Archive of Our Own

1.

When Yunho first came to the company, Hongjoong had already been there. They hadn't had the chance to speak to one another, but to this day, Yunho counts this as the starting point of their relationship.

He remembered walking down the road and, just before he entered the building, he had heard music. From the alley, a rapid staccato dance beat was playing and the sound of someone rapping in a high, steady tone. Yunho had stolen a glance, just out of curiosity. He was early for his audition slot, either way.

It was a boy, slight and wrapped in a hoodie and baggy shorts, dancing and gesturing as he powered through the song. 

The other must have heard him, or seen him, because the boy glanced to the side midway through his verse, and they locked eyes. Just for a moment. 

Yunho found himself frozen— it is unclear if he had just interrupted something, or if he had seen something he wasn't supposed to see.

But before an apology could leave his mouth, the boy had broken out into a bright grin, showing a row of neat, pearly teeth. He gave Yunho a little nod, and then went straight back to his task, rapping and gesturing at a brick wall.

Yunho had responded with a smile, even though his ears were hot, and he quickly shuffled away. 

A part of him would remember that face, and later, when the company invited him down to sign his contract with them, he saw that same boy again, this time in the practice room he had his audition in. 

Yunho had been one of the only two trainees that had made it through that particular audition, and it was the first audition ever held by this company; the interviewers had mentioned this during his meeting with them.

He also knew that, despite this being the company's first audition, there was already an existing trainee who'd entered 6 months before them, under 'unexpected circumstances'.

It was then he realised that ah, this boy hadn't been another candidate, but the trainee. This company only had one practice room, which is why that boy had to practice in an alleyway while auditions being held.

It was a little strange, slightly endearing, and in truth, quite inspiring. Inspiring, because it told him endless things about this other trainee's character; he had refused to take a day off, despite the facilities unavailable to him.

When they were formally introduced later that day, Yunho was ready. At the sight of a familiar stranger's face, the boy had flashed the same, bright, pearly teeth in an easy smile, and shook their hands firmly.

"Hi, nice to meet you. My name is Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong."

2.

A month passes, and then there were... more. His good friend Mingi has finally joined them, along with a new batch of fresh-faced trainees.

He gains his bearings on the company with ease. Although the basement they have to practise is a little dingy, and leaks sometimes, everyone is great. In particular, Hongjoong (the trainee) is enthusiastic and easygoing, and always tries his hardest to keep up with Yunho's better-honed dance skills.

It is also the point that he already knows for sure; hyung is a hard worker. Yunho may not have known him for long, but in two months, he has already come to recognise as a fact. The other boy is always there in the practice rooms, way before Yunho arrives, and leaves only after everyone, including the staff, has left. He realises that the company trusts Hongjoong so much that the other kid has a set of master keys to all the doors in the basement office, including a small rec room at the corner of the floor.

Yunho may... need more time to understand the dynamic between the company and the other teen.

"Hyung, do you even sleep?" Is the first thing that he blurts out, when he arrives at the studios, extra early one morning for training, and surprise, surprise, Hongjoong is already there. 

He should've already anticipated this, but he is still taken aback to see the older boy, standing with his back facing the door, at the bar in the small communal hall. He is poring over something on his laptop, which is connected to a power port on the wall. The older boy glances back when Yunho speaks up.

"Morning, Yunho, did you say something?"

Yunho swings his bag onto a nearby booth seat and pulls out a bottle of warm honey water to swig, while arching his neck and squinting at the program open on Hongjoong's computer.

"Did you stay up all night making this?"

Hongjoong's tired eyes light up as he makes a sound of affirmation, and starts plucking out the earphones and motioning for him to come over. 

"Just a few beats, but it's been quite promising so far. Here, have a listen," a smattering of beats followed by a rich bass melody starts playing through the tinny speakers of the computer, promising a barely there, but slowly filling soundscape. 

Yunho leans against the countertop, tapping his feet to the beat. From the refrain of the verse, he can envision a groove-heavy street style of dance that can go with this. Maybe could rope Mingi in on this, he's good with that sort of stuff.

"Sounds really interesting, hyung. I can see the others wanting to experiment with this. On top of our assessment, of course. Do you have lyrics for it? Maybe we can record a rough cover for it and—"

Hongjoong makes a funny humming sound, that makes him look over. All he manages to notice is that Hongjoong looks quite washed-out and pale in the bright lighting of the room when the boy's eyes roll and his whole body goes limp.

"Hyung!" Yunho's reflexes are usually fast, but of all the times he could possibly need it, this is the one moment where he completely freezes. 

Hongjoong collapses into a heap, and his head cracks against the hardwood floor. The sound alone is enough to send an electric shock through Yunho's veins.

"Hongjoong hyung! Hyung!" Hongjoong is no longer making any sounds, but his eyes are almost shut and he is still breathing. His face is bloodless, and his extremities are clammy to touch.

What the hell is happening? Yunho is this close to screaming out for help (but it's 5a.m., and they're probably the only two living souls in this drafty basement) when Hongjoong moves.

"Ah..." just like nothing had even happened, the musician's eyes slide back into focus and he blinks, regaining consciousness. He still looks pale and fatigued, but he is blinking blearily at Yunho from where he has just laid out on the floor, as if not really understanding the situation for a moment. Then something flickers across his dulled eyes.

"Crap. Sorry, Yunho... you were saying?"

"This is not the time for that. What just happened?"

"I just... am I on the floor?" Hongjoong peers around slowly as Yunho nods vigorously, bewilderedly, "Yeah, thought so. It's okay, I think I just passed out again. Help me up, will you?"

"Again? What do you mean again?" Yunho presses, as he grips his forearm and tugs him as gently as he can to his feet. Hongjoong winces at the movement and touches the side of his head that he had fallen on.

"I'm not sure, think I'm just a bit... tired..." Hongjoong's voice slows and trails off, and for the second time in less than a minute, Yunho sees his eyes glaze over and roll. But at least this time, he knows what is about to happen, even though it still sends tiny pinpricks of panic down his spine.

He catches Hongjoong under his arm and lowers both of them clumsily to the ground, wincing when he feels a leg knock against the bar stool. 

This... this is not the answer he wanted to his again question.

"Don't get up for the moment, hyung," when Hongjoong comes around, Yunho implores him firmly, his confusion and worry coming out all sharp in his voice, "Let me... just don't move."

A quick, trembling search later, he has Hongjoong move to lie flat on his back and moves an old, rickety chair over so he can put hyung's legs up.

"I'm fine, Yunho-yah," Hongjoong tries to break the rigid silence by patting Yunho on the leg after he bunches up his school jacket and makes Hongjoong lie his head on it.

Yunho growls, a sound that surprises even himself.

"Fine? Hyung, you just fell over in a dead faint. What is happening? Are you sick?" He has a hundred and one questions racing through his brain but he's settled for just two.

"... It's normal," he must be seeing clearly enough to witness the horror crossing Yunho's face, because Hongjoong makes a rapid correction, "I mean, it's just been happening — it's not a new thing. It happens when I get too tired, I think. Don't worry, okay? I am seeing a specialist for it next month."

"Can't you see the doctor... sooner? I don't know, hyung, this seems dangerous." 

"I know," his hyung, someone who he has known for barely a few months but already feels like could be his real, blood-related older brother, shifts to face him and matches his eyes, "But it's... it's just been happening. I have no idea what to make of it either."

For a moment, neither speak. Yunho doesn't feel brave enough, so in the end, it is Hongjoong that breaks the silence.

"Until I can find a solution for it, could you promise me not to tell anyone? I want to figure it out first and tell the company by myself."

"Of course, hyung," This promise is easy. Us versus the world, and all that jazz.

"Not even Mingi. Could you keep it from him for the time being?" Yunho pauses. This one is tougher to agree to. Mingi is a close friend. A really, really close friend.

But if all went well... and nothing ever came up about it... lying by omission starts with lying, sneers a small mean voice in his head.

"I'll... I'll try," is all he can offer. Luckily, Hongjoong nods his head tiredly and relaxes, so his forehead leans against Yunho's knee, where he is sitting cross-legged by Hongjoong's head.

"That's all I am willing to ask... anyway..." comes a soft huff, with a heat he can feel through his sweatpants, "Just... try..."

And with that, Hongjoong is out, fast asleep. Yunho can see the clock from where he is sitting guard over Hongjoong's rest, and he has his phone.

They don't go to school that day.

3.

Mingi doesn't understand what's going on.

This is not a familiar feeling, so it is quite unsettling.

"So Hongjoong-hyung is not allowed to... practise?" He desperately needs some logic to tether himself to, in this situation he had found himself in. Yunho is wearing a path in the ground, all from one message he'd received. That they'd recieved.

"I don't know why he's doing this," Is all he gets after 20 minutes of frenetic pacing.

"I mean, it's just practice. I really can't get why you're so upset, Yun," it's like his words snap a chord in Yunho. The boy whips around, before reeling in the raw emotion on his face, then exhaling heavily as he reels it in.

"I"m just thinking. I'm... worried. Not upset."

For a while, Mingi has been getting the feeling that there has been a gap between his and Yunho's relationship. It is suddenly, in this moment, that he realises what this gap is.

Yunho is hiding something from him. And that something involves Hongjoong hyung.

Mingi doesn't want to, but he feels a small flicker of annoyance, and maybe even anger, at this realisation.

He likes Hongjoong enough, and maybe, definitely, and he sees why the company would want such a hard worker to be a trainee, but why is it that Yunho is freaking out over Hongjoong wanting to extend his practice hours? The older boy doesn't sleep much either way, and at the risk of sounding like he's a prude, Hongjoong needs the practice. He isn't bad at dancing per se, but when Mingi sees him dance, it is clear that it doesn't come naturally to him, like it does to Yunho and himself. He could rival their newbie, San, in how much extra time they need to spend on nailing a choreo down. It isn't him being condescending; it's just the truth.

Still, Hongjoong works hard. Like insanely hard. Which is why Mingi is willing to call him hyung.

"He's only been practicing since last night, though."

"Yesterday afternoon," corrects his best friend. Mingi doesn't have many good friends, not in his life, let alone best, "He clocked in at 12p.m., and has been there until now."

"Okay... but over-nighting at the company is something that hyung does all the time."

I think you're overreacting, he doesn't say.

Yunho sighs, "It's normal for him, but he'll kill himself if he has been dancing the entire time. Dear God, I hope he hasn't been dancing the entire time."

Sure, it was just past 11p.m. on the 2nd day now, which is... many hours since Hongjoong has gone on this little training marathon of his. It makes sense that Yunho is worried; he is close to hyung in a way that Mingi's isn't. Mingi respects Hongjoong, gets along with him, but he wouldn't call them friends just yet.

Watching Yunho fret now, however, starts to make him feel a little worried about hyung, too. 

Huh.

Just a little. But he's mostly annoyed, and maybe even a bit... jealous.

"Should I go down to check on him?" Yunho scuffs his foot anxiously on the ground; the rubber soles of his sneakers squeak.

30 hours is a long time. He doesn't even he, Song Mingi, would even have the stamina to do that.

"Do you want to?" He can't understand what he doesn't understand, so he just gives in to neutrality. Their night study session is over anyway, and although they usually go out for supper after, Mingi doesn't really want Yunho to stay this anxious and worried about Hongjoong.

"I think I will. I'm calling a cab. Want me to drop you off near to your place?"

"Don't worry about it, dude... just go to him," Mingi lets go, and his insides suddenly feel a little empty.

Yunho flashes him a genuine smile, full of relief. He gives him a warm, side-hug, and is packing up his things in the next beat, "Thanks man, I owe you one. Let's go out for lunch tomorrow?"

"Sure. Text me when you get to the office. And also, if you can, get hyung to reply me about the lyric sample I sent him."

"Sure thing."

Yunho eventually texts him around 1am, when Mingi arrives at his mother's store to see if she needs help closing up. She doesn't.

met with hyung. he may take some time to reply. everything is ok.

He has to stop himself from calling Yunho, mainly because he has this feeling that perhaps, this isn't his place to stick his nose in. But also he doesn't know what to ask or say if he calls and Yunho does pick up.

Hongjoong comes in for training as usual the next day, and Mingi pretends he doesn't see Yunho hovering. He gets a face-to-face reply from the older boy about the sample, which is great. Up close, though, he notes that Hongjoong looks a little paler and more wan than he usually does. He has a few developing bruises on his face, and when his long sleeves slide back, Mingi sees more contusions on his forearm. But this isn't any of his business.

This is fine.

4.

"So I have a medical condition."

Seonghwa stiffens. This isn't the first thing he'd expect to hear come from Hongjoong's mouth.

They'd been summoned to the board room for a meeting; it's D-4 before the team trip to USA for a... dance camp? This is hard to describe — the closest thing he can compare it to is a sort of form of work trip, even though none of them have been offered idol contracts yet and they won't be getting paid for this. And since the company is looking to film them as a group, the managers had gathered them both to finalise who the leader would be.

Ideally, this would also be who would lead them, when they started activities as a group.

The managers had cut to the chase immediately — as the two eldest members, both of them were technically entitled to the leadership position in the team. The company had their own confidential evaluations to consider, but they'd wanted to hear from Seonghwa and Hongjoong first. 

Seonghwa had stayed silent during the briefing, and now, before he can even get a chance to say anything, Hongjoong had spoken up. And continued, when Seonghwa freezes and stares at him dumbly.

"I get fainting spells, and I am still not fully sure what causes them yet. I know some of the triggers, but sometimes, it just happens and I can't control it."

The silence that follows is so overwhelming, Seonghwa has to take a deep inhale. A quick sweeping glance at the stoic expressions on management's face tells him very little. But they don't seem shocked, so they must already know.

"O....kay? Are these spells frequent?"

"Depends. I've been managing them, so they happen less these days, maybe once a fortnight. Most of the time, it's caused by exhaustion. Other times..." Hongjoong picks at a loose thread on his pant leg, "Well, I'm not sure. Still working on it. But yeah, I have a condition. It can't be fixed.

"So considering my shortcomings, I understand if yoi would prefer to be the leader."

The pivot from the startling information, to this even more startling development, makes Seonghwa sputter.

"Wait, no, what?" 

He glances from Hongjoong to the managers, then back to Hongjoong. Hongjoong seems fine, but his smile is significantly stiffer and his eyes are closed off as he shrugs.

"It is only fair to the team. They deserve someone competent to lead them, someone healthy. By that definition, this means I am not the right person."

Seonghwa struggles to hinge back his jaw from where it is gaping open. When he does click his jaw shut, he sees some of the managers nodding, which makes him rush his words out, before they can make any real, irreversible decisions. 

"I can't... I don't... Hongjoong, are you withdrawing? Do I get a say in this? "

He stares straight at the team lead of their training programme, willing him to give him the answers he wants. Finally, one of the managers speaks, his voice deep and even, "Unfortunately, we do not have liberty to discuss management's stance on this. However, you both do have the right to a choice."

For the sake of clarity, but also because his mind is spinning faster than a teacup ride, Seonghwa echoes, "And my options are...?" 

"Both of you have been nominated by the management. You can accept the nomination, at which point both of you will be considered and decided upon by a management and a group member vote. You can also reject it, and we will default to Hongjoong as the leader."

The silence that falls is impregnable — Seonghwa fears if he breathes too loudly, he may be forced to break the stalemate.

Eventually, it is Hongjoong who speaks, "If I may, could I ask that all of us be given some time to process the information today? And regardless of Seonghwa's choice, nominations instead of votes should be still be collected from the members. It will be helpful to let the team members themselves identify potential leaders they see among us; this could be used even for future sub-units or projects. I propose we each nominate a few members who they feel have potential, anonymously. Is this possible?"

Seonghwa does not think he has ever felt so relieved to have someone speak for him before. He had been a leader before, yes, but this was a whole new ballgame for him. Company machinations made his old dance club's leadership campaigns look like colourful wooden blocks in a playpen; naïve, borderline child's play. If he were to be voted in as leader... would he even be able to live under that weight? Would he even be able to breathe when the questions from their superiors eventually bore down on him, like a radiant, glaring spotlight.

But on Hongjoong, it doesn't look difficult. He makes it look like second nature for him to navigate such waters, politely yet firmly establishing a place for the interests of the team, for Seonghwa, for himself. 

Could he do the same? Could he do better?

Deep down, Seonghwa already knows his answer. In another life, or under different circumstances, maybe. But it wasn't his time yet. And as Hongjoong and the others often reassured him, they are all still growing, and learning. There is nothing wrong with focusing on your own growth first.

Before the meeting is adjourned, Seonghwa gets a chance to speak his mind. He takes a deep breath, stares Hongjoong straight in his eyes, and sees the storm of emotions behind them. He thinks he understand where the boy is coming from, but...

There is something physically flawed about me. (There is something physically flawed about me too. About everyone. That's what makes us human.)

I'm technically not the best suited to lead the team. (Based on what? Based on a medical condition that you never asked for?)

But most of all—

(You only talked about what the team deserves. What about you? What about everything you've been working for, everything you've been doing with us, for us—)

He exhales, and says the only thing he needs to say.

"If Kim Hongjoong isn't the leader, there is no point to this team."

The silence that comes after feels like it echoes for an age.

~

Ultimately, the managers ask all of them to gather, after privately collecting nominations. It has only been a mere 24-hours since the meeting, but Seonghwa is more than ready when the head manager announces that the team, along with their official leader Hongjoong, are confirmed to be departing for USA in a few days. Seonghwa can't help the smile that spreads across his face as he claps. This is the only correct choice.

He locks eyes with Hongjoong and nods, which elicits tentative, but determined half-grin, even as he clears his throat.

"I look forward to working with all of you, and I will do my best to be a leader that all of you deserve. I am proud and honoured to be able to lead such a hardworking, talented team."

As everyone responds in kind, albeit less formally than the aspiring producer-idol, Seonghwa sees his own confident and excited smile reflected on the faces of the 6 other people. Instantly, he knows. 

In the end, there is no one else they'd rather follow. 

This is their leader.

5.

Seonghwa and Yunho have been behaving weirdly all day.

At first, Wooyoung chalked it up to filming jitters, maybe also the oppressive heat of the Moroccan desert. But those two have been hovering far too much; the oldest keeps producing these bottles of water, god knows where he keeps getting them from, and he and Yunho have been making them drink every time they had a break from the shooting. 

Earlier in the day, this had been appreciated, especially when the rays of the sun were bearing down on them like the heating coils of a toaster oven. But now it was fast approaching dusk, and they are on a short break after their third take of the dance sequence for Treasure. Seonghwa is currently wearing Wooyoung down, trying to convince the boy to drink, even when he expresses that, no, hyung, I am not thirsty. I've had at least one and a half bottles in the last hour and if I drink anymore, I'm going to need yet another toilet break. Which we don't have time for. Yunho is off to a side, watching as Mingi sips his bottle tiredly.

Jongho catches Wooyoung's eye as he continues trying to worm his way out of another watering and starts slinking away; the two water boys had been going in age order all day, so after he was done making Wooyoung sip the water, Jongho was the inevitable next. 

He tries to sidestep towards Yeosang, but he can feel Seonghwa hovering close behind. Yunho has been successful in his mission so Jongho and Mingi have now vanished, and San is not yet back from his toilet break.

God, is their oldest hyung persistent. His black, shiny eyes are digging into Wooyoung's soul, which Wooyoung is trying and failing to ignore. So he casts his own gaze wide; in a distance, Hongjoong had just stepped back from the directing team, meaning they would get a verdict on whether they need a reshoot or they can wrap. This also means that, whatever result it is, Wooyoung can sidestep the H₂O fanatics when the decision comes in for them to either head back to the accomodation, or start rolling cameras again.

But before he can do anything, something else snags his attention. 

Hongjoong has just stumbled once, seemingly tripping over thin air. He is about ten, twenty paces from them when he stops, and drops. 

Holy crap. Holy crap!

"Hyung? Hyung!" The boy lies crumpled to a heap on the sand, unmoving. Wooyoung feels his panic rise like a tidal wave as he pulls away from the others and sprints to their leader's side. The others must pick up on what has happened pretty fast, because a second after he slides to the ground next to Hongjoong's form, Yeosang appears next to him.

Hongjoong does not respond to their touches or calls, even as the other remaining members crowd around. Under the waning beams of the sun, the boy has the complexion of printer paper.

"Kim Hongjoong!" Barks Seonghwa, sharp and firm, even though his face betrays how panicked he is. Wooyoung helps him turn Hongjoong on the side and he almost cheers when he sees that, although clammy and pale, and one cheek dusted with sand, the boy is still breathing. God, what a relief. 

In the corner of his eye, Wooyoung notes that some of the managers are charging across this ridiculously sandy terrain as well, which is a feat, because the bulk of the support staff are located almost halfway down the sand hill, keeping clear of the camera shot. They will be here soon enough to help but until then...

"What happened?!" Hisses Yunho. He is pressing two fingers firmly to Hongjoong's pulse point at his neck. 

"I— he was just talking to the directing team. I was watching him walk back, and then midway he just... collapsed."

The glances Seonghwa and Yunho exchange are not something he makes a note of until much, much later. 

"Help me get him on my back, we should go somewhere cooler." The three of them nod at Yunho's suggestion, and Yeosang helps Wooyoung with Hongjoong's legs while Seonghwa lifts him him up by the arms. They drape the unconscious boy across Yunho's tall, lanky frame and make a beeline for the shade under the nearest wilted tree.

Hongjoong stirs as they are setting him down on the compacted dirt on the ground, his eyes hazy and confused, "Wha' happened?"

"You passed out, hyung! Have you been drinking enough water?" The irony of his earlier complaints about Yunho and Seonghwa do not elude Wooyoung, but he pushes this aside, for himself to overthink at a more convenient time.

"Ah, Wooyoung-ah, I—"

"Drink up, now," Seonghwa cuts in with an order, with his face hard and stern. But the oldest's hands shake as he holds out the bottle for Hongjoong.

The leader tilts his head back slightly, gulping down the liquid in measured sips.

"How is he? Do you need a medic, Hongjoong?" The manager who has reached them is asking, already glancing back to the support crew stationed further out in the terrain.

"No, no. I just... I'm fine. Just... need a moment," Hongjoong leans away from the drink, and waves weakly at another staff member who is trying to make their way over, "I haven't.. I've been a bit dehydrated... was busy. I feel a lot better now. Thanks guys."

The last statement is directed at the rest of them, but Yeosang doesn't look convinced. Yunho looks thunderous and worried at the same time; an angry Yunho is rare, but never really unwarranted. Hongjoong is in for it later. The leader tries to stand, but both Seonghwa and Wooyoung make him sit, with the former growling that he is going to stay put, or he's going to find himself flat on his back with his legs propped up.

"Seriously?" His words are less muddled-sounding now, "Okay, okay. I'm fine, everyone... either way, the director says it's up to us if we want to do another take. He thinks the one we've got is good enough."

"That's good news. We can just wrap it up now, then," the manager says, while all the other boys nod. Wooyoung takes this chance to look around. In the distance, Mingi and Jongho have reappeared from god knows where, and regrouped with San who had been with the stylist team members. They are making their way over to the main group. He straightens properly and gestures them over; all three boys look understandably confused at the sudden commotion. Makes sense; they didn't see their leader fall like a puppet whose string had been cut.

"Not so fast," Hongjoong shakes his head, "Yunho, Seonghwa, both of you know the dance the best. Take the others with you and go review the footage? Then we can decide if we want to do one more round."

"We don't need one more round. We are done here," Yunho puts his foot down, firmly. Hongjoong looks at the worried, serious looks on their faces and sighs, "Go review the footage. I won't move, I promise. Look, I'll even finish this bottle of water, okay?"

There is a brief, tense pause, then Wooyoung raises his hand, "Why not I stay here, with hyung? I trust Yeosang to monitor my parts; the rest of you can go and decide if we need to do another take."

Yeosang nods in agreement, saying, "I know his parts, I can do that."

Yunho and Seonghwa exchange yet another look, and then their eyes turn to Hongjoong, who reaches for the bottle in Seonghwa's loose grasp and shoos them off. 

"Go. I'm fine. Wooyoungie will stay with me."

Eventually, the 6 other members gather up and go off, but not before San learns of what happened and implores Hongjoong to drink all the water, while Yeosang presses a small pack of crackers (where the hell are these people pulling these items from) into Wooyoung's hand, telling him to make sure hyung eats something.

"Are you sure you're ok, hyung? What happened just now?" Wooyoung sits next to the older boy on the dusty floor, even as he is certain he will get a earful from their stylists later for getting the sand on his clothes. He's fine with that, because Hongjoong will probably get the same reprimand, and they can both use him fainting as a more than valid excuse.

"It's nothing, I just got lightheaded, that's all. Things are so busy, and I keep having to talk. Whenever we end a take, I have to head over to the monitor to review, so I haven't been able to take any breaks with you guys," Hongjoong explains, swigging the almost empty bottle of water. Wooyoung holds out a cracker to him, which he accepts and starts eating. His own anxious heart rate has been slowly settling, but he still feels a little shaken by his leader's earlier collapse, even though the older boy seems to have pretty much recovered, both in his coherence and his colour. 

"Well... it could also be the heat."

"Yeah, that too. It doesn't help that it's so hot. Sorry, Wooyoung-ah. Hyung should've been more careful."

"You should've," he reaffirms. Hongjoong at least has the decency to look contrite, in the face of Wooyoung's candidness, "You really scared us, hyung. I think you almost gave Seonghwa hyung a heart attack. And Yunho's pissed."

"I know," there is an edge of remorse in the other's voice. Wooyoung feels less stressed now, knowing he has impressed upon Hongjoong the seriousness of the situation.

"Next time, if you're not feeling well, you gotta say, okay?"

"It— it's not that serious. Don't worry, it won't happen again."

Wooyoung is naïve enough to take his words at that time. It is only later, much later, long after their debut, long after all of them had spent years upon years growing together, that Wooyoung finally learns something else.

Kim Hongjoong is a lot of wonderful, amazing, frustrating things. But sometimes, just sometimes, he is also a liar.

6.

"I feel sick."

Is the only warning Seonghwa gets, when they retire back to their shared rooms in the rented bungalow, after the beach filming. He whips around, searching the face of his friend. His best friend, who, now that Seonghwa has locked eyes with him, is exactly two shades paler and swaying on his feet, just past the doorway.

"What? Hongjoong—" the boy's grip on the doorframe tightens just for a moment before it goes slack, and Seonghwa curses under his breath as he catches the boy mid-fall. Of course, being a sometimes co-leader (more like co-nagger) and also the roommate of this redheaded idiot, this is not Seonghwa's first time witnessing one of Hongjoong's episodes. But that doesn't make it any less scary, every time it happens. And it... happens.

He's still breathing. Seonghwa watches intently for a few beats until he is sure that his friend's chest is still rising and falling, even though he can't hear past the pounding of blood in his own ears. They have tumbled close to the end of the bed where someone (his annoying fainting roommate, probably) had previously tossed a pillow, so Seonghwa stretches out to grab it. 

Hongjoong comes back around, a few minutes later, when Seonghwa is wrestling the thick jacket past the boy's limp arms so that he can toss it into a corner.

"...Hwa?"

"Yeah, of course. Who else could it be?" If his tone is harsh and his voice cracks a little, Hongjoong doesn't comment on it. Instead, the leader sighs and reaches up to touch his arm.

"Did you catch me?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure you should be doing that, with your injury?"

"My waist is fine. And you are one to be nagging me, hypocrite," Hongjoong clamps his mouth shut and his tired eyes shift away. Seonghwa continues, his sarcasm coming easier now that his heart is not beating like a drum, "But if you keep doing this we're both going to be very not fine, y'know."

"Mm." Hongjoong sits up from the floor, then stands and stumbles over to the bed, before flopping on it. 

"I though you had this thing under control, Hong-ah," Seonghwa gets up as well and goes to sit at the edge of the bed. No response comes, which, even from post-episode Hongjoong, is a bit abnormal. Seonghwa checks his expression and crap, he's out cold again. His hands are icy, bone-white, and the shirt is growing tacky with cold, sickly perspiration. Standing up so fast after an episode must have triggered another in quick succession. 

Come to think of it... he's never seen Hongjoong stand after a sudden episode. Both of them should've known better, Seonghwa thinks, first cursing at himself, and then at the boneless idiot who has passed out cold.

So he uses what little he knows to do, and stacks all the pillows high up before propping the boy's legs up on them. It helps the blood flow to the head, or something, right? And water, he needs water, Seonghwa reminds himself as he hurries to grab a bottle. Water. Right.

That's how Hongjoong finds himself a while later, when he comes to.

"Welcome back," Seonghwa greets drily when Hongjoong stirs around the 2nd minute mark.

"Did I... did I pass out again?"

"You tell me, you're the one who stood up immediately after fainting in the doorway."

Exhaustion lines every plane of Hongjoong's face, and it seems like for the first time, the leader is unable to justify his own poor decisions. Seonghwa wants to look away, to avoid all the complicated feelings that rush up to his chest... but he has things he needs to do.

"Drink. And if you move an inch, and I will murder you. I'm serious," he warns as he shoves the bottle of water into their other's trembling hands. Hongjoong nods, and starts drinking studiously, while Seonghwa gets up to put away both their outerwear. Whenever he glances back to check, Hongjoong is sluggishly sipping the water while watching Seonghwa, his head slightly tilted. Good. Absolutely horrendous posture, but at least he's hydrating.

The older of the two furiously fusses over the state of their luggage and room, packing and unpacking things haphazardly and rearranging things that, in all honesty, are already quite well-arranged. Only when he quietens down does he realise that Hongjoong hasn't spoken for a while, and so he checks in to find... ah. He's fallen asleep. 

Seonghwa finally feels the stress coiled around his stomach loosen, and he starts on his own nighttime routine. He comes back out and slides into bed beside Hongjoong, causing the boy to stir only when he moved a pillow in between them to create some form of a boundary because, personal space, godammit.

"....mmm? S'hwa?"

"I'm done washing up. You can go if you want to." There is an audible pause made by the heap of clothing on the bed, then it moves and the boy slides off the bed to shuffle heavily to the bathroom. Instantly, Seonghwa regrets not waking him up to wash up together; what if the little goblin gets lightheaded in the bath and—

'Stop overthinking everything. You're an adult, he's an adult. He can figure things out by himself,' a voice that sounds eerily like his therapist retorts, making him clamp his mouth shut. It takes longer than usual, not that Seonghwa usually counts, but Hongjoong takes nearly twenty minutes. And that is totally fine, of course. It's perfectly normal and sane to want to shower after such a long filming day. But eventually, he hears the hairdryer stop and toilet door click open. Before he can lift his head, the lights click off in the corridor, leaving only the ones near the bed. A beat later, something Hongjoong-sized and smelling like soap and mint flops down next to him.

Seonghwa continues staring at his (brand new, hundred-percent legal) cellphone, not daring to move. He hears a sigh, and the soft barrier of the pillow between them shifts a little. He turns and sees that Hongjoong is next to him, blinking vacantly into space, seemingly ready for bed.

"Lights off?" Is what he says, after several more minutes of looking at his phone without really reading any of the words.

"Lights off."

Seonghwa goes, and when he returns, he sees, in the vague shadows of the bed, that his bedmate has pressed himself all the way up against the border and is blinking at him slowly, with hazy eyes.

"I'm cold," says the other, before he even manages to ask. 

Sometimes, Hongjoong reads questions in people's expressions and body language even before they can ask them, and it seems freaky and is great for shutting company executives up. But when it's just them, two of them, it just becomes an understanding. It just becomes... Hongjoong. He observes, thinks, and knows. Just like how he probably knows that Seonghwa's papercut words and irritable tone are just flimsy covers for his stress and anxiety around the episode.

With a heavy breath, Seonghwa shifts the barrier so it's no longer taking up precious blanket real estate. Hongjoong sidles about one step closer, as does Seonghwa; he can feel their knees brushing against each other slightly, and the emptiness fills with the warmth of two.

There is a belated wave of guilt at how snappy he was earlier. It isn't really Hongjoong's fault — they're all just tired. It's been a hell of a tour, a hell of a trip.

Nothing is said in the soft silence that falls, and Hongjoong isn't pushing it either. Eventually, Seonghwa sighs and asks, in a low whisper.

"Still cold?"

"...Mmhmm."

"Wanna cuddle?"

"Sure."

Later, when Hongjoong has dropped off to sleep, his breaths tickling the tips of Seonghwa's fingertips, Seonghwa ponders if he should tell Yunho about this. Not the cuddling, but the episode. As far as he can tell in his own (hovering) observations, over the last year or so of active idol duties, Yunho knows what's going on. They've exchanged enough exasperated looks over the heads of the others, and collaborated on enough water drills (waterlogging, as Wooyoung calls it, with extensive grumbling) for Seonghwa to confirm that he knows something.

He curls tighter around Hongjoong's body, which is spooned in his own. Seonghwa presses his nose into the back of Hongjoong's hair, closes his eyes as he slows down his breath to match his friend's, and lulls himself to sleep.

Maybe tomorrow.

7.

Yeosang usually isn't that aware of what's going on. He knows this, everyone knows this, so when he, of all the members, realises something is not quite right, people should hit the alarm bells (That can be a rule from now on, he thinks).

"Can I come down now?" Hongjoong has his arms tucked in his sleeves, and is standing on the top of the metal bridge he'd been filming on. Yeosang is done with his costume change, and monitoring his other members is something he enjoys, just as a fellow performer. It's been a cold shoot, though, and if they go even slightly higher up, it gets even colder and windier. He remembers his morning atop the crane and shivers sympathetically as he watches Hongjoong stoop to a squat, waiting for a cue. 

"Just one more take, Hongjoong-sshi!" Their leader gives an involuntary shiver, then gets to his feet, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders.

He watches as the cameras, the lights roll, and Hongjoong runs through his rap once more. There is a near-stumble at the start, but the director doesn't shout cut, so that may mean that they already have enough material for that portion.

"Thank you! Thank you for your hard work!" Hongjoong calls out as the camera cuts at the end of his rap, and the crew starts rolling out of the way for the extra, extra tall ladder to be brought forwards, so hyung can climb down.

"Good job, hyung," he greets as Hongjoong walks on slightly unsteady feet to his side, automatically holding out his hand for his leader to grip onto when the man stumbles. His brain catches up to his reflex. Something is wrong. Hongjoong is shaking, in a way that... that seems..? Yeosang's thoughts sputter like a rusty diesel engine.

What's going on?

"Sorry, 'Sang-ah— just feel a lil'—" he grips Hongjoong more securely, by the elbow, catching him just as he trips over his own feet, again, the second time in barely 7 seconds. It's like he can't see straight. Neither of them fall, but if not for Yeosang's strength from his months of working out, it would have been a definite thing.

"Hyung, are you ok?"

Yeosang starts looking around, to see if there are any staff nearby to help. He really doesn't like how badly Hongjoong is shaking.

"It's okay. 'M just a bit... dizzy. Could you bring me to my van?"

"Okay. Okay, let's go." 

The changing vans haven't been parked that far, since their next filming spot in corner the quarry needed to be clear of tire tracks. The best bet was parking around the crane, which, fortunately, was where Hongjoong had been filming.

In his panic, he accidentally brings Hongjoong to his own van, the one he's sharing with San. Surprisingly, the other man isn't there. He could've sworn San was having his hair done, right in here, moments ago.

"Here, hyung," Yeosang keeps his desperate grasp on Hongjoong's arm through his denim jacket and holds on until he's been bodily lifted in (by Yeosang, of course) and made to sit in one of the seats. He can't tell with all the make-up and surrounded by the snow-ridden darkness, but something seems... something seems off about Hongjoong's expression and demeanour. It's weird. 

The leader shifts himself to face the ceiling, but his eyes are swivelling languidly in their sockets. He seems to be attempting to deepen and slow his breathing, even as they continue to come too hard and too shallow and too fast.

Yeosang stands with his leg propped up on the step, half his body leaning into the van, trying not to freak out and take off running to find a manager. After a beat, Hongjoong gives a shaky exhale and blindly, one of his hands starts fumbling around for the seat position lever.

"Here, let me do it..." he helps Hongjoong lower the seat so that he was almost fully reclined. A gust of wind blows, sending a flurry of snow into the warm confines of the van. Nope, not a chance — Yeosang clambers in quickly, apologising when he has to climb over Hongjoong's legs. With some difficulty, he slams the door shut. 

The insides of the van are warm and well-lit, but Hongjoong doesn't seem to care much for it as he trembles and breathes deeply, his eyes drifting fitfully across the ceiling of the van.

"Hyung. What's going on?"

What is going on? You're scaring me.

Hongjoong mumbles something intangible, as his eyelids shutter close and he continues to, resolutely, face the ceiling. The leader's entire body is as tense as a stretched band. 

"What's that?"

"It's fine. I just need... I just got a little lightheaded," his hyung ekes out an airy chuckle, "That bridge... it's really quite high, it got tough to breathe."

And to that, Yeosang doesn't know what to say. 

So he just waits.

There is nothing for him to do, really, other than stare, watching as Hongjoong swallows convulsively and power through whatever is bothering him. The lengthening, measured breaths that he takes melt into the low hum of the car heater system that their drivers had thankfully left running.

A few harrowing minutes later, Hongjoong's kohl-lined eyes crack open and they drift until they meet Yeosang's. 

"Hyung. How're you feeling now? Should I go get more help?"

Hongjoong's eyes clear up a smidge at his second question, "No, there's no need. Everything has stopped spinning. Think I'll be fine after I lie here for a while."

Something in his gut tells him that Hongjoong is not telling him everything. Something about his tone, his stilted demeanour. He's not sure he has a complete grasp of what is going on, and he's getting a sense that Hongjoong is about to pull away and toss up a smokescreen.

What's happening? What's this? Is this an anxiety attack? Yeosang had witnessed Mingi have one, just a month before he went on his hiatus, but while it was absolutely terrifying, it looked nothing like this.

"Hyung... That bridge is about as high as the train we went on yesterday, but yesterday you were fine. What happened, did you skip lunch again?"

"No, I ate with Yunho. You can ask him," Hongjoong says quickly. He pats Yeosang's hand, the one that is bunched loosely on the sleeve of his denim jacket, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

Yeosang's thoughts spin in a whirlpool in his chest, but he eventually thinks better of letting them out, and chooses instead to let go.

"Okay."

As if. Stubbornness runs in his veins, ever since he'd met Wooyoung at 17 and had that part of it activated (because that was the only thing that could shield him against whatever perplexing alien brain disease that other young man had).

He's not sure what this is but if it's something different, something bad, he knows what he will do. He knows what he has to do.

I'll get to the bottom of this, he thinks as Hongjoong puts the car seat back up, and opens the door to a small torrent of snow flecks.

He needs to get to the bottom of this, for sure.

8.

In truth, Bang Chan had been nervous about collaborating with Hongjoong. 

The guy isn't terrible, Chan knows that. In fact, he's quite the opposite; he has a spotless reputation, and he has been nothing but respectful, kind, and friendly whenever they had crossed paths, even before Kingdom. 

But when something looks too polished, too perfect, you really can't help but start actively looking for flaws.

(Bang Chan knows it isn't really fair to Hongjoong, but it is what it is. That's just how humans work.)

Polished, and perfect. Which is how Chan definitely feels about Hongjoong, after their few scant interactions. He has all the information he needs, and then some he really doesn't need, from Changbin, whose friendship with ATEEZ's Wooyoung has made it so that the rest of Chan's own band has no choice but to have some level of familiarity to the other group. 

Chan likes Wooyoung, respects his tenacity, sees echoes of his own band of gremlins in the boy's energy, but these traits can't necessarily be extended to 7 other, whole, unique individuals, just because they are in the same team. There is even lesser reason, therefore, to extend that same impression to a specific member of said team.

So, when they and the BtoB seniors join forces with ATEEZ for the collaboration round of Kingdom, he decides to go all in. Put his best foot forward, as his Australian upbringing might lead him to say.

And he is pleasantly surprised by what he finds.

Hongjoong is not just as tenacious Wooyoung, he also has the work ethic that is similar to his own.

This becomes apparent from his late-night (early morning) pings on their Kakao group chat, and the updates he makes to the main track Chan pushes over. On the thread of the most recent updates that Hongjoong sends through (a series of progressively more complete recordings sent at random intervals, all in the wee hours of the morning), Minhyuk even makes a joking comment about this:

Hongjoong-ah, between your comeback and Kingdom and this project, how do you find time to sleep?

Which is the same question that Han bounces off the young man, when he arrives at the trio's studios later that same day, smelling like he's on his 10th cup of coffee before noon, and with shadowed eyes that are bright and shiny with ideas.

Hongjoong hands out the coffee he bought for all three of them, chuckling, "I get by just fine on power naps. Although, once all the mixing is done, I'd like to lie in bed and not be disturbed for twenty-four hours, I think."

Changbin whistles, even as he accepts the caffeinated beverage, "Not sure a whole day is enough. That's how many years of sleep debt that you have? Two? Three?"

The young man has already slid into a seat on the sofa, and is pulling out his computer from his backpack, "Coming up to six years, I think. Been at this since pre-debut."

Jisung pretends to swoon at the thought of not being able to sleep enough for that long (as if none of them have ever pulled all-nighters before. It just comes with this line of work), but has the presence of mind to set down his beverage first. Good, because if he spills, Chan will try to prohibit food and drink in the studio again. This time, the ban will stick. So help him.

"Sleep deprivation aside, and thanks for the coffee, by the way," Chan lifts his cup in a small toast, which Hongjoong accepts with his own raise and a twinkle in his eyes, "I was thinking we can take a divide-and-conquer strategy today. Two of us can work on cleaning up the vocal recordings, and the other two can finish up the Wolf track."

His delegation is met with with positive feedback, and an hour later finds Jisung in a corner on the couch, cleaning up the recorded vocals for Wolf, so Hongjoong can add them into the main track and send it back to EDENARY. Changbin settles into working alongside Chan for their own rap track for the competition.

As he pulls out the work Hongjoong did last night, Chan has already begun to develop an idea of the exact kind of producer that Hongjoong is. For the lack of a better word, the boy is a perfectionistic and meticulous creator. He spots and isolates breath sounds in the tracks with remarkable accuracy and, from the past few sessions they have had, has a well-tuned ear for layered and elaborate soundscapes. 

Both are boons for what he had apparently spent all night doing; because of it basically all of the rap team's voice tracks were prepped and ready. Now all Chan needs to do is start the careful process of weaving those pieces into the main song. And once all the tracks are in, the instrumentals and melodic lines are next. 

They are about three hours into their work session when Chan gets far enough that he hits pause to get some fresh ears on the song, just to see if the others may have anything else they want to add to it.

"Boys, stop for a second and come over. I want to go over what I have so far," Jisung and Changbin are used to his working style, and usually don't have their earphones turned up to the point where they can't hear him calling them, so they perk up immediately. Their computers get set aside, and they start to make their way over to the main console where Chan is.

"Hyung. Hongjoong hyung," Jisung calls, but it yields no response. Hongjoong has settled near a corner of the couch and is seated on the floor, his computer on the small thin desk that serves as a coffee table for the 3RACHA production studio. He has both sides of his earphones on, his eyes bright with the light reflecting off the laptop screen.

Chan understands. Hongjoong usually doesn't work in teams until the final stages, so he is less attuned to the mid-production reviews when the track is so rough. His tunes are probably on full blast. 

"Hyung," Changbin, with his legs tucked under him on the swivel chair, leans all the way back init (a dangerous thing, he could fall and hurt himself. Chan hates when he does that) and pats the sofa arm next to Hongjoong. The young man jolts, and tugs one earbud out, "We're reviewing."

"Oh, oh. Okay, got it. Coming," he scrambles to untangle himself from his set up. Chan and his two boys have just turned back to the console, and the song is already playing, when a resounding thump comes from behind, making them all jump.

All three whip around, and Chan feels his blood freeze when he sees that Hongjoong has toppled over, half on the couch he had been leaning against, and half off. His face is pale, and his eyes are half-mast. 

Chan snaps into leader-mode, instantly.

"Hongjoong?! Hey—" 

Once he is beside Hongjoong's prone form, it becomes clear that he is completely gone; his head lolls feebly when Chan shakes him, but at least he's still breathing.

"Hyung, is he alright?" Jisung whispers, sounding frightened.

"Dunno, just..." he clasps Hongjoong's hands and winces when he finds them rubbery cold, "Bin, get some water over here. Hannie, stop the music and turn the heating up, please."

While his boys get busy, he maneouvres Hongjoong into a lying position on the couch. Much to everyone's relief, the boy stirs, after a minute or two.

"Hey. Hey, hi there," he murmurs, as the rapper blinks to wakefulness, his gaze fogged and confused, "Hold on, don't get up. Binnie is getting you some water."

"Mmrh? O...okay," Hongjoong mumbles. He seems to want to push himself up to a sitting position, but thinks better of it when he tries to get his elbows under him, and ends up shaking like a leaf. Chan motions to Jisung, and the both of them help the young man get upright, on the couch.

"You alright, hyung?" Changbin is back, handing a bottle of water over, his expression unnaturally serious, "Do you need us to call someone? Your manager, or Wooyoung?"

"No, no," Hongjoong protests, "no need. This just happens sometimes. I just need a moment or two."

"Are you sure? Hyung, you just passed out. Like fully out cold," it is Jisung who speaks next. The three of them group loosely around their colleague, and Chan knows that all of them at a complete loss as to what to do.

"It's alright," Hongjoong asserts again, more firmly this time. He finally manages to push himself to a sitting position, with the help of Chan, and reaches for the water. His hands tremor with the effort, "I have... a thing. A medical condition. My blood pressure sometimes goes haywire and I faint, especially if I stand up too fast. The fainting is a vasovagal syncope, basically."

Chan hears Changbin swear softly under his breath at the revelation, but he can't bring himself to chide his member, because he is wrestling with the same feelings of horror and disbelief. This boy, this young man before him, is an idol. An active idol. How has he managed all the performances over the years? How has he not passed out on stage before?!

"Vasovagal syncope, I think I've heard of that term before," Chan says, "in any case, that was pretty scary. Are you sure you don't need more help? The hospital?"

"No, no. I'll be fine," and Hongjoong seems to be telling the truth as he sips the water. The colour is slowly returning to his cheeks, as he looks at them, from one face to another. 

"Okay, but let me just text Wooyoung and let him know to keep an eye out for you, or he can tell your manager—"

"No!" The almost-shout makes all three of them pause. Hongjoong's frantic expression is replaced quickly by an embarrassed one, and he clears his throat to get past the awkwardness that his outburst has triggered, "I mean, thank you. Thank you for helping, and your concern, but please don't say anything to Wooyoung. I'll get on my phone and let my manager know."

The rapper fumbles for his phone, but in that time, the cogs in Chan's head are turning. He glances over to his two members, who are exchanging confused looks with one another, before turning back to Hongjoong, unable to stop the pit forming in his stomach.

"Your members don't know?"

The sentence makes Hongjoong's fingers freeze, midway through trying to pull up the messaging app on his cellphone. Jisung and Changbin's heads snap back towards the two leaders, their attentive eyes riveted to their faces.

Eventually, Hongjoong resumes typing as he mumbles out a hesitant reply to Chan's question, "The company knows I have the condition. Two of my members know as well. I... don't have these fainting episodes often. It's not usually a problem."

The answer is... an answer, but Chan finds himself picking up on everything that it neglects to address.

"Who knows? Which members?" Hongjoong's eyes flick up to meet his.

"... Seonghwa, and Yunho," he seems to be done with his message, because he shuts off his phone and leans back against the couch, taking another swig of water. 

This means that his other five members are completely in the dark. It is at this point where Chan retreats into his head a little, trying to put himself in Hongjoong's shoes. They are both around the same age, both leaders of incredibly strong, hardworking groups. With incredibly stubborn, headstrong members.

What if this happened to himself? Would he say something? And if he didn't say anything, what would be the motivation behind that?

Begrudgingly, after some contemplation, Chan thinks he can identify a multitude of reasons for the cloak-and-dagger that the other leader seems to employ around his conditions. At the very same time, however, he can identify far more reasons to not have this level of secrecy.

But is it really his business be speculating over this? All of them are adults, professionals in their own right. This may be his studio, but on this matter, he has no place.

The shock takes some time to wear off, and they slowly, cautiously restart their work, after Hongjoong says they should continue with the track review, and he can listen from the couch. He says he just needs a while longer in the couch; he will be right as rain after a short physical rest.

Changbin seems to want to insist on the young man staying put for at the remainder of their session, but appears to think better of it when Hongjoong eventually gets up without swaying too much, and joins them at the console. Instead, Chan watches fondly as his boy gets off the chair he was in, offering it up immediately up, insisting that their guest sit down beside Chan while they went over their work.

It is late in the evening when they wrap up. Apart from the incident in the middle of the session, everything else had gone smoothly.

Still, the questions linger.

Once Hongjoong leaves and it's just the three of them again, the silence shifts to... a strange tension. Like they're waiting for something, with bated breath.

It takes another hour or so.

"Hyung."

Here it comes. Chan turns to Changbin, who looks almost stoic. It's not a side they see often, and his own heart twists slightly.

"Yeah? What's up?" He says, evenly.

His dongsaeng hesitates, before asking, "I think... I mean— should I tell Wooyoung?"

Chan had been concerned about this, as soon as the incident happened. He saw the look in Changbin's eyes and knows how fiercely loyal he is. And how much he values honesty. Chan knows.

"It's not really our secret to tell, though," Jisung offers, in a small voice. 

Chan looks about at their faces, and a deep ache appears in his chest. He closes his eyes for a moment, then exhales.

"It really isn't our secret to tell. And yes, Bin-ah, I know... I know," Chan says pre-emptively, when he sees Changbin is about to open his mouth to say something, "I understand how you may feel about all of this. But Hongjoong-sshi has his reasons to keep this under wraps. Maybe he doesn't want to cause undue worry, maybe he doesn't want to have to explain it to every new person he meets, about why or how he deals with this. There could be lots of reasons why most of his members don't know."

"But... hyung. But it's just... it's...ugh!" For someone whose lyrics flow out as easily as breathing, and who loves nothing better than to chat up a storm, it's pretty out-of-character to see Changbin get so frustrated to the point of speechlessness.

But since the incident earlier, Chan had been ruminating on this whole situation himself, so he is at least able to offer an alternative stance.

"What we can do is maybe... maybe keep an eye out for Hongjoong on our stage, and for other things. Wherever else we can. Also, Minho has Seonghwa-sshi's number, I think. We can see if he can help us communicate with Seonghwa-sshi and let him know that this happened today. And then, if Seonghwa is open to it, we can find out how we can help, effectively."

There is a beat of silence as his boys mull over his proposal, before Jisung relaxes visibly, and straighens in his chair, "That... sounds like a decent plan."

"... I still feel like I should tell Wooyoung," mutters Changbin, a little darkly. 

Chan chews on his lip for a moment, then sighs, "You're an adult, Changbin-ah, and you know I can't stop you from doing what you want. But considering that Hongjoong explicitly insisted that none of us tell his members, I think it wouldn't be kind for us to breach that trust, would it? There will be consequences if we do that, and quite frankly, I'm not sure if they are consequences that you or I will be able to shoulder."

He watches as Changbin stews, palming his phone, while Jisung nods slowly. Eventually, the former huffs out a hard breath.

"Fine. I won't say anything. I also have no idea how to bring it up in a regular conversation with Woo. Like what am I supposed to say? 'Hey man, the production for Kingdom worked out well today. Oh, btw, your leader has a medical condition that makes him faint spontaneously. And I know you didn't know that because Hongjoong hyung told us himself. Just thought you should know. Lol,' " Changbin grimaces, his sullen voice pitching higher, "I'm cringing just thinking about writing that. Yeah, no thanks."

"We could also try talking to Hongjoong hyung directly, and see if he can be persuaded to tell his members himself?" Jisung says, as the youngest of their trio spins in his chair.

"That's actually a brilliant idea, Hannie. We could do that. Nicely done," the leader grins as Jisung puffs out his chest at the praise.

"Yeah, I like that idea a lot.The sooner the better, maybe. I don't want to have knowledge of anyone's secrets. I mean, secrets like that, where there's so much hiding. Makes me feel dirty," Changbin claps Jisung on the back, "when did you get so smart, Jisung-ah?"

The said boy preens, grinning, but then his gaze meets Chan's soft and gentle one, and he sobers up.

"Hyung?"

"Hmm?"

The young man shifts a little in his chair, looking uncomfortable, "You... if something like this happened to you, hyung. You'd tell us right?"

Chan wants to respond immediately, of course, there aren't any secrets between us, but then he halts when all the possible reasons for him to keep things out of his members' universe. Things that cause them to worry, or cause anxiety. Things that may hurt them. Things that make them suffer. So he reframes his response.

"If... it was to do with something personal to me, like my health, I'd tell you guys as soon as I knew. I'd try to be as honest as I can," both boys in front of him sag in slight relief over this, "But also because... then, I would probably get you lot to do my duties for me, like maybe you can take over scheduling, and Changbin will deal with the meetings with the company... and I could just... kick up my feet and relax."

The loud and over-zealous protests ('Hyung, please, you can't do do that. I will die before I have to deal with the scheduling; that shit is absolutely nonsense logistics' and 'Ew! Meetings with the execs? Am I allowed to swear at them?') that follow the joke are finally able to make a smile rise easily to his lips.

9.

Today is supposed to be a good day.

The weather has been pretty sunny for some reason, an anomaly for this time of autumn in Seoul. They had also just completed the filming for Kingdom, and promotions for Fireworks petered out ages ago. Now it was just them pacing out a runway to their next comeback.

Things haven't been this good for a long time.

They were supposed to at least have that for a short while.

It wasn't supposed to be anything big, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa had insisted on making whole party out of Mingi officially returning to the dorms. This is the 3rd celebration since Mingi came off his hiatus (they had one when Mingi had flown out to meet them for the first time in months, another time at the company to welcome Mingi back to the dance practice room). This one is supposed to happen tonight. And San is always happy to celebrate things, especially since Mingi's absence had been so keenly felt. He is glad that the 6 other non-Mingi members are equally as eager to continue revelling in their rapper's glorious return, at least for a while longer.

It is with this mindset that he has spent most of the day thus far. It is technically a rest day, but some members had still insisted on dropping by the office. Seonghwa and Wooyoung wanted to work on some choreography, Hongjoong had studio work, as usual. San thinks he remembers Yeosang mentioning he wanted to do a live in the office as well. Jongho had gone out with his high school friends for lunch, but he promised to be back for their first group dinner as 8 once more.

Right now, it's just Yunho, San, and Mingi at home.

He's actually locked in a game against Yunho, with Mingi on the sidelines as a spectator (he'd stumbled by his and Yunho's room after waking from his nap), on his roommate's PS4 when he hears the front lock beep. 

Someone's home!

"Mingi-yah, wanna play for a bit? I'll go see who's back."

Their tall friend makes a noise of affirmation and San gives him a cheeky little smooch on the cheek before dashing away, grinning at the squawk from Mingi and the cackles from Yunho that his action elicited.

"Oh, hyung, it's you— wow! So much ice cream!" Hongjoong sits down heavily on the step in their apartment's threshold, breathing hard as he hauls the large bag of cold desserts up on the step as well, next to where he's sitting.

"Yeah... for the party. San-ah, can you—"

"Chuck 'em in the freezer? Of course!" San scoops up the yummy load of frozen treats — woah, so heavy, and cold — and immediately scampers off to keep them away. 

When he is done and he heads back to the entryway, however, he immediately notices something is off.

Hongjoong's still there, now lying flat on his back at the threshold, with his shoes still on. And for some reason the entirety of that image strikes San as extremely odd, but he can't figure out what exactly is... wrong with it.

"Hyung, are you going to sit there all evening?" He finds himself joking as he saunters over, squatting down next to his hyung, "Hey, you're wearing those new shoes. They look nice—"

The sudden appearance of a hand gripping his ankle cuts his sentence off, and San immediately stops with a yelp of shock.

"Water," the quality of Hongjoong's voice sends a strange sensation down his neck, instantly, "San-ah... could you... I need some water."

His leader's voice is tissue-paper thin in a way that makes it almost unrecognisable to San, and his breathing sounds... weird. He can't pinpoint what exactly is different about it, so he just aligns himself to the request, with bewilderment.

"Water? Ah, okay... give me a sec—"

There are cups, and there is water in the tumblers in the kitchen, so San goes for that at first. And then promptly remembers that Hongjoong is lying down. Is he planning to drink the water lying down? Surely not.

"Hyung, d'you want water in a glass or a bottle?" He sticks his head out to holler into the corridor. When no response is heard, San decides, ah heck, since he's in the kitchen anyway, might as well grab the bottle. Saves him all this back and forth from the kitchen.

"Okay, got the water," he returns to Hongjoong's side to set down the glass and the water. He stoops down on the step beside the man, who looks like he dozed off, with an arm thrust over his eyes. Jeez hyung, he thinks. This is Hongjoong's secret talent; he could really sleep just about anywhere.

He is just about to wake Hongjoong up when he hears his name being called, from somewhere deeper in the house.

"I'm here! Front step!"

Yunho peeks around the corner, raking over San with his various (two) receptacles of water, before landing on Hongjoong.

"Hyung fell asleep, I think. He asked me for water and I came back and he was snoozing like this," jokes San, waving the bottle of water at his roommate in mock exasperation, "What should I do with all this water, Yunho-yah?"

Oddly enough, instead of grinning at his joke, Yunho's face starts doing something. San stares.

It is not a very commonly known fact, but when Yunho gets tense or serious about something, his lips tighten and thin. It's a tell that San has learned to read, despite it being quite an uncommon expression for his friend to bear. And the weird thing is (making this the second weird thing after Hongjoong asked him in that strange tone for water), Yunho is wearing that exact expression. Right now.

Oh?

Oh. 

Is... something...?

He is about to open his mouth, change his tone, and maybe ask, "Hey, what's wrong?" when he blinks and Yunho is suddenly in the space between him and Hongjoong, and shaking Hongjoong gently. San slides out of the way slightly, and peers over the taller boy's shoulder.

"Hyung? Hyung. Can you hear me?"

Hongjoong doesn't. Usually he answers. Why isn't he answering. Isn't he just aslee—

"San-ah, help me a little," he is jolted out of his spiral and sees Yunho motioning for him to help him lift Hongjoong's legs. Which knock and roll together clumsily when he gently helps manoeuvre a limp Hongjoong into Yunho's arms. His hands are as cold as ice, and his face is slack and grey. Why is he so limp? He's not answering. What is—

"Yunho. Yunho-yah," he manages to squeeze out, "Hyung. He...!"

"He's fine, he's fine," Yunho reassures quickly him, although his expression is still tense, "Listen, I want to move him somewhere airier; this hallway is a bit too stuffy. Can you go stay with Mingi in the room? I don't think hyung would want him to come out and see this."

He may get a horrible scare, Yunho doesn't say, but San thinks it for both of them anyway. But for now. Staying with Mingi in the room. Yes. He can do that. 

He can do that.

So he musters up a cheerful expression from god knows where and scurries off.

"Mingi, what are you up to?" He feels something cold creep over him, like he had just commited a cardinal sin. Mingi's slightly blank expression answers him.

"Huh? What do you mean? Weren't we playing Mario Kart?"

"Ah! Ah, yeah, I mean," San stutters, desperately trying to find a loose thread conversation to latch onto, "Oh, so who won? Did you guys finish the round?"

"Mm..." the dancer's gaze slide to the paused monitor, "Yunho's in the lead, but he said he wanted to pause and check why you were taking so long. Didn't you see him outside?"

"Yeah, he came out and said hi. I was busy keeping... stuff away. Hongjoong hyung brought some things home."

The second he let the name slip out, San felt his heart skip a beat. Crap! He was too busy trying to untangle the jumble of what just happened; he managed to hide the surprise party components but—

Sure enough, Mingi's eyes brighten and he rises to his feet "Hyung is back? Why didn't he come say hi?"

"I—" San can feel his anxiety mounting, "Well, he's busy— Mingi-yah—"

The rapper is already halfway out the door, a small anticipatory smile on his face. And of course, of all the moments he could have blanked out, this is the moment San's brain decides to stop obeying his commands.

"Hyung? Hongjoongie hyung?"

There is a faint murmur of sound in a distance, and Mingi's voice is carrying further and further away. San is... he finally manages unstick his feet from the floor and break into a small jog. His and Yunho's room is pretty far from the living are, he frantically thinks, maybe Mingi hasn't — maybe Hongjoong—

Ahead, he see the young man turning the corner into the living area, and his heart starts to do a slow spinning spiral down to his feet. He breaks into a run.

"Oh! Mingi-yah," at the sound of the call, San skids to a stop, just at the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

Hongjoong is sitting up on the couch, blinking rapidly, smiling. 

"Hyung! You're home!"

Yunho is seated beside him, a bit closer than usual. His face is carefully blank and his eyes are shuttered. San meets his gaze, and carefully, his roommate gives him the smallest, most imperceptible shake of the head.

Not now. Later.

San doesn't know if his shoulders slump, or if something in his posture shifts, but his own legs feel a bit unstable, so he shuffles closer to their enormous couch and settles gingerly on the extended portion of the L-shape. 

Hongjoong looks... normal.

Well, not entirely normal. He's basically slumped almost all the way down on the couch, phone clasped loosely in his hand like he'd just taken it out and isn't planning to use it. When Mingi plops himself down beside their captain, telling him about this video he had been watching about a runway show, and the pieces that he'd liked, Hongjoong starts straightening himself slowly, blinking hard at every shift. He responds to the other's commentary with, "Oh? Really?" and, "Are there pictures? I want to see," but he notices that when Mingi isn't looking, Hongjoong glances up to a middle distance and swallows, like he's steeling himself against something. 

After watching the rap duo for a beat, Yunho lets out a puff of air, giving everyone a grin that doesn't really reach his eyes. Then again, only San is really looking.

"San and I are going to return to our game okay? That outfit looks really chic, Mingi-yah. Hyung, here's your water. Finish it please," Yunho presses the bottle — it's the water that San had left beside Hongjoong before he'd run off to find Mingi — into Hongjoong's lap, and stands.

The last sentence makes Mingi look up curiously, but Hongjoong doesn't react as much; he blinks again, and his eyes flick up, and an expression that San'd never known Hongjoong to wear crosses his face for a brief second, as Yunho's shadow passes over him. While their taller rapper quickly returns to looking at something else on his phone, Hongjoong reaches up and grabs Yunho's forearm in a subtle but firm squeeze, looks at San, then back at the tall dancer.

Several things pass unsaid between the two of them, and San is unnerved that he can't read a single one of them. It isn't usually this difficult.

"C'mon, in the room," comes a mutter as they start heading back.

Ok, thank you because what on earth was happening?!

"What was that?" He rounds up on Yunho, whispering harshly as their bedroom door closes behind them, "Did hyung... he actually fainted? Was hyung passed out?!"

"He..." Yunho rubs a hand through his hair and rests it on his neck, "to be honest, I can't tell you that much. This is only the 3rd? 4th-ish time I've seen him faint. He has a health condition."

"The hell? Since when?"

"Since..." Yunho hesitates at this, and San can see him knowing the year, perhaps the exact age they both were when this all became real, and wondering if it was worth giving away that much of a secret that isn't his, "It's been a while. He usually manages it well by himself. I tried asking him for more details, but he says he's fine, he doesn't want to burden any of us with it. I've tried researching on what he has, but there are so many different opinions out there. This isn't well documented among young people, and maybe his is a really mild case and... just... I really don't like to assume."

"Right," San worries his bottom lip. He tries think back on instances where Hongjoong has behaved weirdly, or situations that'd seemed odd, but even though hindsight is often 20/20, he clearly needs some special sort of prescription glasses for this. 

"When was the last time," he says, eventually, "When was the last time you saw something.... happen."

"Directly or indirectly?" His roommates brow crunch together as he tries to retrieve the memory, "Australia? Hyung mentioned he had an episode after the beach filming. They were in their room."

San flinches before he could stop himself. He remembers that specific filming, that programme.

Everyone was there, all 8 of them.

They were right there.

"That was 2 years ago?"

"More than 2 years ago," Yunho confirms. 

He himself doesn't remember exactly how everyone looked like the day of and after that schedule. 

But of course there is no memory; he hadn't known to look. No one did. If anyone looked rundown, or if anyone had asked, there wasn't anything memorable that arose from it. Between the travel, the filming, and the tour, everything had blurred into a long day. Many, many long days. 

He had been exhausted. They had all been exhausted. No one thought to look, and now no one gets to remember.

"That was... you saw him pass out?" San asked, his voice now dropped low.

"No, I think Seonghwa hyung did, and Hongjoong hyung mentioned it to me after, when we were on the plane home. I didn't see what happened," is the eventual clarification that Yunho gives, "The last time I actually saw anything, before today, was Morocco."

This... sends a shard of ice down San's back.

"That was years ago," he finds himself gripping Yunho's arm, the words already tumbling out from his mouth, with the slightest of tremors, "Yunho-yah, that was ages ago. That was before debut."

The other bites his lip, averting his gaze for a moment, before he repeats, quietly, "Hyung... manages really well by himself."

"He shouldn't...!" The rest of the words get lost somewhere, between his lungs, vocal cords, and his mouth. Yunho places a hand on his. Squeezes back. The look in his eyes could make even the coldest heart shatter.

Today was supposed to be a good day. 

But later that night, even as San musters up a smile, even as he helps Jongho stack up the ice cream (that his hyung had passed out trying to haul up 10? 12? floors, because the elevator wasn't working, and he had apparently felt compelled to do that with nothing but his arms and sheer willpower alone), even as everyone cheers for Mingi, and Wooyoung plants the biggest wettest kiss on their tall rapper's cheek, there is a sense that things have started to go wrong once more.

Hongjoong meets his eye, exactly once during the ice cream party, and he gets a soft, apologetic smile. When they pile into the living room to hang out for a bit, San silently finds a spot right beside Hongjoong, without explaining himself to anyone. His captain stiffens, then curls his arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

It is so, so warm. He presses down the startled tears that well up behind his throat.

San catches Yunho's gaze from across the room, and the other boy's expression does something complicated and unfamiliar. 

He feels his own heart do the very same.

Today was supposed to be a good day.

10.

There are a lot of things that fascinates Jongho about his group.

For one, they are such avid gossips. They love knowing things; things about each other, things about each other's families. Extended families even. Things about their co-workers, industry happenings ("Tea," Seonghwa had declared at one point, and then puffed up proudly when Hongjoong validated his use of the term, "That's what it's called on Twitter. And Youtube."). There was always a weird, interesting, and occasionally scandalous thing to talk about.

Another thing: Majority of the people in this damn group have no idea how the hell to keep a secret.

He already has the feeling that something is up when he enters the kitchen for a drink of water one evening. Yeosang, San, and Wooyoung are all there, but as soon as he'd steps in, the trio abruptly break apart and split off to do their own things, in literally the most un-subtle way in the world. 

Jongho, on his part, lets his 3 silly hyungs pretend he doesn't know anything is amiss, even though he can almost hear Yeosang's joints cracking from the tension in his muscular shoulders. Wooyoung and San also start filling a pot with water for no good reason. Seriously?

"What're you making, hyung?"

"Oh, Jongho-yah, didn't see you there," Wooyoung says breezily, turning around and splashing a bit of water on the ground, "Uh, I was kind of hungry. Wanted to make some noodles. Oh, but there's only one packet of the Jjapaghetti left, I'll get more tomorrow! But if you want some, sorry, there isn't enough for you..."

If the courts were planning to institute some sort of torture for criminals, Jongho has a new, innovative measure they can implement: watching a usually socially adept Wooyoung flounder around for a conversation topic. He can attest to its effectiveness.

"Nah, I had a really big dinner. Thanks, though," Jongho puts his rambling hyung (and by extension, every human in the vicinity) out of his misery by quickly filling up his water bottle and exiting. He sees Yeosang flick Wooyoung on the arm as he shuffled out of their eyeline, and they start bickering. It all happens quickly enough that no one notices Jongho pausing just after the wall, well within earshot. 

"...don't have to flick me so hard! That hurt!"

"Well, if you weren't blubbering like an idiot, I wouldn't have to," San retorted, "Now, Jjong's going to be suspicious."

"He isn't," Wooyoung sounds like he's puffing out his chest with pride, "I covered it up perfectly. Stop coughing, Kang Yeosang-sshi."

Yeosang clears his throat, "Anyway, back to the topic. So... what you're saying is, he fainted?"

Now this makes Jongho's ears perk up. 

"Well, yes, but also, no?" San says hesitantly. There is a clunk, like someone was setting a water-filled pot down on the countertop, "He... it's not like in the movies. He was just... already lying on the floor and asking—"

"Why was he even lying on the floor? Did he fall down or was he just rolling around? You know he sometimes just likes to roll about, and hyung's really good at falling asleep in all kinds of places."

"Can you let me finish?"

There is a sharp intake of breath, followed by what sounds like Wooyoung being cut off by Yeosang clamping his hand over the other's mouth. A job well done, Jongho must say.

"It may be easier if you start from the top, San-ah."

"Ok, so you remember that day, Wednesday, I think. We had that ice cream party for Mingi?" San pauses, and Jongho suspects the other two nod, "The building elevator was down right? It's been down for weeks. Anyway..."

What arrives after is a slightly haphazard, but nonetheless complete story about how Hongjoong had gotten home, how San had found him, and the series of events had unfolded afterwards. Jongho digests the story, and makes a mental note to record it down.

"He... it was terrifying. I've never seen him that pale before. And his hands, they were cold, and his whole body was soft, like noodles. We tried to wake him up, but he didn't respond."

Wooyoung lets out a soft curse, but it is Yeosang that speaks next, "Before he passed out, you said his voice was weird?"

"Yeah, it was sort of... faded? Like very... very..."

"Like something is disappearing and he's trying to hold onto it, but it keeps drifting?"

"Yeah. Something like that. It was so... faint," there is a shuffle as someone shifts. Nobody speaks for a while.

"I think I've seen that happen to him before, then."

Yeosang's statement explodes in the kitchen like a bomb and Jongho feels a stone drop in his stomach. There's more? After the exclamations are shushed, and his hyung recounts what happened, at the site of their most recent MV filming. How he had helped Hongjoong into a car and Hongjoong had lowered the seat flat and managed to tide the spell over.

"He was up there and he didn't say he felt dizzy? What is he thinking?! He could've fallen off and gotten hurt!" Wooyoung is starting to sound incredibly incensed.

"I don't think he wants it to affect our work," San supplies, slowly, "Yunho told me that he barely even says anything about it to him and Seonghwa hyung. Both of them are the only ones that know he has those conditions."

"What are their name?" He can hear Wooyoung unlocking his phone, "I can do some research on it."

The sigh San gives tell Jongho everything he needs to know, "I've tried searching up for stuff, but there isn't much information out there on Naver. I'll send it to you later, it's a very long name. Not common among young people. I've asked Yunho how bad it is, he said he doesn't know. I'm going to try and ask Seonghwa hyung this week, but everyone's been busy."

"When did Yunho find out? Has he seen hyung pass out before?"

"Not that many times. The most recent incident he remembers seeing happened in Morocco? But I don't think I was there for that..."

"Okay, Morocco. When was it? Was it the MV filming? Pirate King and— Wait. Wait, wait, hold up. Morocco?" The horror in Wooyoung's voice is palpable, "No, no. Are you sure that's what Yunho said?"

"Yeah, he said..."

The youngest is already slowly moving away, aware that it is his good fortune that he had been able to hide around the corner and get so much information, but luck only holds out for so long.

As he pulls out the notebook, he starts to take stock. 

- An incident this week, hyung fully passed out cold. Then before that, it has to be the Firework MV filming. Morocco is a little harder. Try and watch the Making film to jog the memories on that.

In his notebook, his fingers automatically find the folded page that he had started a while back.

In truth, he had known that something was going on for a while. His observations are far and few between, but the earliest dates back to a week before Mingi had returned from his first hiatus. The entry read:

- Meeting with choreographers for MAMA: HJ was weird today. Froze while standing up, propped against the table while talking to choreographer. Then SH appeared beside him. Finished conversation. Didn't touch. After a while they left together.

The other incidents and things stack up randomly, scattered as and when something strange occurred or he thought of something.

- SH sometimes sticks very close to HJ when HJ is in a bad condition that day and getting up from a chair or the floor. Edit: YH too 

- Dance Practice: HJ stumbled while getting up from floor. Leaned against a wall. Dropped his head down and pretended to do something with his belt. SN called him and he walked over to him. Walking looked a bit wobbly? He zig-zagged a little.

Ever since the first incident, he had been trying to figure out if anyone else noticed what was going on. Look, Jongho is not some kind of sadistic bastard. He doesn't want there to actually be anything happening, to any of his hyungs. Not when they've achieved so much together, not when this is his hyungs, not when they are a team, and they have come this far.

This is the warmest thing he has in his life. 

Many a mickle makes a muckle, and he can't keep pretending like he can't see certain things. Things like wall-leans that last a little too long and look a little too still, things like the colour going from a face he knows almost as well as his own, things like how his hyung keeps moving and pushing through those moments, as if Jongho didn't just see the light dull in his hyung's eyes each time something like that occurs, and hyung has to walk close to the side of the corridor until he can see straight.

He had been waiting for someone to tell him something, anything. To be outright with him about this. In all honesty, he had previously thought that most of them knew, but maybe somebody (Jung Wooyoung, I'm looking at you) had gotten it in their heads that they shouldn't tell their youngest (he was literally only two years younger than Seonghwa, but god knows why these idiot hyungs take him being a maknae so seriously) to protect him or something.

However, from the sounds of the overheard conversation, maybe Jongho'd been wrong in his evaluation. Yunho and Seonghwa'd been the only ones that knew anything substantial. The rest of them... some of them may have witnessed separate incidents in their own time, it seems like no one has any clue about what the heck this is.

Jongho knows for sure Mingi doesn't know anything; knowing how Hongjoong is like, he likely would not have placed it on Mingi, especially given everything that has happened over the last 2 years. Between the hiatuses and all the other things Mingi has to worry about, Jongho is glad that he is even able to focus on their day-to-day work. No, Mingi hyung definitely doesn't need any more on his plate. 

But Jongho is able to do at least this. All he really needs to know now is the name of the condition. Yes, this is Hongjoong's private information, a personal matter... but it does no good for any team when half of them are in the dark, with only a small handful is hovering in the light. That's how worry becomes suspicion, and suspicion becomes division, and that's how teams fall apart. How families get torn to shreds.

Jongho shuts his notebook with a snap, and places his pen down. 

The cracks are there. They will widen if left unchecked. Now that he has a better idea about what is going on, he will ask Hongjoong directly. Then maybe he can try and open a discussion between their leader and the rest of them.

This is his warmth. This is his family, his home. He is going to protect it. He can't have them fall apart.

He won't.

~

It seems that some cosmic being in the universe heard him asking for an opening; the very next day, when they head out for a Universe show filming in the countryside, Jongho consults the call sheet and finds that he has been paired with Hongjoong, for a bungee jumping activity. It's scheduled somewhere in the middle of the day, which means he just needs to spend the first half of the day strategising. 

This is good, because Jongho doesn't think he can sleep on all this for a day longer. His first plan had been to march down to the office building at 1 a.m., barge into Hongjoong's studio room, and confront him. Seeing how hyung has been up to his eyes with all kinds of things for their next comeback, and hasn't come home in days, that was the only possible place he could be.

And then his next thought was to text him, but that seemed too simplistic and cryptic. What could he say? Hey, we need to talk. Jongho never liked it when people did that to him over something as cold and impersonal as lines on a electronic screen, and he's not about to make himself a hypocrite over something so... significant. 

So the variety show filming it is.

Granted, doing all of this while filming a variety show is still not ideal. Filming the games and challenges takes all morning and some of the afternoon, and it being a muggy 30 degrees* with impending rain is not helpful when you're trying to juggle being entertaining while drafting out an important and convincing speech. By the time everyone has done their jumps and his and Hongjoong's turn comes, Jongho is still trying to figure out how to broach the topic with his hyung as naturally as possible. This sort of thing demands some level of preparation that Jongho has no capacity of generating on the fly. He wishes he has a script.

"Hyung," Hongjoong looks up from being strapped into a harness by one of the crew members of the bungee facility, "We need to talk."

And... that's the end of his script. He tries to keep his panic off his face as the older man tilts his head curiously, his intelligent eyes trying to read his expression. Luckily, or unluckily, the whole thing is cut short when another staff member taps him on his shoulder. Drat, he needs to put on his harness as well. Jongho really needs to work on timing these things better.

"Go, get your harness on," his captain tells him when he glances back, "I'll come find you later, before we go up."

The words seem superficial and dismissive, but in front of strangers, Jongho immediately recognises it as the closest thing to an 'I hear you. We will talk.' that he's going to get. So he obliges. 

He's just about done getting prepped when his hyung sits down on a ledge along the river boardwalk with a huff. The older man looks a bit more tired than usual, from all the late nights he's been pulling, but before Jongho can divine more by staring unwaveringly at his face, hyung leans forward on his legs and lowers his head. He stays like that, partly resting, but also in part waiting for Jongho. The second part is obvious to anyone who knew him as well as the 7 of them did.

As soon as the staff with them are out of earshot, Jongho goes up to him and cuts to the chase. 

"I overheard... I want to know— you have a medical condition, right, hyung?"

If Hongjoong is surprised at his bumbling revelation, he doesn't show. Jongho watches closely as Hongjoong straightens up, looks him in the eye. His expression is carefully neutral, and that's how Jongho knows he is caught off-guard.

"You will need to be clearer, Jongho-yah," comes a careful reply, "What condition specifically is it you're referring to?"

"The one that makes you stop every time you stand up, " he presses out, sitting down next to Hongjoong. It is so damn hot today; his hyung picks up a file that one of the coordinators left on the ledge and starts slowly fanning both of them as Jongho continues, "The thing that made you pass out that day, after you carried up all that ice cream for the party."

The fanning stops. Hongjoong's lips part slightly, his eyes not looking at him, but off into space, somewhere else. 

The youngest waits.

Then the fanning starts up again, and the answer comes.

"That... it's a blood pressure condition I have. Orthostatic hypotension. The passing out... that's the vasovagal syncope. Sometimes, the fainting gets triggered by the hypotension."

At the term, Jongho immediately perks up. Orthostatic... he isn't really sure what that means, but hypotension is something he knows. That means not enough salt? Or was it not enough blood? 

He is about to ask for the term again, commit it to memory, when a call comes.

"Hongjoong-sshi, Jongho-sshi, it's your turn."

Right on cue. He stands first, then sticks out a hand firmly to Hongjoong to help him up. This is a common enough occurence, but after the confirmation mere seconds ago, Jongho can't help but feel like the weight with which Hongjoong grips his hand is that much firmer. They are about to get micced up now, which means their words could be recorded and used, and—"

"This is not—" he starts, and looks over sharply when Hongjoong squeezes his hand firmly. Hongjoong doesn't look upset, or like he's warning Jongho not to say more. He still looks neutral and calm, but under the performative mask, Jongho sees a tint of resignation. Of tiredness.

"I know, it's okay. We'll talk more later, okay?" Hongjoong squeezes his hand again, and Jongho gets a steady, understanding smile, "Promise."

He doesn't speak for a moment, until the sound crew approaching them with their extra equipment are almost at them.

Then he squeezes Hongjoong's hand back, and nods mutely.

Five minutes later finds them in a lift, going upwards.

There are only two of them in there, but with cameras literally strapped to their heads and their microphones on, Jongho dare not start any personal conversations.

Something cold brushes against his hand, and he jolts back into the present. Hongjoong has moved to his side, and their shoulders are touching. He raises his eyebrow at the sudden closeness.

"Since we are sharing all kinds of things today, I figure I could ask," Hongjoong's tone makes it sound like he'd rehearsed a conversation several times in his head, before deciding to go ahead with it, "I really, really hate heights. Why the hell is this thing so high up?!?"

Despite everything swirling around in his head, Jongho snorts, "This is a well-established fact, no? You always whimper like you've seen a ghost when we go on roller coasters."

"Yeah, but I figured I'd state this for the record," comes a sharp, good-humoured retort.

There is a pause, then Jongho sighs and closes the gap between them to grip onto Hongjoong's hand. It is a little clammy, but the youngest can tolerate a little palm sweat.

"Since you're scared, I'll hold your hand," he teases, ignoring Hongjoong's protests. The whining tapers off instantly when the metal-grilled elevator cranks to a stop, and they have to step out onto the bridge and head for the platform.

The variety show bits are handled with finesse, like coordinating what they wanted to yell as they go down, and some B-roll of Hongjoong bouncing nervously in his boots. Jongho is unable to share the sentiment; high adrenaline sports are fun.

"Stop fidgeting already, hyung, the whole bridge is shaking," he grips Hongjoong's now fully sweat-slicked hand to playfully yank him down and make him stay still as the staff secured the ropes to their harnesses and checked the integrity of the safety lines. He can feel Hongjoong's pulse from where he is gripping his wrist, "Look, you keep moving, and now your heartbeat is all over the shop."

"Well, I can't stop my body from deciding to freak out, can I?" comes a yelp, which turns into a squeak when Hongjoong cranes his neck and sees over the ledge, "Holy shit, we are so high. Why are we so high. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. I'm jumping with my eyes closed."

He would roll his eyes at his hyung's dramatics, but they are already being ushered forwards to their final destination. Time to walk the plank.

"I'll go first, hyung. Seeya at the bottom, 'kay?" He gives his hyung's hand one last squeeze, trying not to feel too much like he's abandoning his leader. A small, sarcastic voice in his head asks him what he's worried about, even as he heads for the edge. Hyung is a fully grown, 24-year-old man. He can handle himself. 

"Feet a little over the edge. Jump on the count of 3, Jongho-sshi," a surly member from the bungee crew tells him, "1, 2, 3...!"

"ATEEZ, let's grow old together!" The river scenery below is stationary for a beat, then the whole world vanishes into a jagged blur as he starts to freefall. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as the rebound hits; the wind tears through his clothes, his hair, his body while he whoops at the top of his lungs. He will never tire of this sort of feeling.

And just like that, it's over. Jongho still feels giddy from the rush as he gets lowered into the little boat that he gets lowered into. He flashes a huge, breathless grin, with two thumbs-up at the crew in there, making them chuckle behind their masks, then turns to the shore, where some of the other members are getting ready, and have come to the edge of the river to watch him. He can hear them laughing and hooting and hollering at the top of their lungs as he pinwheels his arms around to catch their attention. Silly hyungs.

The motorboat that he gets into is a small one, and when he talks to the ground bungee crew and the show's cameraman on the boat about letting him stay onboard until Hongjoong joins them ("I promised him I'd wait for him down here. Hyung's scared of heights."), they ask for Hongjoong's approximate weight and grant his request.

By the time the decision is made, the boat has been shifted out of the trajectory of the bungee drop as a precaution. Jongho cranes his neck to look up at the platform, his lifejacket squeaking in his ear. From this vantage point, he could make out fuzzy form of his captain, standing at the end of the platform in preparation. He can't really see his expression; he hopes hyung isn't too terrified.

"Hyung! Fighting!" He yells upwards, and he thinks Hongjoong hears him, because he lets out a shout, "ATEEZ, fighting! ATINY, fighting!"

And he goes.

The members at shore start cheering as Hongjoong falls. Watching people bungee jump always makes Jongho's own stomach swoop up into his chest; is that what he had looked like, when he did his own jump? That looks higher than it seemed, when he had been standing up there. It's slightly mad that humans voluntarily do these things to themselves—

Then, the man hits the first rebound, and Jongho feels the smile on his face freeze.

What... is that?

The next seconds slow as he narrows his eyes, tracking Hongjoong's form. He can't see his face, but something about the way his body is moving with the pull of the cord, the way he isn't calling out, or making a single sound—

"Ahjusshi," he calls to the boat crew, pointing to Hongjoong, "Is he supposed to be doing that?"

The middle-aged man, who is slightly behind the cameraman and steering the boat, squints his eyes. In an instant, a hush falls upon the small vessel. The crew stiffens, then barks his colleague's name; the other man is already getting his walkie-talkie out, and is saying something into it, flat and clear, "Retrieval moving in. Jumper two, unresponsive. Retrieval moving in. Jumper two, unresponsive. Standby, standby, over."

"Unresponsive?" Jongho hears himself parrot distantly, as he turns his eyes back to the figure on the second rebound. At first glance, there's a part of him that is still in a state of disbelief. The staff are just overreacting; his hyung just looks off, and it's just the force of the gravitational pull. It's hard to lift your head and go with the jump.

But as they get closer, it becomes clear that this is not that. Hongjoong is completely limp. Like dead-body, no-resistance, entirely-boneless limp. It makes something in his chest curl into a tight metal ball. His hearing narrows like he's in a wind tunnel, until all he can focus on is the thuh-thwack of the rope as it swings his leader, the captain of his warm world, like he weighs nothing more than a child's ragdoll.

The boat ride over the water is so unnervingly calm, that it feels like they're moving through molasses. The cameraman hauls his camera up to film, but Jongho makes a sharp sound that makes him lower it. This is not the right time.

By the time he turns back, Hongjoong is being caught and hauled onto the boat, and the bungee crew are making quick work of his harness and the other attachments. Jongho starts to move, but pauses, turning to the filming crew, "Don't film this. If you need footage, we will give you more later. If I see the camera rolling, you will have hell to pay." 

His voice must cut, because the cameraman, behind his mask and hat, flinches minutely. Good. Now for more pressing matters. He half-shuffles, half-crawls over, feeling goosebumps prickling his skin at what he is looking at.

His hyung is still and lifeless, at the bottom of the small vessel. His eyes are two slits of white, and his skin is a horrible grey in the warm, mid-afternoon sun.

"Hongjoong hyung. Hyung," his sharp calls do not elicit any movement at all, so Jongho grabs his cool, clammy wrist firmly (desperately), while the boat staff begin their work. One of them already has two fingers pressed to Hongjoong's neck, his eyes riveted to the watch on his wrist and his face mask trembling as he counts. The other is calling Hongjoong's name loudly and firmly, and he presses a thumb to Hongjoong's chest bone and rubs in one smooth, hard motion.

It looks like it should hurt, but his leader barely responds. His eyelids flutter weakly, and a small sound escapes his lips, but otherwise, there is nothing else. 

Jongho swallows hard to calm his frantically beating heart, and cuts in as the staff member pulls out his radio, "Ahjusshi, should I keep trying to wake him?"

"Yes, just keep calling his name. Keep talking to him. I need to move the boat back to shore and call the medical team."

The mention of the medical team fully crystallises the shards of fear in Jongho's veins. He swallows convulsively, inhaling as deeply as he can as he grips his hyung's hand tighter, without meaning to. He almost expects Hongjoong to stir to wakefulness and complain that Jongho is holding on too tight, but nothing of this sort happens. Instead, he is looks back to Hongjoong's grey visage, his half-open eyes, and his thin, terrifyingly uneven breaths.

He steels himself. He doesn't have time for this, not right now.

"Hyung. Hyung, it's Jongho. I'm here. I waited down here for you, like I promised. Can you hear me? Hyung."

The boat is starting to move. As they near the shore, against the backdrop of the boat engine growling and the heavy breathing of everyone on board, Hongjoong surfaces again. A thready moan escapes his lips as he tries to open his eyes further, but it seems to be too much effort. Jongho takes to rubbing the forearm of the hand he is holding onto; his extremities are absolutely freezing, which doesn't make sense, given how hot it is.

The sharp jolt of the boat makes Jongho jump; they are back at the dock. There are two medics standing at the edge of the platform, a stretcher behind them and their emergency kits parked to the side. The boat crew motions for him and the cameraman to disembark first, and it is only at this point when he stumbles away from the people assembled around their docking point that he notices a cluster of familiar silhouettes, halfway up the steps, looking down on the dock.

His hyungs. And Jongho immediately knows that they had seen the whole thing too, just from one look — the complete, stunned stillness, and unnatural silence. 

His legs feel like jelly as he makes his way over to them and topples into open arms. He doesn't even know who it is that pulls him into a hug, but they feel solid and wonderful, and he sinks into it, feeling their hands on the back of his sweaty, tacky shirt, rubbing slowly.

"Hyung, Hongjoong hyung— he— we were just—" everything else gets blocked by the lump in his throat. He can hear the person he's hugging makes a soothing sound, and lets him twist his hands into their shirt. Yunho. 

He hears someone mutter, "Hyung, can we move closer? See if we can help?"

Seonghwa replies very quietly, his voice a steel wire, "We can do that. But not too close. We can't crowd them, they need space."

Jongho pulls away, allowing Yunho to wrap his arm around his shoulder as they move slowly, as a unit, down onto the platform. Over the span of his own mini breakdown, the medics have managed to move their captain onto shore. His legs are propped up on what looks like several life vests that the boat crew have produced from the boat, and they've strapped a blood pressure cuff onto his pale arm, and an oxygen mask over his face. His eyes are still half-lidded, his tangerine-coloured hair darkened and sticking to his temples with cold sweat, but he shifts sluggishly as they come close, like he knows they're close by.

One of the medics glances up at their arrival, his eyes searching their faces and lingering on Seonghwa and Yunho. Jongho follows his gaze and instantly understands why; though all of them are thin-lipped and tense with bewilderment, Seonghwa and Yunho both look the most... clear-eyed. They look like they have some understanding of what is happening, like they've seen it before.

So his own private observations are accurate, it seems. 

"You are his team?"

Several jerky nods go around.

"Does he have any conditions you know of? Drug allergies, anything at all."

"Orthostatic," Seonghwa's voice finally cracks, but he clears his throat and continues, "orthostatic hypotension. He's also mentioned having vasovagal syncopes. We— I-I mean, I've seen him pass out, in the past. No drug allergies, but he is allergic to pollen and fish sauce."

The medic nods, but Jongho is no longer paying attention to him. One of the machines is beeping, the one attached go the cuff, is showing numbers. Jongho doesn't know anything about this stuff, but he has never seen the uppermost number being anything less than 90 before. He watches intently as the other medic, the one handling the oxygen, starts an IV, the green of the needle startlingly bright against his alabaster skin. Distantly, he hears the first medic direct more questions at them.

"Do you know what his baseline blood pressure is? Heart rate? Is he on any medication?"

He glances over just in time to see Seonghwa and Yunho exchange looks. It is then that Jongho realises that his other hyungs are all doing the same thing as him, checking on the two of them, their rigid, strained expressions mirrors of his own. 

"Uh..." it is Yunho who speaks this time, "I don't know his... baseline for blood pressure. For heart rate, we all usually have heart rates around the mid-50s? We do a fair bit of endurance training."

"I think he also has some medications that he takes for his hypotension," adds Seonghwa, "but I don't know if it's regular, and I don't know which ones. I am sorry."

"It's okay," answers the medic, nodding at their report. He quickly scribbles onto a clipboard just as his partner starts talking to Hongjoong in a low voice, "Kim Hongjoong-sshi? Hongjoong-sshi, can you hear me?"

All of them look to their leader again and, thankfully, it looks like he's coming around, properly this time. His glassy eyes inch a fraction bigger, and his head turns feebly as he tries to look up at the lady and her question. At some point, Jongho must have must curled his hands into fists. When he unfurls them, all he's left with is the numbness of pins and needles.

"Wh-... Wh...o..."

"That's it, that's it. Focus on my voice, Hongjoong-sshi," she says in a low, measured tone, "Do you know where you are, Hongjoong-sshi?"

"... Uh... wh're...?" He slurs, every blink effortful and dazed, "...'s bright...?"

Jongho can feel Yunho's hands tighten around his shoulders, his own heart pumping a tattoo into his ribs. Hongjoong barely sounds like himself, his voice thin and frail behind the clouded oxygen mask.

The paramedics straighten up to converse privately, and Jongho hears Yeosang and Mingi both make noises. Wooyoung has slipped out of San's grasp and is weaving his way through, until he reaches Hongjoong's side. Hongjoong's eyes drift about, barely locking onto Wooyoung's silhouette as he stoops down beside him, positioning himself so that the shadow blocks the sun from hyung's face.

"Hyung? Can you hear me?" He hears Wooyoung ask.

Hongjoong's voice comes again, a little less unsteady this time, "...Young-ah? Whass... why...ss... ev'rything... spinning?"

The medics seem to be done, and one of them approaches the group while the other starts speaking rapidly into the radio. Seonghwa instinctively steps forward, "What should we do now? Do you need us to help with anything?" 

"Based on our assessment, we think it is best if we get him to the hospital. Your member's blood pressure is too low, and he is not recovering from the episode as we would usually expect from just a simple shock," the paramedic explains in a firm voice, "Even in the case of his specific conditions, we have no way of assessing if he has acquired any injuries from passing out, mid-fall. This is not something we feel confident treating onsite, and it would be best for him to make a trip down to emergency to have everything checked out.

Their oldest nods slowly, his phone already out; their manager's number already on the screen.

"Got it. I will call our managers over to help us with this. Thank you so much for your help, Ma'am."

She nods, "My colleague and I will get him ready to be transferred. The ambulance should be here in a few minutes."

Mingi follows Seonghwa as he steps away to make the call, while the rest of them stay close by. The rest of the time passes in a blur. Manager Junghwan arrives, and takes over. Wooyoung retreats when the stretcher comes, and they all are ushered back off the dock to make space. The seven of them can only watch, from a distance, as they start to move. Their captain regains awareness in small increments, but he must still be dizzy, because he shuts his eyes as they shift him onto the orange mat, packing up the medical equipment, and strap him in. 

Their manager hurries over to them as the team moves, one of the medics holding the IV bag aloft as they head for the small dirt road on shore, "Hongjoong needs to head to the hospital to get checked out, the medic told all of you already, right?"

Several of them exchange glances while some of them nod. Mingi asks, voice low and worried, "Can we follow? Or do we have to continue filming?"

"Seokmin is liasing with the filming crew. They don't think it will be ideal to film the jumps again and the director is probably just going to cut Hongjoong's segment out. We still have the dinner filming, but once that is done, Hongjoong should be settled and good to go. Are you boys alright to hold down the fort till then?"

A silence presses like an oppressive blanket down upon them, and Jongho shifts his weight on this feet in discomfort. He looks past Junghwan instead. From his angle, he can see the team that has Hongjoong getting further and further away from them, up the road.

"Do we have a choice?" He hears Yunho say, his tone as gloomy as the atmosphere. They have filming obligations to fulfil, with or without their captain.

Jongho says nothing, choosing instead to watch as the orange stretcher rounds the small building at the top of the path.

And then they're gone.

11.

By the time they get back home that night, Hongjoong is already waiting for them, on the couch. He looks up as they enter, his phone dropping to his lap. There are medicinal patches all down the back of his neck, and disappearing into the neckline of his t-shirt. He is no longer that ghastly shade that he was earlier, but Yeosang immediately notices, with a hard tug in his gut, how drained he looks.

"We're home," there is a clear departure from the norm is apparent in the way their usual calls arrive in a stilted, haphazard manner, with none of the usual ease that everyone is used to, as they filter into the apartment. But Hongjoong doesn't seem to mind it. Instead he smiles, small and warm.

"Welcome home. Go wash up. I've ordered supper."

Their dorm only has two bathrooms, and usually it comes down to a race or a brawl to see who will get to go first, but today, the bickering that ends up with Mingi and Yeosang getting first dibs feel a bit half-hearted. Seonghwa heads for the couch to join while the rest of them slowly disperse. Yeosang sees Wooyoung's gaze following their oldest, who takes a seat beside Hongjoong. To his credit, their captain is already setting his phone aside, as if anticipating a serious talk. But that is not something any of them feel compelled to stick around for. 

He catches San's eye as he passes him in the corridor on the way his room; the young man huffs out a breath, then shrugs, and Yeosang returns it with a hesitant, resigned smile before hitting the showers.

Warm water washing down his back after such a long, dusty, grimy filming day should feel like a relief, but his time in the bathroom ends up leaving him with more thoughts than answers. 

Jongho is puttering away in his own space when Yeosang enters their shared bedroom. He passes the mirror, patting at his freshly-washed hair a fluffy, hazel halo around his head. The final member of their large room has perched himself on their window ledge, and is staring out onto the city below, lost in something.

Their youngest looks up at Yeosang enters, and concludes his fiddling about. Jongho straightens up and looks to Wooyoung, "Hyung?" 

His best friend barely looks away from the window and his response is measured and neutral, "You can go first, Jongho-yah."

The young man nods, exchanging a look with Yeosang before slipping out. He shuts the door behind him with a muted click.

Yeosang occupies himself with drying his hair and packing away his bag, all the while stealing short glances at the person by the window.

Eventually, the question he'd been anticipating arrives.

"The first time we know of is Morocco."

Here we go. Yeosang nods, but seeing how Wooyoung isn't looking at him at all, he follows that up with a grunt of acknowledgement.

"Then there was Australia, and the Fireworks filming, and Mingi's party—"

"Well," he tries for an even, almost placatory tone of voice, "We can't be absolutely sure about the Morocco one. I haven't asked him about the one on the Fireworks bridge either—"

"That doesn't mean this isn't a problem, Yeosang-ah!" 

The sudden almost-shout makes him stop short. The tenuous silence hangs between them as Yeosang straightens up, and looks to Wooyoung. They've known each other since they were kids, but in all those years, Yeosang doesn't think he has ever seen Wooyoung look this... heartbroken before.

Life had been so simple. They were optimistic, open-hearted, clear-eyed. Driven by hope. The world had not told them the hard truths, nor had they learnt its frivolous way of assigning happenstances. Not then, not yet.

They were just... kids.

He searches deep within him, and finds the words that he means to say

"Hongjoong hyung..." he sees Wooyoung stiffen at their leader's name. He pushes through, "Hyung has always done things for good reasons. Maybe at one point, the reasons were enough." 

The reply comes, grounded between teeth, "That point has long past. He had no reason to let it get this far."

There is something in his throat. Yeosang swallows firmly, "Sure."

And just like a dam opening, the rest of the words burst out of Wooyoung, a furious snarl that vibrates through their room.

"Then why didn't he say anything? Why did it have to take him jumping off a damn platform, 50 feet in the air— do you realise how completely reckless, how absolutely idiotic that is?! He could've...!" Wooyoung's eyes flash with unshed tears as he turns back to look at him, his chest heaving.

Neither of them move. 

Yeosang pulls the towel from around his own neck as his friend takes a steadying breath, turning back to look at their room door. His hands fold the damp piece of cloth methodically, until all that remains is a rectangle that he sets aside, on the study table.

When Wooyoung speaks again, it is dejected and low.

"This isn't even the first time we've bungee-jumped. It was in Macau. Hong Kong. Pre-debut— you weren't there, but I was. And the others were too," a tremble has managed to work its way into his voice, "Did he know already, at that time? Did Yunho know? It was so high up, but he— we—"

Pieces of the sentence break off, shards of paint chipping off the wall.

After several long minutes, Yeosang speaks into the void, his still, quiet voice echoing.

"We didn't know then, and we didn't know any better today."

And that was the truth of it all. He doesn't need to stare at the back of Wooyoung's head to know the young man is listening. So he pushes ahead.

"We didn't know any better," Yeosang repeats slowly, "but who is to say hyung did, either?

To that, it seems as though both of them had run out of words.

12.

By 12a.m., all eight of them find themselves situated in the living room. Unsurprisingly, he and Yeosang are the last two out, with Yeosang having waited in the room for Wooyoung to finish his shower, before they headed towards supper together.

Everyone, each bearing different degrees of stiffness or plastered-on neutrality, steeps in the heavy tension. The atmosphere is embellished only by some cursory, too-polite requests ("Can I have a napkin?", "A pair of chopsticks, please."), and he watches, eagle-eyed as their leader waits for everyone to get settled, start digging in, before he exhales, long and slow. By this point, a fresh gaping pit has swallowed up Wooyoung's insides, and his appetite has all but vanished. 

Still, he picks up a shred of kimchi, and watches the words pass through Hongjoong's chapped lips.

"I've had this since I was 17."

The complete halt of a group of men eating has no business being this loud. But Wooyoung is not focusing on that. He's focusing on watching the light in his hyung's (his brilliant, wonderful, heart-breaking, infuriating hyung's) eyes go flat, like a film has passed over it, quite abruptly.

"There are names for what I have. Labels," every line lands like the slice of a dull knife, "I'm sure some of you are already aware."

When no one breathes, Hongjoong continues, his face blanking into a mask, "The fainting, the syncope, is a result of nerves misfiring. The hypotension involves the regulation of blood circulation. The nervous system is supposed to do it properly, as it does for most people. It doesn't for me. I will spare you the mechanical details of how they... work in tandem and separately. God only knows how much time I've spent researching on how the hell to fix this mess, since I first learnt about the conditions."

The wry chuckle that he gives rings hollow in the room, and in the emptiness Wooyoung pinpoints the lack of self-reference in hyung's speech.

(But it's necessary. This is Hongjoong's body, his nerves misfiring, his circulation, his heart, his blood, and his conditions. His suffering, his agony, and all his.

Is this what he was trying to hide? What he was trying to prevent? A burden so heavy, so frustrating, so terrifying that he looked at it and decided that though this was his lot in life, it shouldn't have to be theirs?)

He almost jumps when the statue that is Yeosang, sitting beside him, stirs to life. Asks. 

"How? I mean... this... these conditions. How have you been managing them?"

"Right now, primarily by adjusting my lifestyle," Hongjoong replies, "Hydration habits, eating habits. Sleeping habits. I've been working on changing some of those, to help me manage things better. I've trained myself to manage our usual amount of physical activity. When I am in a bad condition, I have medication that helps, but it's not a failsafe. Usually, the episodes are not so severe, unless something incredibly out of the ordinary happens, and I am in a specifically bad state. Like today."

"And when you can't manage it?" San, "what happens then? You black out?"

"I —" for the first time this evening, Hongjoong changes. Wooyoung sees it happen, in real time, and it is... something. His captain shifts and his expression flickers, and then there's a wilt. Like the way the petals of a bright, robust bloom start to wrinkle and brown in the sun. Like the motions of a page of music, thrown onto hot coals, crumpling and curling as it is slowly consumed by the flames.

It feels like the end of something flawless.

Wooyoung can't make up his mind about how to feel about that, but right now, his heart is burning painfully in his chest.

He watches Hongjoong part his lips, the ones still cracked and dry, still not as solidly pink as they are all used to, and speaks, "It can resolve. It has resolved before. I can try to stay still, lean on something, it adjusts itself, if I give it enough time. When it doesn't, I need to lay flat or get close to the floor. I can usually tell based on what I see; if the patches start to overwhelm my vision, that means it's close."

"Is it so that you don't fall and hit yourself?" Wooyoung can't be sure, but Jongho's stony question seems to come from the fact that he looks like he is replaying all the stumbles and fumbles that they've seen. The little things, the slowing down, the wall-holding, and then the horizontals and how much more comfortable Hongjoong seems when he is flat on some sort of furniture or surface. Everything they have ever witnessed and commented on and laughed at even, thinking it was just a habit, a funny little quirk of their leader. The whole time, not knowing that they were staring down the barrel of some level of coping. Years upon years upon years of it.

Hongjoong's eyes find their faces and expressions, and Wooyoung knows he sees it too, the way every single one of them are coming to the same conclusion.

"Yes. This was established very early on. The doctor said that the conditions themselves aren't inherently harmful to anyone, it is more of what ends up happening as a result of them being triggered that is difficult to predict."

There is a stretch after this, when Wooyoung can literally hear everyone thinking. Even the ones that had known about this in the first place. Yunho is staring at the wall behind Hongjoong, not in indifference, but seemingly thumbing through what he has witnessed. Seonghwa has leant back against the sofa beside Hongjoong; Hongjoong's legs are pulled up and crossed on the seat, and his thigh is resting fully atop of Seonghwa's. The proximity and weight is not a mistake, and it is the most straightforward thing Wooyoung is slowly starting about to appreciate about this whole mess.

Mingi breaks the quiet with something that catches everyone off-guard.

"You mentioned training," the words come low, purposeful, and steady. It does not surface like a question, nor is it framed like a demand. Still, the other rapper waits for his words to settle onto Hongjoong, before finishing his statement, "You said you can handle our usual level of activity, with training."

They all watch as Hongjoong locks eyes with Mingi, and then, oddly, his eyes go to Yunho. The history has volumes, but before Wooyoung can overthink it, their captain answers, "Like I said, I've had these conditions from very early on. I was concerned that I would not be able to handle the choreography and the work schedule, so a few days after I found out, I began... trying things. I sorted out my limits. It took a few weeks, but I know my tolerance then, and have been tracking the tolerance since. The levels we do in our choreography, the floorwork. Standing and sitting at award shows. The dancing. I have the stamina to handle group activities, no problem."

And there it was, a piece of the puzzle finally clicking. Hongjoong and Yunho don't move, but everyone else stiffens.

For Wooyoung, the seconds pass akin to minutes, and his thoughts are racing.

Hongjoong is a perfectionist, has always been, from the minute Wooyoung met him. When it comes down to important things, he is consistently capable of a level of clarity and honesty that Wooyoung has never known any other person to be. Hongjoong loves them deeply, that much is clear, but his love means he watches them closely and tells them succinctly what they need to hear, whether they like it or not. As hard as he is on the rest of them, the only reason many of them had accepted his strict form in the beginning was because Hongjoong was doubly hard on himself. 

It was only after a time, after they had figured out their own individual boundaries and comfort levels, their different sensitivities, and most vitally, after they had explicitly communicated their concerns to him in that one big confrontation, about Hongjoong's personal rubric and expectations, his own work ethic being impressed upon them, that Hongjoong'd loosened for the team. He had adjusted his pace from that point on, matching each of them individually. There is no doubt that it has done wonders, and that it is what makes them thrive as a complete unit of 8.

However, Wooyoung is now realising with a hard twist in his gut, that his leader never made sure others were adjusting those same limits for himself.

His reverie ends when Seonghwa suddenly moves, sitting forward and reaching out to rest a hand on Hongjoong's shoulder. Their captain turns briefly, looks at the hand, and then Seonghwa's stricken expression.

"Please tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying."

It's like those words finally shatter the silence that Yunho has been holding. Their lead dancer speaks, and when he does, the whole room goes still.

"Hyung." 

Hongjoong raises his eyes back up to meet Yunho's. It seems they have jusr moved a heavy stone, and touched the edge of something sharp beneath. Wooyoung feels his breath lodge in his chest, as Yunho continues, his voice low and firm.

"Please tell them."

There is a brief pause from their leader, before he finally nods to acknowledge Yunho's request.

"I... used to practice in a specific way," he starts carefully, "They were sort of like dance drills. Lots of them, one after another, until the condition kicked in. I started doing them just after my diagnosis, and ended shortly after Seonghwa joined the company."

It seems Yunho knows about this. Did Seonghwa witness it as well, given his reaction? Mingi wss the one that asked the question; did he suspect something? Did San know something about this too? But from San's blank expressions, and the thin way San's lips had gone, it seems they may not have encountered Hongjoong... doing this to himself.

"Dance drills?" Yeosang repeats the familiar phrase, "these aren't like the usual drills we do? Are they something else?"

"Yes and no," Hongjoong says as he leans back, causing Seonghwa's hand to slip off. Without making it a thing, he reaches for the now-slackened fingers, and pulls them onto his lap to hold, "We run drills in group practices for two to three hours. The longest session that I remember us having was four hours, during Wonderland. I'm... not sure how long I used to run drills. I usually started in the afternoons or evenings on Fridays, when there was no school on the weekends."

"He would run them so many times. There were so many sets," as expected, the addition comes from Yunho, "I supervised some. The longest session that I remember finished at almost 36 hours."

Hongjoong nods and tries to plow on, like he's talking about the weather, but there is no way he is not seeing the ashen looks on all their faces, "Yunho was the one who implemented crash mats. He helped me get a small foldable one."

...

They can't be serious. He can't be serious. 

That sounds insane. That sounds like pure suicide.

"Let me get this straight," Wooyoung cannot resist blurting, "So you would literally force yourself to dance until you fainted? Until you dropped?"

Hongjoong's hands tighten on Seonghwa's fingers, and he shakes his head, "No, no. Most of the time it never reached that extent. A lot of it was just until the symptoms start, and I would adjust. That's how I learnt what to take note of, and what could possibly take me out. That's how I learnt the warning signs, like the spinning, or like how things could start to turn very bright and white, or how my ears would start to buzz and ring. It took a while to figure out."

"When we first met," Seonghwa's voice is hoarse, but it was better than the sheer grief that was painting his features when he looked over, "When we first met, and we found out we were going to the same academy, you would sometimes skip out on the weekend classes. Was.... was this what you were doing, then? These... these drills?"

Their leader's shoulders compress a little. His eyes take in the look in Seonghwa's eyes once more, then sweep the rest of theirs. The entire spectrum, ranging from pale shock, to stunned realisation, to...

After a lengthy hesitation, Hongjoong opens his mouth, "Sometimes. Eventually, I just used the slots I booked to practice for evaluations. As I said, I stopped doing the long drills shortly after you joined. Didn't really need it anymore once I figured out the limit."

The weighted cloud of all that has been shared settles upon them. Wooyoung thinks most of them came into this expecting a small flurry of new information; what they got instead of a dam breaking. A snow drift of seismic proportions. These are years. Years upon years upon years.

How had they seen so much, and noticed so little?

The silence drags on, pulling like an overused resistance band. At the end, it takes Hongjoong carefully releasing his grip on Seonghwa, picking up a chopstick, and carefully stabbing at a stiff piece of ddeokbokki.

"Food's cold," he says after putting it in his mouth, "Let's... let's reheat some of them."

This seems to thaw some of the group from their stony states. San takes the half-finished bowl of mala noodles and goes. Yunho grabs the soup and ddeokbokki. When Hongjoong pulls over the large box of seasoned chicken and stands, it all appears completely normal. But there must be something else, and it is probably because Wooyoung doed not know what he is looking at, because Seonghwa's eyes shutter and his hand flies up to catch Hongjoong's on the small of his back. In turn, Hongjoong dips his head to mutter a low thanks to the other. The routine is over in a blink of an eye.

The few of them who are all still there, still watching, freeze.

This movement is familiar. All of them have seen shapes of this before, in different backdrops, different rooms. But the motion had seemed so second nature, so innocuous at that time. So innocent.

Hongjoong looks up to check the table of food for anything else, and seems to stop short at their faces. Wooyoung doesn't know about everyone else, but he can feel the tense cords of Yeosang's arm against his, and he knows he likely looks like he is boring holes into Hongjoong's head.

"Boys, I'm—"

Jongho makes a sharp, truncative sound, successfully ending Hongjoong's attempt to minimise. A complicated emotion flickers across their leader's face, too fast to read. They let him go, but not before Wooyoung sees the set of Hongjoong's shoulders shift down another notch, and the corner of his mouth twists slightly.

In that instant, Wooyoung has no doubt that this isn't something Hongjoong wants. Perhaps even something he feared.

That will have be something for future them to figure out. Right now, in all honesty, there is already far too much on their plate.

"Wooyoung," he had let his mind tunnel someplace else while their dorm fillled with sounds of the microwave, his members talking in low voices with one another. He had been so far away that he hadn't noticed the food returning. Hongjoong is now placing the chicken down in the middle while San doles out the reheated noodles into their bowls. The captain's eyes are fixed on him as he blinks back in, getting his noodles from San. Hongjoong sits back down, snags his chopstick, and picks up a piece of with soy-garlic flavouring, before reaching across, and placing it carefully in his bowl. His favourite flavour.

The knot in his chest is back.

"Mm?" He manages, picking up the chicken wing.

"You... have been rather quiet, this entire conversation," Hongjoong says, "if you have anything you want to say, I wouldn't mind hearing it."

Immediately, a thousand words swarm to the forefront of his mind. Some of them are potent, scorched and acidic, and others curl around his throat, like heartburn. It's like picking through fishbones nestled in his food. 

It takes a while, but he sets down his chopsticks, leans back in his seat, and exhales to settle his breathing

"Why?" His voice is forcibly flat, almost unkind. His gaze goes across the table, and locks onto Hongjoong's eyes. They are round, and almost flat from the lack of light, but there is a softness in them. The softness he often reserves for them, when they come to him and they need to talk. Whenever they come to him with all their troubles, and he provides the space for them to put it, "Why didn't you tell us?"

The sounds of eating ebb, until they completely stop. He doesn't need to check to know that everyone was looking between him, and his hyung.

Hongjoong takes a breath, and sets his own cutlery down, "In the beginning, I didn't say anything because I was scared. I was determined not to be a burden to the team, and because I didn't want to waste all the time and effort that you guys and the company has invested on us. On ATEEZ. That was my motivation, at first.

"After Kingdom and then recently, when the company started doing better, I... wanted to mention it to you guys. But things were changing so fast, and we were all so busy trying to build things up. There just... there wasn't a good time for me to say anything. Each of you had enough on your plates already."

"You could have asked me," Seonghwa says, voice cracking slightly, "or Yunho. Or both of us. We would have been able to help you organise... a thing. A meeting, or something. We could have had it done."

Hongjoong sighs, sagging a little against the couch while he fiddles with a thread on his pants.

"I just wanted us to... be happy, for a while. Enjoy this precious, golden time," comes an answer, quiet and worn, like creased pages in a weathered book, "I didn't know how to tell everyone without opening a can of worms."

Yeosang's words from earlier rise unbidden to the front of Wooyoung's mind.

We didn't know any better. 

But who is to say hyung did, either?

Their leader meets Wooyoung's piercing gaze with a steadiness that seemed old, but new at the same time.

"I am very sorry for keeping things from you all these years. I should have trusted you all to know these things from early on. I... I should have done better and been more open with everyone, as your hyung. As your leader."

The apology hits them like the world's most gentle sledgehammer. He can see the cold edges of Jongho and Mingi's anger melting, and a mournful sadness bleeding into San and Yeosang's features. On their part, Yunho and Seonghwa are exchanging glances, until eventually, their eldest member gently reclaims Hongjoong's slackened hand, curling around them forlornly.

At this point, Yunho suddenly clears his throat, "I have something to say."

The eyes turn to him as well. He rolls his shoulders and straightens.

"If we are considering this a secret, then Seonghwa hyung and I have a part to play in this as well," when Hongjoong opens his mouth to protest, their lead dancer raises a hand, "Let me finish, hyung."

His mouth snaps shut while Yunho takes a deep breath, "To begin with, this was never a secret. Not outright. Hongjoong hyung never asked me to keep it under wraps indefinitely. He mentioned at the start that he wanted to figure it out first, before reporting anything to the company, and asked me to hold back from letting anyone know about the incidents that I've witnessed. And that happened exactly as he said — hyung got the diagnosis and went immediately to the company. He never told me not to say a single word to anyone else after that. Did he ask that of you, Seonghwa hyung?"

"No, he didn't," The said man replies. Wooyoung watches his eyes go to Hongjoong and rest there, "he told me about it and let me know he would step away from being the leader if we felt he wasn't fit for the position."

San makes a small, wounded noise. Yeosang reaches over naturally and takes his hand.

"Right," back to Yunho, "at any point, we could have told the rest of you guys, and I can only speak for myself, but I think Seonghwa hyung and I struggled with the same thing as you did, Hongjoong hyung. We didn't know how to bring it up. There was never any space or time. Between shows, comebacks, competitions, tours, there was never a good time, and we all kept waiting and waiting."

"Waiting until it led to this," Jongho retorts, although it comes out less sharply that it would've been, if he had still been staring at Hongjoong with that steely look in his eye. Now their youngest just looks... like he could visually trace out the path that the rest had taken, and how it had got them here.

"We never caught on either," murmurs Mingi, "before today, I don't even think I've seen you come close to... I've never seen you... collapse."

There is almost a collective wince from the word is shadowed by another realisation. It seems as though tonight is a night of many discoveries.

"Like I said, I worked on making sure my limits were tested and adjusted. If things got close, I had to power to call for a break. Usually the episodes happen in private, in our dorms, or in my studio," Hongjoong explains, "on stage, it's a different story. The adrenaline rush and the built-up endurance really carries me through, and I have been really lucky to not have had any incidents so far. That part is pretty miraculous, honestly."

The amount of management and grueling work that must have gone into this feels like a tidal wave. There's so much. Too much.

As the others digest what has just been said, Hongjoong goes back to picking at his food. It seems to remind some of them that, right, they were still in the midst of eating. If they didn't work on that, the food was going to get cold again.

For a while, no one really speaks, and the room eases cautiously back to them working on their supper. The cloud of heaviness from earlier seems to have thinned somewhat, though. Even though the information learnt still sits on his shoulders, Wooyoung finds that this is closer to something he can accept. This is better. Anything is better than being in the dark.

At some point during the meal, Hongjoong sinks back into the sofa, listing a little against Seonghwa, who is also done eating. Both his hyungs are sitting pressed together, with Hongjoong's head tilted slightly against Seonghwa's shoulder. 

The dense nature of the conversation tonight, especially after everything that had transpired this morning, must be finally catching up to their leader. Seonghwa's arm is loosely wrapped around his shoulders, and it is only now that Wooyoung notes that he is rubbing him on the upper arm slowly, soothingly. Hongjoong looks like he's barely holding on, like he's inches away from sleep.

As some of them start clearing up, Wooyoung finds it somewhere in himself. He has been going over all the things he wants to his head, and managed to settle on just this one more thing he needs to know, from the entirety of tonight.

"Hyung," Hongjoong's tired glassy eyes flick up to meet his, "I just want to know. From now onwards, what are you going to do about this? Most importantly, what can we do about this?"

What will you allow us to help with? Will you let us do something about this?

...

Please let us do something about this.

San's hands still on where he has been collecting all their cutlery to dispose of, and Yeosang lowers his cup and sets it back on the table. Wooyoung doesn't look past them, but he can feel the others pausing as well.

You've been doing this by yourself for so long. Let us in.

Wooyoung watches carefully for Hongjoong's walls. Maybe it's the time of the night, or maybe it's the fact that things had been so fully laid out tonight. It seems Hongjoong is finally ready.

"I'll be honest with you," Hongjoong says, as he pulls away from Seonghwa, trying to blink the exhaustion out of his eyes, "I... don't think I've ever thought that far. The system I have now works. Well... mostly works. Maybe it is time for me to relook at it."

The information takes its time to sink in. Finally, after this long night, Yeosang speaks up, his voice even and smooth, like a soft blanket, "Please relook at it. We all just want to help. We can help, but you have to tell us how."

"Or, we could just start taking matters into our own hands and force him to take breaks and rest when we feel like he needs it," mutters Jongho under his breath, but the room is quiet enough that everyone hears it, "If he collapses again and things go wrong, we won't have a leader anymore."

The air sours a little at those words. Mingi bumps his shoulder into their youngest, who gives him a moody shrug on the shoulders, as if saying, What? I mean what I said.

Hongjoong looks around at them, then seems to arrive at some sort of decision.

"If you want to force me to take breaks or anything, I won't always object to it. I know my own limits for the most part as well," he starts carefully, "All I ask is that I don't want the way you guys treat me to become any different. I've always been truthful to you about most things, and all things considered, this is the only big thing I have tried to keep from you."

This isn't entirely wrong. Hongjoong's insistence on being transparent is not unfamilar to them. It could be brutal at times, when he was truly honest about expectations and the such. In this situation, if Wooyoung tries to put himself in a 17, 18, 19 year-old Hongjoong's shoes, he doesn't know exactly what he would have done differently. 

Their maknae seems to know this fact as well, and seems to consider what Hongjoong is saying for a moment. Then he nods, "We will try. However, Mingi hyung and I have decided, if we ever see you lying down somewhere and we don't know if you are sleeping or you've passed out, we reserve the right to check if you're still breathing. Just in case, y'know, you died. And without telling us, like you did with this whole fainting thing. It's quite rude, hyung."

The comment almost makes Wooyoung laugh, and he can spot a grin slowly spreading over Yunho and Yeosang's faces. Hongjoong and Seonghwa just roll their eyes, while Mingi shakes his head and nudges Jongho again, with more strength this time. 

Out of all of them, however, it is San who had the largest reactiom. He yelps unceremoniously reaching over to smack their youngest on the arm, "Hey! Don't say unlucky things like that, you brat! What happened to having respect for your elders?"

Jongho shrugs, "I'm not the one who said it, Mingi hyung mentioned it first."

"Hey, how are you pinning this on me? I didn't say anything about death or dying."

"Oh, so when you said you were worried hyung would "take a nap and never wake up," what did you assume the situation would turn out like? Sleeping Beauty?"

"Well, if it's Sleeping Beauty, that's pretty easy," quips Yeosang quite suddenly, "we'll just get Seonghwa hyung to kiss him. Or Wooyoung. Either way, someone can call dibs."

"Okay, that's enough for me for tonight, I'm out," Seonghwa mumbles, picking up bag of consolidated trash and standing up, all while Hongjoong finally starts to intervene on the others' nonsense.

"No kissing, please. If I've passed out, just give me a few minutes and I'll usually come back around."

"No, that's too long. 4," San joins in.

"4? 4 what? Minutes?"

"4 kisses." Yunho.

"What? No! No kisses."

"3? Seonghwa hyung gets to do it twice."

"I— No! I already said no?"

"Okay, you win hyung. Just one. One long, 10 second kiss. From Seonghwa hyung or Wooyoung."

"Or me!"

"Seonghwa hyung, Wooyoung hyung, or Sannie hyung." Now Jongho is in on it as well. Awesome.

"No. Nope. No."

Wooyoung moves into Seonghwa's freshly vacated space beside Hongjoong, and tries not to make it a thing when he leans in a little. Hongjoong's small frame is warm, and he barely spares Wooyoung a glance when he takes his left hand and holds it in his own.

When he squeezes, Hongjoong, in the middle of negotiating the number and length of the kisses he will be subjected to, in increasingly more and more outrageous scenarios, squeezes right back. It feels like it always does; warm, steady, and safe.

It's not a shot in the dark, Wooyoung thinks. And he knows.

They need time, but they have time. 

They will be alright.

13. 

A fortnight after the "Truth Bomb" (as Jongho has taken to calling it, and he isn't wrong), Mingi finds Hongjoong in the dance studio, early one morning, before their group practice. He is spread out on the floor, in the corner of the room, and from the look on his face, it looks like he's just taking a nap.

So Mingi goes down, lying on his stomach and pulling himself so close to Hongjoong's face that when he exhales, he can see wisps of the leader's orange cropped fringe fluttering with the breaths.

Phew, he thinks, as he sits back up, pulling his knees to his chest, alive.

Mingi's phone comes out, but as the minutes drag on, his mind starts to run. Hyung could be sleeping, or he could be passed out. If he's passed out, then how long does it take for him to wake up? He said a few minutes previously but how many is few minutes? It's been about 5, and hyung is still... out. How can he tell if Hongjoong is just sleeping or like, K.O.ed? Does he need to call someone? Yunho and Seonghwa are out for a filming schedule with San, so that's out of the question. What should I do? What would Yunho do? Can I shake him? Can I touch him? What if—

"Hyung? Hongjoong hyung," panic starts to rise up from the bottom of his lungs when Hongjoong barely stirs at his call. He rises to a half-crouch to get closer, "Hyung. Wake up."

Nothing, still nothing.

This is not good.

Mingi reaches over and grabs Hongjoong's shoulder to shake him. His grip may be slightly more slippery, slightly firmer than usual, but the alarm bells in his head that are screaming at him emergency, emergency, emergency—

Turn into a wave of immense relief when Hongjoong gives a sleepy grunt, then his eyes flutter awake. Mingi sits back on his heels, letting go of the pent-up breath that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in, up till that point.

"M'ngi?" Hongjoong is slowly pushing himself up on his elbows, still blinking the nap out of his eyes, "You 'kay?"

His mouth opens automatically, and "I'm okay" is somewhere at the back of his throat, but it doesn't want to come out. Everything is going too fast, and his heart is pumping a tattoo into his ribcage.

By the time he has gotten his breathing under control, Hongjoong is fully up, and has pulled himself close to Mingi, a hand on his knee. His brow is furrowed, but he isn't saying anything or trying to make him do anything. Just waiting.

Mingi's legs knock clumsily against each other as he mirrors Hongjoong's position. His hyung's warm hand is still on his knee.

"Don't do that."

When he finally manages to find his tongue, that is the first thing that chooses to come out. Shoot. Mingi glances over to Hongjoong's face, which is doing the thing he does when he's thinking about a bunch of things all at once, and deciding which one to approach first. His hand has not left Mingi's knee.

"You don't want me to.... nap? Or nap on the floor in the practice room?"

"I—" he says, then sighs. Him and his stupid mouth. Now he has to unpack it, "No, I mean... I just..."

His hyung waits patiently. And then—

"I thought you passed out," he ultimately says, a little lamely. It sounds even dumber, now that he's said it out loud.

"Oh." And Hongjoong's hand tightens on his knee.

Against his better judgement, he looks up. To his relief, Hongjoong doesn't look like he is about to get mad, or even laugh. He just looks... pensive. The contemplation stretches the silence, and now it's Mingi's turn to wait.

He doesn't mind. Not when hyung's not mad, or thinks he's being dumb. This is already the best outcome.

A slow nod comes eventually, followed by another comforting squeeze on his leg, "I wasn't passed out. I'm sorry I scared you, Mingi-yah,"

Okay. Now Mingi is confused.

"No, no, it's okay, hyung. It's not your fault. I was just being dramatic. Overreacting. I won't do it again."

Oh no, now Hongjoong looks pained.

"Mingi-yah, no, I don't blame you. You've never seen me close up, after I pass out," his hyung is shifting, moving to sit directly beside him. His posture is soft, and his touch is gentle, and there is a small part of Mingi's brain that is yelling at him to shrink away, and maybe leave the room. But months of therapy taught him to pinpoint illogical thinking patterns and threat assessment, and he sternly tells the voice to shut up. This is hyung, and hyung is fine. He is awake, he is not angry. You're fine. Breathe.

"It just... I... I just..." he stutters, unconsciously leaning into the warmth. Hongjoong reaches over his shoulder, barely able to reach far enough to touch his arm on the other side, because of his smaller frame. Still, it is one of the most comfortable, natural things that he has ever had.

"It was scary."

Hongjoong nods again. This close, Mingi can feel his breathing against the side of his arm, slow and even.

"Will it help if I tell you what things look like if it were a syncopal episode, versus just me being sleepy and closing my eyes for a few minutes?"

Mingi turns, almost knocking his head against Hongjoong's ear from the speed. This makes his captain laugh, and reach up with his other hand to fondly pat him on his head.

"The episodes usually come on as a side-effect of the... my blood pressure dropping. My blood pressure drops sometimes because... my... body doesn't really know how to regulate stuff when I change positions or move too fast. The transitions is usually the cause."

Apart from the openness about discussing his hypotension and fainting spells, the hesitant references to Hongjoong's conditions as his conditions is completely new. It was something Wooyoung had picked up during the Truth Bomb, and Mingi had been there for the lunch conversation that happened afterwards. He hadn't picked up on it, but Wooyoung did, and when he pointed it out, it felt like another sudden new truth had dropped.

I just... I don't want to think about them as something that defines me. When I separate it out, it feels easier to look at, like something I'm working on. Like a project I need to fix.

But that's the thing, hyung. We know you are managing it, and we know you know your own body well. We don't need you to fix it. You are not damaged, and having certain things that you need to live with doesn't make you someone else. We love you, even with all these things happen sometimes. We love all of you. And you are still you.

Hongjoong is still talking, and now he is showing Mingi his hands. 

"Seonghwa says my face and hands are the most obvious way to tell. Yunho says it's the way my body looks that makes it obvious that I've passed out. I wouldn't know what I look like, though, so you can ask them about it," his hyung gives a short humourless laugh, "Anyway, apparently my face goes funny, and my hands will look off. Like right now, they're kind of pink, right? When I faint, they go off-colour. Like almost a light grey? Apparently, they just look very weird. Even if you pinch it, it won't turn red. I asked... my doctor about it and he says it's because the body is panicking and trying to redirect the blood somewhere else. Or something similar. I need my notes to explain it better. But maybe that's how you can tell next time."

Mingi drinks up the information.

Hands. Grey. This is useful. 

"Then how about what Yunho thinks? What about your body looks different from normal?"

Hongjoong hums, leaning against him. The sound trembles near Mingi's heart, a steady beat.

"He says it just looks very strange, like someone has sucked all the bones out of my body. My eyes usually don't close all the way either. And he says when he tries to move me or wake me, everything just feels like putty, like there are no muscles left," his hyung is staring into the middle distance, like he is reciting of a list of things that someone had given to him to buy from a grocery store, "the breathing... my breathing becomes weird too, apparently. It gets very soft. Sometimes he has to put his finger under my nose to make sure I'm still going."

The last thing makes his captain snort with laughter. It is something Mingi can't reciprocate. He is busy cataloging the news. Hands, body, eyes, breathing. This is useful, and he says that part out loud.

His hyung's eyes soften slightly, and he gives him a quick squeeze.

"Don't worry too much about it okay? The syncopal episodes are manageable. If you see anything happening, just call any of the managers. They'll handle it."

Mingi neither agrees nor disagrees to do that. So he opts for a change in topic.

"Do you have your schedule book, hyung?"

Hongjoong blinks at the sudden question.

"Um... I think so? Hold on, let me see."

He lets go of him to move towards his bag that is propped up against the wall, near the computer. The sudden departure of the warmth leaves a ghost of feeling in Mingi's right side. That's okay, because Hongjoong comes back, soon enough. He always comes back. 

Hongjoong's worn and beaten spiral notebook gets placed in his hands. He flips from the back, finding the page of the current month's calendar that has been manually drawn out, and squints at the writing. 

"What're you looking for?"

Mingi is still searching as he replies the casual question, "Do you have any individual dance practices scheduled? Oh, I found it. Are these it?"

There's one in a few days, another two in the next week, under the label of 'Gaein'**.

"Ah, this one isn't dance. The dance ones have a 'D' tagged to them. This one, this one, this one are all for choreography practice," Hongjoong intervenes, pointing to several of the specific items on his planner. Sure enough, there are teeny 'D's accompanying the labels, "Why do you ask?"

"Yunho and I were discussing something while I was on break. I was thinking of suggesting we pair up in dance teams to monitor each other's dance. Yunho and San already do it, and I usually do it with Wooyoung or the BB-hyungs."

"That's interesting. Why not just record them and play them back? That's usually what Seonghwa and I do."

"Well, that works, but it things would go a lot faster if you had someone there watching and giving feedback. Group practices are good too, but there are too many people and movements, and stuff gets missed. I was watching back some of the Kingdom content and noticed that there were some misses. We could catch that really quickly if we already knew each others movements and routine from our small-group practices."

Hongjoong goes quiet, his eyes drifting as Mingi waits for him to think through the suggestion.

"That... is a good point. I mean, apart from my own parts and the unit parts in our dances I don't really know how everyone else is moving."

Hongjoong sounds legitimately intrigued. Mingi tries not to get too excited; the dance team idea and it's catalysts were an actual thing, but it became imperative for him to bring it up with Hongjoong after what he'd heard that day. The 36-hour dance drills, the crash mats. The hours and hours of going and going and going until everything inevitably came to a stop.

"Yeah, and we could just book our own slots in the company calendar, and whoever is free can tag their name on to the schedule," The captain is nodding along as he speaks, "I think it will really help teamwork as well, if we know each other's dancing well enough."

"I think go for it. Do you want to bring it up in the next group meeting?"

"I think I will," The arm goes around him again, and he leans back into it.

"Do it. I'm proud of you for thinking of this so much, Mingi-yah, even when you're on your break."

"Of course, hyung. Happy to help," He grins cheekily. Score. Hongjoong bumps his head against his own, and he pulls out his phone to start texting the work chat to arrange the next meeting. Just as he thinks he's in the clear, Hongjoong makes a sound, and Mingi looks over. The leader still looking at his phone, and he shifts slightly, resting his weight a little more on Mingi. 

Mingi takes the extra pressure readily. Because it's hyung. He is always ready carry his team, his boys, if that is what they need. 

"What is it?"

Hongjoong makes the same sound, a bit like a cheetah chirping. His eyes flick briefly to Mingi, then back to his messaging.

"I know I worried everyone when I talked about how I used to train, back when we were trainees. I already said, I stopped doing that a long time ago... I don't practice like that anymore."

Ah, crap. Caught red-handed. Mingi replies with a hum, feeling his heartbeat quicken.

To his complete and utter surprise, Hongjoong sets down his phone, and proceeds to envelope him in a deep, firm hug. He stiffens, then relaxes instantly, burying his face into Hongjoong's steady shoulder.

"But thank you."

His captain's voice vibrates against his shoulder, and he sinks into it.

"I see you, and thank you."

The hug is safe, warm, and stable.

Mingi couldn't have asked for anything more.

14.

"So I called a private meeting with all the company executives and our CEO recently."

The room goes pindrop silent. Yunho looks up from spooning bubbling jjigae into his rice, his spoon frozen mid-scoop. 

Hongjoong is the only one still moving, picking up his chopsticks and plucking a cooked piece of meat off the grill. Even Jongho has paused in his flipping of the samgyeopsal, staring at their captain.

Wooyoung sets his chopsticks down with a clack, exhaling loudly through his nose, "Ok, what the fuck is with you and these bombshells lately?!"

That gets him an overly aggressive nudge to the ribs by Yeosang, who's making a disapproving noise. But Yunho isn't going to lie, Wooyoung said what they had all been thinking aloud. 

A meeting with the company executives and the CEO was no small matter. They've all participated in at least one of these meetings, at one point or another in their career; the one Yunho remembers the best is the one they had when ATEEZ was confirmed as their band name and they had booked their first variety show, pre-debut. He knows that Hongjoong and Seonghwa attended one with Mingi, just before he went on his second hiatus, and said that if Seonghwa hadn't been holding his hand for all of it, and the leader hadn't briefed Mingi beforehand about the things that might be said and Hongjoong hadn't calmly and firmly shut down any of the more irrational executives who had beef with the hiatus proposal, Mingi would have lost it and ran straight out of the room.

"What was the meeting about, hyung?" San asks, the first of them to slip back into eating again. He grabs a piece of lettuce and starts loading meat onto it.

"Just some renegotiation of our current scheduling structure," Hongjoong looks up at all of them, "They agreed to the terms I asked for, so I'm just giving you a heads-up before the announcement gets sent out."

"Right," Seonghwa says, searching his partner's face, "I thought you prefer for us to discuss these things before someone makes a decision?"

"It was a bit more urgent, and we have all been so busy preparing for the comeback, so I got the meeting in first. The decision is open-ended enough that you guys are welcome to adjust it according to what you need."

"Hyung, what is the renegotiation you made?" Yeosang pipes, reaching for his class of water.

"Rest days. We were discussing it previously and throughout Kingdom, remember?"

Murmurs break out among some of them. Right, this isn't a new thing. Hongjoong has been trying to ask get their opinions on asking the compnay for concrete rest days for them since... since forever. Something about mental health and body resets. 

Hongjoong eats a mouthful of rice, then continues, after he swallows, "Basically, it will work like this, During active promotion and tour seasons, the company will designate a rest day. It will occur at least once per week, depending on the schedule that is being proposed.

"During less active seasons, such as during preparation periods, we will get two designated rest days a week. We can take them or leave them, and we can also adjust them accordingly, as long as they don't affect existing group schedules."

In his head, Yunho quickly runs the logic of what Hongjoong is saying. Previously, even during the COVID-19 pandemic, they were either in the studios for recording, dance and vocal practice, or lives and other projects. With comeback season fast approaching, it is no wonder their captain wanted to get this settled as fast as possible. One day off in a week of active, back-to-back title track promotions feels like it could be a dream. A weird, but very good dream.

"And they said okay? Just like that?" Mingi interjects, his brows vanishing into his fringe in surprise. Yunho looks over at their captain who shrugs.

"CEO Kim was all for it. Some of the executives needed persuading. They said yes in the end."

"How? Some of those bastards are so annoying," Wooyoung and his foul mouth makes Yunho grin sometimes. Yeosang sighs loudly again, and mutters, "This is why the editors keep joking that you need more editing than San logbooks" or something.

Amidst the chaos, Hongjoong grins, a sudden sharp thing with all teeth.

"I reminded them how many employees KQ had when I joined back in 2015, and how many of their current roster will go to bat for us... if I just hit a few wrong buttons on my phone and broadcasted a message. A very specific message outlining the executive's dissent about their only active group asking for humane breaks."

The silence that falls this time is entirely different from the earlier one. Then Jongho's hand flies to his mouth and lets out an uncharacteristic snort. Which turn into silent giggles, which become entirely two infectious, and the entire table is soon grinning from ear to ear.

"Hyung, wait, wait" San calls out, "did you say that to their faces? Like genuinely?"

"Yeah, I even showed them the draft I had for the message already. Put it on the projector and everything, over my presentation deck for the structure change," shrugs Hongjoong, "I typed it out as they were bickering with Kyu-Wook hyung about my proposal."

This sends the a bunch of then the rest of the way over the edge. By the end of it, Yunho has to find a tissue to scrub the tears of laughter from his eyes, and Wooyoung is practically hanging off Mingi, still breathless with mirth.

"I sometimes forget how ruthless you can be when you want to, Hongjoong-ah," Hongjoong looks at Seonghwa with a questioning glance, as he passes the bowl of jjigae over to the captain. There is a scintillating twinkle in Seonghwa's eye, Yunho realises with a growing warmth in his chest. It's was something that appeared very occasionally, over the last few years, but these days, Yunho has been seeing it more and more.

"I haven't," Yeosang contributes mildly, "Remember that one time pre-debut, when he proposed that we run 3 rounds around the block at 3 a.m. because we were all falling asleep studying English and we were flying off for LA in a few days."

Hongjoong sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his lips together and sweeping them with a sheepish expression , "Please forget."

This causes Wooyoung be overcome by a new wave of chortles, and Jongho snorts. Mingi and San are smiling so wide that their faces look like they're gonna split in half.

Seonghwa claps his hands together with mock seriousness, "Alright, alright, in honour of our tyrannical leader and his spoils of war, we should celebrate."

Yunho starts waving the waiter down, and San almost takes an eye out when his shoots a hand in the air, narrowly missing Yunho's head.

"Ooh, ooh, ooh! Can we get cake! And candles!"

"Those are for birthdays," Wooyoung manages to catch a breath and retort, causing San to scowl and stick out a tongue at the young man across the table. 

"No need for cake. Yunho hyung, could you get some soju please? And beer." Ah, it seems great minds think alike. He replies Jongho with a quick nod as a server arrives, and takes his order.

"No! Why alcohol! I want cake!"

"Dude, where are we supposed to find cake now? This is a barbeque place?!"

"If we get beef tartare and like, smoosh it together, into a cake shape..."

"My mother says we shouldn't play with our food," Yeosang says primly.

"You are one to say, Kang Yeosang," shrieks Wooyoung, "Ketchup and ramen? You play with food all the damn time!"

San raises his voice, talking over Wooyoung's impassioned rebuttal, "So we are in agreement, that if you just have a thing of beef tartare, and maybe some perilla leaves, and those tofu cubes over there—"

Mingi stealthily ends San's argument by stuffing several pieces of leafy greens into his open mouth.

Chaos.

Yunho is already immune to it, so he takes some meat and starts digging back into his rice-jjigae mix. Thank goodness, still warm. On his left, Hongjoong and Seonghwa are surveying the mess, and he hears Hongjoong mutter, "Really? Drinking? At 2 in the afternoon?"

"Let them be, they have something worth celebrating, that's all," Seonghwa replies, his voice dropped low baritone, with an unmistakable note of fondness. In the periphery of his vision, Yunho can see him throwing an arm around the leader's shoulders, and he pretends he doesn't see Hongjoong subtly leaning in, "you are worth celebrating, our Joongie hyung."

"Hyung? Pfft, we're the same age, you weirdo."

"I'll even pay for it. My treat."

A grumble, "Why are you paying? My card's right here."

Seonghwa's laugh is small and gentle, a starlit thing.

"Just let me handle this one, my captain."

Yunho sits up and leans back, clearing his throat. Seonghwa and Hongjoong fall silent, and he doesn't need to look over to know that Hongjoong is probably now flushed redder than the kimchi on the table. Luckily, the others are still bickering about the feasibility of turning different menu items in a barbeque shop into cakes. Somehow, Jongho and Yeosang (Yeosang is expected, but Yunho suspects Jongho only took a side to piss Wooyoung off further and elicit a kicked puppy look from his favourite Mingi hyung) have been persuaded to join San in his campaign, which means of course that the other two are losing.

"Thanks for everything, hyung and hyung."

Seonghwa has a smile in his voice when he says, "Anytime, Yunho-yah."

Hongjoong hums and places a hand on Yunho's empty one on the table. The squeeze is firm, steady, and strong. Not that much different the one he was offered when they first met, years ago.

An image appears in his mind's eye. 

A young boy, just seventeen. Bright eyes, with a warm smile, and an even warmer heart. His hand is held out, waiting.

Then, he sees his own hand stretching out, and feels a grin on his sixteen-year old face.

Yunho smiles.

That's all they ever did need, from the very beginning.