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Chapter Text

The signs were all there, but no one knew what was going on. No one knew that something was off with Shota. Not until it was too late. 

Shota woke up feeling thirsty one morning, so thirsty that his vision blurred. His first thought was that he was dehydrated from not drinking enough water after hours of dance practice. Keeho, who had finished taking a shower across the hall, saw his friend almost fall on the floor as the second master bedroom door opened. 

“Soul-ie, are you okay?” Keeho said as his toothbrush dropped to the floor, the moment he saw his friend almost pass out on the wooden floor of their Airbnb. 

“Thirsty,” the blonde boy said, ignoring Keeho’s shirtless body. 

After scurrying to the kitchen like a house mouse, Shota found his water bottle properly labeled on the counter. He didn’t even notice Intak cooking breakfast while gulping down every drop of the H20. Once he finished with the bottle, he went to the water dispenser by the fridge and filled the bottle up to the brim. 

“Is he okay?” Theo said, walking into the kitchen wearing his pajamas.

“Is he ever okay?” Keeho said while walking in wearing a tank top and sweats.

Shota gave his best friend a deep glare while drinking his water.  Then he playfully hit him in the shoulder. 

Keeho gave Shota a warm hug from the side while ruffling his blond hair. 

“We have three interviews today and a photoshoot before dinner. Is everyone awake already?” Keeho looked around for his fellow members. 

Shota shrugged his shoulders and grabbed an unused fork to steal some of Intak’s breakfast.

“Hey! That’s mine.” Intak said while Keeho went to look for the other members.

Despite Intak’s protest, he happily made a full plate of breakfast for the blonde boy whose mouth was watering. After all, he was the only one in the kitchen with him.

When all the P1harmony members were gathered around a small kitchen table, Shota went to fill his water bottle a third time. He thought that no one was watching him. However, Jongseob was hot on his tail and almost scared the boy to death.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, Soul. I wanted to fill my water up too,” He patted the blond boy’s shoulder as Shota put the cap on his bottle. 

Keeho was watching this whole interaction like a hawk. He was the leader and had to make sure everyone was ready for the day. That meant making sure everyone was awake and hydrated. Little did he know that there was a reason behind Shota’s water refills. 

-

The drive to the first radio interview was not interesting. Jiung, Theo, and Soul passed out asleep on each other’s shoulders. Keeho was reviewing a script for their interview. Then there was Jongseob and Intak, who were playing games on their phones 

As soon as the van came to a stop, Soul stayed seated, waiting quietly for his members to climb out first. The morning had already felt long, and the ride had lulled him into a daze. When it was finally his turn, he grabbed his small purple water bottle, the one with the dog paw prints that he always carried around, and took a few quick gulps before slipping it back into his bag. He thought he was being discreet, hoping no one would notice how often he’d been drinking from it that day.

But Keeho, ever observant, immediately caught sight of the familiar bottle in Soul’s hand. He tilted his head slightly, ready to tease the younger member about his constant thirst. After all, it hadn’t even been three hours since they’d eaten breakfast, and Soul was already reaching for water again. Before he could say a word, though, their manager called for them to hurry inside. The stylists were waiting. Keeho let the moment slide, shaking his head with a small smile as they were ushered toward hair and makeup, while Soul trailed behind, quietly relieved that his little habit had gone mostly unnoticed.

After their second interview, the staff gave the boys a lunch break. Lunch never lasted long since K-pop groups had packed schedules. But Shota had ordered more food than usual, so the boys had to wait for him to finish eating. All of the food he wouldn't share with anyone else. 

No one questioned the Japanese boys’ appetite since they were all starving. 

Once all six members were packed back into the van for their third interview of the day with Zach Sang, this one taking them a little farther across the busy streets of Los Angeles, Soul quietly reached for his emotional support water bottle again. The familiar purple bottle, decorated with tiny dog paw prints, had become a comfort item for him during their hectic schedules. As the others chatted about the upcoming interview or scrolled through their phones, Soul twisted open the cap and took a few long sips, hoping the cool water would steady his nerves and refresh him before they arrived.

“Whoa, slow down, Soul. You are going to spill water in this car.” Theo said to Shota, who was gulping down more water. 

And to everyone’s curiosity, the blonde boy they knew as their happy Soul drank more water during their Zach Sang interview. 

-

The following week was no different. Soul was seen drinking 5x as much water by Keeho as he usually did during the day. Keeho was looking out for the boy but thought nothing of it since dance practice or a TikTok Challenge was almost always on the schedule. 

“Can we stop for food, please?” Soul whined unusually loudly in his best Korean for his members to understand since he wasn’t fluent in the language. 

“Sorry, we can’t, Soul-ie.” Jongseob said while looking at his phone for their schedule. 

“You can have my Choco-Pie if you are that hungry, Soul,” Intak offered the snack to the boy since he didn’t like getting full on sweets.

Shota looked at the snack with desperation in his eyes and took it like a pack rat hunting for food. 

Keeho made a mental note not to give his Shota more sugar after this. One snack was enough before a day packed with promotional meetings and interviews.

At dance rehearsals, Soul was unexpectedly hungry again once the members took their first break. This time, Jiung was the member who noticed something off with their Soul-ie. 

Soul gravitated toward the vending machine, eyes scanning the colorful rows of chips, chocolates, and candy bars until he finally settled on a familiar chocolate wafer he had hours before. The satisfying clink of the snack dropping into the tray echoed through the quiet hallway. He crouched down, grabbed it quickly, and unwrapped it with practiced ease, ignoring the neatly packed bag of healthier options sitting just a few feet away.

Jiung watched from a distance, arms crossed, amusement mixed with mild concern. It wasn’t that he wanted to tell on him but this was already the second time in three hours that Soul had reached for something sugary. Between the long car rides, interviews, and rehearsals, the younger member seemed to run on a strange mix of adrenaline and sugar. Jiung sighed softly, debating whether to say something about keeping his energy steady before their next schedule.

“Maybe save that for later,” he almost said, but the words never made it out. Their choreographer’s voice suddenly echoed down the hall, calling them back for dance practice. Soul stuffed a bar into his mouth, crumpled the wrapper, and jogged off with the rest of the group, leaving Jiung shaking his head, both exasperated and faintly amused as he followed behind.

-

Over the next few weeks of promotions, P1Harmony had dozens of performances at music shows and events. Shota’s body felt Soul-less. After one song, he was in the green room or dressing room, found on the couch in a make-up chair, half asleep. It was usually Jiung or Jongseob to find him 30 seconds before they were called on stage to perform or make a speech. 

No one bothered to mention the boy’s fatigue to Keeho, who was the leader of the group. 

Promotions were always draining. They were already ¾ through their promotion schedule, and everyone felt tired and wanted to go home to Korea. Some of the members even forgot what city they were in because of jet lag. No one was as fatigued and drained as Soul, though. Not even Keeho, who was the leader and translator for the boys.

“Don’t wanna,” The blonde said in Korean and snapped at the leader, who was trying to get him off the couch in the iHeart Radio greenroom so they could introduce themselves to the radio hosts properly. 

Keeho pulled back the blonde boy in surprise.

“Why not?” Keeho says urgently and loud enough for the hair and makeup room to hear from next door.

“Don’t wanna,” Soul says again, since he doesn’t know many English words. 

“Is everything okay here?” Theo heard the noise and walked into the greenroom to grab his lucky watch from the dresser.

The two young men nodded their heads, and Soul decided to keep quiet about the headache beginning to throb on the right side of his head; a familiar sign that his blood sugar was running high again.

During their 15-minute iHeartRadio interview, Soul’s vision kept blurring. He thought he was going to pass out and embarrass himself in front of the radio show host, because he was standing the whole time. His head was hurting more now, and his hands were shaking next to Keeho’s microphone. 

Once the short interview was over, he excused himself to the restroom. None of the members thought that the bathroom break was unusual. They were behind on the schedule and had no breaks today, so no one blamed Shota for wanting space away from the cameras. 

In the bathroom, Soul used the toilet in record time, splashed some water on his face as his hands shook rapidly and sweated some more. He didn’t feel sick, but he didn’t feel good. He just wanted some cuddles from his hyungs. He didn’t even know what he needed. 

Thankfully, he exited the bathroom in record time. Hopped back in the car with the staff and rested on Intak’s shoulder, pretending that he was okay. He wasn’t okay, though. 

-

Shota was hiding something, and Keeho knew it. He couldn’t ignore the nagging feeling in his chest any longer. Something was wrong, and he needed to find out what it was. Ever since the album jacket photoshoot, Keeho had noticed little things that didn’t sit right. When Shota changed his shirt between outfits, the leader couldn’t help but notice how skinny he looked—his shoulders narrower, his ribs faintly visible under his pale skin. It wasn’t just a matter of skipping meals; it looked like something deeper.

Then there were the constant bathroom breaks. Shota excused himself at every opportunity, before rehearsals, after meals, even during long car rides between schedules. He wasn't sure if their Soul-ie was homesick or actually sick. At first, the others brushed it off as nerves or too much water, but Keeho saw the pattern forming. He could tell Shota was trying to act normal, forcing smiles and brushing off concern with a soft shrug.

But Keeho’s worry only grew. It wasn’t just about appearances or habits; it was the bigger picture. Shota’s family wasn’t in the States, and none of his medical records had been transferred over when they moved cities for promotions. If anything goes wrong, no one here would know how to help him properly. Keeho could feel the responsibility pressing on his shoulders not just as a leader, but as a friend. Something was going on beneath the surface, and Keeho promised himself he’d get to the bottom of it before things got worse.

The night before P1Harmony was to appear at the Academy Country Music Awards, Soul had the hotel room to himself. He had unexpectedly won a game during Harmony Adventures and got the only solo room available. None of his members knew why he had silently prayed for the solo room during the game. 

Soul was embarrassed to admit that something was wrong, seriously wrong. For the past two and a half weeks, he had been getting out of bed at least five times every night to pee. He didn’t understand what was happening to his body, but he was too ashamed to say anything. Maybe it was just stress, he told himself. Maybe the long days, the endless rehearsals, and the constant travel were wearing him down. Still, the fatigue that clung to him every morning felt heavier than just lack of sleep.

During makeup and hair sessions, he’d excuse himself halfway through, murmuring a quiet “sorry” as he slipped away. The makeup noonas didn’t ask questions anymore. He just exchanged silent looks as he rushed out again. He had told them once not to worry, to please just stay quiet about it. But the truth was, he didn’t want anyone to notice how often he was going to pee.

When he returned, he’d grab his purple water bottle, covered in dog paw stickers, and take several long gulps. The thirst never went away. It felt like no matter how much he drank, his mouth stayed dry, his tongue like sandpaper. He carried that bottle everywhere now, even to the bathroom, refilling it whenever he could.

He didn’t realize yet that the constant thirst and bathroom trips were connected—that his blood sugar might be dangerously high or dangerously low at certain times. All he knew was that something inside him didn’t feel right, and he was running out of ways to hide it.

-

Soul and award shows were not a perfect combination. He didn’t hate award shows. He just wasn’t one to socialize on red carpets, at parties, or in networking events. He would rather cuddle in his Pikachu onesie, playing games in the dorm with Jongseob and Keeho. 

This was the first time a K-pop Group was invited to the American Country Music Awards. It was an important day on the promotions schedule. Keeho had said so multiple times before to ensure everyone was on their best behaviour. 

His first stop, as usual, was the bathroom. He had lost count of how many times he’d gone in the last five hours. Jetlagged from the long journey and painfully hungry, he washed his hands at the sink and silently hoped the hotel still had some warm, decent food left unless his hyungs had eaten it all while he overslept.

He was too hungry to wait for room service to come. His stomach grumbled as he texted a staff member to join him downstairs at the small cafe. This was only his first meal of the day. 

Throughout the day, he quietly nibbled on snacks or swiped one or two from his members without anyone noticing. No one seemed to realize that anything was off with their Soul-ie. All of the members avoided snacking during promotions or before events and stuck to strict diets and workout routines to maintain their image for photoshoots.

The members shared a small lunch before an interview. Soul felt a headache start on the left side of his head this time. He didn’t say anything about it, though. Instead, he silently blamed the lights from the cameras. 

“Intak, I think you should wear the cowboy hat tonight,” Jongseob stated while Soul was busy sipping on his large soda he had ordered. 

“I think Jiung should wear it,” Theo said while he watched Soul take a fry from his tray innocently. 

At this point, Soul wasn’t even paying attention to the cowboy hat conversation. He was too busy eating a bite off of every member’s plate. He was still starving, despite his headache and lightheadedness. 

Keeho even got caught up in the cowboy-hat argument and didn’t notice how many sodas Soul had quietly downed. It was red carpet day, so none of the members were supposed to snack or stray from their strict diets, but Soul’s thirst was relentless, his blood sugar spiking as he tried to keep up appearances. He felt the familiar heat behind his eyes and the headache creeping in, but he didn’t want anyone to comment on his constant need for drinks, not when everyone was going to be watching every move on the red carpet.

Before the P1Harmony team left the catering area, Soul escaped once again to use the restroom. This time, Jiung and Theo noticed his disappearance.

-

P1Harmony was just about to leave their hotel for the Country Music Awards, the air buzzing with pre-show energy and the faint scent of hairspray. Stylists hurried around the room, fixing collars, touching up makeup, and straightening suit jackets as the members prepared for the big night. Just as Theo cracked a joke that made Keeho laugh, their manager suddenly burst into the room, his face tight with worry. The door slammed against the wall, startling everyone.

“Has anyone seen Shota?” he asked, scanning the room with growing concern.

The chatter died instantly. Intak looked up from his phone, Jiung froze since he was the last one who saw Soul, and Jongseob slowly lowered the jacket he had been smoothing out. Everyone exchanged quick, confused glances. Soul had been there just a few minutes ago, right? But now, his body was missing from the entourage in front of the elevators.

Keeho frowned, tension creeping into his voice. “He said he was just running to the bathroom… but that was, like, ten minutes ago.”

“He told me he was getting his lucky necklace with his dogs on it,” Jiung whispered to the members.

The manager’s expression darkened as he pulled out his phone, already dialing. The group could feel the shift in the air; something wasn’t right. Soul was never late to a red carpet event. 

“He said he forgot his lucky socks in his room,” Theo said while someone was putting gel in his hair.

“What lucky socks?” Jongseob immediately turned his head in suspicion. 

“At dinner, he was shaking a lot, not just his leg, but his arms were shaking as he held his chopsticks. I knew something was going on. I never said anything,” Intak said, looking down at his dress shoes. 

“What did he eat for dinner? He ate the same thing as we did. You don’t think he got food poisoning, do you?” Theo said with his thinking face on.

“No, he couldn’t have. Catering has been consistent during promotions,” Keeho spoke up while watching the time on his watch. 

In the back of the group, Jongseob was unusually quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t have his phone on him either, and he couldn’t text his fellow band member. He knew something was wrong. He had been too busy focusing on his part of the promotional tour to stop and say something to the boy about his eating habits.

The team was already three minutes late for the red carpet. P1Harmony wasn’t leaving without Soul. He was an integral part of the group.

_

After a lot of arguing with the staff, Keeho and the other four members of the group spread out across the hotel in their red carpet outfits to look for their Soul-ie. Each member had bodyguards with them. Keeho had been told to call the manager if he needed him. In case of emergency.

As a quarter of the team took the elevator to Shota's hotel room, Jongseob kept pondering about where the boy could have run off to on such an important day. 

“Does anyone have a spare key to his room?” Their manager said since he went along with Keeho.

“I do.” Keeho said softly, his voice a little hesitant. He had only gone to cuddle with the boy once during their three-day trip to the new city.

 Something about Soul had seemed different and Keeho had a quiet suspicion that his best friend was feeling homesick. The thought of Soul missing home made Keeho want to stay close, just enough to offer comfort without making it awkward, and in that small, fleeting moment of closeness, his words carried more than agreement, they carried concern, care, and an unspoken understanding of what the other was silently enduring.

But boy was he wrong about Shota feeling homesick.

“Let me go check his room, he likes his privacy. I think that’s why he chose the solo room multiple times. Maybe he’ll open up to me first,” Keeho mumbles to no one in particular under his breath.

As the leader opened the door with the keycard, he was surprised to find Soul’s plush Pikachu lying in his suitcase upside down, but no sign of the boy. 

Intak was in charge of checking all the restrooms on the floor P1harmony reserved. There were only 3 of them. Soul’s bathroom, then the other two groups of three’s bathrooms. There was no sign of Soul in the bathrooms, to his surprise. 

The team had barely begun searching the hotel floor they’d reserved when a soft cry echoed from the end of the hall. Strange. None of the members was assigned a room near the stairwell at that end. Theo and Intak exchanged confused glances as they tried to pinpoint the sound. It wasn’t coming from any of the rooms. It was coming from the stairwell itself.

Everything happened so fast, like a scene replaying in fragments too quick to process. Keeho’s phone rang loudly in the hallway, its shrill tone slicing through the low murmur of concern as the team scrambled to locate the source of the crying sound. Panic rippled through the air. Some of the staff quickly moved to keep the members away from the stairwell, sensing the danger before they did. 

Theo’s heart thumped so hard he felt it in his throat, each beat echoing the dread building in his chest. Jiung stepped forward, hand trembling as he reached for the stairwell door, his instincts screaming that he needed to see for himself. But before he could, their manager firmly held them back, his eyes wide with urgency. 

Keeho’s voice trembled as he relayed the emergency call he had just received from Jongseob, who was crouched in the stairwell with an unconscious Soul in his arms. The words barely registered as reality set in. All the members were bombarding Keeho and their manager with questions about who was in the stairwell.

“Move back!” Their manager yelled at them loud enough for Soul’s body to wake up for a second in Jongseob’s arms, then fall limp again in his lap.

Keeho was panicking since he was the leader of the group. He hadn’t even realized that a paramedic team had arrived behind Intak and Theo.

No one was allowed to see Soul except for Jongseob, who was holding his body up from having a concussion on the stairwell floor.

-

Jongseob wasn’t stupid. He knew something was very wrong with his friend. Instead of waiting for a bodyguard to follow him to the reserved hotel rooms, he went on a search by himself. He was noticeable in his flashy, cowboy-themed red carpet outfit. But he couldn’t be less scared about security. Soul was missing. 

While Jongseob was thinking about where his friend had gone, Soul was in the stairwell on their hotel floor trying to get up. His body wouldn’t allow him to stand, though. Something was wrong. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was, though. He was nauseous and his head hurt. On top of all that, he felt dizzy as he walked up the stairs. The elevator was taking forever, and now he was regretting not taking it. 

Soul knew that his body wasn’t feeling too great before he got his makeup on. But he didn’t feel sick, so he pushed through hair and makeup like a trouper.

Everything was hurting in Soul’s body. His head hurt. His hands were shaking or sweaty or both. He felt thirsty and hungry. His stomach was hurting. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he didn't feel like his happy-go-lucky self.

“Help,” Soul said in his strong accent, but his voice was too quiet for anyone to hear.

“I want Keeho,” Soul said his last words before his eyes closed, and he lost control of his body.

He didn’t know it, but he was in a diabetic coma. 

Jongseob was about to look for a staff member for help before he heard the name Keeho. He wasn’t sure who was calling for the leader. It didn’t sound like Intak or Theo. His suspicion wouldn’t leave his mind, though. 

Instead of taking the elevator, he pushed open the stairwell door, intending to rush down to the lobby to find his staff—but he wasn’t prepared for what awaited him at the back of the stairs.

“Shota!” Jongseob forgot about his red carpet-worthy outfit and immediately knelt on the floor beside his friend, who was unconscious and sweating.

Jongseob was too in shock to call someone for help first. He placed his hand on Soul’s neck and could tell that he was still breathing.

That was a good sign. He thought. 

He lay there on the stairs for a moment, cradling Soul’s body into his lap, until he remembered that he had grabbed his phone from his room in urgent moments earlier. He couldn’t put into words what had happened. Instead, he called Keeho and started crying. He didn’t know how to help his friend except for holding him for comfort.

Jonsgeob felt stupid for not having taken CPR classes when he had the time to. He felt mad at himself for letting Soul get sick when he could’ve done something. He was upset at himself for not noticing all the signs earlier during promotions. His tears could be heard through the stairwell and passed the doors. It’s a good thing that all the fans were waiting for them downstairs to show up on the red carpet. Otherwise, it would have been a different story. 

“Soul, please be okay. Wake up. I don’t know what’s wrong, but please wake up,” he messes with the blonde’s hair while crying. 

He didn’t even notice the paramedic team, and his manager burst through the stairwell doors behind him. 

It had only been five minutes since he found the boy, but it felt like he had been crying there with Soul for hours. 

In a matter of seconds, Jongseob was pulled away by his manager as the paramedics attended to the young man, who was still in his glittery cowboy jacket, unconscious.

He was now sobbing in someone’s arms. His heart was racing like crazy. He genuinely thought he was going to pass out if he didn’t get to see Soul. 

“Come on, let the paramedics do their job. Breathe with me,” Jongseob couldn’t tell whose voice it was. 

“Breathe, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay,” Jongseob still couldn’t recognize the voice and kept panicking about everything, even the red carpet event.

Soul was unconscious, and I couldn’t do anything. That was all that was running through his head as Keeho and Theo rubbed his back.

Intak was about to search for tissues, but wanted to stay to see what the paramedics were doing to their brother. Their teammate. 

Jiung was a mess. He was just as much of a wreck as Jongseob. 

And Keeho was holding back his tears for all of his teammates. He was trying so hard not to push the paramedics away and just go over to hug his Soul-lie.

“Sir, the patient wants you in the ambulance with him,” a paramedic said quietly while tapping Keeho’s shoulder as his manager nodded his head towards him.

-

Keeho knew something that the other members didn’t. He was scared to see everyone’s reactions to the news. He was afraid for his life, knowing that he was the leader, and he did nothing.

Shota had a seizure in the ambulance. The only reason Keeho knew about the seizure was because Jongseob told him that Soul had asked for him before he found him in the stairwell. None of that mattered because his Soul-ie was in the hospital and his biological family was in another country. The leader was responsible for this, and he blamed himself because he did nothing to save the boy.

“I’m going to get coffee. I need to stay awake in case a nurse comes. Anyone wanna join me?” Theo said, trying to break the silence. 

All of a sudden,  Intak said quietly, “It’s my fault we’re here. I gave him my Choco-Pie. I should’ve noticed something was off with his appetite.”

“No, it’s my fault we’re here. I should’ve noticed that he was always thirsty and refilling his water bottle. It was not because we danced so much. Something was wrong and I didn’t say anything,” Theo said.

“Theo, it’s not your fault. It’s mine. I saw him shaking multiple times. I thought it was nerves but it kept happening. Not just his legs, but his hands and arms. It’s like he lost control of his body,” Jiung said, blaming himself for why they were in the ER instead of at an award show.

“It’s my fault. It's all my fault. I should’ve done something in that stairwell. CPR, or call 9-1-1, or get help. I should’ve been there instead of comforting him. I should’ve called the paramedics.,” Jongseob was already crying so much in the hospital chair he hadn’t moved a smidge from since they got there two hours ago. 

“Guys, shut up! It’s none of your fault. Soul should’ve come to us or a staff member if he was feeling sick or out of it today. It’s not his fault that he had a seizure,” Keeho whispered under his breath and finally let the tears escape his eyes.

Jongseob gasped at the mention of the S word. He knew that seizures meant potential brain injuries or even worse death.

It’s my fault Soul’s in the ER. Keeho thought as everyone except for Jongseob hugged him.

As they pulled Jongseob into the group hug, Keeho’s body trembled with fear.

Hours passed by full of bathroom breaks and short naps. No one wanted to sleep in case a nurse or doctor came out to tell them good or bad news about their Shots. 

All of the members were still beating themself up about not realizing that something was wrong with their brother. Their Soul-ie. The boy who brought smiles to the room by making Minecraft sounds or showing up with his stuffies in hand.

Keeho couldn’t remember the last time he hugged the blonde Japanese boy. He felt so bad for thinking it was just homesickness. He was beating himself up about everything he missed about Soul’s weird behaviour because he was supposed to be a leader. He didn’t feel like one. 

“Are you all here for Haku Shota?” The quiet of the waiting room was broken by the gentle knock of a doctor’s hand, followed by a softer tap from a nurse. 

It was 2:30 a.m., and the fluorescent lights cast a harsh glare over the tired faces of the boys huddled in the chairs. They had pleaded with the hospital staff earlier with autographs and even convinced their manager to let them stay in the waiting room overnight, hoping to catch a few hours of rest. 

The air smelled faintly of antiseptic, cologne, hairspray, and coffee, a mix that did little to calm the tension or the exhaustion etched on their young faces. Some of the boys rubbed their eyes, stifling yawns, while others clutched blankets around their shoulders, unwilling to admit how much they had actually slept. The doctor and nurse exchanged a glance, their expressions softening as they noticed the determination and worry lingering in the group as the men approached the two medical professionals.

“Please tell me Soul is okay sir,” Keeho rushed over towards the doctor as the rest of them stood around him tiredly. 

“Your friend is okay. His condition is stable. There’s actually one thing we are concerned about,” The nurse said to Keeho while the doctor prepared his notes.

“Which is….?” Jongseob said impatiently. 

“I think it would be best if one of you came to my office and I explained it to you,” The doctor said not wanting to overwhelm them with information. 

Keeho was gently shoved towards the doctor by Intak.

The leader nodded his head and followed the doctor to a quiet office to hear more about it.

“Is he hurt or sick?” Keeho impulsively asked the doctor while his manager sat behind him as he slid into the room quietly.

“Haku Shota’s  blood sugar was 620 when he got here. He was in a diabetic coma before he got in the ambulance and had a seizure. My team is concerned about his diet and activity. He's on insulin drip in one IV and fluids in the other IV.” 

As the doctor said those words, everything made sense. Soul’s intense thirstiness at dance practice and interviews. His bathroom breaks day and night. He has been constantly snacking and never gaining weight. His snappy behaviour and his fatigue. Keeho knew all the signs of diabetes. He never thought it could happen to his Soul-ie.

Keeho wasn’t dumb. His grandma had diabetes, and his aunt did too.

He knew that it meant Soul’s pancreas wasn’t making enough insulin. He felt stupid for not even reading Google for answers earlier during their promotional tour.

“Oh,” was all Keeho could say as the doctor continued.

“He’s on insulin drip in one IV and fluids in the other IV. His blood sugar is not quite where we would like it to be yet. Hence why we want him to stay over for a few days. I made a referral for a good nutritionist who works with people in your industry. He will need to start insulin injections as soon as the IV is disconnected. I encourage you to get him to eat healthier foods in moderation, of course.” The doctor fed the manager and himself with information he didn’t care about.

“Can I see him? I mean can we see him?” Keeho corrected himself since he wasn’t the only one impatiently waiting to see their friend.

“Haku’s asleep right now. A nurse will check his IVs and vitals every two hours. I think it’s okay if two of you stay with him at a time. He might seem overwhelmed or confused when he wakes up. I’ll explain more to him when he’s fully conscious,” The doctor was clearly looking at P1Harmony’s manager for approval. 

Surprisingly, their manager nodded his head slowly. He was too tired to argue with Keeho at this time of the day. The rest of the boys would be driven back to the hotel to shower and hopefully sleep. Nothing would be on their schedule for the following week. 

So instead of arguing about who would stay overnight with Keeho, everyone unanimously agreed that Jongseob would be the second person to stay. Everyone agreed without hesitation: Jongseob would stay, the last person to see Soul and the one they trusted most in that moment.

-

“Keeho…Keeho…Keehooo… Steph,” Someone whispered in the leader’s ear quiet enough for him to hear it and not wake up Jongseob, who was on a cot about to fall off.

Jongseob couldn’t find a good position to sleep in on the hospital cot he was provided. He just flopped down like a fish and hit his head against a rough pillow horse earlier.

“Hmmmm…” Keeho was mumbling in his sleep on his cot that was inches away from Soul’s hospital bed.

He wanted to be there in case his friend woke up, but he passed out cold the other night. 

Soul started poking Keeho’s shoulder to try to wake him up. It eventually worked after Keeho saw that Soul was gonna fall out of the hospital bed right on top of him.

“Soul-ie, you are awake. How are you feeling?” Keeho was wide awake and touched the boy’s hand without the IV.

“Hotel?” Soul responded in Korean since his brain was still fuzzy from the other evening.

“Not quite yet. Let me get the doctor and wake Jongseob up,” Keeho responded to the blonde boy who looked like he was lost and on the verge of tears.

He didn’t understand where he was or what the nurses and doctors had said to him. The bright fluorescent lights hurt his eyes, and the steady beeping of the monitor next to his bed only made him feel more disoriented. He felt so out of place, as if he had woken up in a strange dream he couldn’t escape from. All he wanted was the comfort of his Pikachu stuffed and his dog something familiar, something soft that could remind him of home.

Soul’s eyes darted around the hospital room, trying to make sense of the wires and machines surrounding him. When he noticed the IVs taped to his arm, his first instinct was to tug at the tape, desperate to free himself from whatever was keeping him there. Keeho, sitting in the chair beside his bed, tried to shake Jongseob awake.

Soul swallowed hard, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He wanted to ask where everyone was, but his voice came out weak and shaky. He was too distracted, too overwhelmed by the strange smells of antiseptic and the faint echo of footsteps in the hallway to care if his members weren’t there. For the first time in a long while, he felt completely alone, and that scared him more than anything else. No one had spoken to him in Korean or Japanese in the last few hours. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to be yesterday. He felt like he was lost.

“Hey, don’t pick at that. It’s giving you medicine and fluids,” Jongseob said in a raspy voice, speaking Korean so that the blonde could understand a little bit. 

“Want Keeho,” Soul said sadly, making Jongseob sad that he didn’t want him first.

“He’s coming back in a minute,” the younger boy rested his hand over the boy’s hand without the IV.

When Keeho came back with a doctor, nurse, and their manager, Soul knew that this was something serious. He instantly reached for Keeho’s hand while Jongseob was playing with his blonde hair to calm him down. 

“Shota, you have type 1 Diabetes. This means that your pancreas in not making enough insulin in your body. You were in a diabetic coma last night. Your blood sugar was over 500. You will need to start daily injections. A nurse will come help you with them. A diabetes educator and dietician will help you over the next few weeks….” Keeho tried his best to translate the information the doctor was saying as fast as he could.

None of this made sense to poor Shota, though. He felt hopeless like a lost soul.

“Wanna go home,” Shota responded in Korean after Keeho had translated everything the doctor had said while Jongseob was trying to take it all in.

Home, meaning Japan, not Korea.

“Not yet,” Keeho responded, obviously sleep-deprived and unable to form a coherent answer.

The rest of the day went like this: Keeho translating in Korean medical information he didn’t understand, Soul wanting to go home, and Jongseob comforting the boy who was still confused.

Eventually, the rest of the members were allowed to visit the hospital room. It made Soul feel like he wasn’t alone anymore. Intak brought his Pikachu plushie from his suitcase, Theo brought a Japanese snack the doctor said he could have if he took an injection, Jiung brought flowers, and their manager let them be for the day.

“We’ll figure this out tomorrow,” Keeho murmured in Korean, his voice barely above a whisper. The weight of Soul’s new diabetes diagnosis sat heavily on his chest, but for now, all he could do was make sure the boy was resting. 

Tomorrow, they’d learn the routines, the numbers, the careful balance of meals and medicine. Tonight, Keeho just promised himself that Soul wouldn’t have to face any of it alone.

Chapter Text

It was rare for K-pop groups to take an extended hiatus after promotions. Normally, idols jumped straight into dance rehearsals, live recording schedules, or new songwriting sessions as soon as one project wrapped. But P1Harmony became an exception—one of their members needed time, space, and a different kind of support. Both physically and mentally, he was still adjusting to his recent diabetes diagnosis.

Every P1Harmony member took those six months off to learn more about diabetes. Keeho learned how to administer Soul’s daily insulin injections. Theo learned meal carb counting for Korean and Japanese foods. Jongseob always had low blood sugar tabs or candy on him, just in case. Intak always reminded Soul to take breaks during dance rehearsals to check his blood sugar. And Jiung was Soul’s emotional support when his blood sugar was too high. 

Six months ago, Haku Shota was sprawled in a hospital bed in Nashville, TN, with no grasp of what was happening to his body or even where he was. The diabetic coma had hit so hard that he’d suffered a seizure in the back of the ambulance, leaving everything around him a frightening blur. His members were there for him, and that made everything a little bit better.

He didn’t understand his diabetic educator at all. For one, he had a language barrier, and the hospital he was staying at wouldn’t let his Hyung Keeho stay whenever he needed translation. Soul’s life was like living in a black hole during that month.

“Where’s Soul?” Intak said to Keeho, who was double-checking the day’s schedule in the kitchen of their dorm. 

This was the group’s first week with a full work schedule since going on hiatus. During the hiatus, they practiced dance choreographies and recorded music. But everything else, from promotions to traveling to concerts to fan clubs, was canceled. They never told P1ece what the hiatus was for. On Weverse, Keeho just said that they needed a break and would be back better, healthier, stronger, and with more music soon. 

Keeho shrugged since he didn’t know.

“Jongseob, do you know where Soul is?” Intak repeated in Korean to the boy who was playing iPhone games on the couch.

Jongseob pointed to Theo and Jiung’s room and went back to his game. 

“Thanks for the help,” Intak sarcastically said in English to Keeho, who was still looking at the day’s schedule. 

“Tell them that the car is coming in 20 minutes to take us to Soul’s diabetes doctor’s appointment,” Keeho said in English, mocking Intak’s English accent. 

Intak stuck his tongue out at the leader, playfully in response. 

Today, Soul was meeting with his endocrinologist in Korea to discover if he could switch to an insulin pump instead of having to do multiple daily injections. He desperately wanted to return to work as a K-pop idol, and needing a medic every time he needed a shot wasn’t realistic. Once he learned that his insurance might cover an insulin pump, he became determined to get one.

In the bedroom nearest to the kitchen, Theo and Soul were lying in the same bed, looking at something on Soul’s iPad. Intak approached the door quietly since it was slightly ajar. He knocked three times. It was the secret code the members made in case someone entered the room unannounced. 

Soul was the first person to look up from his iPad.

“Tell Keeho I already had an insulin injection and Dexcom. Theo helped me before I ate breakfast, Hyung,” He said, returning to the device’s screen he was looking at with Theo.

A star-shaped Band-Aid was noticeable on the right side of his arm. The best part about this whole diagnosis thing for Shota was that the band-aids his members put on him after an insulin injection were fun. 

“What’s so interesting?” Intak looked over at the iPad, speaking in his strong Korean accent so Soul could understand his Hyung. 

Theo turned the iPad screen around so his friend could see what they were looking at earlier. 

“I was watching Quincy the Koala videos. She is diabetic too and has a dexcom like I do,” Soul abruptly announced in Japanese, forgetting that his members weren’t fluent in his language. 

Intak looked at him; he’d completely lost it before scrambling to call Keeho for help. And just like that, their chaotic morning back from hiatus began.

-

Shota was quiet. Oddly quiet. In his trainee days, he was shy, and his members had to read his movements or facial expressions to see what he wanted. Or he had to text them what he wanted to say because he barely understood Korean when he was younger. 

He was quiet but nervous. Not the kind of nervousness he got before a concert, though. He was terrified about his future as a dancer and idol. His whole life had changed over the last six months. Everything from how he ate, how much he danced, how many breaks he took during recording days, and how much he leaned on the members for support. 

“I wish my mom were here,” Soul mumbled in Korean to Jongseob, who was his twin, well, not really. 

“I know she’s thinking about you right now, about how strong and brave you are,” Jongseob placed his hand in between Shota’s cold hands. 

Cold hands were a symptom of diabetes, primarily due to poor circulation, caused by high blood sugar levels. Shota couldn’t help but feel like he needed to wear more layers inside and outside the house, even if he wasn’t going to a sweaty concert. 

Keeho was at the front desk checking him in. He knew that Soul could fill out his own medical and insurance paperwork after countless visits to doctors. As the leader, he took responsibility for his members and was in charge when his manager wasn’t around. 

“The staff is staring at us,” Shota whispered to Jongseob as he was playing with his hair.

“I know,” Jongseob whispered back, since they were getting back into going outside in public every day again, even if it was a doctor’s office.

Only Keeho, Jongseob, Soul, and their staff were joining today’s appointment. Mainly to cause less of a disruption outside the office. And because Soul got to pick who came with him this time to see his doctor.

“All checked-in. Are you excited to get an insulin pump, Soul?” Keeho said while moving to a chair next to him in the small waiting room.

Soul shrugged his shoulders in response. He didn’t know how to feel about having an insulin pump visible on stage or during photoshoots. He was just excited for the freedom of not having to rely on someone to help him with his daily injections.

“Are you going to get a blue one, like mine?” A young girl who was obviously a Korean primary school student said to Soul. 

“Nari, don’t run off like that again, please,” An older woman who looked like the girl’s mother said as she came behind the little girl, who was about to be moved away by the group’s security.

“I might get a green one. Is your favorite color blue?” Shota kneeled towards the little girl, totally ignoring the security guard trying to get her to leave.

The young girl nods her head and lifts up her right arm to show off her Omnipod, which has an interchangeable bright blue cover. 

“Nari, let’s go,” The older woman says a bit more forcefully this time.

The girl’s mother must’ve realized how famous the boys are with her stricter tone. 

Thankfully, the only other people in the waiting room were elderly. Keeho watched the interaction happen and wanted to take a video of the diabetic girl with Shota. Although he knew that would create a mess. So instead, he just watched the little girl leave with her mother while she waved to the boys. Soul sadly frowned at the floor once she was out of sight.

After the appointment, Soul sat in the back of the van, fidgeting with his new Omnipod insulin pump. He was quiet again and didn’t want to talk about his feelings to anyone. 

Instead of telling Jongseob and Keeho that he was scared of the new device attached to his arm, he let out a Minecraft noise and leaned into Jongseob’s shoulder for comfort. It was easier to hide behind a familiar sound effect than to admit how anxious he really was. Jongseob felt the weight against him and instinctively wrapped an arm around Soul, steadying him without asking any questions. Keeho watched them quietly, recognizing the anxiety Soul was trying so hard to disguise, but choosing to give him the space to cope in his own way.

“You know, you don’t have to go back to promotions this week if you don’t feel ready to. Tomorrow’s live interview can be postponed,” Keeho looked up from his phone towards Soul, who was emotionless in the back seat. 

“No.” Shota exclaimed quite loudly in the car with the staff up front. 

“I want to do it. I want to tell P1ece why it’s my fault that we had to take a six-month break from work. I want to go to the interview tomorrow, please, Keeho. I cannot stand being the patient anymore. I don’t want to be the baby of the group. Seobie is supposed to be the maknae,” Shota said the most words he’s ever spoken in the last six months to the group’s leader, unconfidently in a broken Korean accent. 

“Hey!” Jongseob nudged his best friend’s shoulder, which was insulin pump-free. 

Instead of pulling Jongseob into a hug, Shota leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the cheek of the boy whom fans often joked was his twin.

Keeho gasped lightly in surprise. 

“Soul-ie, nothing is your fault. We all wanted to take a hiatus. You can ask any of the members, including me and Jongseob. We were so tired at the Country Music Awards. We all wanted to go home and just rest in our beds for months. I almost lost my voice halfway through the promotions. And you are not a patient or a baby. You are brave and strong. You are still a dancer and a member of P1Harmony. We love you. We don’t want you to feel like you have to tell Pierce about this if you don’t want to.” Keeho spoke slowly enough for Shota to hear his Korean and motioned his head towards Jongseob. 

“Keeho’s right. You are not a baby. I am still the maknae and will always be,” Jongseob messed with Shota’s hair while the van was on the way to the FNC Dance Studio.

Soul responded by lying back down in Jongseob’s lap while buckled in his seat belt. 

Keeho waited for a response, then went back to his phone to review the Omnipod’s manual that was written in Korean on a large packet the doctor had given Shota. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a Japanese manual, so he took charge of reading the Korean one.

-

The following day was their first official day of Promotions for their holiday EP. Soul was lost in thought when the group arrived at their first music bank TV show interview of the day. Excitement and nervousness were in the air. Every member was prepared to answer the juicy and dramatic questions interviewers had. It was scripted for the most part or memorized by Keeho mostly. 

The hair and makeup room was oddly silent. Soul didn’t make any weird sounds. Keeho didn’t make a sound while rehearsing the script in a corner. Jiung and Theo didn’t say anything about Intak pacing in circles. And Jongseob didn’t make a sound while sipping on his hot tea next to Soul.

All the members and even Soul had candy in their pockets for low blood sugars. Keeho reminded everyone about it before getting in the car in the morning. He was positive that nothing was going to go wrong today. Soul deserved a perfect first day back at work after all he had been through. 

Minutes later, they were ushered into a studio with two large couches. Of course, Soul chose to sit next to Keeho, the hyung he trusted most. 

In case of emergency, a medic trained in diabetes care was on-site in case he had another urgent low or felt sick on set. 

Everything was going well until it wasn’t.

“Hi, I’m Anna G. Today, we have P1Harmony in the building!  It’s been six months since you announced your hiatus. I’m sure P1ece has missed you very much.  Would you like to re-introduce yourself to the audience, even though your fans already know you?” The interviewer said while looking at Keeho, who was holding the microphone. 

Once the group did a smooth introduction, the interview began. Keeho answered most of the interviewer’s questions while Soul sat in the back row, minding his own business. 

In a green room, Haku Shota’s phone vibrated silently—he’d turned the ringer off before going on stage. A Dexcom alert flashed on the screen, warning him that his new Omnipod had lost signal. It meant one of two things: the device was either out of range or the Bluetooth connection had dropped, leaving it unable to read his blood sugar after his performance and interview.

No one could hear Shota’s vibration from the TV set, and none of the staff were aware that the phone was attached to the Dexcom via Bluetooth. 

His Dexcom app showed a steady 108 before he headed onto the TV set, so he hadn’t bothered treating for a low or high prior to getting makeup done. Everything looked perfect. But now that the signal had dropped and he had a TV show live performance, he couldn’t see his numbers at all by the time he finished performing their holiday songs. Multiple songs, in fact.

After performing three songs on the music bank TV stage, the group took a short water break while Keeho answered more questions. Then the interviewer suddenly looked at Soul for answers.

He wasn’t sure what was happening with his body. He was sure that his blood sugar was stable before the performance., He felt dizzy, nervous, and shaky. Almost like he was losing his balance from trying to focus on his ability to stand. 

“What 3 words would you use to describe those songs, Soul?” the interviewer asked while he was picking at a hem on his pants.

“Jolly, happy, and… um, uh—oh… I think,” the Japanese boy stammered.

 His hands trembled, and he thought it was just because he was tired from the early schedule. 

 “Keeho,” the boy urgently said while feeling like he needed to sit down. 

“Keeho?” Intak exclaimed in confusion from where he was standing in a holiday sweater next to the boy who was focusing on his breathing. 

“Interesting answer,” the interviewer said in Korean while the boys prepped for their encore song. 

Everyone acted like it was just Soul being Soul with his awkward answers. No one suspected that he was having low blood sugar from dancing and not checking his Dexcom app. 

Besides, this was his first real day of work with the omnipod and Dexcom on his body. It was all trial and error until he found a steady schedule to manage diabetes and ideal life. Soul needed an excuse to get off the stage. He wasn’t going to be sick or faint. He just knew that something was off with his body, and he needed to check his Dexcom app. 

One more performance wouldn’t hurt, would it? He told himself he felt fine now, just a little shaky from the first day back at work.

“And I’ll make your holiday wish come true….”  Jongseob rapped to their last song when all of a sudden Soul fell on the floor during his dance.

He felt that familiar wave of dizziness—unsteady on his feet, a slight tremor returning to his hands. It didn’t seem like he was going to pass out, so he forced a smile and tried to play it off. Soul pushed himself back up and slipped into the choreography as if nothing had happened, though every member had clearly seen it.

Keeho kept singing from the front of the stage, but worry tugged at his voice. Jongseob restarted his rap beside Soul, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder without breaking character. They were professionals, after all. The group powered through the encore like seasoned performers, even as Soul felt increasingly off after finishing his last verse.

-

Once the members said farewell to the interviewer by bowing, they headed back to the green room to get packed for the next interview. Keeho heard the sound first before Soul could. It was Soul’s phone vibrating constantly about the Dexcom signal loss. 

“Hey, why isn't your Dexcom app not responding?” Keeho looked over his shoulder to hand the phone to his friend. 

No one responded to him.

“Where’d Soul go?” Intak said, popping out of the changing room, handing his performance outfit to the staff. 

“He was walking behind me,” Theo exclaimed while getting his makeup wiped off by the staff.

“I thought he was behind Seob when we walked off stage?” Jiung said while scratching his head.

“We don’t have time if Shota wants to cry in the bathroom about his dance break fall. You have another interview to get across the city,” Their manager said strictly while walking into the green room looking frantic. 

Jongseob and Keeho glared at the man whom they thought actually cared for them and ran to the bathrooms across the hall to look for his friend. 

His best friend, and not a love interest. 

He wasn’t there. All the stalls were empty, oddly enough. 

“Do you think he went to apologize to the interviewer about his mistake?” Keeho said to Jongseob behind him while staggering his words in English and Korean. 

“I don’t know. I’m worried though. He’s had that new insulin pump for a day, hyung. Anything could’ve happened to him. We were with him at the appointment yesterday. Did he seem off while you were translating for him in the office?” Jongseob tried to act normally even though he cared for the Japanese boy more than any other member of the group did. 

“No. He was quiet this morning though. We were all tired and trying to wake up at 4:00am,” Keeho responded while frantically looking behind every clothing rack and prop in the hall. 

“We need to find him before our manager cancels our next interview,” Jongseob mumbled loud enough for Keeho to hear him. 

Their manager had never actually canceled anything unless more than one member was sick. Besides the incident at the Country Music awards, where Soul was found unconscious in the staircase by Jongseob.

“Oh, check the small catering table we were told we’d be given if we wanted breakfast after the performance!” Keeho announced to the younger boy after taking a moment to think about where else on the music bank set the boy could be. 

“Oh, yeah! He must’ve been hungry after all that dancing. Although, he might’ve lost his appetite after making a mistake during his dance,” Jongseob said, knowing Shota more than anyone else did. 

Keeho was right. Soul was at the catering table. Or rather, he was on the floor beside it. Still dressed in his performance outfit, he sat slumped against the table’s leg, an unpeeled banana limp in his hand. It looked like he’d tried to stand up with the wall for support, only to lose his balance halfway through opening the banana and collapse onto the floor.

He was evidently crying over the unpeeled banana, too. Something was very off with his mood.

“Sho Sho, what happened here? Why are you crying? Are you feeling alright?” Keeho immediately took action and sat beside the bot on the floor without hesitation about his outfit. 

“I stupid. I was trying to do it myself.” Soul slurred his words since his blood sugar was rapidly dropping from the dancing and not having eaten all morning, and motioned towards the unopened banana. 

“You didn’t mess up the dance. Your body was feeling off and your blood sugar dropped because your Dexcom app lost signal backstage. Why didn’t you say anything to us or ask for candy? Jongseob get his glucose monitor. I think his blood sugar is dropping faster,” Keeho demanded, not even bothering to check the boy’s phone since the Dexcom wasn’t working. 

“I’m sorry,” he shrugged, not able to form a coherent response.

Shota didn’t have the energy to explain to the leader that his blood sugar was stable before their performance, and he was unaware of the Dexcom issue. He wasn’t that dizzy or unable to speak. He just didn’t want to argue with the leader who had taken him to appointments and reminded him to eat so he wouldn’t drop during dance practice. 

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. It’s this stupid app’s fault. We should’ve asked a staff member to hold the phone closer to the stage so it wouldn’t have lost signal,” Keeho said while making a mental note about it for later.

Keeho then reached up at the table for a bottle of orange juice while Jongseob kneeled down to help peel the banana. Afterwards, the maknae already had an alcohol swab prepared and bought out the boy’s meter and pricked his finger. 

“55, shit. Keeho, what do we do? Do we need a medic? Your call,” Jongseob said while kissing Soul’s finger all better after it had been pricked. 

Jongseob didn’t care if he was still at the Music Bank Studio. He cared about his best friend’s health the most. 

“Let’s see if this juice and fruit will help him raise his blood sugar, first. If he can walk back to the green room that would be better than sitting on the floor,” Keeho uncapped the orange juice and brought it up to Soul’s lips since the boy seemed unable to open the banana earlier. 

“Want Seob…” Soul murmured, turning his face away from the juice Keeho offered.

“I’m right here, Sho.” Jongseob’s voice was soft as he slid into Keeho’s spot on the carpet beside the catering table. He gently brushed his fingers through Soul’s hair, slow and soothing. 

“You need to drink this, okay? Let me help you feel better. Here, I'll hold a napkin so you don’t get your outfit ruined, Sho Sho” Jongseob said sweetly. 

Soul leaned into his touch, eyes half-lidded and dazed. 

“Want cuddles too… I’m sorry I’m such a cry baby who needs help, Steph,” he motioned his head towards Keeho, the words slipping out soft and unguarded—whether from the low blood sugar, the exhaustion, or that rare, vulnerable honesty he only ever showed around Jongseob.

Jongseob’s heart tightened in his chest. 

“You're not a baby, Soul-ie. I’m the maknae of the group, remember? You can have all the cuddles you want,” he whispered, lifting the juice to Soul’s lips while his other hand stayed tangled gently in the boy’s hair.

 “But first you need to drink this and eat a little, okay?” Without thinking, without even glancing around to see if anyone was watching, he pressed a tender kiss to Soul’s cheek.

“Feed me,” Soul murmured, sounding even groggier, leaning heavier into Jongseob’s shoulder. He didn’t mention the kiss—not with words. But the way he stayed there, warm and trusting against him, told Jongseob everything.

Keeho cleared his throat lightly, trying not to smile.

 “We’ll… uh talk about this later,” he said, already turning to tell the others that Soul was safe and very clearly being cared for by someone who adored him a little more than he was ready to admit.

Left alone for a moment, Jongseob exhaled shakily, brushing a thumb along Soul’s cheek as the boy’s eyes fluttered open again. Soul looked up at him, soft and sleepy, and Jongseob knew he couldn’t hide his feelings much longer.

Soon, he’d have to talk to Keeho. Soon, they’d have to tell P1eces about Soul’s diagnosis.

But right now, with Soul leaning into him like he belonged there, none of that felt scary.

Right now, Soul was in good hands and learned that speaking up is better than saying nothing.

Chapter Text

Somewhere between the closeness they’d built after the two diabetes incidents and the awkward distance that had quietly slipped in. For a while, they’d been inseparable. Jongseob, without even realizing it at first, had started gravitating toward Soul more than anyone else. He sat beside him during interviews, lingered a little too long after practice, and naturally reached for him whenever Soul looked tired or needed a hug. And Soul never pushed him away. If anything, he leaned into him. They were soft with each other, clingy in a way that made the others tease them, but neither of them cared.

Keeho knew that the two members had feelings for each other. But he never said anything to them. He didn’t have time with the holiday promotions being wrapped up and the new album coming out soon.

Everything shifted the moment Jongseob understood just how serious Soul’s diagnosis was with their work schedule. It wasn’t dramatic, not at first. There were subtle little changes in the way he watched over Soul. He started reminding him about things more frequently: Did you check your sensor? Did you enter your carbs? Did you bring the candies just in case catering is late? It came from a place of love, a place of wanting to ease Soul feel responsible and mature after everything he’d been through, but love expressed as worry doesn’t always land softly.

Although Soul didn’t recognize that this overprotectiveness stemmed from Jongseob’s anxiety. Jongseob was the person who found him unconscious in a diabetic coma. Jongseob had his meter ready to go whenever he had an urgent low. Jongseob was there for him when he had mood swings, when he had high blood sugars, and lashed out at staff for just being there.

To Soul, it felt like the air got heavier every time Jongseob hovered. He knew Jongseob meant well; he knew it was concern and not criticism, but it still started to grate on him. The constant reminders, the gentle warnings, the little checks he hadn’t asked for, made him feel like he was being monitored like a patient, not cared for.

-

As the Korean winter drew to a close, Shota finally reached his limit. He’d been holding everything in for weeks—the exhaustion, the fear, the pressure of being watched over by his best friend, the reminders, and the constant glances. So he did the only thing he could think of: he opened Weverse and posted a long, emotional paragraph about his diagnosis, explaining everything he had been going through.

“Why didn’t you tell me before you posted? I’m your best friend. We tell each other everything,” Jongseob said the following morning.

“I don’t have to tell you!” Soul growled at him, but none of the other members were around to hear them fighting.

The company and staff would have to deal with fan rumors and comments on their own. Somehow, in the middle of all that chaos. Shota was tired of feeling like he was hiding things from P1ece. Without a second thought, he turned off his service notifications after making the post. This day was supposed to be fun. He didn’t want to ruin a day trip because people were looking after his diabetes.

In the van on the way to Lotte World, the silence between the “twins” was unbearable.

“Why aren’t you sitting with Seob like you usually do?” Intak nudged Soul’s shoulder as he slid into the van that was completely packed with the members and staff going to Lotte World.

“I don’t know,” Shota mumbled, but Jongseob heard him since the van wasn’t that spacious.

Jongseob was sitting next to Theo in the backseat. He was clearly confused as to why his partner in crime wasn’t sitting with him.

Soul knew why he wasn’t sitting with his best friend, though. He was undoubtedly tired of Jongseob’s comments and overprotectiveness. He just wanted to be Shota the cute dancer again. Instead of being Haku Shota, Jongseob’s hospital patient.

The next time Soul ignored Jongseob was during a segment of Harmony Adventures on their trip to Lotte World. It was clearly evident to the members, too. Keeho even noticed the shift between the P1harmony “twins”.

“Soul, you are Jongseob’s partner for this game because you both picked red straws from the cup. Why aren’t you standing next to him?” the production manager whispered to the boy who was clearly distancing himself from his best friend.

“No, I don’t want to.” He firmly responded, staring at Keeho for help.

“Soul, are you alright? Is your blood sugar high? Is that why you are moody?” Jongseob spoke up from the line that the members formed in front of the ride.

“I’m fine,” Shota said in English, surprising everyone, even Keeho.

The director didn’t have the time or the patience to argue with Shota anymore. The boy was clearly overwhelmed, and the production schedule was already running behind. With a tired sigh, he waved his clipboard and made a quick executive decision. That scene would be cut from Harmony Adventures entirely. No retakes, no adjustments.

“Fine. We’re scrapping it,” he announced to the crew, who immediately began resetting equipment.

“We’ll move on to the next segment.” He smiled at the boys who were staring at Soul and Jongseob.

Instead, the director redirected the boys to a new game, one where they could choose their partners for the next game. The atmosphere shifted instantly, the tension loosening as the members perked up at the idea of picking their own teammates. Shota, relieved, stepped back into the group, grateful for the change of direction as the cameras rolled once more.

Keeho made a mental note to talk to Shota later. He didn’t like it when conflict arose between members. As the leader, his job was to make sure they were all in perfect harmony.

Throughout the Harmony Adventures games, Shota refused to partner with Jongseob or even glance at the boy.

The last time the two boys ignored each other was when they had their first argument when they were trainees. But that was years ago; now they are grown men who are inseparable and practically partners for life.

“Okay, that’s it. Cut. We need a snack break. We’ve been doing re-shoots for the last three hours,” Theo announced loudly in Korean to the cameraman and director.

“You can’t call it a cut. I do that,” the director said, even though the boy’s chemistry was nowhere near ready for a reshoot.

“Soul needs food before his blood sugar drops,” Jongseob said suddenly from behind Keeho.

Shota glanced at the young man, then looked away. He was tired of being the burden. He was tired of being cared for by his best friend. He was tired of Jongseob. He wanted to scream. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings to anyone, not even Keeho

-

On the other side of the theme park, Theo and Soul sat on a bench while Keeho apologized to the director. Despite the tension between Seob and Soul, the theme park was alive and joyful with kids and families. Theo even managed to win Soul, a plush dinosaur eating a fishcake half an hour ago, satisfying the maknae's needs for the moment.

Soul had even forgotten about the announcement he’d posted on Weverse, the one that would send the fandom spiraling for days. The haters, the comments, the invasive questions, and the negative rumors… none of that was ever going to fully disappear. He’d known that the moment he decided to open up about his diagnosis. Being honest meant being vulnerable, and being vulnerable meant giving people something to pick apart. Still, he hadn’t expected the weight of it to linger this heavily.

What surprised him even more was how nothing between him and Jongseob had quieted down the way he hoped. Soul had assumed that once he got an Omnipod, the constant worrying would ease. He wouldn’t need someone hovering next to him for every injection. He wouldn’t have to nudge Jongseob for low snacks or whisper that he needed insulin after a fast-food meal. He imagined freedom—autonomy—finally being able to manage everything quietly with technology instead of relying on the boy who refused to let anything happen to him.

But that wasn’t how it was. Not yet.

The Omnipod helped, but it didn’t erase the unpredictability. It didn’t stop Soul from going low in the middle of rehearsals or sending his blood sugar spiking after a chaotic schedule. And it definitely didn’t stop Jongseob from watching him like a storm cloud about to break, always ready to step in, to steady him, to fix things before they got bad.

Soul wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or frustrated. Maybe both. Because no matter how hard he tried to carry everything alone, he kept finding Jongseob right there, hands steady, voice soft, eyes full of worry he never said aloud. Too much worry, all the time.

“Soul, do you want to pick the next ride after we eat?” Theo nudged the boy’s shoulder gently enough to get his attention away from the doll.

Theo didn’t know what was causing the tension between his members. He wanted to confront Soul about it, but he knew that it would cross a line, especially at Lotte World.

Shota didn’t respond to Theo. He was too busy thinking about what would happen if he lost the next game, which would determine if he would room with Jongseob in the hotel they are staying at. It wasn’t that he didn’t like having him as a roommate; he just needed SPACE. Lots of it.

He moved slightly over by a few inches and put the doll between Theo and himself. It’s as if he’s replacing Jongseob with the doll. Everyone knew that Soul was a weird kid, but they didn’t know what he was trying to say at the moment.

-
“I think Soul’s homesick,” Intak said to Jiung while they were walking over to order food for the group of six and their staff.

“He didn’t go home for the holidays in December, did he?” Jiung asked him.

“He stayed with Keeho in the dorms since he couldn’t go home either,” Jiung said without hesitation in his voice.

“We should pitch in and buy Soul a ticket to Japan once we get a break from work again, " Intak mumbled loud enough for Jiung to hear.

Jiung took a long minute to think to himself. It was no surprise that he’d been thinking about Shota and Seob the entire day. The three of them used to go out to get dinner together.

“I have a better idea,” he replied, and had a mysterious grin on his face.

That idea wasn’t even fully planned out yet. Jiung just wanted to lighten up the moment and hopefully solve the problem before they had to leave the park.

Chapter Text

Soul missed his home in Japan A LOT. It had been ten months since he arrived in Korea as a trainee at FNC Entertainment. He didn’t know as much Korean as Keeho to be able to communicate with the others. However, Jongseob immediately grew fond of him and could communicate with him through body language when they stood inches apart in the small rehearsal rooms or recording studios provided.

On Korean Holidays, Soul didn’t have any understanding of them. Or anyone to celebrate with, since all his members visited their homes when they weren’t making content.  Keeho, who was from Toronto, even took part in Chuseok and Spring Festivities. Soul was quite literally alone, even though he tried his best to be a participant in everything P1Harmony did pre-debut. Keyword: TRIED. 

“Soul, do you want to go see that Studio Ghibli Movie in theatres tonight?” Jongseob asked him one night in the dorms while Keeho was showering and the others were visiting people over the holiday.

“Really?” Soul’s ears and eyes perked up at the boy who wasn’t much younger than he was.

Once Haku Shota moved into a dorm with five other guys who would potentially debut with him in a group, something in him shifted. For the first time in years, he didn’t feel constantly overstimulated or on edge. The chaos of trainee life—the long hours, the relentless expectations, the pressure to be “perfect enough”—had started to quiet down the moment he opened the door to that cramped dorm and heard the laughter echoing off the walls.

Trainee days were finally creeping toward their end, but Shota still wasn’t sure what the future held. He didn’t know if this specific group of boys were the one he’d eventually stand on stage with. He didn’t know if fate or the company would let the six of them debut together. What he did know was that they cared for him in a way no other trainees ever had. They noticed when he was tired. They shared their food with him late at night. They asked if he needed help, teased him gently when he looked too serious, and celebrated the smallest victories with him like they truly meant it.

That kind of warmth was rare in the trainee system. And Shota felt it in every corner of that dorm—between the mismatched socks left outside the bathroom door, the late-night ramen steam fogging the windows, the shared playlist humming quietly in the background when someone couldn’t sleep. It was because of that warmth, and because of the way Shota’s quiet sincerity grounded their hectic world, that the others started calling him “Soul.” They said he had the softest heart among them, that everything he did—from helping clean up dinner to offering a hug from someplace deep and genuine.

And as the nickname stuck, Shota realized something: even if he wasn’t sure they would debut together, this was the first time he truly felt like he belonged. The first time he felt seen for who he was, not just who he was trying to become.

This was the beginning of Soul being Soul.

In the group, Jongseob and he were the maknaes. Soul didn’t mind the special treatment. Sometimes he didn’t understand it, though. He only understood Jongseob and Keeho’s body language. 

“Yeah. I saw you looking at tickets for Spirit Away’s 15th anniversary earlier on your I Pad….” The boy tried to be discreet about his intentions without being obvious.

“Oh, I was going to go alone,” Soul mumbled quietly, trying not to seem embarrassed about it.

“Aren’t you celebrating Chuseok with your family?” he continued while mispronouncing the holiday because his Korean and Japanese were mixed in. 

Jongseob didn’t say anything for a moment. He didn’t want this to be about Soul’s family being in another country. He wanted this moment to be about the members—his newfound family. He was trying not to be too emotional about it, in fact. 

His family was complicated with a capital C. His mom was always on the move—a new city every few months for work—while his dad worked as a flight attendant, rarely grounded long enough to stay in one place. Home was a hard thing for him to define. Most of his childhood was spent shuffling between his grandma’s house and his cousins’ place in Busan, listening to his mother’s voice through phone calls from hundreds of miles away. He hadn’t seen his father in years, but he held tightly to the one piece of advice the man left him with: never give up. It stuck with the maknae more than anyone realized during tough trainee days.

“Not this year. They are traveling while I’m staying in the dorms. We could go to dinner first or the movies first, your choice?” Jongseob continued with the conversation.

He was starving since they’ve been filming holiday skits and games all day. Keeho had already ordered takeout before showering. So it only made sense for the maknaes to enjoy the holiday together.

“I’m starving too,” Soul responded, now knowing many Korean words. 

At that moment, Jongseob placed his hand gently over the dancer’s, the warmth of his touch settling between them like a secret neither of them was ready to name. Soul assumed he was just helping him off the couch, brushing it off as another small kindness in a long list of everyday gestures. But the way Jongseob’s fingers lingered—just a second too long—sent a quiet shiver through him.

Neither of them pulled away.

Neither of them said a word.

But something shifted in that silent space between their hands. A soft realization. A breath they both held. A truth they weren’t brave enough to confess yet. They didn’t know what to call it. It was not friendship, not quite love, but something tender and growing, something that made the room feel smaller and the world feel warmer. It was family. They were more than teammates, more than the family their group had become.

They were becoming something else entirely. People who could lean on each other at their lowest and darkest moments as people and idols

-

Jiung held a pink gift box in his hands. It wasn’t just any box. It was the box he switched out while the members were eating lunch. This box had a simple note inside. It determined who would room together in the hotel until they needed to head to the airport for the next tour stop.

He didn’t even have time to come up with this plan. The Production director did it because he was tired of Soul and Jongseob not cooperating when the camera was rolling. Harmony Adventures was more like Help me get out of here Adventures because of the tension.

15 minutes ago,  the production director announced while organizing the teams of the game for Jiung’s plan to work out, “Shota, you're riding the carousel with Theo, and Jongseob,”

The young dancer nodded his head in response, a tiny, automatic gesture that barely counted as communication. Then, almost instinctively, he pulled on that signature fake smile—the same one he had practiced in the hospital months ago, the one that told everyone, I’m fine, don’t worry about me, even when nothing is fine at all. It slipped into place so easily now, like muscle memory forged from fear and exhaustion.

There was nothing wrong with him, he told himself. Nothing worth bringing up. If he stayed quiet. If he kept that smile tight and convincing…maybe Jongseob wouldn’t hover. Maybe he wouldn’t notice how shaky Soul’s hands felt or how he was blinking more often to steady the fuzziness creeping in at the edges of his vision. Maybe Keeho wouldn’t slide into that gentle-parent mode he hated being on the receiving end of. And maybe, just maybe, the others wouldn’t see the obvious: that he was intentionally shutting out the person he loved most.

Ignoring Jongseob hurt in a way that twisted his stomach, but acknowledging him felt even more dangerous. Because the second he opened his mouth and explained, admitted, and worried about his anxiety, everything he’d been holding in would spill out. His fears, his guilt, his desperation to be less of a burden. So instead, he smiled. That lie of a smile. And he hoped it would be enough to keep the truth from breaking through the surface.

“Soul, could you smile more for P1ece?,” Theo nudged his shoulder while Jongseob lingered on a horse in the back of the carousel that had a pretty pink bow on it. 

The sun was setting. Everyone was even more exhausted than they were earlier because they had to re-shoot scenes and pretend their reactions were realistic. It wasn’t all Soul and Seob’s fault. Their bodies were still half in hiatus mode even though they had already gotten back to a full schedule months ago,

Soul’s grin stretched wider as the Carousel spun faster, lights blurring into streaks of gold and pink around him. The music chimed like they were in the middle of some enchanted theme-park quest, and for a moment, he was determined—this was his chance to win the round. All he had to do was snatch that final golden ring.

But then he glanced back at Jongseob. The maknae was frowning and looking down at the floor of the bright and colorful carousel. 

Just one look—just one second of seeing the boy leaning forward on his horse, the wind pushing his hair back, that quiet smile tugging at his mouth, forcing himself to smile for the camera. And Soul’s focus shattered like confetti on a parade float. His heart skipped, his rhythm faltered, and the Carousel kept spinning while he lost track of what he was even reaching for.

His hand missed the pole with the golden ring on it, entirely. 

That distraction was all Theo needed. With a triumphant shout, Theo leaned across his own horse, stretching farther than should even be safe, and hooked his fingers around the very last golden ring. The bell above them chimed, bright and victorious, announcing his win as the Carousel glided into its final loop.

“I won! I got the box!” Theo yelled to the camera. 

Soul sat back in his saddle, breathless—not from defeat, but from realizing the real reason he’d lost.

He was looking at Jongseob. He cared about Jongseob. He was worried about the maknae even though he was the one who needed medical attention. 

-

Several months before Jongseob and Shota’s first interaction during Chuseok. Shota, Intak, Jongseob, and he were paired in a trainee group. They all lived in the same dorm. But the catch was that anyone could go home after an evaluation any day now.

Everyone in the group knew that Intak was allergic to dogs. As opposed to himself, who wasn’t allergic. He loved all animals a lot. So when the trainees were told there would be an FNC community service day, they unanimously chose to visit a shelter that cared for elderly cats who were elderly and needed a home. 

 It was actually his recommendation to visit the shelter. He missed his dogs back home in Japan. He missed his parents and his sister. He just didn’t want to say those words out loud to his potential group members. Anyone could get cut at any time. That was the way the industry worked. Jongseob might even have to go home or to his grandma if he didn’t pass an evaluation.

It was a scary process. 

“Mochi and Kanako would have loved this,” he whispered to none of the trainees in particular. 

Jongseob overheard him whispering. He didn’t respond, though. He stayed quiet as the van took the young men to the shelter. 

Once the group arrived at the shelter, they split into groups. Shota was assigned to a group with two other boys whom he didn’t know. Intak and Jongseob were in a group with four other trainees. And somewhere in between all the groups was Yoon Keeho, who had tagged along with the trainees. 

Shota’s group was assigned to clean litter boxes. Intak’s group was in charge of making more cat beds. Jongseob’s group was assigned to keep the cats company while the others were working. And Keeho was overhearing things while doing his job, which was a little bit of everything.

“You didn’t clean that spot in the litter box,” was the first comment Keeho overheard a trainee say to the Japanese boy who was minding his own business.

Shota had cleaned every litter box in a matter of minutes. His Korean wasn’t great, so he couldn’t fool around and joke with the others. He minded his own business.

“Oops, I spilled litter on the floor. Can you clean it up, Shotii?” Another trainee pestered the Japanese boy, who didn’t even realize another person was in the room, Yoon Keeho. 

“I did,” he responded in Japanese, but all he got was silence and the other trainees walking away into another room to do something else. 

Shota did his job. He cleaned the litter boxes again—carefully, methodically, like he always did whenever the trainees were assigned chores. He scooped each corner, humming under his breath, the quiet rhythm helping him stay focused. Then he grabbed a broom from the closet, sweeping up the trail of scattered litter on the floor that the cats had tracked around. The soft scrape of bristles on tile filled the otherwise silent room.

He didn’t rush. He wanted it to look nice, partly because he liked it when things were neat, and partly because he knew the hyungs would tease him if he missed a spot. When everything was finally clean, he crouched down in front of the bins. Most people would’ve walked away at that point, calling the chore done. But Soul paused, tapping the side of the plastic thoughtfully.

For finishing touches, he dipped his finger into a patch of clean litter and drew a tiny heart in each bin—careful, lopsided, but entirely sincere. He’d been taught since he was little that love should be shown in the small things, not just the big ones. Even if it was something silly like decorating cat litter boxes, he believed it mattered.

And maybe, he thought as he stood up and brushed off his hands, someone would notice someday and understand that he tried to put love into everything he did. Even the things no one asked for.

“Yoku yattane.” Keeho said from the side of the door in Japanese. 

Shota’s head perked up at hearing those Japanese words. It had been a long time since anyone said those words to him. The last time he heard those words was from his mom when he passed an exam in school. He remembers her voice clearly, “Yoku yattane!” (You did well/good!). She was so happy for her son; he even got to pick out a candy after school.

“You know Japanese?” he said in choppy Korean while putting the broom back in its place and stepping closer to this new trainee he had only danced with once.

“I don’t. I learned that word from my teacher in Toronto. My name is Yoon Keeho. I guess we’re both trainees,” the older boy bowed at Shota politely. 

Shota bowed at the boy with no reaction. He was still thinking about the trainees who had bullied him earlier. He wasn’t sensitive to their comments. He was just adjusting to trainee life with a language barrier. But Keeho thought otherwise. 

Keeho noticed that those boys had excluded Shota from the group dance and put him in the back during rehearsals. Keeho noticed that Shota wouldn’t say his name, Haku Shota, when the trainees ate convenience store food and called dibs on it. Keeho noticed that the other trainees called the boy names that weren’t Haku Shota. Keeho noticed Shota while he was in the recording studio practicing riffs and high notes. Keeho was there when Shota cried in the dorms at night. 

Shota didn’t realize any of these things Keeho did. He smiled and minded his own business like he was told to when he signed the contract to become a trainee. 

-

P1ece4678: No wonder Soul’s dancing is off-key. He’s been sick.

PiwonStan41!: Is this the end of P1Harmony?

SeobXSoul4Eva: I hope Soul doesn’t fall behind during award season 

Soul’s Dance Shoe: FNC, what are you doing with a sick idol?

TheoLover902: Deleted my P1ece Weverse membership today. Such a disappointing excuse for a six-month hiatus,

CatE32!: My grandfather has Diabetes. I know how serious it is. I hope Soul is taking care of himself. I'll be here every day supporting you. 

The comments on WeVerse were coming non-stop. Soul promised himself earlier that he wouldn’t look at them. He obviously broke that promise a minute ago. His first reaction was to hug himself. Tears were already in his eyes as he sat on the toilet lid that was closed.

LilY3000: Wait, did someone die in P1Harmony?

Soul stared at the last comment and lost his appetite. The members were at a casual Hot Pot place for dinner before they headed to their hotel. He had excused himself from the table, claiming that he had to pee. Everyone believed him, even Jongseob, who was watching his every move out of Lotte World. 

After the last Harmony Adventures game had ended abruptly and left everyone with more questions than laughter, Theo was given the rare power to decide the new rooming arrangements for the dorm. It was a small privilege, but one he took far more seriously than anyone expected. He’d watched the way Soul and Jongseob barely looked at each other during the final challenge, how the unspoken worries and miscommunications between them had turned the once-fun atmosphere into something heavy and awkward.

So when the decision time came, Theo didn’t hesitate for even a full second. He paired the others off smoothly, then, with a little clap of his hands, announced the final room: Jongseob and Soul.

No one was surprised—not even Soul, though his eyes widened for a moment, caught between annoyance and relief. Keeho raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue; if anything, he looked almost grateful. He’d been trying to get the two maknae-line boys to talk for days, and Theo had simply done what everyone else was too cautious to push.

The others laughed, but Jongseob’s gaze had already shifted toward Soul—soft, nervous, hopeful. Soul avoided it, clutching the strap of his dance bag a little tighter. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just Theo being Theo. But either way, they were going to have to face each other now. No more sidestepping in hallways. No more pretending their arguments, feelings, and fears didn’t exist.

Theo’s decision wasn’t just about sleeping arrangements. It was an intervention disguised as convenience, a chance for them to finally talk, or yell, or cry—whatever needed to happen.

And as the group dispersed to unpack their things, Keeho whispered a quiet “good luck” under his breath, hoping this time the two would learn how to be honest with each other again.

Now, he was here in the bathroom at a hot pot restaurant, crying. 

“Soul, stupid,” he mumbled to himself a little too loudly.

Someone was there, though. Of course, someone was there. What was he even thinking of going to the bathroom for privacy and quiet? The bathroom wasn’t a place for quietness.

“Who’s there?” Soul responded by opening the stall door a little bit since there were no cracks in the door or openings. 

No one was in the bathroom with him. The quiet tiles and humming lights did nothing to calm the storm in his chest. He was overthinking things again, just like he had done with Jongseob all week—spinning thoughts into knots until he could barely breathe. He splashed water on his face, steadying himself against the sink, trying to convince his reflection that everything was fine when nothing felt fine at all.

But he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

When he finally opened the bathroom door, the hallway lights spilled in. And there, leaning against the wall with his arms loosely crossed, was his leader, who always found him when he was lost or hurt. He looked up the moment the door moved, worry flickering across his face before he softened into something gentler.

“I figured you might need someone,” Keeho said quietly.

Soul leaned in for a bone-crushing hug that was discreet from the table the rest of the members were at on the left side of the restaurant. 

Keeho noticed the puffiness in the maknae's eyes. The tears that had dried up on Soul’s eyelids. The pause the younger boy made when he was about to say Jongseob’s name. Instead of getting him to talk, he held him tighter in his arms.

And for the first time that night, the diabetic idol didn’t feel alone. The weight he’d been carrying all week didn’t vanish, but it shifted—just enough for him to breathe again. Keeho stayed right where he was, patient and steady, until Soul wanted to go back to the table.

Chapter Text

Soul and Jongseob were inseparable after P1Harmony debuted. They were attached to the hip. Anywhere Soul went, Jongseob went, even for minor grocery shopping trips and to hair and makeup. It was as if Soul had found his place in the idol world beside the boy. The two boys even danced together in their free time. Soul led the dances, and Jongseob hummed a tune when the music played. They were platonic soulmates, at least up until their first in-person live TV performance in Korea post-pandemic.

Everyone was tired. Exhausted. Fatigued. Nervous. And on edge. Even the security and staff of Music Bank, who regularly worked at every show.

It was 3:38 am. No one was fully awake.

All of the members’ families were backstage with flowers and gifts, except for one member. 

“Soul, is your family coming from Japan?” Jongseob looked worriedly at Soul, who was minding his own business in the corner of the music bank dressing room, trying to stay awake.

Soul didn’t say anything for a long five minutes until the other members were called to the hair and makeup room, leaving the two boys alone. 

“Don’t tell Keeho Hyung, please.” Soul whispered and looked around to make sure staff were gone too. 

Jongseob moved closer so that he was close enough to hug Soul, even though he was going to anyway. Soul always hugged Keeho Hyung or Jongseob. He was attached to them for some reason.

“My family can’t afford to come to Korea. My parents spent all their savings money on my trainee days on food, travel, and gifts. Please don’t tell Keeho Hyung,”  the Japanese boy's voice lowered as he spoke nervously.

Jongseob and Soul did indeed hug before their live TV performance. For a brief moment, the tension broke—softened by the quiet understanding that passed between them.

But Jongseob was still the youngest, still too naive for his own good. So after the cameras stopped rolling during sound check, he slipped away down the hallway. Soul thought the sad moment would stay just between them.

Instead, Jongseob went to tell Keeho anyway. He wanted help with finding a way to bring Soul’s family to Korea fast.

And that was when everything truly began to shift.

He accidentally overheard Keeho and Jongseob's conversation while he was walking past the spare hallway rooms. Instead of being a bigger person and talking to his members, he decided not to talk to Jongseob for the rest of the day.

The awkward void between Jongseob and Soul was impossible to ignore during their live TV performance. They didn’t look at each other—not once. Every time their choreography brought them close, one would shift away. Their moves were off, their timing fractured, and even their harmonies slipped like they were singing from different worlds.

Backstage, the silence between them was so sharp the staff felt it.

And the fans noticed too. Minutes after the broadcast ended, Korean fans were already talking about it on X and Weverse—replay clips, slow-motion breakdowns, and theories piling up faster than the members could even change outfits.

Whatever fight Soul and Jongseob had tried to hide… it wasn’t hidden at all.

-

The vibes were off between the P1Harmony members for days after Jiung, Intak, and Theo tried to get Soul and Jongseob to be hotel mates, hoping to force them to talk things out and fix whatever tension had been simmering between them. Soul wasn’t over his anxiety and diabetes burnout. Jongseob stared at him whenever he ate, and made sure that the boy took insulin or checked his Dexcom. The maknae hovered. He was always there when Soul wanted to eat or forgot to eat, and it was becoming a habit.

“Are we going to do the SoulSeob dance battle or…. not during the concert? I need to know because the soundcheck is in two hours. I have to tell the production crew,” Keeho came into the greenroom of the arena, where everyone was silently doing their own thing. 

Theo glanced up from where he was typing new lyrics on his phone. He felt bad that he was the person who wanted to trap Soul and Jongseob in the hotel room earlier in the week. The tension could’ve been resolved another way. But Soul wasn’t opening up to anyone besides Keeho. And Jongseob was silent. 

“I don’t know. It’s up to Soul,” Jiung said while glancing up from his script he was memorizing.

Thankfully, they were still in Korea, so they didn’t need a translator. The Lotte World video shoot had taken longer than expected because of a certain someone. 

“Where’d Soul and Jongseob go?” Keeho said worriedly for the hundredth time in the last few months. It was as if this question kept popping up. Soul didn’t mean to go missing on the run away. It was just that he needed space and alone time, like he’s said multiple times before. 

“They went to rehearse the dance battle early with the manager’s permission,” Intak said from the corner where he was looking like a worried parent, too.

Once Keeho arrived at the stage, he realized what was really happening. The tension didn’t come from nerves or exhaustion like usual—it came from the two maknaes who were missing. His heart dropped as he watched the scene unfold behind the curtains: his two members standing many feet apart from each other, breathing hard, faces red with anger and puffiness.

Equipment lay scattered on the floor, a mic stand knocked over, and one of the in-ears still buzzing faintly where it had been thrown. Their voices, usually a familiar comfort, were sharp and cracked from shouting. Words Keeho never imagined they’d say to each other echoed off the empty seats.

They weren’t just arguing—they were tearing into each other, all the built-up frustrations and unspoken truths exploding at once. And Keeho realized at that moment that this wasn’t a small misunderstanding. This was a fracture in the group’s harmony. 

And the worst part? They were hours away from a performance in front of thousands of p1ece.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore,” Keeho overheard Soul mumble to Jongseob, who was feet away from the boy on stage. 

Keeho had missed something. Part of the argument had already begun. 

“You don’t act like a friend anymore. I feel like I’m your patient and I don’t like the way you treat me with hovering and reminders,” Soul barely got his words out in Korean while ignoring his best friend’s eyes.

Jongseob angrily tore off his mic pack and threw it somewhere where it wouldn’t break on the table. “All you think about is yourself! I was just trying to help you. You almost died twice!” 

“You were pretending to be my nurse and mother every second I moved. What did you expect me to do? Give you more attention?” Soul said sadly in half Korean and half Japanese. 

He normally never spoke more than a sentence at a time. He was a shy kid and all the members knew that from the beginning of their trainee period. 

“You could’ve spoken up about it. I would’ve stopped with the reminders,” Jongseob realized what he had done after he spoke.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. If I say one more thing you are going to make it about diabetes,” Soul stomped off the stage angrily and ignored his leader, who was watching from the side curtains.

Keeho tried to follow Soul down the hall, but to make matters worse, the other members had already overheard the argument from backstage. The raised voices, the sharp edge in Jongseob’s tone, and the way Soul had stormed off. It had all echoed through the walls just enough to draw their attention.

Jiung was the first to poke his head around the corner, eyes narrowing with worry. Intak and Theo weren’t far behind, whispering to each other as they crept after Keeho, trying to understand what had happened. Even though none of them meant to eavesdrop, curiosity and concern pulled them forward until they ended up quietly trailing their leader.

They watched as Keeho power-walked down the dim hallway, frustration and fear mixing on his face. If he didn’t reach Soul soon, things could spiral even more. And now, with the other members gathering behind him, the tension thickened in the air—four older brothers trying to make sense of the fight between their two youngest.

Not only had they heard the argument, but now they wanted more answers. They wanted to know what pushed the maknaes to the breaking point; and how they could help put the pieces back together.

-

SoulSeob’s first fight didn’t last long. It lasted exactly 2 hours and 35 minutes.

Keeho had used nearly all of his savings to pay for enough round-trip flight tickets from Japan to Korea so that all four of Shota’s family members could come. He hadn’t told the others at first. He wanted it to be a surprise, something special for Soul, something he deserved more than anyone. The flight itself was short, less than two hours, which meant that Shota’s family would land by late afternoon, perfectly in time for an early dinner celebration after the boys’ performance.

Even though the Japanese family wouldn’t get to witness their son’s first live stage as a full member of the group, Keeho still counted it as being there. In the leader’s eyes, showing up—even a few hours late was just as meaningful. Keeho imagined the look on Soul’s face, the way his expression would soften, and his shoulders would drop from all the worry he carried.

He knew how hard it had been for Shota. How long the trainee years felt, how heavy the loneliness sat sometimes, especially being far from home in a foreign country with a language he was still learning. Supporting him wasn’t just a responsibility as a leader; it was something Keeho genuinely wanted to do. And if sacrificing his savings meant Shota could feel grounded, loved, and celebrated on one of the biggest days of his life, then Keeho considered it a small price to pay.

Even Jiung, who insisted he wasn’t good at languages, practiced simple Japanese greetings every night before bed. The boys would whisper phrases in the dark, giggling whenever they messed up the pronunciation, determined to greet Shota’s family properly.

It wasn’t just Keeho’s gift; it became a group mission. Their own secret project. Their way of reminding Soul—without words—that he wasn’t alone in Korea or in this group. That he had a family here, too.

And when the moment finally came, they hoped the surprise would tell him everything they sometimes struggled to say out loud.

Keeho thought about the moment Shota would realize his family was actually in Korea, waiting for him. He felt a swell of pride. It wouldn’t matter that they’d missed the performance. What mattered was that they came. And to Keeho, that meant everything.

“Seob, I’m sorry for the way I acted earlier about not telling Keeho Hyung about my family. Can I have a hug? My mom just called to congratulate me. She said I should apologize for the way I acted.” Shota appeared from nowhere after he had taken the stage makeup off from the sweat and dancing. 

“Of course, you can have a hug. Just try not to keep things between the members. Okay?” Jongseob pulled Shota into a tight, safe hug, not letting the boy go to even take a breath.

That evening at the dorm, everyone was unusually quiet. Shota was a bit sad, still from the ache in his heart. All of the members got flowers and congratulations in Korean at the venue from their families in person. Then there was himself calling his mom to say that he loves her for the thousandth time that month, in a spare dressing room.

“The van will be here to take us to dinner in 15 minutes,” Keeho announced from where he was standing in the kitchen, already ready to go.

“Where are we going, hyung?” Jiung said from the couch where he was playing with one of Soul’s dolls, he had left out.

“To the restaurant, remember?” Keeho responded as he gritted his teeth and tried to keep his patience. 

The restaurant where Soul would be dropped off so he could celebrate his performance with his family.

Jiung nodded his head in response and whispered a quick, “Oh yeah,” to his leader, understanding immediately what Keeho was trying to do. The room fell quiet for a moment, just long enough for the soft rustle of hangers to echo from the closet.

A second later, Shota stepped out of their shared closet with a hesitant, almost depressed expression. His shoulders were slumped, and he clutched the ends of one of his shirts as if hoping it might magically turn into something nicer.

“I don’t have anything nice to wear,” he murmured, his voice barely above a breath. “I think I just wanna be alone tonight.” He swallowed, eyes flickering between Jiung and Keeho before drifting toward the hallway where Jongseob usually hung out.

“Can I stay back and watch movies with Seob?” he asked, finally letting some of the weight he’d been carrying spill into the open. It wasn’t a dramatic confession, but it was honest. Shota was slowly, cautiously opening up to the others, trusting them enough to admit when he didn’t feel okay.

Nothing was going on between the two maknaes yet. Soul just wanted to spend the night with his best friend, that’s all.

Jiung exchanged a concerned glance with Keeho, both of them realizing just how much the entire day and everything leading up to it was affecting the youngest member.

“What you are wearing is fine, Soul-ie. Let’s go get something in our stomachs then we can come back and have a movie night later,” Keeho messed with the maknae’s hair to try to get him to smile, which actually worked.

The only lie was that the members weren’t going to have a movie that night. Another night would work, though. While Soul would be at a restaurant with his family, the plan was that the other five members would go out to another restaurant to celebrate. 

In the van, Soul was clueless about the surprise. He kept his head either leaning against the window in the backseat or on Jongseob’s shoulder so that he could nap. Their day had been very long with a 3 am wake-up call and lots of interviews after their music bank performance. 

He wasn’t really that hungry for a full meal. Instead of eating, he just wanted to be left alone to nap. Half-because he was homesick. And half because the exhaustion of being an idol had gotten to him this early in the process.

“Let him rest,” Keeho murmured from the front seat, soft but firm, as he glanced back for what felt like the hundredth time. Soul was curled against the window, finally breathing evenly after dozing off, his energy noticeably lower than usual. The others kept their voices down, exchanging quiet looks that said everything—they were worried, but they didn’t want him to wake up and catch on.

Because tonight wasn’t just any night. All of the members knew the plan for tonight.

While Soul slept through the gentle hum of the van, the members were finishing the final touches of their plan. Jongseob was texting Soul’s older sister, who was already at the restaurant as the car moved. Theo had hidden the bags of decorations under his seat. Bags filled with gifts from the members to Soul’s siblings. Jiung and Intak had even practiced a few simple Japanese phrases, silently whispering so they could greet Soul’s parents properly.

It was supposed to feel like he had a home in Korea, too.
It was supposed to remind Soul that no matter how exhausted or overwhelmed he felt, they were here—his brothers, his family.

“He’s exhausted from today,” Intak whispered, a smile tugging at his mouth.

“Yeah but he’ll wake up for food,” Jongseob added softly, watching Soul with that mixture of pride and affection he tried to hide. “And something else.”

Keeho nodded, eyes warming. “Exactly. Tonight is for him.”

And as the van turned toward the glowing lights of the restaurant, the whole group settled into a quiet, buzzing anticipation—waiting for their maknae to wake up and walk straight into the family surprise dinner made just for him.

It took exactly one minute for Shota to realize that no one was getting out of the van, not even their staff. “Guys, why aren’t you coming with me to the restaurant?” he worriedly said, looking back at the half-open van doors curiously.

“You’ll thank us later. We already paid for the meal. There’s a few staff already in there in case anything happens. We love you, Soul-ie,” Keeho blew the boy a short air kiss while Jongseob got out of the van to hug him to reassure him that this was definitely not a prank. 

There weren’t any cameras inside the restaurant. The members had negotiated with the staff to keep this moment private, tucked safely away from the press and the noise of everything that had come before. Tonight wasn’t for the world. It was for them.

Soul walked into the restaurant, the soft glow of the lanterns reflecting off familiar faces that had worried, argued, and waited for him in their own imperfect ways. He wasn’t tense anymore. The weight that had sat on his chest for days had finally loosened. He practically ran to his family for hugs, well, with his best restaurant manners, of course.

He and Jongseob had talked—actually spoken—and something in the universe seemed to be okay with them. Forgiveness wasn’t always loud. Sometimes it was just a look across a table, or a moment of silence and a hug, or a hand brushing past another without flinching.