

His voice was soft, close to a hum, just enough to lull and soothe. 

'Small and white, clean and bright…' 
'You look happy to meet me…' 

Yeosang shifted once. A tiny breath. A blink. 

Then his eyes fluttered shut, lashes falling over flushed cheeks as his body sagged completely into his mama’s arms. 

Seonghwa caressed his temple with a soft finger, tracing his birthmark before pecking it softly, letting his lips linger against his skin as he swayed them. 

'Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow…' 
'Bloom and grow… forever…' 

Seonghwa paused his walking only for a moment to adjust the blanket around Yeosang’s bare feet, then resumed his pacing- careful, constant, safe. 

'Edelweiss… edelweiss…' 
'Bless my homeland forever…' 

By the time the last note faded into the low hum of the room, Sangie was fast asleep.  

His lips were parted slightly, hands still curled loosely against the older's chest, chest rising and falling in the soft rhythm of deep, unbothered sleep. 

Mama had him. 

And that was all he needed.