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“Hyung?”
Muffled, Youngjae’s voice comes from under the mound of blankets, and Jaebum frowns, tossing his hat on the desk as he crosses the room.
“Youngjae? Are you sleeping already, babe? We were all going to head down to the pool.”
The mound of blankets shifts, revealing a tuft of brown hair across the pillows, and Youngjae’s eyes blink at him drowsily over the edge of the comforter. “You can all go ahead. I'm too tired to swim.”
The mattress creaks as Jaebum sits down on the edge, reaching a hand out to smooth over Youngjae’s hair as the younger boy curls towards him automatically. “Are you still not feeling well, baby?”
Eyes widening, the rest of Youngjae’s face is revealed as the blanket is tugged lower by the startled jerk of his hand. His skin is too pale for Jaebum’s liking, though there are spots of color in his cheeks. “What? Who said I'm not feeling well? I'm just tired, hyung!”
Jaebum keeps his flick gentle against Youngjae’s forehead, but he still soothes the spot afterward, smoothing over his fringe. “Don't lie to me, Jae. Mark told me you almost threw up on the plane.” He strokes his fingers over his hair again. “I should have figured you were trying to hide something with the way you were avoiding me.”
The color in Youngjae’s cheeks is darker. “I wasn't–” He cuts off as he meets Jaebum’s gaze. “I didn't want you to worry, hyung. It's nothing.”
Jaebum wonders if Youngjae’s skin is as warm under his fingers as it seems to be or if it’s just his imagination. “Are you sure?”
Nodding, Youngjae struggles to free a hand from the blanket and reaches out to catch Jaebum’s, twining their fingers together. “I'm sure I'll be fine if I get some sleep, hyung.”
“Then I'll stay with you so you can sleep better.” Jaebum twists his hand so their fingers are laced more securely.
Even with his pale skin and the worrying glaze to his eyes, Youngjae’s exasperated grimace still makes Jaebum grin. “Don't be silly, hyung. I'm tired enough to sleep anywhere. Go play with the others!”
Bending, Jaebum leans closer until he can rub his nose against Youngjae’s. “Why play with them when I can play with you instead?”
Youngjae laughs even as he grimaces again and pushes Jaebum away. “Hyung! I'm too tired, go bother Mark and Jinyoung hyungs and let me sleep.”
“Okay, okay.” Jaebum can't resist dropping a kiss on Youngjae’s forehead before he pushes himself to his feet. “I'd rather stay with you though.”
Youngjae’s smile is soft and his eyes are bleary with sleep, but it’s still vibrant when he gives their still laced fingers a squeeze, and Jaebum’s heart tugs him back toward the bed, wanting to feel that smile against his skin. “I'll be waiting here when you get back though, hyung.”
Only seeing how much Youngjae is struggling to keep his eyes open and the knowledge that the others are waiting for him convinces Jaebum to actually leave him in peace instead of crawling under the covers and dragging him into his arms. “I'll be back soon, then.”
Youngjae’s nod is a nuzzle into his pillows, and his breathing has already leveled by the time Jaebum has changed into his swim trunks. He closes the door behind him softly, and pulls his phone out to send a quick message to their manager asking him to get one of the medically trained staff to check on Youngjae before going to sleep.
The pool is fun apart from a few other guests who seem oddly preoccupied by their games. Mark and Jackson refuse to translate what they’re saying, but Jaebum doesn’t think their voices sounded very friendly, and he doesn’t miss the way Mark’s knuckles are white around Jinyoung’s hand under the surface of the water after they finish streaming their vlive broadcast. It isn't enough to dampen Jaebum’s mood or ruin the fun of their playing, but it makes him almost glad that Youngjae with his better English isn't with them. Though not glad enough to drag out returning to their room when Mark hints that he's had enough of swimming for the night.
Yugyeom is the only one who seems reluctant to leave, but Jackson manages to get him over a shoulder and they’re both laughing as he’s carried out of the pool area. The other guests are staring again, but Jaebum ignores the twist to their expressions to sling one arm around Mark and the other around Jinyoung, practically dragging them towards the exit. “Come on slowpokes. As your leader, I'm obligated to wait for you, but Youngjae is waiting for me.”
Jinyoung snorts, attempting to twist out from under Jaebum’s arm, and Jaebum smirks when he’s forced to give up as Jaebum tightens his grip. “If Youngjae’s sleeping, he's basically dead to the world. I doubt he's missing anything.”
“Except Coco!” Mark’s voice is bright and teasing as he goes for Jaebum’s weak spot of jealousy, and Jaebum lets go of both of them to shove him through the doorway.
“Fine, then let's just say I can't wait to be away from you two assholes.”
Mark catches up to him again, giggling as he throws himself at Jaebum’s back, latching on like a koala, and Jaebum can see Jinyoung’s grin out of the corner of his eye as he reaches them.
The trip to their floor seems to take forever now that his impatience to get back to Youngjae has been acknowledged, and he dumps Mark unceremoniously at their room amidst another round of giggles and a scolding from Jinyoung not to damage their members before escaping down the doors to where Youngjae is waiting.
The door opens before he can pull out his room key, and Jaebum startles before recognizing their manager.
“Hyung?”
Byungyong jumps, looking up at him, and his frazzled expression has Jaebum’s heart rate picking up. “Jaebum. Where are you going?”
“To my room.” Jaebum holds up the key card and nods to the closing door. His pulse skitters in his veins.
“Ah, yes. You're going to be rooming with one of the managers tonight. You can stay with me.” Byungyong’s smiles doesn't seem to reach his eyes.
Throat tight, Jaebum wets his lips. “But I'm supposed to room with Youngjae. Seunghoon-hyung said we could.”
Rubbing a hand over his scalp leaves Byungyong’s hair sticking up, and Jaebum’s fingers find his bracelet as he feels a prickling of unease. Byungyong sighs. “Youngjae seems to have picked up a cold somewhere, and we can't risk you getting sick as well. It's better for you to sleep with one of the managers. There might be space with the dancers too.”
“But–”
“You can stay in our room, hyung.”
Jaebum doesn't know when Jinyoung had joined them, but his hand on his wrist now is grounding, combating the racing in his chest. “There's plenty of space.”
Visibly relieved, Byungyong claps Jinyoung on the shoulder as he steps forward. “Yes, good idea. You can all room together, and give Youngjae some space to rest and get better.”
The way he glances at Jaebum with the words tells him that the manager knows the argument is Jaebum’s weak point, and Jaebum hates that he's right, unable to fight the decision when it's Youngjae’s well being at stake. His jaw is still tight as he nods, but Byungyong just nods back, switching his hand to Jaebum’s shoulder before pushing past where Mark has been hovering behind Jinyoung and disappearing down the hall.There’s a pulsing pressure in Jaebum’s head, and he feels dizzy as he lets Jinyoung tug him back up the hallway, not protesting when Mark wraps his arms around his waist as Jinyoung opens the door, even when the older boy’s presence makes it difficult to shuffle into the room.
Standing frozen, he feels his heartbeat in the throbbing of his head as he hovers just inside the door until Jinyoung presses a pair of clean boxers and basketball shorts into his hand.
His inhale stings his lungs. “I told him I'd be back.” Mark presses even closer behind him, hooking his chin over Jaebum’s shoulder, and his arms are a warm pressure against the churning in his stomach. “He said he'd be waiting.”
Jinyoung’s hand closes over his around the bundle of fabric. “It's just one night, Jaebum. He'll be okay.” The softness in his gaze counters the dismissive nature of his words, and Jaebum feels like they’re 15 again, Jinyoung playing the hyung as he dismissed all of Jaebum’s worries about whether they'd ever be good enough to debut.
He lets himself fall into that feeling again now, searching Jinyoung’s eyes. “But he's sick, I should be taking care of him.”
Jinyoung’s eyebrow lifts in a clean arch, and Mark tilts his face into Jaebum’s T-shirt to muffle his soft snort. “Like that time I was sick and you tried to poison me with that glue paste?”
“It was rice porridge.” The phrase slips out, the default protest to an old argument, and Jaebum winces as Jinyoung’s lips tilt up and Mark snickers. He gets revenge for the teasing by shaking them both off and pretending he doesn't miss their warmth as he glares at them. “Youngjae would appreciate my attempts to take care of him.”
Mark moves to around to face him, grin bright. “Youngjae would appreciate you giving him a rock if you told him it was out of love.”
Jinyoung’s snot is unimpressed. “It’s disgusting. Your levels of cheesy adoration are revolting.”
Turning to take in Jinyoung’s mock distaste, Mark’s eyes are comically wide. “Is that why you reject my affection, Jinyoungie?”
Rolling his own eyes in return, Jinyoung’s mouth tugs up at the corner again. “Groping my ass onstage is not affection, hyung.”
“I'm very affectionate for your ass.”
Jaebum makes a face as he retreats to the bathroom to tune out their playful bickering with a shower. The sick taste of worry still lingers at the back of his throat, but the jittering beat of his pulse is slowing to a dull ache in his chest with Mark and Jinyoung’s company, and he knows that's their plan.
Still, it takes him a long time to fall asleep, even with Mark’s arm slung over his waist and Jinyoung’s head as a comforting weight on his shoulder. The familiar rhythm of their breathing can't fill the void of Youngjae’s light snores and sleep murmurs, and there's nothing of his smell on the pillows or sheets. When he finally does drift off, it's with his fingers resting on the twisted metal of his bracelet, wishing it was Youngjae’s he could feel.
“Why can't I see him?”
Seunghoon sighs, scratching at his jaw. He hasn't shaved yet, and his eyes look tired.
“He needs to rest, Jaebum.”
“I just want to check on him.” Jaebum knows he should be trying a less aggressive route if he’s going to have any chance of getting in to see Youngjae, but his pulse is thrumming beneath his clenched jaw.
“Jaebum.” Seunghoon’s voice is firm. “We can't risk anymore of you getting ill. Just let him rest until later.”
Jaebum’s mouth opens, but Mark’s voice cuts in. “Let's go look around the city!”
Face brightening, Seunghoon nods. “Yes, good idea. Go have some fun before the concert.”
Frustrated, worried, and wanting to start a fight, Jaebum hesitates, but he caves at Jinyoung’s cool fingers on his wrist. “Come on, hyung. I bet Seunghoon-hyung will even let us wander around on our own.”
Seunghoon’s eyes narrow, but Jinyoung holds his gaze until the manager finally sighs and waves them off with both hands. “Go, go. Go on. Just don't do anything stupid.”
Eyes curved into crescents, Jinyoung’s smile is wide and catlike. “When do we ever, hyung?”
Seunghoon’s reply is a mutter, but Jaebum catches the word ‘murder’ before Mark grabs his other wrist and drags him down the hall.
They wind up at a Starbucks for a while, reading and chatting, and get greeted by a few fans that find them and gift them with snacks before hurrying off. It's not the only time they're spotted as they wander around the city, but it's quieter than most free days they've had in awhile, and Jaebum’s almost able to ignore the metallic taste of concern over Youngjae that lingers on in his throat. He's torn between regret to leave the peaceful day and eagerness to see the other boy when he and Jinyoung finally head back to the hotel, Mark having already given up on the heat and left them to fend for themselves.
He almost doesn't notice the way Jinyoung is fiddling with his phone, but they've been together for too long for him to not have picked up on his nervous gestures. Stopping at the crosswalk across from the hotel, Jaebum turns to face him fully while they wait for the light.
“What is it?”
Jinyoung grimaces, but he doesn't bother pretending he doesn't know Jaebum can read him. “I guess it's better to find out now rather than later.”
Despite the heat, there's a chill under Jaebum’s skin. “Find out what, Jinyoung.”
Exhaling slowly, Jinyoung’s bottom lip disappears into his mouth as he fiddles with his phone again. For a moment, he looks anxious and vulnerable, and Jaebum’s heart drops, already knowing what this is about.
“They took Youngjae to the hospital, hyung. He had a bad fever and…” His eyes dart up, and Jaebum sees a reflection of his own aching concern, the hint of fear. “He won't be performing with us tonight.”
“What.” It's not a question, but Jaebum can't think of anything else to say. His lungs feel frozen, his pulse an angry drum beat in his ears.
The street is too open for Jaebum to break down, but Jinyoung’s fingers find the inside of his wrist again, brushing along the skin.
“He'll be fine, hyung. They're taking him to the hospital to make sure of it.”
Nodding, Jaebum lets himself be coaxed across the street at the signal. He wants to scream, to protest, to demand to be taken to the hospital that moment, but they have a job to do. He has no choice but to agree and hope that Jinyoung is right.
The rest of the trip to the hotel, to the venue, and to the waiting room is a blur, and Jaebum’s pretty sure his facade of normalcy isn't fooling anyone, but he has to keep it up for himself as much as anyone because if he cracks, there won't be any coming back from it. He makes it through the first half of the concert in a daze, and the chaos and energy of the stage and performance is almost enough to have his playful antics feeling genuine, if not for the sharp sting of absence that he feels every time he glances towards Youngjae to find empty space or hears his voice filter through the speakers, recorded and distant. Talking about him is almost easier because at least he's allowed to let his smile slip for a few moments when they mention missing him and ask the fans to think of him, and he's grateful for Jackson’s presence at his side as he and Bambam seem to make it their goal get the crowd too pumped up to notice and linger on the bitterness of the missing member. It almost helps Jaebum forget for a few moments as well.
Until he's being rushed into his suit for their solo stage, a microphone shoved into his hand, and he sees the stage that's waiting for him, his own chair placed in the center and a keyboard waiting opposite, seat empty and ready to remain that way. It’s like a stab of icy steel. In all the times he’s tortured himself with imagining how Youngjae must have felt to stand onstage alone for those early stops, he'd never managed to fathom the deep tearing ache and the sense of loneliness in his bones as the lights find the stage and the music started with no one beside him.
Youngjae’s recorded voice almost breaks him, the order to stay well hitting him like never before, stabbing at his lungs and making them catch. The effort to keep his voice steady becomes his point of focus, and he loses himself in the song, picturing Youngjae’s face every time he closes his eyes, and trying to see him the way he looks curled against his chest in sleep or smiling up at him after a joke, not lying on a hospital bed with his face too pale against the pillow.
He's shaking when he finally escapes the empty stage, barely registering Jinyoung’s hand against his neck, or Jackson’s sudden appearance at his side when staff drag Mark and Jinyoung away. He lets Jackson drag him back to the stylists, and help him out of his jacket, but it's a haze, and he doesn't realize the blur is tears until his stylist is clucking her tongue at him and dabbing at the liquid with a sponge. He doesn't know when he started crying or if he made it offstage before the tears came.
Then there's a voice at his ear that he doesn't expect, a murmur of, “hyung?” that has him spinning wildly and searching the room before his gaze lands on Jackson’s outstretched phone.
“Youngjae?”
“Hi, hyung.” Youngjae’s voice is tinny through the speakers, but it settles into Jaebum’s chest anyway, loosening the tight knot around his lungs only to tie a new one. “I heard your stage.”
Jaebum takes a breath, closing his eyes against the protest of “our stage” that's at the tip of his tongue. “You did?”
“Byungyong-hyung streamed it for me.” Jaebum feels a slight pang of regret for the silent curses he's been sending at their manager for the last day. “You sounded amazing, hyung.”
“I was singing it for you.” Ignoring the fact that it's a confession perhaps too intimate for a roomful of only half-known stylists and staff members, Jaebum focuses on the way Jackson’s free hand finds his, squeezing it. “Who gave you the right to get sick? Didn't you hear the lyrics we wrote?”
Youngjae’s laughter is weaker than usual and Jaebum can hear the wetness in it. His chest aches, and he swipes at his own face, once again tuning out the soft, scolding sounds of his stylist. “Sorry, hyung. But you did it first.”
“I told you to stop trying to be so much like me, you brat.”
Youngjae’s laughter is brighter now, though it hitches at the end. “I can't help it. You're too incredible not to follow, hyung.”
There's a flurry of activity in the room as Mark and Jinyoung bustle back in from their stage and Jackson shoves his phone at Jaebum before dashing off with the maknaes, and Jaebum takes the opportunity to flick off the speakerphone setting and cup his hand around the mouth piece.
“I love you, Jae.”
The tremor is audible in Youngjae’s exhale. “I love you too, hyung. You really did well with our song. I can feel myself getting better already.”
Pretending he doesn’t notice the new tears that escape, Jaebum lifts his gaze to the florescent lights of the ceiling. “Good, you have to be well.”
“Don't even get sick. I know, hyung.”
Jaebum swallows. He knows he's running out of time. “I'll try to come see you after.”
“Okay.” There's a moment where they're both just breathing into the phone. “Do your best with the rest of the concert, hyung. Fighting.”
“And get well. Fighting.”
He keeps the phone in a loose grip as he ends the call and drops his hand to his lap, and he’d almost forgotten his stylist was there until she swoops in with a handful of tools and products. Dabbing at the mess under his eyes, she glances up at him and offers a smile. “He'll be fine, honey. Don't worry. Just do your best for him.”
Maybe the knowing look in her eye should bother Jaebum, but instead it sinks down to join the tingle of Youngjae’s laughter in his chest, and he clings to it as Mark and Jinyoung latch onto him as soon as he's out of the chair, dragging him back to the stage. He lets it sit warm under his skin, thinking of Youngjae’s own warmth, his smile, his laugh, his voice, his touch, and his love, as he sings their lyrics again when he stands alone talking about the song they wrote together. He wonders if it's too much–if the way he talks gives away too much of what his feelings for their missing member really are–when Jinyoung glances at him out if the corner of his eye, but he can't bring himself to care. He lets the thought of standing on stage with Youngjae, singing their lyrics together with their hands joined instead of their backs turned carry him through the rest of the concert, and he manages to keep his smile even as Youngjae’s absence is ground in with painful clarity again and again because this concert isn’t only for the fans–it’s for Youngjae as well.
It's deathly quiet apart from the low beeping of monitors when Jaebum finally slips into the hospital room. He probably shouldn't even be in here, except Byungyong had managed to convince one of the nurses that Jaebum and Youngjae were brothers.
Youngjae’s sleeping when Jaebum reaches the bed, but he stirs awake when Jaebum gives in to the urge to smooth his hair off his face.
“Hi, hyung.”
Jaebum’s chest feels too tight, too full, but his lips are tugging up in a smile. “Hey, baby.” His hand traces down to cup Youngjae’s cheek and Youngjae turns into the gesture, closing his eyes and nuzzling against his palm. Jaebum’s thumb strokes along the skin. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you're here.” Eyes opening, Youngjae’s smile tugs at Jaebum’s ribs, making his throat tight.
He has so much he wants to say, so many apologies and promises he wants to make, but he can't seem to summon the words through the sting at the back of his eyes. Instead he drops down, his other hand coming up to cradle Youngjae’s jaw, and he thinks the breathless whimper Youngjae gives as their lips meet is enough of a sign that Youngjae understands anyway.
It’s Youngjae pulls away first though, pushing at Jaebum’s chest. “Hyung! I'm sick, we can't do that.”
There's a part of Jaebum that knows Youngjae's right, that understand he shouldn't be risking his own health as well when they still have the tour to finish, but the larger part of him is still suffocating in the feeling of standing on stage without Youngjae and imagining him in his shoes. “Too late.” Youngjae still turns away when he tries to close back in, but Jaebum settles for pressing his face into the exposed skin of Youngjae’s neck, breathing in his scent and trying to ignore the acrid sting of antiseptic. “I'm sorry, baby.”
Turning his head, Youngjae’s chin brushes against his hair. “For what?”
With his exhale, Jaebum can feel Youngjae’s slight shiver under his lips. “For making you go onstage alone all those times before. For making you wait for me to come back.”
“Hyung…” Trailing off, Youngjae shifts, his hand finding Jaebum’s arm and wrapping around his wrist. “I'm sorry too. For making you wait for me tonight. And with the room before.”
His huff of laughter is a little shaky as Jaebum pulls his head from Youngjae’s shoulder, finding his serious gaze and lifting his free hand to brush along his fringe. “We've both been making each other do a lot of waiting, haven't we?”
Youngjae’s lips only twitch at the corners, the smile not reaching his eyes. “Why is it like this, hyung? Why does it feel like every time some things get better something else gets worse?”
Tracing his fingers along the side of Youngjae’s face, down around his ear, and back up again, Jaebum hums. “Mark would say God’s testing us.”
Youngjae leans into his fingers as they catch on his cheek. “But testing what?”
“If we’re strong enough, I guess. If we… if we love each other enough.” His eyes drift to the flashing lights on the monitors, fixing on the steady pulsing. It's suddenly hard to meet Youngjae’s gaze, a surge of doubt making him awkward.
Youngjae’s low whine tugs his attention back, finding his eyes narrowed up at the ceiling. “How much more do we have to prove?”
“Are you getting tired of this, then?” Jaebum’s fingers twitch against his skin, and he hated the uncontrolled hint at his anxiety.
Huffing, Youngjae rolls his gaze to him. “Not of–of the love part.” Voice hitching, even the dimness doesn't hide the dark tint of his cheeks. “I'm just… getting tired of the waiting, hyung.”
There's a note to his voice that tells Jaebum that he means more than the waiting in rooms or on stages for the other to join them. The wistfulness in his tone, the veiled note of longing, burrows under Jaebum’s skin and mingles with the ache beneath his ribs
With his fingertips tracing along Youngjae’s cheekbone, Jaebum thinks of the touch of Jinyoung’s fingers against his wrist, the weight of Mark’s arms around his waist, the twisted smirks of the men at the pool, and the soft knowing glint of his stylist. He thinks of the fans spread out in front of the stage, and the ones bringing them snacks in small coffee shops. He thinks of Jackson and Bambam and Yugyeom standing together with them onstage and in private, full of teasing and jokes and the suffocating warmth of acceptance.
“Maybe one day we won't have to wait.” Maybe. It's a narrow chance, maybe one that will never come. Maybe one too distant to hope for.
Youngjae’s fingers are warm as they tangle with Jaebum’s, and his eyes are dark in the dim light, but Jaebum’s lungs clench at the look in them anyway. “I'll wait anyway, hyung.” His lips twitch up and Jaebum knows what's coming a moment before he speaks the lyrics. “I'm here like always for you, I'll never leave.”
It's the most promise they can offer, lyrics Jaebum wrote with the fear of impending loss tearing at his chest, and Youngjae’s voice shaping the words in the quiet of the dark room has his throat burning, his chest tight around the flood of emotions that swells up to drown him. Youngjae doesn't push him away this time when he leans in, tightens his grip on Jaebum’s hand and arches up to meet him, opening easily when Jaebum coaxes them closer. It's only a moment, a silent confirmation of a promise they can only hope to fulfil, but Jaebum clings to it anyway, because if this is what waiting means, if this is what he's waiting for, he'll wait forever.