#and the laptop is at an inconvenient height

[reitziluz]

i can do digital art again

[fairyniceyeah]

⌛🐿️ Tears in diamond

Title from Better (ATEEZ)

Summary: Hongjoong is sick, overwhelmed and in need of taking care of. Too bad that Award season was in the near future. Yet he doesn’t make it through, collapsing backstage.

CW: emeto, idol mistreatment, hospitals, CPR, critical medical conditions

Sickie: Hongjoong Caretaker: mainly Seonghwa (feat. Eden + Maddox)

03:48 o’clock in the morning. Hongjoong rubbed his eyes tiredly and placed his headphones on the desk next to his laptop. Resting his head in his hands he groaned. He just wanted to go home and sleep, his head was pounding in tune with every beat of the new song he was trying to produce. Emphasis on trying. Who would have thought that preparing for another Award show, a concert cycle and having interviews and photoshoots daily would mean that the only time for producing for the new album would only be at night? Certainly not the person who had planned all of this. Why had he agreed to the schedule again? Right, because he had no choice.

And no good new songs. But a headache, a lack of sleep and an annoying rasp in his throat. ‘Congratulations, Hongjoong, you won it all’, he thought bitterly to himself. He was very acutely aware that self-pity would not help him at the moment, thank you very much. But he thought he could at least give himself five minutes to miss a regular sleep cycle and his bed. Oh, his warm, cozy bed with Seonghwa softly snoring in the bed under him. He pushed the keyboard away and laid his head on the table. Five minutes, then he would go on.

⌛

He awoke to someone shaking him gently. “What?”, he groaned, shooting upright and nearly falling out of his swivel chair as a result. Apparently all the grace he possessed on stage he had forgotten there.

“Joongie”, Eden’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, “you promised you would go home last night.”

“I did?”, Hongjoong asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, coughing softly against the still annoying tickle in his throat.

“Yes”, Eden’s voice was sharp and gentle at the same time. Hongjoong didn’t know how he did it. Whenever he tried the same tone of voice with his members he always came off as sharp and angry. He always apologised to whoever was at the mercy of his poor ability to regulate his tone afterwards but couldn’t help but feel bad about it.

“We will talk about it later, young man”, Eden continued, oblivious to Hongjoong’s inner monologue, “your members are looking for you. You have English lessons in… uh…” He looked at his watch. “seven minutes ago.”

“Shit”, Hongjoong cursed, jumping up and again nearly falling as his head swam at his sudden height change. Damn his clumsiness. Only Eden’s hand on his arm prevented him from faceplanting in his studio. “Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience. See you later, hyung.”

“Hongjoong, wait”, Eden called. He turned around, one hand reaching for the doorknob. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, hyung. Just tired, I really gotta go, bye.”

⌛

He made his way through the halls as fast as possible without running. His legs felt too much like lead for that, his breathing not quite as deep as he would wish. He had to stop to catch his breath as he rounded the corner to the hall which held the English class room. His throat felt raw as he had to cough, his lungs really hating early morning sports. There he was – a more or less famous K-Pop Idol – winded after rushing through the halls of his company building. Sad, really. He couldn’t stop to finish his self-depreciating thoughts though, he was already so late.

Cautiously trying to make himself look more put together and less like he was had just woken up with his forehead glued to his desk at the studio, he walked the last few steps and knocked on the door.

“Enter”, a voice called in English. The teacher sounded pissed. He pushed the door open nevertheless, ignoring the hot flush encompassing his whole body. On stage he loved having ATINY’s and other fans’ eyes on him but here in private about to be scolded? He hated it with every fibre of his being.

“Kim Hongjoong, you are nearly fifteen minutes late”, the teacher said. Hongjoong bowed deeply at a ninety degree angle, suppressing how his lungs didn’t like that as well as the second head rush when he lifted his head to apologise: “I’m very sorry, teacher-nim. I was at the studio. It … wo... won’t happen again.” He answered in English likewise, knowing he would only get scolded for speaking Korean. It was a terrible concept really, how should the members whose English was weaker learn to speak a different language if they never understood the teacher who refused to communicate in Korean or accept question from them? He had wanted to talk with the CEO or at least a manager about that issue but he never had had time for that, other things taking priority.

“You might be the best of your group in English, Mr. Kim, but that doesn’t mean you can just come and go as you please. Many other groups have native English-speakers, you all are seriously lacking. Don’t you think your precious ATINY will turn from you if you can’t communicate with them? How will you gain new fans?”, the teacher raged on. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Seonghwa and Yunho wince, Seonghwa opening his mouth to probably defend him. Hongjoong unobtrusively shook his head.

“So you think you can just stay ignorant of other people’s language?”, the teacher had obviously seen the gesture and interpreted it wrong. Her voice was full of anger.

“No, of course not”, Hongjoong apologized, “I just … I …” Christ, he didn’t even know what to say in Korean. How should he answer in English? He settled on a horribly stuttering: “I apologize again for my lateness. It will not … I won’t be late again.”

“I sure hope so”, she said. “Now, get up. I told you before, bowing won’t help you in other countries. Sit down, don’t interrupt the lesson and stay back for fifteen minutes after, to catch up on what you missed.”

Hongjoong froze. They had fifteen minutes between the lesson and the next interview, which probably would take hours to film, to eat and rest. Now he would have to go without dinner, breakfast and lunch, having forgotten the first and missed the second meal.

“Yes, teacher-nim”, he said and quickly got up to go to his seat next to Yeosang. Again his head swam but he pushed past it, sinking down in the seat grateful to not having to stand on his feet anymore.

He was aware of the curious and worried glances his teammates threw him but he ignored them in favour of glancing at Yeosang’s open book. The teacher luckily didn’t comment on his own book that laid forgotten in the dorm, as he had planned to pick it up when he left the dorm this morning. Since he hadn’t actually been at the dorm today he also had no book. As the teacher turned her back to show something on the projector, Seonghwa slid his book onto his table, having brought it for him. Hongjoong gave him a thankful smile, opening the book on the right page. Speaking and reading comprehension, great.

He listened half-heartedly as the others read passage after passage in the book out loud, then get continuously grilled by the teacher about the content. Wooyoung looked close to tears but Hongjoong had no strength to fight another battle. He felt like the worst leader in K-Pop history for not helping him but he was so tired and achy and his head was still pounding. Worst of all, the coughing hadn’t seemed to be a result of a dry throat and a lack of water. No matter how much he sipped from his bottle, the tickle in his throat never went away. Instead it got worse, especially since Hongjoong refused to cough lest he be accused of disrupting the lesson again.

Then it was his turn. He stuttered badly over his words, his pronunciation and fluency worse than it had been in years. Half-way through the first paragraph he couldn’t hold back anymore and as he nearly choked on spit he started to cough softly, trying to clear his throat. The teachers looked on, unimpressed, while Yeosang pushed his water bottle close, Hongjoong’s own long empty.

He took a few sips, trying not to breath in the liquid. The members were watching him worriedly, a good motivation for him to continue reading out loud. He managed to get through all his assigned paragraph without any major issue, his voice hitching for a few times but not resulting in coughs again. The lesson ended shortly after, at least for the others.

“Teacher-nim”, Seonghwa started, having stayed busy packing his stuff as their dongsaengs rushed out as quickly as possibly. “We only have … short break. Then we have interview and …”

“This is not your concern, is it, Mr. Park? Go.” Seonghwa hesitated but at Hongjoong’s pleading gaze to not cause more drama left. The door fell shut behind him, leaving Hongjoong and the teacher alone. Dread ran though his body but he pushed it aside. He was the captain, he could do this.

“I want you to write an apology to me for being late, being disrespectful and disrupting the lesson on purpose with coughing. I want at least half a page, if you can’t finish it in 15 minutes that is on you. I will only accept a perfect text.”

Hongjoong nodded, ducked his head and started writing. He hated grovelling at other people’s feet and he knew the punishment was unfair and harsh. They couldn’t help their hectic schedules and it would have made no difference if it was his fault for being late or because something else ran long. If it had been anyone else from his team he would have fought for them at this point but he was too tired and exhausted to do it for himself.

He didn’t finish in time but not wanting to be late to the interview and embarrassing the group he wrote his name down and handed the paper in.

He never noticed he signed in Korean.

⌛

The drive to the interview took nearly half an hour, so Hongjoong was able to scarf down the sandwich Wooyoung had saved for him and try to wake up a bit from his down. He was still angry at himself and the teacher, never mind still feeling under the weather. He didn’t want to take a pill for his headache and get questioned for it, so he just downed his whole bottle of water which also might help his throat. He couldn’t help but wonder if he was running a fever – the others were wearing long-sleeved shirts but he was freezing in his hoodie and jacket. Well, nothing he could do for that.

When they arrived at the venue they were immediately swarmed by make-up and hairstylist hyungs and noonas. Right, he didn’t want to look like a hot mess on camera but the make-up irritated his eyes and he shivered in the T-shirt so much that the stylist-hyung gave him a jacket though it would cover the colourful sides of the shirt below.

They were ushered into the recording room, two sofas set up for them. Hongjoong ended up in the middle between Mingi on his sofa, and Jongho on the other sofa. The questions were blended in on the screen behind the camera, luckily in Korean, so he didn’t have to translate. He stayed quiet for most of the interview, only answering questions when they were directed at him or everybody had to answer. His members were very professional, doing their best to be funny and engaging. He felt bad for letting them do all the hard work but he couldn’t help it.

The cameras would keep rolling for the whole interview, so the editors could get the best cut. Which was, in Hongjoong’s opinion, very bad today. His throat constantly threatened to give up on him and force him to cough and secondly he had drank so much water to sooth his throat that his bladder would welcome an actual bathroom break. Just as he resigned himself to speak to ask for a break, already embarrassed before he opened his mouth, the screen went black and the production crew clapped. He hadn’t even realized the group had said their good-byes. Normally he would stay back to talk with the producer but desperate for a moment alone he slipped out the door, already coughing. He wanted to make his way to the bathroom but he had to lean against the wall as his lungs rebelled.

A manager-noona came to find him, looking worried. As he regained his breath, she offered him a bottle of water and a throat lozenge. “Thank you”, he whispered, slightly hoarse, and took a few greedy sips. The manager looked him up and down, then asked: “Are you alright, Hongjoongie? I could probably cancel dance practice for you if you need some rest. That cough sounds bad, I don’t want you to get worse before the Award show and the following concerts.”

“I’ll be fine, just a tickle in my throat”, he answered, giving her a smile that didn’t seem to convince her. “Thank you for checking up on me. I need to use the bathroom but after that I can talk with the producer and thank him.”

“Off you go then.”

They returned to the company building quickly, the producer taking Hongjoong’s apology for rushing off in stride. His eyes kept falling shut on the drive but he knew he needed the dance practice. He just wasn’t as talented in dancing as most of the others, he knew that. He also knew his talents really laid within rap but he still couldn’t help but feel jealous of the ease the others portrayed. Instead his body felt heavy, not wanting to move right and so he ended up making a lot more mistakes than acceptable for one week before Award show season. The other members were throwing him worried glances every time he fought to dance while still coughing or had to stop to catch his breath. He felt bad for making them stay longer than necessary, so after the water break at hour four he stopped them.

“Good job, everybody. You can go home now. Thank you, Yunho-yah, for the practice.”

“What about you, hyung?”, Jongho said, bottle lifted half-way to his mouth, “aren’t you coming home?”

“Uh, no”, Hongjoong said, scratching his head, “I still have to get this dance down, we don’t have much time before the shows and concerts.”

“I can stay with you, Hongjoong-hyung”, Yunho offered, but Hongjoong waved him off. They all deserved their rest.

⌛

Knowing it was futile to argue with him, the others left him to his devices and so he pushed himself to remember the dance for the next three hours. The cough didn’t get better and his head was aching so much he had trouble focusing, even the dimmed light in the studio blinding him. He definitely had a fever, he was shaking badly and still so cold. With a heavy heart he had to admit himself he would not get any better that night, so he wiped off the most off the sweat and made his way to the studio. After all he hadn’t finished the track last night and he was seriously behind.

In the studio he wrapped himself up in the thin blanket he always kept there for sleeping on the couch. He longed to lie down to get some actual rest but he knew he couldn’t. Instead he powered up his laptop, dimmed the brightness and continued working.

Half an hour later his eyes were burning and he couldn’t even see the screen right. Why even have glasses to correct his terrible vision if they didn’t help? He placed them on the desk and rubbed at his eyes to find them wet. Was he crying? Checking his reflection in his dark phone screen he saw that he was really crying, tear tracks running down his face. Huh, he supposed he was more exhausted than he had thought. But then again everything had gone wrong day from English lessons to the Interview. He didn’t even want to think about the dancing. He really was as much of a failure as the English teacher seemed to think.

With a groan, he resigned himself to pleading with the company executives to delay the next album as he would not finish the tracks in time if it continued like this. Knowing he wouldn’t get anything done tonight, he laid down on the sofa and was out like a light, blanket forgotten on the chair and tears still dripping down his lashes.

He woke up multiple times that night, not quite awake but never quite asleep either. It was a horrible kind of sleep, the one you only got when seriously sick and feverish. Nightmares of the English teacher and dark, faceless shapes morphing into his members terrorized his sleep, calling him weak and pathetic. It made his rest fitful and anything but restful. He shivered without the blanket but had no strength to get up and get it. He desperately wished for someone to comforting him and make the sensitivity of his skin against the leather go away.

⌛

Morning came faster than expected and slower than imagined and with it the disappointed eyes of Eden and Maddox who stared down at the Idol with thinly veiled thin patience. Both of them were wearing masks.

Hongjoong sat up, head spinning and chest aching, as he looked up at his mentors with a sheepish expression on his face. Nearly immediately after sitting up he had to cough. He knew he had fucked up, he should have programmed an alarm before the others were to arrive at least to wake up and look more presentable. Hopefully, he didn’t look like he had cried himself to sleep. Shivering, he longed to grab the abandoned jacket, cold and nauseous from tiredness but didn’t want to look even more pitiful than he probably already did.

“Hongjoong-ah”, Eden began, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Imagine my surprise when I told you to go home the day before yesterday, finding out you didn’t, scolding you for that and now finding you here asleep again.”

“I’m really sorry, hyung”, Hongjoong said, bowing his head. Why did it feel like all he did was apologizing? “I didn’t mean to. I just have to finish these tracks and over the daytime I never have time with all the preparations.”

He heard Maddox sigh and then he was wrapped in delicious warmth. The older man had grabbed the blanket and adjusted it over his shoulders. He gave a small nod of thanks, not ready to look up at his hyungs.

“You know that we only want the best for you and ATEEZ, don’t you, Joongie?”, Maddox asked. “That means we can’t have you burning out. You’re exhausted, sleeping here in the studio if you sleep at all. You’re obviously already sick, I can feel your fever from here and you’re bathed in sweat. When we arrived you were in the throes of a nightmare, calling for your members. You need to rest and let your body heal or you won’t be able to continue this lifestyle.”

“But there is so much to do”, Hongjoong said, partially embarrassed and wringing his hands in his lap, “Interviews, concerts, practices, producing new songs, the Award shows…”

“Let us help”, Eden said and Hongjoong looked up at him with wide eyes. The producer had his arms crossed in front of his chest but he looked concerned, “Buddy, Leez, Ollounder, Peperoni, HLB, Oliv and I can look over the songs. I know that ATINY loves seeing your credentials on the songs and they will be there, but ATINY also loves seeing you healthy and happy. You’re working towards burnout. Nobody wants to see you in month long hiatus because it was too much and you didn’t stop before you collapsed.”

“But I should be able to do it!”, Hongjoong burst out. He felt ashamed that it came out so emotional but it was the truth, “I’m the captain, the second oldest, the one the kids look up to, God knows why. If I can’t do this for the group, what kind of leader does that make me? Just look at the other groups, take Bang Chan-hyung. He’s the leader and a rapper and he produces all their songs. Every single one. If I can’t do that what do I bring to the group?”

“I’m going to attribute that to the fever you’re sporting”, Eden said, “that is nonsense and you know it. You bring so much to the group. You said it yourself, the kids look up to you. Seonghwa-yah looks up to you. In fact, we all do. You are an amazing rapper. You care so much about other people, about equality and your group and ATINY. Yes, Bang Chan-ssi does produce Stray Kids’ music, but he is part of 3Racha, all of them produce their music. You’ve got the others helping you sometimes and of course us, but you do most of the work alone. You’re doing so good, Joongie.”

Maddox nodded and added: “If there is something going on, you can come to us you know? You don’t have to stay holed up here alone.”

Hongjoong didn’t know how to reply to that. He took a deep breath to stop the wobbling of his lips and the unpleasant way his breathing started to hitch in anticipation for tears but he had to double over with a rough cough that pulled at his lungs enough that it hurt. A warm hand found its way to his back and then a bottle of water was held in his line of sight. Gratefully he took the water but was unable to open it due to trembling hands. Maddox gently took it from him, opened it and gave it back. Hongjoong sipped at the water, soothing his aching throat. He gave the bottle back, opened his mouth to thank the two and promptly burst into tears.

He valiantly tried to stop, after all how pathetic was it to be crying in his own studio while his mentors watched? A hand rubbed his back again and a soothing voice helped him calm down. He was glad neither of them tried to hug him, Hongjoong was sure he would have died of embarrassment right then and there.

“There you go”, Maddox whispered as Hongjoong regained his breath. “Sorry about that”, Hongjoong mumbled, frantically wiping at his aching eyes. Damn, crying again really hadn’t done his headache any favours. “It’s alright, you needed that, I think”, Maddox comforted, sounding less awkward than Hongjoong would have expected. “Eden-hyung stepped out to call your manager. Congratulations, you just won a one-way ticket to your bed. In the dorms.”

Hongjoong whirled around to look at him, embarrassment momentarily forgotten. “We’ve got dance practice, another interview and a photoshoot today. I can’t just go home.”

“Yes, you can”, the manager-noona from the day before said as she stepped into the studio. “I cancelled all your schedules today in agreement with your lead manager. Lucky for you I was already on the way to the studios when Eden-oppa called me. Anyways you need to do a Covid-test and stay away from the company till it is proven that you are negative.” She held out a mask to him.

“But…”, Hongjoong tried but faltered. His warm, cozy bed sounded fantastic right now. Under three burning gazes he nodded, and with the help of the manager he quickly gathered all his stuff, slipping his headphones into the bag next to his laptop as she had turned her back. With a sigh he put on the mask.

They arrived quickly at the dorm. For once it was empty. It was strange, Hongjoong never saw it that void of occupants and the accompanying sounds and chaos, never really having been home alone. “Do you still have some medication or do you need me to pick something up?”, the manager asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. “I think we got everything, I will text you if we don’t. Thank you for driving me.”

“Of course, feel better soon, Hongjoongie, and don’t worry about the schedule. Take your temperature, please, and let me know about it and the test results.”

⌛

With the words the manager-noona left him to his own devices and he traipsed into the bathroom to check the cabinets for fever reducers and painkillers. If he wasn’t allowed to work he could at least get comfortable while he didn’t work on his music.

He did indeed find the medication, quickly swallowing the pills dry and drinking straight from the tap to help his throat. He quickly prepared a Covid-test, not having missed putting a stick up his nose. A necessary evil. He started coughing again but ignoring how much he wanted to just curl up in bed, he instead stripped out of his clothes and turned the shower on hot. Finally he wasn’t freezing anymore. He quickly washed the sweat off his body and hair, then just stood there enjoying how the heat cleared his sinuses, reducing the pressure in his chest. It caused him to cough though and he started to get dizzy, so he turned the water off and wrapped his body in towels. He should have brought his pyjamas with him.

He walked through the cold halls, bare feet freezing, before he pushed the door to the room he shared with Seonghwa open. He changed into pyjamas and stole one of his Yunho’s comfy hoodies which was more of a dress on him because the outside of the shower was so cold. He quickly grabbed his bag from where he had left it in the hall, made himself some tea and got another water bottle. Remembering his manager-noonas words he fished out the thermometer from under the sink and texted her a number that was well below the ”38.6°C” blaring and beeping at him.  Whatever, he was probably just overly warm from the shower and with the medication it would go away. He hoped. The test proved to be negative as well.

Finding their shared humidifier on Jongho’s night table, he plugged it in in their room and stared at the steps up to his bed. Then he decided that climbing up to his bunk was too much and instead curled up under Seonghwa’s covers, breathing in the familiar smell of laundry detergent and lotion.

He took a few seconds to just bathe in the familiarity, then unpacked his laptop, coughing softly. Hongjoong slipped his headphones on his ears and tried to focus on the screen. Sleep was pulling at him, but he refused. He had work to do.

He did take a quick nap in the afternoon, but his alarm woke him up an hour later and he continued his work. His cough was getting worse not better though, sort of wet and deep. He really couldn’t risk getting sicker but he had no choice but to work, pop pills and hope for the best. In the late evening he heard the sounds of his members returning even through the front door, just as he came back from the bathroom. He sprinted across the hall, slipped into the room and closed the door just as the sounds got louder as his members entered. He carefully but quickly put his laptop on the desk and slipped back under Seonghwa’s covers, pretending to sleep.

Hongjoong must have fallen asleep by accident, as he woke up to Seonghwa gently shaking his shoulders, waking him up for dinner. The older man didn’t seem surprised at all to see him asleep in his bed. “How are you feeling?”, he asked as he scrutinized Hongjoong. “Better”, Hongjoong lied. “I’ll come back to work tomorrow. I already missed too much today.” Just then he started to cough, quickly covering his mouth. As he pulled his elbow away he saw the stain of mucus on his elbow. Seonghwa looked a bit disgusted but handed him a tissue to wipe it away. “That cough doesn’t sound good.”

“It will be fine. Dinner?”

Truthfully Hongjoong wasn’t hungry at all but he didn’t want his members to fuss at him. Seonghwa nodded and took his hand, leading him to the kitchen. The kids were already gathered there, some still clad in their outside clothes (Wooyoung, San and Mingi) while some were already showered and wearing pyjamas (Yeosang, Jongho and Yunho). They sat down at the counter between Yeosang and Mingi. The younger members looked worried but they didn’t pry. Instead they chose to coo at the oversized hoodie he was wearing (Yunho looked way too smug in Hongjoong’s opinion but nobody asked him) but were quickly distracted as Wooyoung brought over the pots full of delicious smelling food. Under his watchful eyes Hongjoong took more soup as he originally would have of his own accord but it felt so good on his throat he didn’t mind so much that it felt a bit too heavy in his stomach. He swallowed some painkillers and fever reducers with the tea Wooyoung had made for him with ‘extra honey for your throat, hyung’.

“I’m sorry I let you down today, on such short notice even more so”, Hongjoong apologized, cradling the mug close to his chest and inhaling the steam, “tell me what I missed, please.”

“You didn’t let us down, hyung”, San protested quickly, “we got on just fine!”

“Yeah!”, Yunho agreed, “we’re glad you got to rest. Nothing special happened, really. Well, Wooyoungie fell over that one teddy bear prop at the shooting so often that the photographer decided that we didn’t really need it. The pics were hilarious though.”

“Hey!”, Wooyoung protested, trying to tackle Yunho which he should have known with their height difference would be a stupid attempt.

“Hold on, I photographed his camera when he showed us”, Jongho cackled and screamed as he ran away from Wooyoung’s wrath, chasing around the table.

Hongjoong couldn’t help but grin at their antics. On one hand he still felt so damn guilty that he hadn’t been there but he still was glad that they had fun. He just hoped that everything else went well and they didn’t decide to not mention an issue to not stress him out.

“Well, I think it’s time for bed”, Seonghwa declared, breaking up the pretend-fight, as he stood up to clean the table.

“Hyung, it’s only nine”, Yeosang whined.

“Yeah but we have to be at dance practice at six in the morning tomorrow.”

Groans all around the table. Oh, the normality.

⌛

No matter how much he wanted to be fine the next day Hongjoong wasn’t. The headache hadn’t gone anywhere, neither did his cough. His fever was lower at least but he had gained congestion in his whole face, making his head feel stuffy.

Waking up at 05:00 in the morning was already a chore when well but it felt like torture. He hadn’t slept much, most of the night tossing and turning in Seonghwa’s bed, body switching between feeling too hot and too cold every few minutes. His hyung had taken one look at him, the ladder up to his bunk and the already tangled sheets on his own bed from Hongjoong’s earlier naps and had decided they would switch beds for the meantime.

After tossing and turning for most of the night, stifling coughs into the pillow, Hongjoong had fallen asleep somewhere around 03:00 o’clock he thought but it had neither been restorative or long. Still, he had a job to do. So when the alarm rang he got up without any complaints.

Seonghwa, bless his heart, had taken it onto himself to make breakfast and wake the younger members which left Hongjoong with the time to take another hot shower. He didn’t think it was possible but he felt disgustingly sweaty already all while still freezing.

The drive to the company didn’t take that long but it ended with Hongjoong falling asleep on Yeosang’s shoulder nevertheless. He stumbled into the practice room and let the other members set up the sound system while he rested for a few moments. Stretching to warm up normally was just a needed evil but with how much his muscles were aching and how stiff he felt it was torture. He was partnered up with Wooyoung, as they always worked with the members close their height – Mingi and Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho, Yeosang and San, Wooyoung and Hongjoong – and the younger man seemed to take pity on his hyung. While he normally was loud and chaotic, doing his best to annoy Hongjoong without being disruptive, he was quiet and gently helped Hongjoong and let him slack off when he just couldn’t reach his foot with his hand that morning as his back and chest didn’t let him.

They started off easy but Hongjoong already was falling behind. Every step hurt and he couldn’t for the life of him rap without breaking out in painful coughs. After the third time listening to his coughing and him thus not able to keep up Jongho told him to rest his voice. Hongjoong just nodded, defeated. They all knew that Hongjoong needed to rest but with the Award shows so close he couldn’t miss anymore practice as it would affect the whole group to dance with one member less.

Even though he felt like he would collapse any minute Hongjoong managed to hold out until hour three of practice. He didn’t quite know how it happened but he ended up dizzy and stumbling into San, the taller man only just able to keep both of them from face-planting. After that Hongjoong was graduated to watching by Seonghwa (“I’m still your hyung, Hongjoongie, and you need rest.”) and Yunho (“As dance leader I can decide who dances and who doesn’t, hyung, and you get to sit out. Enjoy it while it lasts.”)

He did manage to nap a bit on the ground, head on his towel and when he woke up everybody’s jackets covered him. He managed a grateful smile and even had gotten some energy back despite sleeping on the hard ground.

⌛

After another shower they stopped for lunch, Wooyoung and San pushing hot soup at him as they claimed the booth at the window, the only table big enough for all of them. Hongjoong wasn’t sure if he could have swallowed something more solid, his throat hurting from the coughing and the rapping. Once he had eaten about two thirds of the soup he pushed the bowl away and close his eyes. While he wanted to pretend he was feeling good he just didn’t feel good. He couldn’t muster the energy to plaster a fake smile on his face or act like he normally did. In fact, he craved his members’ comfort, his bed and something to help ease the various aches in his body. If he was truly honest, he longed for his eomma’s hugs. So he found himself cuddling closer to Mingi, the other man immediately wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Do you want to go home, hyung? Or to the doctor’s?”, he asked, looking down. Hongjoong shook his head, fighting the urge to cough. He was comfortable like that, Mingi like a furnace warming his frozen body. He didn’t want his body to move away from the comfort.

“I can’t, we need to prepare”, he mutter hoarsely, voice nearly gone. So he just closed his eyes and dozed again.

⌛

“Joongie, wake up”, somebody said and he opened his eyes to find their lead-manager kneel in front of him. “What’s going on?”, he asked sleepily.

“I’d like you to get checked out by a medic before your English lessons”, the manager said. Hongjoong looked around to find that his members were gone while he was still asleep on the bench in the cantina.

“Where are the others?”, he questioned, confused. “Seonghwa-yah, Mingi-yah and Jongho-yah went to record something for Eden; Wooyoungie, Sannie and Yunho-yah wanted to work on new choreographies and Yeosang is recording for ‘The Show’.”

“Right. What time’s it?”, he asked next. “13:40”, the manager answered.

“Well, I have English lesson in five minutes, so I have to get going”, Hongjoong mumbled, nausea from lunch and at the thought of the unfriendly teacher curling in his stomach. He hadn’t dreaded anything more than the lessons in a long time.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not getting out of the medic’s clutches, young man”, the lead-manager said sternly but fondly, “your health is more important than your English right now. You’re already really fluent and have you heard yourself? You sound like you swallowed glass.”

Truthfully Hongjoong felt like it too but he really didn’t want to get in the teachers bad graces, well, more than he already was. “Can’t I go later?” he asked.

“You have that photoshoot later, after you missed it yesterday.” Shit. Right. Hongjoong had totally forgotten about that. “Now, drink your water and we’ll go to the medics.”

⌛

Half an hour later Hongjoong was standing in front of the door to the English lesson room. He was half an hour late, so he seriously considered running and ditching the lesson altogether. At least he couldn’t get scolded if he wasn’t there. To make things worse, while he had gotten a slip from the medic for complete vocal rest he knew it was useless. The teacher wouldn’t let it slide despite not talking was doctors orders. He desperately wished the manager had come with him but his hyung had to answer some mails or something.

Hesitantly he raised his hand and knocked. His hand shook as he pushed down the handle and entered. The teacher was already glaring at him, the members behind her looking scared for their leader.

“Ah, Mr. Kim have you finally decided to grace us mere mortals with your presence?”, she sneered. Hongjoong fell into a deep bow, again. “I’m sorry, teacher-nim, but…”, he rasped, voice nearly gone. Still she didn’t care and stepped closer to him till she was standing directly before him. It was moments like this that Hongjoong really cursed his height. He normally didn’t mind being the shortest member but even the teacher was taller than him. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. You already disrespected me too much. I thought you had learned after last time but you can’t do anything right, can you? Not even write your own name in English when I specifically ask for a text in the language? Is that so hard?” Hongjoong tried to remember what she meant but his tired mind didn’t know what she was referring to. So he just settled for trying to apologize for whatever he did wrong.

“I’m …”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure you are very sorry. You can show it to me by staying back and writing a proper apology after class. Or does his highness have a more important schedule?”

Hongjoong swallowed down frustrated tears. He knew he had to leave directly, technically even a bit early, to be on time for the photoshoot but he couldn’t talk back to her. He didn’t have the energy and the courage. He hated himself for it. He shook his head.

“Sit down then and don’t disrupt the lesson again.” He nodded and walked to his seat, head bowed down so he didn’t have to face his members and they didn’t have to see their cowardly leader. He ignored the hand Seonghwa placed on his arm in a comforting gesture as he slipped past him and sunk down on his own chair, despite desperately wanting to sit on Yeosang’s empty one closer to the others. He didn’t think the teacher would appreciate that.

He managed to keep a low profile during the lesson even keeping quiet when the teacher started berating poor Mingi for a minor mistake. It was like he was paralyzed by fear and he didn’t want to get targeted again. Him being her victim was miles better than his Mingi but no matter how much he willed himself to speak up, stand up, do something – his body wouldn’t move. He didn’t dare look at his younger brother, able to hear the tears in his voice. He would speak to the lead manager he promised himself.

Finally the lesson was over and he stayed back, body taunt from apprehension. “You’re a lucky one, Mr. Kim”, the teacher said, standing in front of his table. He didn’t look up, the tone of her voice obvious that she didn’t mean it in the slightest. She continued undisturbed. “I have an appointment right now but don’t think that means you’re getting off easy. I expect you to write another apology letter to me till tomorrow. Five pages, perfect English. For every mistake you make you will stay behind one minute tomorrow. Understood?”

Hongjoong nodded.

“You will talk to me if I speak to you”, she said, smacking her hand on the table.

“Yes, teacher-nim. I’m sorry, teacher-nim”, Hongjoong mumbled.

Without another word she left, switching off the light and slamming the door behind her. Hongjoong was left alone in the sudden darkness and he couldn’t help the tears bubbling over. He laid his head on the table and sobbed.

⌛

The lead manager didn’t look happy when Hongjoong arrived nearly twenty minutes late at their meeting point in the lobby. He had washed his face, trying to look like he hadn’t cried but when he had seen himself in the mirror he had burst into sobs again. The sobbing and the coughing, combined with the left over nausea from lunch and his nerves had tipped over the edge, leaving him clutching the toilet seat for quite some time before he found the strength to get up, the last nutrition in his body having splattered into the toilet water below him.

“Hongjoongie, you are late. I was worried”, the manager said. “What happened?”

For a moment there was nothing Hongjoong wanted more than to fall into his hyungs chest and cry, telling him about the teacher and how bad he felt. But he couldn’t. “I’m sorry, hyung”, he whispered, throat constricting and he doubled over, coughing. God, his chest hurt.

“Ah, Hongjoongie, don’t talk”, the manager admonished, “we need to get going to the photoshoot, they are surely already waiting for us. Come on.” He wrapped and arm around Hongjoong’s waist and led him to the car.

Hongjoong let the photoshoot pass by him without contributing much. The manager had smoothly excused their tardiness with bad traffic – not unlikely at the time of day in Seoul. The photoshoot staff were very nice people, they knew he was sick and they didn’t mind having the manager talk for him. They had incredible patience when they had to take frequent breaks as Hongjoong had to cough and they saw that the light from the lamps directly next and in front of him bothered him so they turned them off in breaks. A make-up noonas was always there to wipe the sweat from his face and reapply the make-up; she already had been careful to apply nothing to close to his hurting eyes. Somebody handed him water bottles to sooth his throat and at one point he even received some hot tea. Hongjoong was so grateful to all of them that he nearly cried when he couldn’t even properly thank them, the manager talking for him.

⌛

When he arrived back at the dorms it was already evening and he longed for nothing more than his bed. Yeosang was back from his shooting and the members were all gathered at the dinner table, when he unlocked the front door. Hongjoong let himself be moved to the kitchen table, barely able to swallow the stew Wooyoung and Seonghwa had made specially for him. Mingi pushed some pills at him, Jongho sticking close to Hongjoong’s side and letting him use his phone to communicate with them. Yunho moved him to the bathroom and he took a hot shower before collapsing on his bed.

He looked up at a knock on the door, not wanting to deal with whatever was going on but San just smiled widely at him and showed him the hair dryer he held in his hands. “You shouldn’t sleep with wet hair, hyung”, he said, “considering you’re already sick.” Hongjoong nodded and reached out for the appliance but San just made him lay on his stomach, and dried his hair, asking every few minutes if it was too hot. Hongjoong let him do as he pleased, nearly boneless for exhaustion. His eyes fell shut and he didn’t even notice San rearranging the covers on top of him.

⌛

Hongjoong woke up hours later, soaked in sweat and panting from the nightmare he didn’t remember upon waking. He coughed, the sound wet and disgusting, and he stumbled out of the room only focused on not waking Seonghwa. The older man needed his sleep. Once his breathing had calmed down he walked to the kitchen to get himself some water. The oven clock showed him that it was rather early, just past two o’clock. He had plenty of time to get some more rest before practice and English lessons tomorrow.

Shit. He had completely forgotten about the English lesson. He still had to write that apology letter. He stumbled into the living room to grab a notebook and a pen and sunk down on a kitchen chair to get it over with. Writing on a laptop would be much faster but he knew the teacher wanted them to practice more natural writing in the foreign alphabet. He stared at the blank page, nervously fiddling with the pen. He had no idea how he was going to write five pages on something that wasn’t even technically his fault. He hadn’t chosen to be sick at this time but that didn’t matter to the teacher. With a sigh that triggered another cough he started to write.

Twenty minutes late he had managed to formulate four sentences. Four. This was not going well.

His head was swimming from pain and without his glasses he was barely able to read what he had written. He didn’t dare get them from his room, not wanting to accidentally wake Seonghwa. Resting his head on one hand, he tried to focus but the only thing he could focus on was the pain in his chest, and head and the sweat running down his back even though he was freezing.

Another ten minutes later he was startled from light dozing by footsteps. When he turned around he was faced with a sleep-tousled Seonghwa who despite looking only half-awake was looking better than Hongjoong had ever felt.

“Joongie, sweetheart, what are you doing? No, don’t talk, just write”, Seonghwa asked, wiping at his eyes.

I still have to write five pages of an apology to our English teacher. Hongjoong scribbled onto a free page in the book, too tired to lie and seeing no point in it. Did I wake you?

“Nah, I was awake. I thought you maybe got yourself tea or something but when you didn’t return I got worried. Why are you writing now?”

Hongjoong ran his hand over his face. Damn Seonghwa asking the real questions.

She wants it tomorrow. I have no time to do it other than now. I didn’t mean to fall asleep so early.

“Jesus Christ, that woman!”, Seonghwa whisper-yelled, “I can’t believe it. Joongie, this whole apology is stupid, you know that. She is only using you for her amusement or some shit. You didn’t do anything to warrant an apology. If you don’t complain to the manager about her tomorrow morning, I will. The way she treats us, that isn’t right. You’re sick, you can’t help it and a doctor’s appointment is more important than English. Poor Mingi was even crying because she was so rude about a spelling mistake – hell, we checked it later and realized it was technically right just British English instead of American.”

“I’m sorry”, Hongjoong burst out, suddenly emotional and unable to keep quiet. He should have done better, he should have stepped up to his duties earlier. “I’m sorry. I should have talked to the manager before the kids got hurt. I didn’t think she would focus on them instead of me. I’m such a terrible leader, I was so tired but I should have taken steps to protect you all. I should have stood up for Mingi, for all of you and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” Suddenly he was crying into Seonghwa’s chest, the taller man wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“Sssh, sweetheart, calm down”, Seonghwa whispered, “it’s not what I meant at all, you know that. You are tired, over-worked and sick. All of us could have talked to the manager before but we didn’t because we too are stressed and sometimes enduring is easier. Please, calm down, Joongie, I am not blaming you. Nobody is blaming you. Mingi isn’t blaming you. He knows that she was in the wrong, he didn’t get hurt. Just take a deep breath and don’t speak.”

Hongjoong tried to follow Seonghwa’s steady breathing and clutched him tighter, fists curling into the back of his best friend’s sleep clothes. He managed to calm down, hiccupping and coughing on occasion. Seonghwa ran a gentle hand through his hair, till Hongjoong pulled away, not wanting to get more snot and tears on his sleep shirt.

He was given a tissue and a cup of water, then Seonghwa rested his hand on Hongjoong’s forehead. It was deliciously cool, his head the only thing warm in his body, and he sunk into the touch. “Joongie, I’m going to get the thermometer again, you are red-hot.”

He freed himself from Hongjoong’s grip on his shirt and returned a few moments later with the forehead thermometer they had gotten during quarantine.

“No wonder you don’t feel good”, Seonghwa said emphatically and showed him the reading. “39.3°C is way too high. I’m going to call manager-hyung in the morning, this is way above the 38.2°C were allowed to work with. For now you can take more fever reducers, pain pills, and then sleep, I’ll take care of that English teacher.”

Thank you, Hwa. Hongjoong wrote, feeling so deeply thankful for his hyung yet he couldn’t put it in other, more profound words. “Let’s get you back to bed, I’ll bring you the pills.” To Hongjoong’s surprise he was lifted into the air. He thought about protesting but he didn’t feel like walking and being held tightly against Seonghwa’s chest made him feel safe and cared for – which he craved more than anything right now. So he let himself be carried all the way to the bedroom and laid on Seonghwa’s bed.

“Your sheets are soaked with sweat, I’ll get new ones.”

Hongjoong felt his eyes flutter close, barely waking up again to swallow the pills. He didn’t stay awake long enough to notice Seonghwa covering him with fresh blankets.

⌛

The next morning he was woken up by the sun shining in his face. That seemed wrong. He didn’t hear anything from inside the apartment, so he jumped from the bed, obviously having overslept. Why had nobody woken him? Wanting to get ready as fast as possible he slid into the kitchen, nearly falling as a cough and a headrush made him lose his balance for a second.

He found the lead manager chilling on their sofa, reading something on his phone. “Hyung?”, Hongjoong asked confused, voice raspy.

“Ah, Hongjoong-ah”, the manager said and turned around. “You’re awake. Don’t talk. I know you probably are confused. You’re schedules except dance practice are cancelled. You need to rest your body and your voice. If you didn’t have to be at Award shows in three days I would ban you from dance practice too. Now, please take your pills and rest either here on the couch or back in your bed.”

Defeated, Hongjoong nodded.

He let the manager-hyung bring him pills, oatmeal and tea and after he had taken the medicine, he curled up on the couch with his head in the manager’s lap. The manager rubbed a warm hand over his shoulder as they switched through TV programs and held him as coughs shook his body. Soon enough he drifted off to sleep again.

⌛

He dozed on and off all day, his manager only waking him for drinks, food and medication. By evening he felt a bit better, though he was still running a fever and was incredibly restless. He was sitting up on the couch, kicking his legs at nothing just to keep himself occupied, when Seonghwa and the kids entered the apartment, followed by…

“Maddox-hyung? Eden-hyung?”, Hongjoong burst out, forgetting momentarily that he was on vocal rest. The manager shushed him and handed him the notepad they had used all day to communicate as his mentors sat down on either side of him.

“How are you feeling, Hongjoong-ah?”, Eden asked. Hongjoong shrugged and wrote his answer on the paper with a slightly shaking hand. I’m okay. Throat and head hurt and still got a fever but I’m getting there. What are you doing here?

“We wanted to check on our favourite dongsaeng”, Maddox said, squeezing Hongjoong’s hand. Hongjoong felt himself flush. He really did love the attention he was getting from his hyungs most of the time and today it felt like balm on his soul. He normally only allowed himself to act more like himself instead of an older, responsible version of himself when he was around them. He was the maknae in his family and in his previous friend groups, taking on the role of hyung had been very unnatural to him at first. He had liked it though and not wanting to let his team down he had never acted on his more carefree instincts. But as he grew closer to his Maddox-hyung and Edenary-hyungs he let himself act more cute and younger, craving the attention he normally only gave not received (except sometimes from Seonghwa and the managers).

Thank you both so much. I’m sure I’ll be fine for the Awards.

“You know it’s okay if you’re not okay, right, Hongjoong-ah?”, Maddox asked, turning to look at him with worry in his eyes. “You don’t always have to be the strong leader. We wanted to give you the opportunity to come to us with your problems but I guess we should have made that clearer.”

Oh. Hongjoong didn’t know how to react. Sure, Maddox and Eden often checked in on him in his studio but he never realized they wanted him to come to them with his problems. He had never even entertained the thoughts of going to them with his struggles.

Eden gave him a tight smile. “I thought something was going on, next to you being stressed about the Awards shows and your whole schedule itself. Well, Seonghwa threw a fit this morning when he saw your English teacher in the halls this morning, Jongho was barely able to keep him from punching her. Seonghwa then told us how she treated all of you. That’s why you were crying in your studio that night, right?”

Oh. Oh.

“Well, you should definitely talk with your members about the situation at some point but we wanted to let you know that you could come to us too, if you didn’t want to talk to them. It’s hard being a hyung sometimes, isn’t it?”, Maddox mumbled, running a hand through Hongjoong’s hair which he was sure was disgustingly sweaty.

Hongjoong nodded, biting his lip. It sure was difficult being a hyung and a leader, responsible for people who were practically your own age. Sometimes it felt ridiculous to Hongjoong how everybody expected the older members of groups to be the most responsible ones. He was barely older than Yunho and he had a totally different role than him in the group, no matter his leader status. And Jongho most certainly could have been the responsible leader of ATEEZ if he was older and he had started training at KQ earlier. It was weird how they were treated so differently, having seen so many different friendship relationships on international TV which dynamics were more natural to the personalities of the people and not their age.

“Joongie, you in there?”, Maddox asked, shaking his shoulder. Hongjoong blinked, realising he must have spaced out. He nodded.

Thank you both, I appreciate your words so much. I promise I will be better.

Hongjoong sighed, not really wanting to keep thinking about all of what he was told and decided to switch the theme of their conversation.

Are you staying for dinner?

Luckily, both his hyungs let the sentimentalities drop.

Since the space in the kitchen was rather limited, they all gathered in the living room. Some spread over the furniture, some sitting on pillows on the floor. Only Seonghwa seemed a bit bothered by it all, probably scared for the couch cushions if anybody made a mess. It was a nice, relaxed affair. Hongjoong stayed on the couch next to Eden and Maddox, letting his hyungs feed him some rice which still didn’t feel great on his throat but was manageable.

The managers had send them to bed soon after they were finished eating. He was asked to switch beds with Mingi so that he kept his germs to himself and so that Seonghwa could sleep that night. He knew that they were worried, hell everybody was worried and that included himself, but they all needed to be at top condition for these shows. Since Hongjoong was already obviously lacking, they couldn’t risk Seonghwa being sleep-deprived. It was a fucked up mentality but such was the reality of being a K-Pop Idol, he guessed.

Two days to the first Award show, he would be fine.

⌛

“It’s the last Award show, I will be fine, it’s just one more day”, Hongjoong mumbled to himself as stared into his reflection in the bathroom at the venue they were at. Sadly, he had seriously underestimated his illness. While he had been fine to perform at the first Award show, being fever-free that morning, he had been burning up again after the performance. The past two days full of shows had been the same – first he was fine then afterwards or during the end of it he was barely holding on. He just needed to make it through today and then he was free to rest for a whole week, promised by the CEO personally.

Luckily, he was alone in the bathroom so he was free to cough up his lungs – at least it felt like that. He was exhausted to the bone from show after show, and his cough had gotten so much worse again. He barely slept at night, the cough and a dull pain in his chest keeping him awake.

He splashed some water in his face and turned around to walk back to their dressing room, hoping that the make-up noonas could make him look more alive. Pale face and red spots of fever on his cheeks with dry lips and glossy eyes weren’t the style their concept was going for.

⌛

“You good, hyung?”, Yunho asked as he pushed open the door. He nodded and sank down on the couch to wait with him for their turns in the make-up chair. At the moment it was Jongho’s and Yeosang’s turns while San and Seonghwa were already done. Hongjoong and Yunho would be next, while Mingi and Wooyoung got their hair and clothes fixed. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the hard backrest.

“Joongie”, Seonghwa whispered and shook him, “it’s your turn.” Hongjoong opened his eyes to see he had slipped to lean against Yunho in his sleep while Seonghwa was crouched in front of them. “Drink something.” Yunho held out a bottle and Hongjoong, desperate to get his throat to cooperate for at least two stages, please just two or three more stages, took a big sip.

Big sip, big mistake. Just as he was about to swallow his body surprised him with a cough and he half-swallowed the water and half-spat it out on his lap. Then the cough wouldn’t stop. He wheezed, leaning forward as he was robbed of precious oxygen and his lungs felt like they were tearing apart. Seonghwa was saying something and Yunho handed him a towel, which Hongjoong pressed against his mouth to muffle the loudness and violence of his body’s torture. It was bad enough that his members heard him coughing this badly but he was sure some of the hyungs and noonas were watching on – in worry probably but still.

Suddenly, without much warning, his stomach muscles contracted from the force of it all and he felt the water he had swallowed burn in his throat. Retching harshly, he spat out the water and bile and whatever else he had in his stomach into the towel. He gagged from the taste and disgustingness of the oatmeal-like substance (his stomach turned at the thought) in the towel, which triggered actual vomiting. Luckily Seonghwa had caught on quickly and grabbed the trash bin that had stood next to the sofa, holding it under Hongjoong’s chin. Hongjoong dropped the dirty towel in the bin, it really was beyond saving, and tried to regulate his breathing while he helplessly hung his head over the bucket as his stomach spilled from his lips. There wasn’t much coming up, he barely had any appetite obvious as Wooyoung had even tried and failed to bribe him into eating something with sweets this morning. It was a vicious circle: The coughing caused vomiting, the vomiting caused more coughing and it just wouldn’t stop. He was already seeing black spots in his vision, gasping from precious air which his body so cruelly denied him.

It took a few minutes but slowly his body got itself under control and he was able to take in deep breaths. He slowly became aware of a hand rubbing his back and loud, angry voices. He squeezed his eyes shut, scared of what he would see. He didn’t want to let down his members but he already had.

“It’s okay, hyung, just breathe”, Yeosang mumbled. When had he come over? Wasn’t he just getting his make-up done? Hongjoong dared to look up to find himself sandwiched between Jongho and Yeosang, San taking the bucket of disgustingness from his hands. Yunho, Seonghwa and some managers were talking, gesturing wildly and in obvious disagreement. Wooyoung and Mingi were nowhere to be seen.

“Okay?”, Jongho asked, taking Hongjoong’s hand and handing him a tissue. He was confused for a moment but then he realized his vision was blurry from tears. His throat was aching badly, feeling like it was torn open from all the coughing, and combined with the vomiting his eyes had teared up involuntarily.

Belatedly realizing he had forgotten to answer the maknae’s question, he nodded, not willing to speak and hurt his throat more. He looked up as he saw Seonghwa throw his arms in the air in frustration and walk out of the room, clearly trying to calm down without lashing out at anyone. Hongjoong couldn’t help but feel terrible about it, after all he was the reason why everything was not going like planned.

Instead Yunho, who looked tight-lipped and undecided, and a manager-hyung came over. “Hey, feeling better Hongjoong-ah?”, the manager asked. Hongjoong nodded and whispered: “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Do you think you can get through the stages today?”, the manager asked, sounding apologetic, “I know you feel terrible but you need to be on stage in less than an hour and the members don’t have time to re-learn the choreography as seven, especially since you have a lot of middle parts, and we need your rap. I’m sorry that you performing with them or nobody doing it are the only two options.”

Hongjoong felt a shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t make the others, his best friends, loose out on such an opportunity to promote themselves and maybe even win an Award just because he was sick. They had worked so hard for this, he couldn’t be the reason why they never even had a chance. And they couldn’t let down ATINY. He wasn’t sure if he could make it but he would have to.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Hyung, you’re not fine”, Yunho protested, but sounding unsure, “I know we always say ‘8 makes 1 team’ but maybe it’s best if you rest for now. You’ve been sick for close to two weeks, you keep coughing badly and you just threw up.”

“I’ll be fine. You said it: ‘8 makes 1 team’ and I’ll be dead before I let a cold take that away from us, from you”, Hongjoong insisted, “Also I didn’t throw up.”

San looked decidedly unimpressed, having just returned to hear the last part. “I beg your pardon? I just disposed of your stomach contents, are you seriously arguing if you threw up?”

“The coughing triggered it, I wasn’t nauseous or anything”, Hongjoong explained trying to stay patient. He couldn’t let his team down further than he already had.

“And I suppose that makes it better?”, Yunho asked, clearly not wanting Hongjoong to answer.

He still did because he was an idiot. “Yes?”

⌛

He was saved by Seonghwa returning, a medic in tow. Hongjoong raised his eyebrow at his hyung but didn’t protest. He would lose anyways. It felt strangely heartwarming that Seonghwa knew that he would insist on performing and instead of futile arguing got somebody to check him out beforehand.

“Hello Hongjoong-ssi”, the medic greeted him and knelt down in front of him. Hongjoong returned the greeting, glad when Yeosang’s hand found his, as he leaned against Jongho tiredly. Sitting up was already so exhausting, he dreaded standing, dancing and singing. Seonghwa had rounded the sofa and ran his fingers through Hongjoong’s hair in a comforting manner. “Seonghwa-ssi said you’re not feeling so well?” Reluctantly Hongjoong nodded.

“I’d like to perform an exam and ask you a few questions, if that is alright with you?”, the woman said and Hongjoong nodded again.

As she asked about his symptoms over the past weeks, the managers made Jongho and Yeosang get up to get dressed, while Yunho had to get his make-up done. San sat down next to him, letting Hongjoong cuddle up and leech of some warmth. The medic made Hongjoong take his shirt off, listening to his lungs and looking very much not pleased. When she was done, San helped him get dressed again and pulled Hongjoong to lie on his lap, while Hongjoong interlocked his hand with Seonghwa’s who still stood behind the sofa. Lying down, well moving itself, hurt especially in his whole chest area.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t recommend that you perform at all, Hongjoong-ssi.” At his panicked look she continued: “However, I have worked with a lot of idols, so I already know you won’t listen to me. I’d like to give you a steroid shot, it will make you feel more awake and energetic and it should help the inflammation.”

Hongjoong nodded in agreement, desperate to feel better even if it was just for a performance. The medic made him lay down on his side and prepared his upper arm for injection. Hongjoong tried to watch, normally feeling better when he saw the needle but right now the sight of the metal entering his skin made him queasy. The injection hurt but it was bearable and then he was ushered into a make-up chair and people started fussing around him.

⌛

He hadn’t thought it was possible but he felt great on stage. The lights were blinding, the music too loud and the dancing making him dizzy but he was so energetic and euphoric for the two stages he nearly forgot he was sick. The other members watched him closely, he knew that, but he shot them reassuring glances. The steroid and the adrenaline were working miracles. Strangely enough he barely remembered the performance once they were done, time flying fast. He held his ending pose, after all he knew he was going to be the ending fairy, trying to look like he wasn’t about to cough. They finally walked off stage, Hongjoong holding his mic away from himself and as soon as he was out of sight from cameras he doubled over, coughing.

A tentative hand appeared on his upper arm, warm and comforting, holding him steady. Seonghwa. He gave a smile as he straightened up and waved of the concern but letting Seonghwa slip his hand into his and lead him to the waiting room. Yet when he was able to sit down on the sofa his energy seemed to vanish at once. His chest started to hurt badly again, especially his left side, and the fever seemed to tease him, making him uncomfortable.

He shifted to lie down, resting his head on someone’s lap. He was too tired to figure out whose it was. Time flew by quick as an airplane, as slow as chewing gum and he was just so uncomfortable. He didn’t have the energy to open his eyes or even ask for a pill for his pain, chest and head feeling like they were about to explode. He was aware of someone holding his hand, squeezing it as he softly coughed barely having enough energy to even do so. He drifted.

⌛

A hand shook his shoulder and he opened his dry eyes to find Yunho looking down at him. “Hyung”, he whispered, “we need to get on stage in ten minutes for the Award presentation. You can just stay here if you want to.” ‘If you can’t get up again’ was left unsaid. Hongjoong shook his head and carefully lifting himself up from Jongho’s lap, as he now recognized. He ignored how his body burned and a sharp pain spread down his left arm. He probably had slept on it.

“Are you sure?”, Jongho asked, voice sounding muffled and far away. Hongjoong nodded and pushed himself up. He swayed nearly immediately, threatening to fall back onto the sofa. Jongho and Yunho grabbed his arms, holding him up. The pain in his chest and arm was nearly blinding.  

“I’m …”. Fine, is what he wanted to say. Suddenly an overwhelming wave of nausea washed over him and he fought off gags. “I’m going to throw up”, he whispered. Then everything went black.

⌛

Seonghwa paced through the waiting room, nothing unusual. He always did when worried, but his worry was not about winning an Award this time but about his captain who was dozing on their maknae’s lap looking pained. The other members hadn’t approached their oldest hyung, neither had the managers. He didn’t want them to. Wooyoung and Mingi were sitting on the ground in a corner. (Damn Award shows not caring enough about hoobae groups to even give them goddamn chairs.) Yunho was sitting on the ground next to the sofa, holding the captain’s hand, while Jongho ran his hand through his hair. San and Yeosang were staring at the screen, trying to distract themselves with other groups’ performances but clearly not at all paying attention, cuddling close.

“Twenty minutes until stage”, a manager called and chaos broke out. Hyungs and noonas swarmed them to touch up make-up and clothes. Seonghwa let them do as they pleased, asking them to leave Yunho, Jongho and Hongjoong alone. They did, worried about Hongjoong themselves. Slowly the staff filtered out until it was only the members left, even the managers switching to a different waiting area. Seonghwa didn’t quite understand why the venue required that, but not caring about it more than necessary, he watch how Yunho tried and failed to gently wake Hongjoong. Only when he touched his shoulder, shaking him carefully, did the captain open his eyes. He seemed sluggish, clearly completely spent and Seonghwa heard Yunho offering one last out. Of course Hongjoong didn’t take it and pushed himself up.

“I’m going to throw up”, had Seonghwa on edge, turning around to search for the trash bin. Then his heart gave a jolt as loud screams were heard. He whirled back around to see Jongho and Yunho lower an unconscious Hongjoong onto the floor. He rushed over, ignoring how his knees stung as he fell.

“Joongie, wake up”, he whispered, patting the captain’s shoulder, practically begging him to wake up. “Get a manager, Wooyoungie”, Yunho ordered. Jongho had his hand on Hongjoong’s throat, trying to feel how bad his pulse was. Suddenly his eyes went wide and he pushed Seonghwa away to hover his head over Hongjoong’s head, watching his chest – which wasn’t moving.

When he uttered his next words, Seonghwa felt his world break and his head got dizzy. “He isn’t breathing.” Yunho looked as shocked as Seonghwa felt and he muttered: “Don’t be ridiculous, Jongho-yah, he’s just got the flu. Nothing more.” He leaned over to check for himself and after a few seconds he paled drastically as he seemed to come to the same conclusion as their maknae.

Jongho looked grim, determined and ordered: “Yunho, breath for him, I’ll do chest compressions. Mingi, find a defibrillator. There was one in the hall, I think. Yeosang, call an ambulance.”

In his hurry to get the words out, Jongho slipped into familiar speech, not caring about formalities. Yunho nodded and tilted Hongjoong’s head back exactly as they had learned in the first aid course they had done a few weeks back. Jongho had already started to pound on Hongjoong’s chest, counting steadily. Yeosang and Mingi ran away, the former to the table where their phones were stored and the latter out the door.

Seonghwa shook his head wildly. This was wrong, Jongho doing he same motions as they had done on that creepy plastic puppet on Hongjoong. Hongjoong was just sick, a stubborn flu. Nothing more. Certainly not de … not in need of reviving.

In a fit of hot anger (why were they doing this when Hongjoong just needed to wake up?) he pushed Jongho away, the maknae tumbling to the side, not having expected being attacked. Seonghwa forcefully shook Hongjoong’s shoulder, willing him to just wake up and laugh at their worried expressions. Telling them they were exaggerating.

“Joongie, wake up, wake up!”, he yelled, fear gripping his chest as the smaller man just lifelessly lolled in his grip. Suddenly strong arms wrapped around his chest as he was pulled backwards. He thrashed in the hold, not caring if he hurt the person pulling him away from his captain.

“Seonghwa-hyung, stop”, San ordered at his ear, voice firm but somehow simultaneously shaky. “Let them work. Hongjoong-hyung needs help and you’re in no state to help him.” Feeling like all his strings were cut, Seonghwa fell backwards against him, not able to hold himself up.

“He can’t be dead”, Seonghwa whispered brokenly as he watched his dongsaengs push life into their captain. San silently jerked behind him but pulled Seonghwa closer. Suddenly not able to stomach the sight anymore, Seonghwa turned around to bury his face in San’s chest.

⌛

Later he would feel so incredibly proud of how his dongsaengs had handled the situation and ashamed how he hadn’t handled the situation but for now he could only look away as his best friend laid lifeless on the ground.

Seonghwa jumped at the loud bang as the door was shoved open and looked up to see Mingi, holding the defibrillator in his hands, bursting inside, followed by Wooyoung and two managers, all of them frantic. They all fell down on their knees next to them, the managers taking over for the members to pump life into the small body on the ground, seeing how Yunho and Jongho must be exhausted from the show already. Mingi and Wooyoung started fiddling with the defibrillator. Numb to the core, Seonghwa watched how they tore open Hongjoong’s stage outfit, exposing his chest which wasn’t rising or falling, his heart not beating inside. Wooyoung quickly shaved Hongjoong’s chest for good measure, and Mingi placed the electrodes on his bare skin while Jongho told him how according to the explanation. The voice of a woman gave instructions, coming automatically from the instrument.

He wasn’t able to tell how often the circle between electric shocks and continued life-saving measures were taken until finally there was a gasp and Hongjoong, though unconscious, coughed. There were cries and fast words and they turned Hongjoong on his side.

Paramedics burst in, lead by Yeosang who Seonghwa hadn’t even noticed had left to lead them to the room. He blinked and Hongjoong was laid on the stretcher, a breathing mask on his face, as they wheeled him out. A manager followed them and then Wooyoung ran up to him, clutching the managers hand and begging. Soon after they ran after the paramedics.

⌛

Seonghwa turned his attention to the other members, seeing them like there was a veil distancing him from them. San was still clutching Seonghwa, body jerking with what he now recognized as sobs. Yeosang stood in the middle of the room, looking lost. Mingi sat on the ground gasping for breath, hyperventilating, a manager holding him and rubbing his back. Yunho sat pale, staring at nothing, one hand faintly touching his lips that were just breathing life into his hyung and his whole body shaking. Jongho had slumped over, staring blankly at the door where their hyung had disappeared, holding Yunho’s other hand.

For a moment nothing happened, they all still and trying to process what happened. The spell was broken as Jongho jumped up, nearly loosing his balance and falling, then running over to the side of the room where he doubled over and threw up, the shock of the events getting to him.

The manager patted Mingi’s shoulder and got up to check on the maknae. Seonghwa blinked again and the room was crowded by their other managers and staff, all looking pale. Yunho was still shaking from head to toe, looking so unlike himself it hurt. Mingi was still hyperventilating and a manager-noona trying to get him to calm down. Instead the giant man slumped into himself, passed out from his panic. Seonghwa watched he was laid down, his position resembling Hongjoong so much that Seonghwa had to swallow and turn his gaze away. San was still crying; a stylist-noona offering Jongho a bottle of water and a towel; the first manager now trying to get a completely dissociated Yeosang to react.

“Can we go to the hospital?”, Seonghwa rasped, surprising even himself. The manager-noona looked up and nodded. Slowly they got up and like magnets were drawn to each other. San and Yeosang clutched each other, Mingi and Yunho were holding hands. A manager had wrapped an arm around Jongho’s shoulder. Seonghwa’s hand felt strangely empty. They filtered out of the room, one after another. The hallways were full of people, though Seonghwa couldn’t recognize them in his daze and not caring to do so. At one point he thought someone spoke to him but he had no strength to check who. They reached the van and entered. Seonghwa ended up on one the lone seats; Yeosang, San and Jongho cuddled up in the back, Yunho and Mingi over the aisle from Seonghwa. Two manager-noonas filled the empty seats belonging to Hongjoong and Wooyoung.

⌛

A tense silence filled the normally so full of life van. Seonghwa remembered the drive to the show, all of them laughing and happy, joking about Hongjoong who was snoring loudly on Mingi’s shoulder. The journey seemed to take forever – street lights, houses, other cars passing by in an endless circle.

The managers brought them into the hospital via a secret entrance once they arrived. Seonghwa didn’t know where to look. Everything was so white and sterile, stainless steel glaring at them, ceiling lights too harsh on the eyes. They were ushered into a small waiting room, where Wooyoung and the manager-hyung were waiting for them. Wooyoung immediately ran to San and Yeosang, sobbing into their three-way embrace. The others slowly sat down, eyes flickering from side to side. Yunho, who had contained his shaking to his hands was walking around, touching them, trying to be close but often enough drifting towards Mingi who was cuddled up to a manager. Jongho still looked incredibly pale, a plastic bag clutched in his hands.

“I don’t understand”, the maknae finally whispered, “hyung only had the flu. Why would he …?” He broke off, not needing to say the words. Why would he die?

The manager-hyung who had gone to the hospital with Hongjoong and Wooyoung sighed and replied: “The paramedics suspect that due to overwork while he was already sick he developed myocarditis – an inflammation in his heart. His heartbeat was still very bad when he last saw him – he was having a lot of irregular beats. They think that caused the sudden cardiac death.”

It was then that Seonghwa broke. He was sobbing and crying, heart aching so badly he thought it would tear in two. Hongjoong, his best friend, his captain, had been dead. Had suffered from freaking cardiac death. He tried to get in a breath but he couldn’t. It was like he was suffocating himself. Voices washed over him, hands touching him. He panicked further – he couldn’t be touched – wildly thrashing around.

⌛

When he finally regained his senses he was lying on a couch somewhere – someone holding his hand. “Seonghwa-yah?”, a female voice whispered and he turned to find a manager-noona kneeling next to him. “Are you with me?”

He nodded shakily, head aching. “What happened?”

“You had a very bad panic attack – the doctors had to sedate you to keep you from hurting yourself and the others in your panic. You were asleep for quiet some time.”

“Oh. I don’t remember … what happened to trigger it? I mean, I normally, I don’t…”, he stuttered out, still a bit hazy.

The manager-noona looked away, unable to meet his eyes. Seonghwa felt his chest constrict in panic again but he pushed the feeling down in favour of asking her again.

“Hongjoongie collapsed during the Award show, do you remember that?”, the manager-noona asked.

Seonghwa swore his heart skipped a beat. The memories assaulted his brain, nauseating him. He felt himself start to shake and grasped her hand.

“Joongie … is he alright?”, he gasped.

The manager swallowed. “He’s … alive, so much we know. His parents are on the way. I’m sure we will learn more about his condition soon. Right now, nobody is allowed with him.”

Seonghwa nodded. Hongjoong was alive – it wasn’t the best he had hoped for but it was good enough for now.

“The kids?”, he asked.

“They refused to leave”, the manager said with a tiny smile, obviously fond of them, “Sannie and Mingi-yah were here with you for the past hour but I made them get some air and snacks. Your manager-hyung texted me earlier, the others are okay too. Shaken up but calm. Jongho-yah threw up again and Yunho is still really frazzled but they are taken good care of. Maddox and Eden-oppa came to check on them too.”

“That’s good. Can I see them?”

“Of course.”

⌛

She led him back through white hallways into a slightly familiar room. Gasps all around were heard and suddenly Seonghwa had his arm full of Jongho. “Hey, baby”, he greeted the younger man, relishing in the hold as much as his dongsaeng obviously did.

“Hyung”, Jongho whispered, fisting the back of Seonghwa’s outfit. When he looked around over Jongho’s shoulder as he rocked him from side to side he saw that all of them were still in full stage make-up and costumes. Yeosang, San and Wooyoung were sitting so close together on the couch in the corner that it seemed like they tried to become one person, their make-up destroyed by tears running down their cheeks. Yunho was sleeping in Mingi’s lap, the other man on the phone with maybe his mother. They all looked up at Seonghwa when he entered though, except for Yunho of course. Mingi ended the conversation quickly and put his phone in his pocket.

For a moment Seonghwa wondered where Eden and Maddox were, considering the manager said they had come to check on them, but maybe there was a misunderstanding.

“Hyung, how are you feeling?”, Yeosang asked, voice small. With a pang in his chest Seonghwa realized that the poor man suddenly had been the oldest in the room and sort of in charge with Seonghwa and Yunho asleep and Hongjoong…

“I’m okay, just exhausted. I’m sorry I left you alone”, he apologized. “Don’t”, Jongho whispered, “Hongjoong-hyung is your best friend, of course you couldn’t keep it together. It’s okay.”

“Thank you, Jongho”, Seonghwa whispered back. “How are you all holding up?”

He took Jongho’s hand, as the maknae seemed reluctant to let go of him and let both of them to the chairs across from Mingi and Yunho, in a ninety degree angle to WooSanSang.

He wanted to know how the others were feeling so he could at least from now on act like a hyung and the first step was knowing where the members heads were at. He nodded at Jongho to begin, the maknae being so unlike himself.

“I don’t think I have ever been so scared in my life”, Jongho admitted. “I keep asking myself why we didn’t notice that something was wrong earlier. ”

“You couldn’t have known”, a manager said, listening in to keep track of his charges emotions and to calm them down. It helped Seonghwa immensely that he wasn’t solely responsible for the lot right now. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Seonghwa nodded in encouragement and pulled Jongho even closer.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget the fear when I first realized he wasn’t breathing. I literally mimicked being his heart. I … I don’t … I’m scared to close my eyes and see it again.”

“Thank you for sharing that with us, baby”, San said and squeezed the maknae’s arm. “You did really well. I’m so proud of you, we’re all so proud of you. You were really brave.”

Jongho bit his lip. “It doesn’t feel like it.”

“It never does, I think”, Yeosang added.

“Can we … can we focus on somebody else for now? I think I need to not be focused on myself for the time being”, Jongho said.

“I keep seeing him collapse in my mind”, San said immediately, voice quiet, “I heard him say that he was feeling sick and I turned to check on him.” He hesitated, swallowing. They let him gather himself before he kept speaking. “I don’t want that to be his last words.”

For a moment Seonghwa couldn’t breathe. He vividly remembered a sleepless night shortly after they had debuted. He and Hongjoong had been curled up on Seonghwa’s bed together, sharing secrets and deep talks. At one point they had talked about what they wanted to be their last words. While Seonghwa had to think about it, Hongjoong had an answer ready: ‘8 makes 1 team’.

“They won’t be, they got him back, you all got him back”, the manager interjected. “He’s alive, we just need to wait how he will recover.”

If he recovers. Seonghwa was no medical expert but he knew well enough that Hongjoong’s brain hadn’t gotten enough oxygen while he wasn’t breathing on his own. There could be lasting damages from that. Never mind the inflammation of his heart or his flu itself. They all knew that.

They all kept quiet for a moment before Yeosang spoke. “I keep hearing him talk to Yunho fighting to perform. He said: ‘8 makes 1 team’ and I’ll be dead before I let a cold take that away from us, from you.’ And ...”

He couldn’t finish his sentence, instead Yeosang started sobbing. Wooyoung pulled him in an embrace, San reaching over him to rub Yeosang’s back.

None of the others continued to speak till he had calmed down a bit, occupied with their own thoughts. Yeosang shook his head at Seonghwa’s questioning glance – there was nothing more he wanted to share.

“My anxiety is really bad”, Mingi said in a trembling voice, keeping his hands occupied with running them through Yunho’s hair, “I already spoke to my therapist, we will speak daily for some time. I can always call her if I need it. I’m really worried about Yunho – he’s in a bad mental state.”

“Don’t hesitate to take a break if you need it”, Seonghwa said and Mingi nodded. They both were aware that Mingi wouldn’t take up the offer, needing closeness to the group for now. He added: “Yunho-yah is asleep for now, it’s probably best for him. We’ll see how he is doing when he wakes up. It was a really traumatic experience for him, for all of us. I’m confident we can support each other through it all.” The others nodded in agreement, quiet whispers of reassurance being exchanged.

“I’m angry at myself”, Wooyoung rasped, voice gone from crying. “I just want Hongjoong-hyung to yell at me at least one more time for being too loud. I wish I had been a better dongsaeng, not always making his life harder.”

“Nonsense, Wooyoungie”, Eden interjected. They all turned around to see him, Maddox and two stylist-noonas enter the room, all carrying coffee and food containers. So that’s where they had been. “Hongjoongie, while sometimes exasperated, loves how you can brighten up every room and you most certainly aren’t a bad dongsaeng.”

Wooyoung shrugged, not looking quite convinced but it was something they could work on later, maybe even with a professional.

None of the members were really hungry but they all needed to eat. They hadn’t eaten before the show so their last meal had been an early lunch, now over twelve hours ago. Seonghwa helped distribute the sandwiches and what he realized now was hot chocolate to the members, making a point of eating himself so they would take him as an example. It tasted like nothing in his mouth but he forced himself to swallow.

Mingi was nibbling on his sandwich while still holding onto Yunho, none of them having the heart to make Yunho face reality, so they let him sleep. WooSanSang were eating too, slowly but steadily. Only Jongho wasn’t eating the sandwich Seonghwa had given him.

“Jjong-ah, you need to eat”, Maddox admonished before Seonghwa could, his voice gentle. Thank God for their hyungs. While Eden and Maddox looked as haunted as Seonghwa felt, they were a good help right now.

“I think I’m going to throw up again if I eat anything”, Jongho mumbled, looking decidedly queasy. Seonghwa couldn’t blame him, the sandwich heavy in his stomach.

“Can you at least drink something for us?”, a noona bargained, holding out a water bottle. “You need something in your body.”

Jongho shrugged and accepted the bottle, taking a few cautious sips.

“Joongie’s parents are on their way but it might take them another few hours”, Eden said at one point. “I talked with them briefly, they were on vacation, they try to be as fast as possible.”

⌛

It was morning when they finally got news on Hongjoong. A doctor entered the waiting room, finding only a manager, Seonghwa and Eden awake. The rest of them had succumbed to their exhaustion during the night. Mingi had his head leaning back against the wall, probably meaning that his neck would be stiff when he woke and Yunho was curled up on his lap still. Wooyoung, San and Yeosang were still a pile of human, nobody sure where one ended and the next began. Jongho was asleep on Seonghwa’s lap and Maddox had fallen asleep on Eden’s shoulder.

“How is he?”, Seonghwa whispered.

“I can’t say much for now. He didn’t have another cardiac arrest which is very good. Right now he is in a coma but we don’t know if or when he will wake up.”

“Can we see him?”, Eden asked.

“One of you can come with me”, the doctor said.

“I’ll go”, Seonghwa said and nobody protested. He carefully switched positions with the manager, trying and succeeding in keeping Jongho from waking.

⌛

Seonghwa followed the doctor through the maze of hallways till they arrived in front of a glass door, which was covered by a curtain from the inside. “Don’t be scared”, the doctor said, “he still is hooked up to various machines. You have half an hour, then a nurse will accompany you back.”

Seonghwa nodded and slipped inside, closing the door behind himself. He took a second to just stay with his back to Hongjoong, not ready to see what he would. He turned and just for a moment he forgot to breathe. There Hongjoong was, laying on the hospital bed, his pale face nearly the same colour as the sheets. Carefully Seonghwa stepped closer, afraid to disturb Hongjoong in any way even though it wasn’t really possible. He sucked in a relieved breath when he saw the captain’s chest - though taped with electrodes - rising and falling. He sank down on the chair provided, scared his legs would give way under him if he didn’t sit the next moment. Hongjoong was alive and breathing. He gently grasped Hongjoong’s hand, holding it in his bigger ones and then feeling for a pulse on his wrist. Hongjoong’s heart was beating.

⌛

The next days passed in a blur. Later Seonghwa wasn’t able what happened when.

Hongjoong woke up the evening of the next day though he couldn’t stay awake for more than a few minutes the first days. His parents were there constantly, taking care of their son and also of his friends.

KQ had published an announcement, not telling the fans about Hongjoong’s condition in detail but explaining that he collapsed at the Award show and would be on hiatus for an undetermined time from then on.

The Award show, as Seonghwa learned later, had been stopped – the organizers not wanting people to accuse them of heartlessness if something about an Idol dying backstage and them just continuing as if nothing happened came out. Maddox told him how he nearly had a heart infarction when he they announced that an Idol was taken to hospital and the next second his phone had rang with a panicked CEO telling him that it had been his Hongjoongie.

Seonghwa’s phone blew up after the announcements, many worried Idols checking in on them especially those who had been at the show. Lee Know told him how he had known something terrible must have happened, he had never seen the whole of ATEEZ so out of it when they had passed Stray Kids in the hallway. Soobin explained that he had tried to get Seonghwa to talk to him, worried about what was happening, but how Seonghwa had been completely spaced out. Apparently the whole venue had been in a state of shock after they had heard that an Idol was taken to the hospital by ambulance and that is was severe.

They were contacted later, being told that ATEEZ had automatically won the Award but none of them felt like it was right that they should receive it in a perverse way of receiving an award for working their Idols to the ground.

⌛

Recovery was slow. Hongjoong was released from hospital three weeks after extensive therapy. The doctors said he was lucky, he didn’t suffer from too incapacitating side effects even though his brain had not received enough oxygen for some time. It could have been much worse. In a fit of anger Hongjoong later screamed at his mother who told him the same thing over and over again, then broke down crying. Yes, it could have been worse but the aftereffects were very obvious to everybody who knew him.

The rest of ATEEZ slowly started their schedules again, all of them profiting greatly from the therapy the company had organized for them. Their next album was to be released when Hongjoong was with them again or if it took longer than expected a year after the original release date. Their concerts were all cancelled, none of them really ready to go on stage as seven and they were lucky how understanding ATINY was. Their company took great care to call out any sasaengs who were rude about the whole groups concert hiatus.

During the first three months Hongjoong stayed with his parents but getting constant visits from his members, colleagues and idol friends. He was tired all the time and frustrated with his suddenly terrible short term memory. It got less severe over time but at the beginning Hongjoong was barely able to keep up with conversations, forgetting nearly immediately what he was told. It got better but he still sometimes found himself unable to recall events that happened after … the incident. Yet at some point Hongjoong started to refuse the visits, embarrassed by his inability to keep up though everybody reassured them they didn’t mind repeating things for him.

Then there were the problems with his speech – aphasia, the doctors called it. Hongjoong could think perfectly fine but had trouble translating his thoughts into words. He hated it, afraid he would never be able to talk. He at first tried to occupy himself during boring times with song writing but it wasn’t as easy for him as before. Seonghwa still remembered the heart-crushing phone call he had received late at night with Hongjoong sobbing on the other end of the phone, scared he would never be able to sing or perform again. Funnily enough he had no trouble with his words when singing and rapping when Seonghwa urged him to try but during actual talking or composing his brain failed him.

Hongjoong wanted back his old normal not the new normal people kept talking about. He wanted to compose, he wanted to talk, he wanted to be ATEEZ leader. Seonghwa had unofficially taken over the title while he was out of commission. But the build up frustration of not being able to function like he was used to had Hongjoong tumbled down into the clasps of depressive episodes out of which nobody was able to talk him. He didn’t really see a point in his life if he wasn’t with ATEEZ.

After many tears and conversations, Hongjoong returned to live in the dorm where the members took great care of him, careful to always have a member or at least a manager stay with him. He was then allowed to return to practice and Eden and Maddox let him stay in the studio, composing melodies and later texts (with one of the producers always there to check he wasn’t getting to worked up if he didn’t find the words he was looking for). At first though he was only allowed to work up to two hours a day.

He longed to leave with the rest of his team to go to some concerts in Seoul, longing to be on stage again but afraid to be in the spotlight.

⌛

Slowly, over time, he was able to return to his previous schedules full-time though always closely watched by somebody. Still he struggled, scared of the public’s opinions. At some point his therapist suggested he try to do V-lives with the members, explain his condition to ATINY and get the support from them everybody except him knew he would get.

It took some convincing but six months after the incident they gathered in their dorm and Hongjoong made his first appearance since the Award show. As expected, ATINY showed nothing but support, worried but understanding. Slowly Hongjoong stuttered through an explanation of what had happened, taking care to highlight the dangers of doing sports when sick. When his words failed him, Seonghwa and the younger members didn’t rush him but helped him if he was stuck.

It was hard on Hongjoong, everybody had seen it and he fell asleep against Wooyoung at the end of the live, the excitement taking much out of him. ATINY continued to spam the chats with love-messages, thanking him for his trust in them and wishing him all the best.

When Hongjoong woke up long after the live had ended his eyes shone and he whispered: “It feels like I just conquered the world.”

⌛

Eight months later:

“How do you feel?”, Seonghwa asked, clasping Hongjoong’s hand. The two of them were standing in the tech both above the stadium from where they could see the stage and the seats that were slowly filling up with ATINY. It would be Hongjoong’s first concert since the Award show and Seonghwa wasn’t sure who of them was more nervous.

“Worried. Scared. What if I forget the lyrics?”, Hongjoong whispered, “what if something happens? What if…”

“You worked so hard, sweetheart”, Seonghwa said tenderly, stopping him from working himself up, “you won’t forget. And even if you do, nobody will blame you. Don’t be scared. You’ve come so far and I am so incredibly proud of you.”

Hongjoong squeezed his hand tightly but kept quiet, staring down at the fans.

“They really missed me, hm?”, Hongjoong whispered, a bit choked up. Below them were so so many signs with his name on them. ‘Hongjoong-oppa, we missed you’, ‘Hongjoong, forever you are our star’, ‘Hongjoong, we love you!’, ‘8 makes 1 team’.

“They did, we all did miss you”, Seonghwa responded, reading the signs himself. “It was strange without you on the stage with us.”

“Twenty minutes until stage”, they were told through the in-ears they were already wearing.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s conquer one more stage together.”

Hongjoong smiled and turned around to the stairs down with one last glance back at ATINY.

“I really missed this.”

Notes: reposted from ao3

Symptoms predating sudden cardiac death might include pain in the chest, radiating to the left arm not unlike a heart attack, and nausea. It is caused by arrhythmia (unregular heart beats in Hongjoong’s case due to the inflammation in the heart).

“Cursive sentences are spoken in English.”

Everything bold is what Hongjoong writes.

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - ATEEZ

[briwates]

Zero context WIP game ! Thank you @clawbehavior for the tag, excited to do this because I've got like 10 different wips and kept resisting the temptation to post snippets. These fics don't have definitive titles yet so the ones here are approximative descriptions

1. Ms Ji & the Kangs

“Yohan-ah, I love you, don’t cry” Isaac says, patting his baby brother’s stomach when he fusses. They’re both laying on Isaac’s bed after lunch, a bit drowsy in the early hours of the afternoon. Young-Ok watches the two as she folds laundry.

“Nanny, why does Yohan have no eyebrows ?” Isaac asks curiously.

She chuckles at the question, taking a tiny pair of socks out of the basket and folding them together. “Most babies are born without much hair, he’ll grow them later on.”

2. Conversations

Gaon swipes ‘accept call’ and props his phone against a utensil holder as Elijah’s lovely face comes into view. She has cut her hair into a bob, even bangs forming a curtain on her forehead.

“Gaon, it's an emergency ! You need to come to Geneva and do something !” Elijah’s voice immediately comes through the phone speaker, loud enough to be heard over the sound of meat sizzling on the stove. “Yohan is serious about growing that ugly mustache and the clinic receptionist keep trying to hit on him !”

3. Yohan through Isaac's photography

October 1991, Yohan showing me his teeth 

Gaon chuckles at the photo. It’s blurry like the objective had gone out of focus at the last minute. Yohan is giving the camera a smile and scrunching his nose, eyes closed under his fringe like he’s shielding them from the flash. Some milk teeth are missing from his gums, two permanent ones just peeking above the surface. He must have been no more than six or seven here.  

4. Gaon scrolls online forums

"Judge Oh, I have this file I wanted discuss with you"

Jinjoo comes up behind him to see just as he is about to unlock his computer. What greets Gaon after entering his password is the previous night's research topic brightly displayed on the screen. Shit. Carelessly, he had simply shut the laptop before going to bed, instead of closing the tabs and erasing his search history.

Panic and embarrassment seize Gaon on the spot. He's about two hundred-percent certain that Jinjoo got a glimpse of what was written on the screen. Omegaverse fanfiction of him and their boss. Gaon wants to explode.

"You have…a lot of open tabs, Judge Kim."

5. Another snippet from Conversations

“You have something under your eye”

“Hmm ?” Yohan hums, closing said eye when Gaon’s thumb gently swipes across his skin.

“Eyelash.” Gaon flicks it away “crap I should’ve told you to make a wish”

They’re laying on the couch in a tangle of limbs, Gaon on top of Yohan like a weighted blanket, chest to chest, book long abandoned on the coffee table. Kkomi is on the armrest behind Yohan’s head, sniffing at his hair. Gaon yawns into Yohan’s collar.

“We should go to bed.” Yohan says, voice hoarse.  

6. Sunah lives

It is routine until her ears catch familiar voices, ones she thought she would never hear again, along with the cries of a fussy child.

“Gaon-ah, give her to me”

Sunah turns around to see, to her surprise, peering over the café’s balcony, Kang Yohan, his niece, his former associate, passing over an agitated toddler.

“I told you we should have brought her stroller,” Kim Gaon’s reprimands are a refreshing thing to hear “She gets tired.”

“It would have been inconvenient though, with all the stairs and narrow streets.” Kang Elijah chimes in. She is on crutches now, standing just a few centimeters shy of her uncle’s height.

“That’s fine” Kang Yohan hauls up the little girl against his chest so that her head rests on his shoulder, pats her back. “Appa will be the stroller today."

Tagging @thedeviljudges if you feel like doing it !

[aveduniya]

Innovation in Piano Black: Abacus Key 2.4GHz Wireless Keyboard for Modern Living

Abacus Key

The Abacus key is a game-changer that promises to take your computing experience to new heights in the fast-paced world of modern technology, where efficiency and convenience are king. This innovative keyboard redefines how you connect with your devices and streamlines your productivity beyond just being a typing instrument. It's a multipurpose powerhouse.

Quick Overview:

Brand: AV

Model: Abacus wireless key 

Color: Piano Black

Connectivity: Bluetooth v5.0, Bluetooth v4.0, 2.4 GHz wireless

Number of Devices Supported: 3

Battery Type: Rechargeable

Compatibility: Windows Vista, 7, 8, 9, 10, and Bluetooth-enabled devices

Ergonomic Design: Yes

Key Type: Quiet, Tactile

Embracing Connectivity:

The advanced connectivity possibilities of the Abacus key are one of its most notable features. This keyboard expands your options with its 2.4GHz, Bluetooth 4.0, and Bluetooth v5.0 connectivity. With a smooth transition between various modes, you can connect to up to three devices at once. The Abacus Key makes switching between your laptop, tablet, and smartphone, as well as managing several devices on your desk, seamless and effective. 

Say Goodbye to Battery Hassles:

Say goodbye to the ongoing inconvenience of battery replacements. The Abacus Key integrates a long-lasting rechargeable battery, ensuring continuous productivity. The provided USB charging cord powers your keyboard sustainably and environmentally, making recharging simple.

Universal Compatibility for Hassle-Free Pairing:

The Abacus key provides a highly versatile option, being compatible with Windows Vista, 7, 8, 9, and 10, in addition to other Bluetooth-enabled devices. With this keyboard, you can easily link it with a variety of devices and operating systems, so you can forget about compatibility issues and always have a smooth and unproblematic connection.

Ergonomic Design for Comfortable Typing:

The Abacus key's ergonomic layout promotes comfortable typing and reduces strain during extended use. Its small size optimizes the desk area, making it ideal for both work and play. The piano black finish on the sleek and contemporary keyboard gives any workspace a touch of refinement.

Silent and Responsive Typing Experience:

The silent and tactile keys of the Abacus key provide a typing experience unlike any other. It's perfect for both quiet work situations and shared spaces because each keypress offers a gratifying and distraction-free experience. 

Dimensions and Weight:

The manufacturer expertly designed the keyboard to achieve the ideal ratio between mobility and functionality. By providing its measurements and weight, make sure that the Abacus Key is small and light enough for people who are always on the go.

In Conclusion:

An indispensable tool for increased efficiency and productivity, the Abacus key is more than simply a fancy accessory. A device that fits your connectivity requirements, looks well in your workspace, and smoothly integrates into your workflow will help you embrace the future of computing. With the Abacus Key, you can usher in a new era of typing perfection where efficiency and innovation meet, and productivity is boundless.

[richkomlkk]

Laptop Adapter

One often overlooked yet essential gadget that keeps our laptops powered up is the laptop adapter. It is the unsung hero behind every productive work session, late-night Netflix binge-watching session, or hours spent gaming. Without a reliable adapter, our laptops would be rendered useless within a matter of hours.

But have you ever stopped to wonder about the intricacies of this humble device? It not only supplies power to your laptop but also regulates it to ensure safe charging while keeping it at an optimal temperature. Moreover, advancements in technology have made adapters more compact and lightweight without compromising their power output. So next time you plug in your laptop and feel grateful for easy access to uninterrupted power, take a moment to appreciate the innovation behind this trusty companion.

In addition to its functionality, the laptop adapter has also evolved in terms of design and versatility. Manufacturers are now offering adapters with interchangeable tips that fit various laptop models, making them convenient for travel or switching between devices effortlessly. Furthermore, some adapters come with additional USB ports for charging other devices simultaneously—a lifesaver when desk space is limited! With eco-consciousness on the rise too, energy-efficient adapters that minimize electricity wastage have gained popularity.

Despite often being overshadowed by other tech gadgets, the laptop adapter deserves recognition as an indispensable component of our digital lives. Its ability to provide efficient and reliable power means we can stay connected anytime and anywhere without worrying about running out of battery life abruptly. So next time you sit down with your laptop ready for work or leisure

Laptop adapters, often overlooked, play a crucial role in the seamless functioning of our beloved portable devices. While their primary purpose is to charge the laptop battery, these compact powerhouses have more to offer than meets the eye. With advancements in technology, laptop adapters have evolved from mere power suppliers to intelligent devices capable of regulating voltage and protecting against surges.

One exciting feature that has gained popularity in recent years is the universal compatibility of laptop adapters. Gone are the days when you had to buy a new adapter every time you switched laptops or traveled abroad. Various manufacturers now produce adapters that work with multiple brands and models, making it convenient for tech-savvy individuals looking for flexibility and cost-effective solutions.

Moreover, many modern laptop adapters are equipped with additional features like fast charging capabilities and smart circuitry protection. These innovations aim to enhance user experience by providing faster charging times while safeguarding your device from potential damage caused by fluctuations in electrical output.

Laptop adapters, often overlooked in the world of technology, deserve much more recognition for their crucial role in our day-to-day lives. These compact power sources are the unsung heroes responsible for ensuring that our laptops never run out of juice. They possess the ability to instantly transform a standard electrical output into a safe and precise charge tailored specifically to meet the needs of our laptops. Imagine the chaos and inconvenience if we were forced to rely solely on battery power! Laptop adapters not only provide constant energy, but they also serve as trusty companions during long flights, coffee shop work sessions, or even remote camping trips. Innovation has taken laptop adapter technology to new heights with features like universal compatibility and fast charging capabilities. The days of fumbling with multiple adapters for different devices are now a thing of the past. Universal laptop adapters have come to rescue us from this wireless jungle by providing a one-size-fits-all solution. Additionally, advanced fast-charging technology has made waiting around for hours just to recharge our batteries an obsolete idea. With these new features combined with their portable nature, laptop adapters are becoming indispensable accessories for professional world-trotters and everyday users alike.

[geeksonline]

Unleashing The Freedom The Power Of Wireless Bluetooth Headphones

In today's fast-paced world, technology continues to evolve, providing us with innovative gadgets that enhance our daily lives. One such invention is wireless Bluetooth headphones. These cutting-edge audio accessories have revolutionized the way we enjoy music, communicate, and immerse ourselves in various audio experiences. In this comprehensive article, we will delve into the fascinating realm of wireless Bluetooth headphones, exploring their features, benefits, and the reasons why they have become a must-have accessory for tech enthusiasts and music lovers alike.

Cutting the Cords: The Advantages of Wireless Bluetooth Headphones

Embrace Freedom: Say Goodbye to Tangled Wires

Wireless Bluetooth headphones liberate you from the inconvenience of tangled cords. No more spending precious minutes untangling knots before enjoying your favorite tunes. With Bluetooth technology, you can bid farewell to the hassle of wires and embrace a seamless, cord-free listening experience.

Seamless Connectivity: Connect and Conquer

Gone are the days of wrestling with cables to connect your headphones to your device. Wireless Bluetooth headphones provide effortless connectivity with various devices, including smartphones, tablets, laptops, and smart TVs. Simply pair your headphones with the desired device, and you're ready to immerse yourself in high-quality audio without any cumbersome wires.

Mobility and Convenience: Your Sound, Your Way

The portability factor of wireless Bluetooth headphones is a game-changer. Whether you're on a morning jog, commuting to work, or relaxing at home, these headphones offer unparalleled convenience. You can enjoy your favorite music, podcasts, or audiobooks anytime, anywhere, with the freedom to move around unrestrictedly.

Stellar Features: What Sets Wireless Bluetooth Headphones Apart

Wireless Bluetooth headphones come packed with a range of features that elevate your audio experience to new heights. Here are some notable features that make them stand out from the crowd:

Enhanced Sound Quality: Immerse Yourself in Audio Bliss

Designed with advanced audio technology, wireless Bluetooth headphones deliver exceptional sound quality. From deep bass to crystal-clear highs, these headphones offer an immersive audio experience, allowing you to appreciate the finer nuances of your favorite tracks with pristine clarity.

Noise Cancellation: Immerse Yourself in Silence

Say goodbye to external distractions and immerse yourself in your own world with noise-canceling wireless Bluetooth headphones. These innovative devices utilize intelligent algorithms to analyze and counter ambient noise, creating a tranquil auditory environment for your listening pleasure.

Long Battery Life: Never Miss a Beat

Wireless Bluetooth headphones are engineered to keep up with your busy lifestyle. With extended battery life, you can enjoy hours of uninterrupted playback. Whether you're embarking on a long journey or engaging in an all-day work session, these headphones will be your reliable audio companion.

Conclusion

Wireless Bluetooth headphones have truly transformed the way we listen to music and enjoy audio content. With their wireless convenience, remarkable features, and impeccable sound quality, these headphones have become an essential accessory for those seeking a seamless audio experience. Whether you're an avid music lover, a frequent traveler, or someone who appreciates the freedom of wireless technology, wireless Bluetooth headphones are sure to enhance your audio journey. Embrace the freedom they offer, and immerse yourself in a world of unparalleled sound.

[singthesongsofsin]

How is your living room arranged? (Hellaina and Dia)

Living space headcanon | @heavensxstray

Sadly there's no nice and fancy pictures for this, just some poorly cropped screenshots of my Sims 4 game, where I've built an approximation of their living room/kitchen! The problem with their house is I had just enough hcs to make it inconvenient, without enough to really know perfectly how it is, so this seemed like the easiest way to get everything across.

Right, so, first thing! Their main living space is split into two piece: the living room, pictured above, which has the couch, tv, window seat, and a bunch of plants both inside, and on the planter boxes on the other side of the windows. Those have a few flowers, but they also have herbs and other things Dia can use to cook. They have quite a large dining table, more of a square shape that usually seats six, but can, if pushed, seat closer to 10. It's quite high, more akin to a bar-counter height, so the chairs are raised, and swivel. (Whereas Vox just straight up has no dining table at all).

The doors through to the rest of the house (not pictured because I didn't build them) are through the sort of... alcove area, beside the dining table. The dining table itself has books-- both for pleasure, and work. The one in the above pictures that is open is one of Dia's cookbooks. The laptop is Hellaina's.

They have a decent number of windows, but nothing like Vox's window-palooza. There is a decent amount of colour, split between a more purple and neutral living room, and the very red kitchen. Dia was the person who actually decorated most of the house, so it's a lot more her style than Hellaina's.

They have a ton of art up, and more in the kitchen, which is below.

In the kitchen, you get the wall which gets the more personal things. Their wedding photos would be here, Dia doesn't have her actual degrees down here, but, because she spent years working for them, and she'll be damned if she can't display them, she got copies-- she did Hellaina's at the same time.

It's quite a large kitchen, lots of counter space, and as Dia is a bit of a gourmet, that's useful!

The lighting in the kitchen is these sort of... vintage looking chandelier lights, that were 100% bought from the Cannibal Colony. In the living room, while they do have an overhead light or two, alongside a couple of lamps, most of the light is actually from string lights, that are liberally strung up.

The two rooms are more distinct than in Vox's apartment, but there's no proper door between them, just where the wall ends.

Their house feels lived in, it's very much their space, rather than a space they just so happen to live in.

A lot of the smaller details get cycled through-- rugs get swapped out, new art, the art gets rearranged.

But at it's most basic, you walk in through the door, and the couch is along the same wall, if you turn the other direction, there's the kitchen, straight ahead is the dining table, and on the far wall, is the entrance to the rest of the house.

[purplearklifepvtltd]

Benefits of installing a Monitor Arm in Your Home Office

People's mindfulness regarding comfortability and convenience is elevated in this contemporary world. Whether you work from a remote location or work from home, creating a comfortable and pleasing atmosphere is essential to maintain or boost productivity. However, if you are working in the office – a soothing atmosphere can be created by the installation of a monitor arm.

With the installation of the monitor arm mount, your office work atmosphere can become more convenient and comfortable for the employees. Thereby, the employees won't be struggling with the inclination of the monitor screen. Then, there would be no need to adjust the monitor screen to the eye level. The monitor arms hold the computer screen and laptops at a certain height that is suitable and comfy. They are generally attached to the walls, desks, and ceilings to promote the ergonomics of your office.

Major Benefits of Monitor Arm Desk Mount

1. Space-Saving Desk Setup

If you consider the traditional setup, you must be familiar with the monitor setup and the space it encompasses. As a result, it would be difficult for you to take the items from such a congested space. It is also observed that a lack of desk space can impact your work performance. Hence, you can rely on a monitor arms desk mount for a productive and distraction-free work environment.

A monitor arm mount is fairly adjustable and efficient in compact spaces. This monitor arm can provide ample space for your other necessary materials. Plus, you can keep the essential things in front and less used in the back. Also, puzzling wires and cables are central concerns that are waved out in this arrangement.

2. Adjustable Monitor Settings

Working in the same sitting position for several hours can be a daunting task that can cause back pain, imperfect body posture, neck pain, and eye strain. In addition, it is also found that due to poor ergonomics, musculoskeletal disorders are mainly suffered by the person. As a result, it is recommended to install adjustable monitor arms in your workplace that offer comparatively better healthy posture, which eliminates or lessens musculoskeletal pain and enhances productivity. Even if we consider work performance, health disorders, and comfortability, monitor arms outperform traditional resources in that case.

Changing the height, depth, and inclination of the monitor arm desk mount is simple and easy. Follow the steps cited below for the effective installation of the ergonomic or monitor arm:

• According to your comfortability and maximum work output, choose the befitting height. • After installation, test your monitor position to ensure that the assumed fit is ideal for you. However, if you are still unsatisfied with the fit height, you can make adjustments to make it convenient. Besides this, it is recommended that arm's length is the best possible distance for your monitor to be placed.

Final Words:

Hence, these are some of the significant benefits of the monitor arm. This is handy equipment to overcome the uneasiness and inconvenience by providing an enthralling and productive environment. However, if you are interested in purchasing the products, you can refer to Purpleark. They are well-recognized and prominent suppliers of advanced, comfortable assets. To know more about the firm, you can visit their official website- purpleark.in.

[medisupplements]

GreenChief Bed Step Stool for Elderly, Bed Assist Bar LED Light for Fall Prevention, Adjustable Height Bed Rails with Storage Pouch, Large Platform Step for High Beds, Holds up to 450 Lbs Price: [price_with_discount] Customer satisfaction rating (according to Amazon product Details) Product description Why choose GreenChief? GreenChief is committed to upgrading our products and services to provide our customers with a great shopping experience. We hope to help the elderly, disabled, and anyone who has inconveniences to live more conveniently and self-sufficiently in daily life. If there are any suggestions, please let us know. We will always be here for you and take responsibility for our products. GreenChief Big Platform Step for Bed Change the way you enter the bed - for fall prevention For people with limited mobility, even getting into bed becomes a challenge. This bed rail is nice and sturdy, supports up to 450lbs, will help you get in and out of bed more independently and safely. The extra wide landing space allows you to turn on it. The bed step is equipped with a motion activated light (battery not included), some people may get up multiple times a night and it will help improve safety when getting in or out of bed in the dark. Color: Black+White Net Weight: 25 lbs Gross Weight: 30 lbs Fits on either side of the bed: yes storage bag There is a removable storage bag, convenient for storing mobile phones, laptops, remote controls, glasses, etc. Tidy up a messy nightstand. adjustable height To meet different needs, there are 4 height levels for you to adjust. Shortest Handle Height: 29.5-32.5 inches; Top Handle Height: 34.5-37.5 inches. Tool-free mounting The bed stool can be assembled in 8 minutes, with no additional tools required. Totally 8 large plum knobs make this process easier. Wide Non-Slip Platform The platform step is fully covered by rubber mats to prevent slipping.

It is comfortable and you can get on it with bare feet. Adjustable Height ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ ✓ Overall Height 36.6''-40.5'' 32.7''-43.7'' 36''-39'' 40.8''-49.5'' 33.5''-37.5'' Weight Capacity 500 lbs 300 lbs 300 lbs 300 lbs 500 lbs 400 lbs STURDY FREESTANDING DEVICE: The GreenChief Overbed Stool is stable and durable, supporting up to 450 lbs. The platform step provides additional elevation to help people get in and out of bed with ease. It's so strong and stays in place that you can use it with more independence and safety. If age, injury, surgery, or other impairments make it difficult to lie down, then you can use this device. WIDE NON-SLIP PLATFORM: The platform of this bedside step for seniors is approximately 27.3'' wide, so there is ample room to turn and step back down without fear of falling. Double steps decrease difficulty getting in and out of bed. In addition, the non-slip surface to keep you safe is comfortable and you can stand on it with bare feet. NOTE: BE SURE TO MEASURE TO FIT YOUR BEDROOM. HEIGHT ADJUSTABLE HANDRAILS: The auxiliary bed step features 2 different height handrails, which are adjustable to suit individual needs, thus perfectly fitting all beds and their height. Shortest Handle Height: 29.5 - 32.5 inches; Top Handle Height: 34.5 - 37.5 inches. The bed step is sturdy and you can use one or both sides of the armrests. Fits on either side of the bed. LED NIGHT ASSISTANT: Our adjustable stool with handle is equipped with a motion-activated night light. When you need to get up at night, this will give you the perfect amount of light to move around without fumbling with switches in the dark. (Needs 3 AAA batteries, NOT INCLUDED) TOOL-FREE ASSEMBLY: Quickly and easily complete installation as directed without tools in 8 minutes. The storage pocket is large and can store books, glasses, remote control, mobile phone and other scattered items. #GreenChief #Bed #Step #Stool #Elderly #Bed #Assist #Bar #LED #Light #Fall #Prevention #Adjustable #Height #Bed #Rails #Storage #Pouch #Large #Platform #Step #High #Beds #Holds #Lbs See more related items: GreenChief Bed Step Stool for Elderly, Bed Assist Bar LED Light for Fall Prevention, Adjustable Height Bed Rails with Storage Pouch, Large Platform Step for High Beds, Holds up to 450 Lbs Read More: This site is affiliated with Amazon

[monsterbroth]

haven’t gotten around to doing the shirt I’m messing around with I’m waiting for the day but I’m mostly sleeping all day because I haven’t been able to sleep which is why I am wake now and eating noodles, and it will be easier when my room is cleaner so I have a flat surface to work on so it’s not uneven I’m gonna use the back of a plastic container coz I don’t have a table :>!!

[dkakapizzaboy]

7:15pm

Part 1 || Part 2

Masterlist

Category: Fluff (Au!Office Setting!)

Pairing: Seokmin x Fem! Reader

Trope: People who are funnily afraid of each other TO People who are really into each other (but are idiots(?))

Warnings: None I think (please lmk if otherwise)

Words: 940

A/N: As usual, no power dynamic involved.

Also a big, big thank you to @xuseokgyu @junkissed and @sadkidwarexpert , thank you for putting up with my unreasonable measurements for the fic (4 heart flutters... Kinda weird I'll admit)

Feedback always helps!

After the frankly awkward meeting with Seokmin that literally made you feel like your skin was on fire, you packed up your stuff from your desk and headed towards the parking lot. It seemed like most of the office had left early because of the weather. It was pouring heavily by the time you reached the main entrance, thanking yourself for having the insight of always carrying an umbrella in your laptop bag.

You saw Seokmin in front of you and immediately stopped, hoping he won't notice and you can just walk out after he's gone. You didn't really know why you felt so flustered, all the guy did was prevent you from falling and wear a good perfume but one touch of his hand on you waist had sent an electric shock through your whole body, making it hum, almost.

Yeah, you needed to stay away from this man.

You saw him shake off his coat, broad shoulders clearly evident beneath the cotton shirt, and put it over his head, clearly the poor guy didn't have an umbrella as he tried to cover his laptop bag under the coat as well, that was on his head and back.

You mentally cursed yourself for getting soft at the sight, took a few steps forward, opened your umbrella, and raised it over his head, refusing to even look at him.

"Where did you park?" you muttered.

Seokmin hadn't noticed you at all till he heard the sound of the umbrella being opened. He took a big sigh when he saw how close you were standing to him.

Yeah this was not good for his heart. He could still feel your fingers digging on his neck when you'd held him to stabilize yourself. It affected him more than he'd like to admit, briefly revisiting how perfectly his hand had fit on your waist. He pulled himself back to reality after he heard your question.

He told you where he'd parked, it would've been a five minute walk had it not been raining this heavily. So the two of you huddled together under the umbrella and started walking slowly, trying your best to not get wet.

Seokmin suddenly realised how much shorter you were than him, mainly because you had your arm fairly up high to accomodate his height and he immediately took the umbrella from you, quickly apologizing for the inconvenience.

Now listen, on any good day, even with an average sized person, it would've been difficult to share one umbrella without getting somewhat rained upon. And with a Seokmin sized individual, with all his shoulders and biceps, your right side was practically wet.

You noticed Seokmin's left side wasn't doing particularly well either. What even was the point of sharing an umbrella if both of you ended up getting soaked?

So, even though your heart was practically hammering against your ribcage and you were praying that he doesn't hear it, you (very timidly) enclosed your hand around his right forearm and pulled him towards you, your shoulders and hands now brushed against each other's with every step you took.

Seokmin's brain had officially shut off, or so he hypothesized, because currently all his mind was focused upon was how soft and cold the back of your hand was, everytime it brushed against his. It was sending goosebumps down his spine everytime. He was suddenly overcome with this unnatural urge of holding it and running his thumb across the soft skin repeatedly, just to test if what he was feeling was real or a fantasy made up by his hormonally charged brain, and had to almost consciously instruct himself to not do that.

You both walked in silence, the only sound heard was the pitter-patter of the rain. There was an awkwardness almost, surrounding the little umbrella. Two people insanely attracted to one another but neither of them had the guts to admit it to themselves, let alone the other party.

There was a sudden loud noise that cut through the rhythmic melody of the rain, of an accelerator being pressed too hard, as you saw a car speeding through the parking lot coming towards you. With rain this heavy, puddles had formed almost everywhere there was a slight dip on the surface of the concrete. As you were walking on the side of the driving lane, you were sure you'll be completed drenched knees down in a matter of few seconds.

You unexpectedly felt a strong, firm hand on the middle of your back as Seokmin twisted you around so that his body was completely shielding yours as the car sped away, completely soaking Seokmin's pants from the calf down along with his smart shoes.

You had instinctively closed your eyes, waiting for the dirty, muddy water to ruin your mood and your shoes, but as Seokmin spun you around and you didn't even feel a single drop hit you, you opened your eyes, a little bit perplexed, hoping to get some clarity from him.

You opened your eyes, to look into his, only to find that he wasn't looking into yours. His eyes were cast a bit downwards, and as you realised they were on your lips, you felt your cheeks heat up, hoping to God you weren't blushing as profusely as you actually felt internally. Your eyes were still on his, as he looked back up, realising he was caught staring at your lips as his eyes widened a little, his cheeks turning a bit rosy. His hand was still on your back, pressing you to him.

You looked down at his lips and back at him as well.

And for the first time, in a very long time, you dared.

[feralmoonlight]

Oh god I'm hooked even more djdjdj

That does bring into question Y/N's temperment which is very fun. And that what I'm curious about.

Yes- anxiety does fuck with people (speaking from experience 😭) my curiosity lies in how Y/N might not realize immediately the power going off since they are doing a commission. And I understand that you don't always have voice calls but if they do commercial commissions (as in characters for companies) they would have to have gone on zoom calls. My wonder is if it's first panic then into perfessional tone bc Y/N doesn't want to show fear in front of their new buddy??

Power going out during a commission session just gave me PTSD from my old laptop that's battery was nonexistent and that'd mean anything unsaved is just GONE. My miserable ass would be so pissed cause when I got into a real groove of working on things I would just... Realize I lost the WHOLE thing. And if I wanna make YN's life hell, THEY GET 'THE BRICK' to deal with. A glorified paperweight with a finicky power port and a battery that may as well not even be attached, probably duck taped in there just to pretend it isn't an actual piece of junk. As a stay at home hermit, the dark itself isn't so much of an inconvenience, and in fact keeping the lights off as much as possible in the house helps save on money so the darkness is like a warm friend. MMM But the idea of the zoom call, the panic as soon as the call is lost, realizing second that the work was lost, would have them frustrated as all fuck But ah, if the zoom wasn't on the computer itself, maybe running through their phone instead so there's this tiny screen of light illuminating the now dark room, panicking internally while trying to explain why the stream feed to the drawing went dead... And remembering that Sun doesn't like the dark for some reason. Reaching out to pat him on the shoulder maybe? Still talking down the now annoyed client, while you try and explain that...probably a few hours of work are now gone because YOU hadn't saved recently. WHY didn't you have an auto save function?? It causes lag every time it does, which makes you have to redo linework or take pauses constantly. Then why not manually save? It messes with your flow, and when you get really into working on something you just tunnel. Well it's very unprofessional, so those lost hours wont be paid for. Thats annoying but understandable you guess... as much as you don't want to agree with it at the moment theres something off. Sun's being particularly quiet, and you're getting concerned now that he's worse off than just scared of the dark. Another pat turns into rubbing his back to let him know you're still right behind him, cause he seems to like physical contact (even if you're not a huge fan yet) -- But he shifts away. THAT is strange. The call goes dark as the client closes their end leaving you in almost full blackness aside from an outside light that's still lit (on a different grid you guess) and this odd red glow that's reflecting two hazy dots back from where you know the TV screen is. The next voice you hear is definitely NOT Sun, and the anxiety and worry you were feeling for Sun has shifted int a more pure fear of the unknown. Something is very wrong as you can hear the 'bot shift and stand up to his full height, almost reaching the ceiling. The only reason you know this is his head has turned towards you, the barest outline lacking the sun rays, as two red beads stare down at where you're still curled, frozen on the couch like a deer in headlights. The thought to run floats through your mind but doesn't get farther than that. That stare has you pinned. Maybe if you don't move, he can't see you. You know... Like a T-Rex.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Unspoken Fluff Starters

Giving them their coat: Scott & Penny

Clandestine

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Romance/Friendship Characters: Penelope, Scott

It wasn't that there would be a scandal if it got out, she just didn't want the world to know every detail of her relationships.

...Did I just write a romance fic? I think I did? That was unexpected, but it was where my muses jumped at this prompt, so here we are. I'm going to preface this by saying I am quite content with the canonical Pen&Ink ship, but I do find the idea of an earlier relationship with Scott (with an amicable end that has nothing to do with Gordon!) an interesting scenario to explore - people who have been following me a while may remember a teaser chapter I did earlier this year about Gordon finding out.

Ages in this fic are Penelope, 18, and Scott, 19. At this point, she's only met Scott and John out of the brothers. There is kissing but nothing more, although they are hormonal teenagers.

Unspoken Fluff Starters

Cashmere peacoat buttoned up tightly against the autumn chill, eighteen year old Lady Penelope accepted Parker’s assistance out of the car with all the elegance and grace expected of someone of her status. Her hair had been left loose, artfully styled to appear the smarter side of casual, yet also free enough to bounce back into position should anything ruffle it slightly during the evening.

The streets of Oxford were well-lit, yet simultaneously preserved the dark night skies above with their specially designed street lighting. It was something her good friend and course mate John Tracy approved of. Her heels – high stiletto because one did not mingle with certain Tracys without an extra couple of inches of height – clipped professionally against the worn street as she thanked Parker for his assistance and confidently made her way to her friend’s front door.

This was not an unusual occurrence, and the pale pink laptop tucked not quite fully into the handbag she was clutching would broadcast the same fact as always – after all, John was known to be the best in the year, and they had spent many evenings together going over material in his small flat since striking up a friendship. No casual observers would have any cause to consider this a different visit.

The doorbell was old, rather like the building John resided in, sounding out a sharp yet melodic trill for the duration she depressed it. A summons, one might call it, much like the servants’ bells hidden all through her estate. The sound was similar enough.

It worked just like one; seconds later the door was opened to reveal the Tracy she was there to visit.

Still, any observing masses must be appeased.

“Good evening,” she greeted, stepping across the threshold as though she owned the small flat, despite it being far below anything her social peers would ever consider possessing, “is your brother in?”

“He’s at the library, working on some assignment or other,” Scott told her, stepping out of her way seamlessly.

“Ah well,” she sighed, “I shall wait for him here, if that isn’t an inconvenience for you?” The way that blue eyes hadn’t looked away from her since the moment he opened the door told her that Scott was not at all inconvenienced by her presence.

Behind her, the door finally closed, the catch clicking into place and shutting out the outside world.

“Not at all,” Scott verbally assured her, holding out one hand. “May I take your coat, Lady Creighton-Ward?”

A childlike giggle bubbled up inside her at the formality, ruined only slightly by the way his gorgeous blue eyes glimmered in amusement, but she pushed it back down with all the experience that came with being one of the social elite heiresses.

“You may, Mr Tracy,” she responded, a little airily, as though talking to a servant – or at least a man below her standing, passing him her handbag to set down by the door before offering him her relaxed hand in greeting.

He needed no prompting to lightly grasp it and lift it to his lips, pressing a light ghost of a kiss to the back of it before stepping back so that she could strip her outermost layer. While tightly fastened, her peacoat was simple to unbutton and her deft fingers slipped the last one from its buttonhole before letting the material slip back off of her shoulders.

Scott caught it, standing a little too close behind her to be proper and brushing his hands down her arms entirely too improperly as he helped her shed it before hanging it on the coat stand that stood sentry by the door. The designer coat stood out starkly against the rugged navy denim on the hook next to it, and not just because of its pale pink colour.

The Tracy family might have money, but they rarely spent it on things such as clothes.

“May I escort you to the couch?” Scott offered her his arm, the sparkle in his eye extending to include a playful grin whispering at his mouth. He enjoyed the faux formality of their little arrangement, she knew – Penelope did, too, but she also hid it far better.

“Very well,” she said, slipping her hand daintily through the loop. “Escort me.”

Even with five inches of heels, he still towered over her as he guided her from the entryway to the sofa – barely any distance at all, and certainly not in something one could consider a separate room – before guiding her to take a seat.

On the television, a film was already poised to play. A timeless classic, an adaptation of Jane Austen at her finest literary peak, and one Penelope had seen many times before. Scott, she had learnt last week when they had planned this encounter, had never seen it.

A rectification was tonight’s plans, at least on the film front – provided Scott paid attention to it, rather than her.

He still hadn’t looked away from her since she’d arrived. Penelope was, of course, used to being the centre of attention, but there was something so very different about that attention when it came from her beau, rather than the rest of the world. There was no judgement in Scott’s gaze, no watchfulness as the eyes waited for her to commit a faux pas, and it was both refreshing and exhilarating.

Those watchful eyes possessed by the rest of the world would be full of glee should they ever learn that she was not quite as single as she pretended to be. Very few knew that she even knew John’s older brother, let alone that they often arranged dates behind closed doors.

John, her wonderful friend, understood her desire to keep tabloid suspicions away from her love life, and usually vacated his flat for the evening so that they could have somewhere private. Tonight, he had allowed them three hours before his return, which was plenty of time to watch the film and curl up scandalously close to Scott as it played. His warm, strong arm wrapped around her shoulders firmly as she let her body lightly brush against his, pulling her in close.

An equally strong hand delicately lifted her hand from where she had let it rest on her thigh, guiding it back up to his lips and leaving a firmer kiss to the skin.

“It’s good to see you again,” he murmured, not pulling back as he spoke and leaving little breaths of air to brush the back of her hand with every word. It took all of her self-control not to physically react to it.

After all, this was another of their little games – Scott liked to see if he could crack her Lady façade, and she took great pleasure in being on the receiving end of attempt after attempt.

“It is,” she agreed, leaving her hand where it lay in his grip. “We haven’t seen each other in too long.” That was the problem with living either side of the Atlantic, although she knew his visits to England had increased since their relationship had begun.

One day, she would have to make the journey out to Kansas, but for the time being there was no reason for her to be seen doing so.

“I missed you,” he whispered to her skin, the words caressing as they skipped over. His eyes were locked on hers, despite the way he was slightly bent over in order to reach her hand, and vibrant blue peeked up past dark eyelashes.

“One would hope so,” she replied, allowing the flicker of a smile to flash through her façade. A reward for his efforts. “I must admit company has been lacking in your absence.”

“Is that aristocracy speak for ‘I missed you, too’?” Scott asked, rather cheekily. His dimples sunk deep into his cheeks as the playful grin blossomed in full bloom. She resisted the urge to press the tip of a finger into the indent, at least for now.

They were too early into tonight’s performance for that level of intimacy just yet.

“That could be an interpretation,” she allowed, finally drawing her hand back to settle in her lap. “Now, are there refreshments to go along with the film?”

“Do I count?” came the immediate answer, complete with a flash of a grin that could only be described as flirtatious, before Scott continued with a more respectable response, gesturing with the arm not around her shoulders at the coffee table. It was piled high with snacks, ranging from cutely cut sandwiches in perfect triangles to bowls full of crisps. A selection of chocolates – casual, not the high-end she was used to being served – completed the feast. “Help yourself to whatever you want,” he told her.

“Thank you, I shall.” She selected a sandwich and took a dainty bite. It was soft and just the slightest bit chilled. Bought from a shop, or even specially ordered; certainly not made by the young man sat next to her, but she didn’t mind that at all. “Now, the film?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Scott promised her, shifting down a little on the sofa until his head wasn’t much above hers.

“I’m ready now.” With a demure gesture, she set the film to play.

It was, of course, a magnificent film. One of Penelope’s long-time favourites, she would never tire of watching it, and the alluring romantic growth of a young female aristocrat and a tall, dark and handsome suitor had featured in her daydreams many a time as a younger girl.

Her own tall, dark and handsome suitor’s attention was clearly divided throughout the film. He made a valiant attempt to watch it, but fingers trailed circular patterns on her arm and almost every time she could pull her own eyes away from the screen, it was to find those vibrant blues watching her as though it would be a crime to look away.

A lesser man might have tired of their game and made a move before the film ended, but even as the story reached its climatic peak, the most Scott had done was to lightly rest his head against hers, drawing her a little further into his hold. She’d gone willingly, the candid contact still a relatively new and exhilarating experience for her despite it remaining entirely free of inappropriate connotations.

It was as the end credits rolled that Scott made the daring leap into something a little more suggestive.

“You’ve got chocolate on your face, your Ladyship,” he told her, raising a finger to the very corner of his mouth as an indication. “Right here.”

Penelope hadn’t got food on her face since she was a very young girl at the start of her etiquette lessons, and was well aware that she had made no such mess this time, either. Still, she was willing to humour him, and raised a hand lightly to the indicated spot.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “Well, that simply won’t do. Please excuse me for a moment; I need to visit the bathroom.”

“No ne-”

Scott’s protest was interrupted by both of their phones vibrating in tandem. If it was simply one phone, they would have ignored it and carried on their charade, but both meant it could only be one person, and as their date was occurring entirely at his discretion, ignoring John would not be wise.

It was Scott’s phone they checked, and while logically Penelope knew that the film would have eaten up most of their time, it was still a shock to see how late the hour had got when the time flashed up. John’s message was simply confirmation.

I’ll be back in ten minutes. Be on your best behaviour when I get in.

Scott sighed, outwardly disappointed, and Penelope felt the same way, despite both of them knowing in advance about the arrangement. Time simply went by too fast.

“Well,” she said, “I suppose that puts an end to tonight’s advances. We shall have to continue this at a later date.”

“On the contrary,” Scott said, setting the phone aside and turning his full body to face her, “that means we have nine minutes left to play with tonight.”

She’d known he would say something along those lines; the glitter that had been present all evening had just begun to darken slightly before John’s message.

“And what could we do in nine minutes?” she asked, feigning cluelessness even though he was leaning forwards slightly, broadcasting his intent with every muscle in his body.

“I haven’t kissed you yet tonight,” came the charming American bluntness, although he softened it with a following, “may I?”

In answer, she once again presented him with her hand, which he grasped lightly and kissed the back of, dark blue eyes peering past his lashes to look up at her with a hopeful expression.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, breath caressing her skin lightly for the third time that evening. This time, she didn’t hold back her reaction, closing her eyes for a brief moment at the sensation.

“You’ve got eight and a half minutes left,” she told him by way of answer, reopening her eyes in time to see the permission register on his face in a dawn of unconcealed delight before he advanced.

In Penelope’s opinion, Scott made fantastic use of every single moment of those eight and a half minutes.

[star-lemonade]

The Cost of Sitting

Ateez Jongho x Reader

Genre: fluff

Cw: (non-sexual) partial nudity,  mentions of overworking/ working too much,

Rating: G

Word count: 750

I was writing a story where someone gives someone else a massage and thought what if Jongho gave you a massage?? Would that be terrible ??? Or surprisingly good?? That’s how I came up with this XD

You stretched but the muscles in your neck and shoulders were still tense. You continued to type on the laptop in front of you. A stabbing pain in the side of your neck distracted you. 

“Are you okay?”

Jongho watched from the couch. He was looking at something one his phone. You had planned to watch a movie together and he would stay the night. Work had you running late. 

“It’s just my neck. It’s killing me these days.”

Sitting down in front of a computer all day started taking its toll. Usually you would go outside more but at the moment you felt too exhausted from work. The thought of going outside was simply not appealing. 

“Do you need a massage?”

He got up from the couch and you panicked. If Jongho gave you a massage, you would not have any neck problems anymore. Because you would not have a neck. 

“Uhm… no thanks.”

He did not say anything and sat back down. You felt sorry for making him wait but you wanted to finish this. 

Soon you would get a headache. You could feel it already at the place where your head rested on your neck. It was dull pain that did not have a concrete point of origin but it was somehow caused by strained muscles in your shoulder. You moved your head in hopes it would get better. Rolling your shoulders and kneading the places where the muscles were cramped the most helped a bit. 

Something tickled your neck and you jerked. Warm hands tightened on your shoulders. 

“Wha-?”

“I can’t look at this any longer. Now sit still and try to relax.”

You winched as his thumbs dug into your back. It hurt. You almost wanted to swat away Jongho’s hands. He reduced the pressure and you relaxed a bit. 

“It hurts a lot, doesn’t it?”

Jongho’s voice was soft as he pushed the hoodie down a bit. Unfortunately it meant the front of the hoodie moved up and you pulled it down again. 

“I think it’s better if I take that off.”

“The t-shirt too.”

You gave him a look over your shoulder but he was unfazed. 

“I will get some lotion.”

You held the t-shirt up against your chest. It felt awkward to sit at the table in only a bra and pants. Jongho came back from the bathroom room with your body lotion. He spread some on his hands and continued to massage your shoulders. It hurt but in a way that told you it would be better soon. From your spine out the shoulders, it seemed like everything was tensed. Jongho did not say anything but paid close attention to your reactions, reducing pressure when you tensed or gasped because a spot hurting particularly bad. 

You did not know how long he massaged you but your skin felt hot and the lotion had vanished. 

“Is it better now?”

Jongho leaned down so your faces were the same height. 

“Yes. Thanks.”

You pecked his lips. With the t-shirt back on you opened your laptop, but Jongho closed it again. 

“I think you have worked enough today. Let’s watch something together in the bed and call it a day.”

“But I have to finish this.”

He stared at you. The thing you “had to finish” tonight was not due until next week. Recently you had had a period of over motivation, where you would spend time feverishly working for hours only to feel drained afterwards. 

“You work too much and you need to rest. Don’t make me drag you away.”

Unfortunately that would be really easy for him. Super easy, barely an inconvenience. You sighed. He was right even though you did not want to admit that. 

“Okay.”

He held out his hand and you took it. 

The bed was comfortable. You had changed the sheets. The fresh smell made you want to curl up and sleep. 

“Jongho?”

“Euh?”

You felt the sound more than you heard it. Lying on his chest was the best and you snuggled a bit more into his embrace. He had almost fallen asleep but now his heart beat a bit faster again. You had woken him up. 

“Can you take me to the gym tomorrow?”

You need to be dragged there, because you would not go on your own. Going with your boyfriend meant there was someone to keep you accountable. 

“Sure.”

He kissed the top of your head and you smiled into his chest. 

“You’re the best.”

A/N: I have a friend who works too much. I hope she can take a break :(( I’m the one with the neck pain tho.

[rfadaydreaming]

— cellophane

why won’t you do it for me? when all i do is for you?

pairing: jumin x mc

words: 4.4k

link to read on ao3 [x]

prompt: failures // fights

tags: angst, language, unhealthy relationship, a bit toxic tbh, insecure jumin, emotional manipulation, unhappy marriage

a/n: for: @mysme-events​ angst week. this piece is inspired by fka twigs song, cellophane!

“Are you mad at me?”

Your voice had come out smaller than you had intended.

“Is there a reason I should be mad at you?”

He replied without meeting your gaze, opting to focus on the rain outside the car window instead. You didn’t quite know what kind of emotion his tone was carrying, but yet you knew it wasn’t good.

“No...”

You became hyperaware of the bad taste beginning to form in the back of your throat. It’s all too familiar, unfortunately.

“Then I shouldn't be mad at you. Should I?”

You didn’t answer him. You just weren’t sure what to say.

Heavy silence filled the car once again, the rain against the roof of the vehicle was the only thing that occupied the small space.

You sighed louder than you meant to, arms crossing over your torso, cheek resting against the foggy glass of the window. The cold felt nice against your skin, helped keep you grounded, calm. You took in a few deep breaths as you thought back on the events of earlier tonight.

The unfamiliar hand grazing the small of your back surprised you to say the least, you wanted to flinch away the moment you felt his hands touch you,, but yet you didn’t move. Why? You’re not exactly sure. Politeness, anxiety, maybe a mix of both. Maybe something else underneath it all.

You recognized the voice as a business partner of Jumins, the owner of the company that’s been occupying most of your husband's time as of late. Late nights, long meetings, hoards and hoards of paperwork.

His reputation was one you knew well, hearing it all secondhand from Jumin. He was quick to drop anyone who disagreed with him, no matter how small. Such a pain for your stubborn husband to work around, but yet as always, he somehow managed.

But one thing your husband made sure you knew about was his stance with women in particular. You weren’t allowed to come to the company dinners anymore. You could only drop things off through Jaehee at the office.

It seems he didn’t even want you to call him after meetings, one thing you two have always done even before you had started dating. Maybe the fear of his colleague overhearing your voice was the reason behind it, you didn’t know, you didn’t ask. You knew he would get upset if you did. 

Stay away from him, was all he warned.

And you promised him that you would.

“And you must be the famous Mrs Han, I presume?”

He was in front of you now, his hand lingering on your hip for a moment before pulling away. You inched away ever so slightly.

“Ah, Yes. I am.”

You had to look up to him to reply due to how close he was, the first thing you noticed was just how much he resembled Jumin. The only major difference was his eyes, while your husbands were grey and light, his were brown and deep. The similarities threw you off guard for a moment, however your surprise once you met his gaze seemed to be taken a different way than you had intended.

A slight chuckle escaped his lungs, It was warm and clear, it had a bit more of a higher pitch than Jumin’s did. More character to it.

“I’ve heard such great things about you! Your husband seems like quite the happy man. And I can see why, you’re beautiful. Ah– If I can say that, that is.”

You shied away without thinking, you didn’t particularly like the feeling you had in your stomach right now. You were also painfully aware of how his position was giving him a ‘good view’ of your body from up there, as your husband would sometimes say. 

His words seemed innocent, he seemed kind. But Jumin’s warning still flickered within your mind.

“Thanks, I suppose.”

You fully expected him to take advantage of his much taller height, but yet he didn’t seem to. His eyes were trained onto your own as he smiled, never glancing down at your chest even once.

A weird feeling stirred deep within your insides.

He isn’t like how Jumin described at all.

Why would your husband lie?

You entertained his small talk for a few minutes, he introduced himself, as did you.

Fear was the main thing holding you back from leaving, of course. Jumin had been working on this project for months now, the memories of him falling asleep over his laptop, his dark circles, his late night confessions of just how much his head ached were fresh in the back of your mind.

His mood swings, his exhaustion, his late nights.

Be polite.

Be polite for Jumin.

“–But enough about all that! Do you drink?”

“Uhm… Wine, sometimes. But i’m not the biggest fan.”

“Any reason in particular?”

He leaned into you a bit, tilting his head to the side in curiosity. You naturally smiled in return.

“I’ve tried some wine, but they’re just all so bitter to me.”

You scrunched your nose a little at the memories. Vineyards with Jumin were never your favorite, he just loved such sour wines.

“Bitter? Your husband is an investor in how many wineries exactly, yet only offers his wife bitter wine? Hm. We can���t have that now, can we?”

He spoke with a smile, wrapping his arm around your waist and beginning to guide you towards the bar. Before you even got the chance to protest in return, he was already sweeping you away. His thumb ran circles on your hip that you were painfully aware of. 

The pit in your stomach was growing heavier and heavier with every step.

It's been awhile since Jumin’s had even touched you like this, you thought.

It was nice.

He was rambling on about the wines he had lined up for tonight as he led you to a seat, pulling it out for you while still going on and on. You couldn’t even find an opening to interject, ask for a bathroom break, anything. 

He ordered you a drink, as well as one for himself.

You desperately scanned the room for Jumin, eyes bouncing off black suit after black suit. You just couldn’t pinpoint him like this, everyone was wearing such similar clothing...

You swallowed thickly and took a sip of the wine in front of you, face cringing a bit as you expected the worst, however pleasantly surprised once the taste had hit your tongue. 

It wasn't nearly as bitter as the wines Jumin often offered you.

Jumin’s sudden touch to your knee had caused you to jump a little, breaking you away from your racing thoughts.

“Stop.”

He finally met your gaze, you scrunched your brows in confusion. Two fingers pressed down against your skin, putting a halt to your restless leg.

“You know I don't like when you do that.”

A sigh escaped his lungs as he pulled his hand back, crossing his arms over his torso once again. Back to staring at whatever was so interesting outside the window. Oh yes, you had forgotten. How could you.

You glanced down at your knee after he had already pulled away.

It was red from the pressure that had been placed there.

“Well, sorry for being such an inconvenience then.”

You laughed a little in disbelief as you spoke, pressing your cheek against the window once more. 

Maybe it was a childish thing to say, but you truly didn’t care right now. You slumped further into the seat, humming to yourself softly as you stole some glances here and there towards your husband. 

His face was void of any readable emotion as of now, but his clenched jaw and narrowed eyes said everything you needed to know. He seemed to be thinking about something, your words perhaps. He suddenly met your eyes without warning. It made you flinch. 

“Inconvenience.”

He looked at you as he spoke. It felt so cold. You could feel anxiety beginning to build. 

“Inconvenience, is searching all over the venue for my wife when she won’t even bother to pick up her phone for her husband.”

He opened his mouth to continue, but you had cut him off before he got the chance,

“Jumin I told you it was almost dead earlier tonight, I just–“

“Don’t interrupt me while i’m speaking. Please.”

Jumin raised his voice harshly, it was ever so slight, but it still took you by surprise. His eyes were oddly intense with an emotion you couldn’t quite pinpoint, all you knew is that they carried weight behind him. One you weren’t used to seeing. 

His gaze made you feel small and slightly embarrassed, you weren’t even sure why. It just did.

You nodded and closed your mouth, letting him go on.

“Inconvenience, is watching my wife entertain another man while I watch from the sidelines. Not just any man, but the one man I so vividly remember telling her to stay away from.”

You opened your mouth to interject once more but his brows furrowed as soon as you did so, his chin tilted forward in silent warning.

He continued on.

“Inconvenience, is seeing my wife share drinks with another man. Flirting with another man. Touching another man.”

“I didn't flirt.”

You raised your voice slightly, not by much, but it was enough to make him raise a brow. It was just... so hard to control yourself when he was being like this sometimes.

“Sharing a few drinks with him, laughing and giggling like some teenage schoolgirl, letting him put his hands all over you. Might as well have.”

Jumin’s tone was still so cold, monotone, and for some reason that hurt more than anything else could have.

It was like this most of the time. He would never yell, he would never shout, barely even show any emotion at all if you’re being honest. It drove you up the wall sometimes. You always left feeling like you were the irrational one because of it, no matter the case. 

It seems that’s what was happening again. As it always does.

“I wasn't given a choice, Jumin! He wouldn’t let me–”

The car came to a sudden stop, you groaned a bit, nearly biting your tongue due to the stop. It interrupted you just as you had begun to raise your voice.

 Jumin gave you an heavy look before rolling down the partition, Driver Kim gave him the confirmation that you two were back home.

He got out first, offering you a hand that you had refused to take.

The elevator ride was so uncomfortable.

His posture was relaxed as it usually was, hands messing with his cufflinks absentmindedly, his expression nearly blank while he stared at the panel of buttons on the wall, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world or something. The only indicator he has when he’s upset would be a clenched jaw.

It was something you had become oh so familiar with these past couple of months.

Anxiety was building up inside of your body, it felt itchy, it nearly burned. It was almost always there and had no issues made itself well known. But there was something deeper building behind it, not just from the argument. Something unfamiliar, bitter, ugly.

It frightened you.

You weren’t sure what it was yet.

And you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

The two of you entered the penthouse in heavy silence, it felt like even breathing was much too loud for the atmosphere around the both of you. Elizabeth the Third had come running over as soon as the door opened, but it seems even she was able to sense the tension. You weren’t surprised, she usually can.

She opted to climb up on the couch instead, tail twitching back and forth as she watched her parents carefully from afar. You vaguely wondered if she knew something you didn’t.

Jumin went straight to the kitchen as soon as his jacket and shoes were off, not a word was spoken while he left. He went for a glass of wine you could only presume, he usually did once he got home. Normally you would get on his case about it, his more unhealthy drinking habits had been increasing as of late, but tonight wasn’t the time to nag him for it. You didn’t have the energy to fuel the fire more than you already had. 

You walked over to the living-room with a sigh, giving Elizabeth a slight pat before sprawling out on the couch. Your feet ached due to the heels from earlier tonight, but the relief of home was a welcomed feeling. You let your body sink into the cushions as you relaxed, at least the best you could for now.

You stared outside the window for a few moments, admiring the beauty of the city below. Your mind wandered just a bit. So many different types of people, most you’ll never meet, never see. But yet you wondered if maybe anyone out there knew how you felt right now. Maybe they could offer advice, a shoulder to cry on, something. Anything.

You closed your eyes, suddenly aware of how heavy they were getting, allowing your head fall back against the couch. It felt nice for a moment. 

You drew in a deep breath, your lungs stung as you pushed their limits.

It was peaceful. 

Jumin popping open a wine bottle in the kitchen caused you to flinch as you were brought back down to reality. The anxiety of the situation flooded back all at once, enough to make your stomach churn. 

The gentle still of before was gone in an instant.

You knew how all of this would play out. It truly felt rehearsed at this point.

He would press your buttons.

You would get angry.

He would give you the silent treatment as soon as you lost your cool.

You would apologize.

He would forgive you.

The two of you make up until the next time, then the cycle repeats.

You were almost numb to it at this point.

It used to be fun fighting with Jumin at first, if you could even call it that. It never lasted for too long, never too harsh either. You both would talk it out, laugh a little, then of course the make up afterwards was always amazing.

But now? There was nothing. No heated passion afterwards. No talking. No laughing.

Nothing.

Now you two could stay angry at each other for days on end until eventually one of you got tired of it, usually you. And someone halfheartedly apologizes, again, usually you. There was no communication either, you two just… go on like it never happened.

But it did happen.

It does happen.

And it’s getting harder and harder to pretend it doesn’t.

You heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, getting louder every second that passed. A soft sigh left your chest as you kept your eyes closed, maybe he would go away if you closed them tight enough, you could only hope.

It's Jumin. That’s your husband. You should never feel that way about him. But yet, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t.

You opened your eyes slowly and watched as he sat on the chair across from you, crossing his ankles in a somewhat sophisticated manner before slowly looking you up and down. The position you had wasn’t ladylike if you were being frank, your legs spread out despite the smaller dress you wore, arms sprawled out across the back of the couch, your posture slouched deep into the cushions. It felt a bit judgemental the way he observed you, maybe not, but right now you genuinely couldn’t tell.

��Feeling better?”

“Oh fuck off.”

You spat in return with a bitter laugh, god how you hated when he said shit like that during times like these. You knew that he knew you hated it too. Enter the pushing of buttons.

“I was simply asking a question. No need to get so worked up, my dear.”

He focused his attention on the dark liquid swirling within his glass while he spoke, putting emphasis on the pet name, feigning fondness. You narrowed your eyes in return.

“I feel great, especially good knowing that i’m not the one in the wrong here.”

While you beamed, he tensed.

You shouldn’t have said that. You knew you shouldn’t have the second it came out of your mouth.

“A lot of confidence coming from a woman who was acting like a little whore less than an hour ago.”

He suddenly met your gaze, your eyes widened as you felt anger begin to flood your chest. Jumin had never called you something like that before. 

“Excuse me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Your voice was laced with offense, rage, maybe a bit of hurt if he cared to listen closely enough. But inside you knew he didn’t. You had gotten up from your place on the couch so quickly it had made you light headed for a few moments.

“Apparently something since you feel the need to flirt with any man you can get you hands on whenever I'm not around.”

Jumin looked up at you, you looked back down at him.

You were silent for a moment.

Processing things, taking it all in. Trying your hardest not to lose your cool, you just knew once you lost it he would have the upper hand. Don't lose your cool MC, please, you mentally chided. You inhaled deeply, exhaling even deeper as you took a quick breather.

“Look. I know how hard you’ve been working on this project okay, I didn’t want to fuck it up by saying something wrong to the guy or anything, I didn’t know what to do. He wouldn’t take no for an answer, Jumin.”

You pleaded almost pathetically. Here it goes. This is the part where you usually start to apologize.

“Please, dont pretend like you’ve ever had my best interest in mind.” He said with a bitter laugh.

His laugh stung.

It was the thing to finally push you over the edge.

“You know what, I really, really wish I didn’t. If you cared enough to pay attention you’d see i’m always putting your best interest first and it makes my life miserable, absolutely fucking miserable Jumin! I can't even speak to another man without you getting all insecure and pissed off about it, and guess what happens after that? You make me feel fucking insane when i’ve done nothing wrong!”

You shouted, vented, spilt things you’d never even said out loud before.

“I don't even want to go outside anymore because I just know i’m going to do something that’ll make you mad, and you know what? I’m the person who has to apologize for it. Every single time. I’m the person who ends up comforting you even after you spend hours making me feel like i’m some whore or a broken fucking toy you only keep around because you’re scared of being alone again. It’s always me, me! It’s never you! I am so, so fucking tired of yo- this.”

He met your eyes, they were wide with surprise, shock, maybe even anger, but honestly you didn’t have the energy to care about his feelings right now. You couldn’t. It’s all you ever do, and it’s taking its toll on you. It’s too much.

Your slip up felt heavy in your throat. An apology almost spilt from your lips, but you stopped yourself before it had.

“This. I am so tired of this.”

You corrected yourself much quieter this time. It sounded so desperate, so empty.

The both of you sat in heavy silence once more. Exhaustion was slowly creeping its way into your body, mentally and physically.

You regretted all of your words almost instantly.

They weren’t false. But that only made you feel worse.

“MC.”

He spoke up after a few moments.

“Jumin.”

You replied calmly.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

He genuinely seemed confused as he spoke, nervous, scared. On the inside you knew that he knew. He just wanted clarity, confirmation on what your words truly meant. It annoyed you, you had just explained exactly what you meant. But with a sigh, you held back your frustrations.

“Jumin. I am tired of this.”

You put emphasis on it, weakly pointing between the two of you. Eyes beginning to well with tears that you tried your hardest to shove away, your voice sounded so raw from yelling before, It hurt your own ears to listen to it.

A flash of guilt rapidly spread across his features, the glass in his hand shook slightly as he soaked in the true meaning behind your words. You were starting to feel guilty, he looked… scared. Your heart hurt looking at him in such a state right now.

His features softened as he met your eyes, he swallowed thickly. He looked like the old Jumin for a second again.

“MC, I’m–“

You cut him off with a shake of your head, a sad smile tugging at the corners of your mouth,

“You’re so sorry. I know. You always do that. You put me through all of this only to apologize the second I say something that makes you even the slightest bit nervous.”

He broke away from your gaze like it had burned, instead staring down at the red liquid resting within his glass. His jaw was clenched again.

When you first entered a relationship with Jumin, you knew the kind of person he was. And at the time, you really thought you were okay with that. 

He had a lot to work through, you knew.

You could help, you told yourself, you told him. You’d be there for him while he figured things out, it would get better, as long as you were there for him, he would get better.

And he did. For the first year at least.

But now, things were different. So different.

You would start to laugh at the cashier's jokes too loudly for his liking. He would grab your arm a little tighter than usual, a silent warning, and you would quickly stop.

If you entertained Zen’s antics a few times too many, he would give you the silent treatment. Eventually your relationship with Zen had suffered in the long run, it was just better for Jumin’s sake if you two didn’t talk anymore.

Is it better for your sake, MC?

You remember Zen asking, but you couldn’t answer him.

Now it’s gotten to the point where you can’t even look at another man for a few seconds too long or else it turns into another argument.

Sorry didn’t feel comforting anymore.

After all, nothing changed afterwards, so did he ever really mean it?

They were just empty words to you now.

He’ll grow out of it, right?

That’s what you wanted to believe at the beginning. But how long would it take before he did? If he ever did? You didn’t know if you’d be able to stick around long enough to find that out.

“Jumin I’m not sure… if this is…”

working anymore.

The words just wouldn’t leave your throat. But still, he knew. And you knew that he knew.

You took a few steps back with a sigh.

Something had triggered within your husband as he grasped the gravity of the situation, the implication behind your words, the consequences of his actions. He dropped the wine glass to the floor, making you jump from the awful sound it made as it shattered against the hardwood. 

“You can’t leave.”

His eyes were wide as his head shook frantically, his expression took you by surprise, you could see panic claw their way into his features.

“Jumin.”

“No. Don’t– Don't leave. I’m sorry, I'm so sorry.”

He was on you in an instant, you knew he stepped on the glass judging by the sound it made, but yet he didn’t even flinch. You didn’t have time to process anything before he was holding you tightly against his chest, you couldn’t go anywhere even if you tried to, the pressure hurt a little. 

“We’re fine.”

His voice was shaky as he comforted himself more than anyone, it had an uncertain edge to it, painfully reminding you back to the first time you had stayed in his apartment. It made you more than a little nervous.

“This won’t happen again. Just don't leave. Don't leave me.”

Jumin rambled uncharacteristically, apologizing relentlessly as he buried his face into the top of your hair, his hands coming to hold the back of your head softly, pulling you into his chest. The sudden shift in his mood was enough to give you whiplash, you felt so much, too fast. Confused, guilty, scared, numb. Surprise wasn’t one of them though, no. It’s always like this.

You could hear him swallow thickly while he shakily ran his fingers through your hair, his racing heartbeat filling all your senses. You couldn’t help but notice his embrace didn’t feel as comfortable as it once did, it was unfamiliar to you. 

Your silence only made him even more nervous.

He leaned down to kiss your cheek, your jawline, your temple, your forehead. You felt his tears press against your skin. He kissed your lips next, it was sloppy, panicked, filled with emotion. A sharp contrast to the Jumin you’ve been used to these past few months. Past few hours.

You didn’t react.

You didn’t kiss him back.

There was no spark to his touch like there should be. Like there used to be.

Your stomach was reeling, your ears were ringing. You suddenly buried your face into Jumin’s chest without warning, sobbing so hard that your head felt like it was about to burst from the pressure of your tears, your husband instead took this as a good sign. He hushed you with more of his frantic apologizes, but to be honest you weren’t really listening to him right now. Your mind only focused on one realization as you broke down within your husband's cold embrace.

“I love you.”

He whispered into your hair, you could tell by his tone that he really did mean it too. He cried with you even. Something he’d only done a few times in the relationship before.

You knew he did. You knew deep down, he loved you. 

All you could offer in return was a nod. You couldn’t speak, you couldn’t move. Just nod. 

You realized something in that moment. 

You weren’t able to say I love you back to your husband anymore.

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when he becomes tiny

This work, 当他变小了, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ] 

“It’s time to get up.”

In response to the voice, you open your eyes blearily to the familiar morning sunlight, the familiar temperature of the room, the familiar decor of the bedroom, and the familiar...

“Who the hell are you? Victor’s illegitimate son?”

You’re alarmed at the sight of a child at Victor’s designated spot next to you.

The innocent-looking, tiny version of Victor wears a blank expression on his face.

Your brain gradually starts functioning again. “You’re... Victor?”

“Idiot.”

It’s him, it’s definitely him! Apart from him, who else would call you an idiot? Evol fluctuations probably caused his body to shrink.

Curious, you give him a pat on the head, then pinch his chubby cheeks, finding this experience incredibly novel. “Victor, you actually look... strangely cute like this.”

He swats your hand away, shifting his tiny body off the bed.

“Where are you going?” No longer feeling the soft touch, you feel slightly disappointed. You stare at his fuzzy hair, and your fingers itch to ruffle it.

“Making breakfast for a certain dummy.” 

Without turning his head, Victor leaves the bedroom, his short legs striding forward clumsily, like a kitten learning how to walk. 

Your maternal instincts are set aflame.

Something occurs to you, and you quickly hop out of bed and run into the kitchen. How’s he going to cook with his current height?

As expected, Little Victor, with his short limbs, is standing in front of the counter wondering how he can reach the knife and chopping board.

“Little Vic, since it’s inconvenient for you, why not go outside and play. Let this big sister take care of the meals today~ I promise to bring you up well!” You hoist him up by the armpits and bring him out of the kitchen, using this opportunity to squish his tiny face.

Considering how long you’ve known him, you can instantly tell from his expression what he’s about to say next. Before he has time to conjure a venomous remark, you hide in the kitchen and shut the door.

The door slams in front of him, and he shakes his head laughably. “Pretty bold.”

After some twists and turns, you finally churn out an edible “breakfast”. When you lay it on the table, Victor is looking through company documents while wearing glasses that are evidently too large for him.

He shifts the laptop to the side. Furrowing his brows, he uses a knife to slice open a slightly blackened poached egg. “Your skills could see an improvement.”

You roll your eyes at him. “Yes yes yes, I can’t possibly compare myself to the skills of the great chef Victor. So I’ll have to trouble Little Vic to bear with it.”

“I’ve taken leave today. After breakfast, there’s an e-meeting I have to attend. When the time comes, attend to it for me.” Finding the food a little salty, Victor holds up the coffee in his hand. Before he even takes a sip, you exchange it with a cup of milk.

“Little children can’t drink adult coffee. You can only grow tall if you drink milk~” You grin while explaining.

His sharp eyebrows furrow slightly. “I’m 28 this year.”

Sizing him up, you click your tongue and sigh. “No matter how fast you grow, this body looks like a six-year-old's.”

“...” Not knowing how to rebut, Victor’s face blackens. When his immature-looking face accompanies this serious expression, he resembles a child who’s throwing a fuss - it’s cute.

After breakfast, you enter the e-meeting. The other high-ranking members of the company notice that CEO Victor isn’t around, and is instead substituted by you. Someone curiously asks, “Did CEO Victor go somewhere?”

Donning an official business-like expression on your face, you respond. “CEO Victor is feeling unwell today. I will be representing him in the meeting, and will convey the contents of the meeting with him in its entirety.”

Following a few concerned pleasantries, the meeting delves into the main topic. You take down notes seriously, posing questions according to the slips of paper Victor hands you. The meeting goes by smoothly.

“Your performance during the meeting wasn’t bad.” Victor flips through your meeting notes, satisfied.

Even though you didn’t understand the purpose of you recording notes when he was right there listening alongside you, you’re thoroughly welcoming of his compliment. Puffing up your chest with pride, you lift your head and say, “Of course. I’m the boss of a production company. Meetings are naturally not a cinch.”

“You’re off in the clouds just after a compliment?” The disjunct between his adorable features and the expression that doesn’t suit his age causes you to burst into laughter. “Victor, stop speaking like that, it’s too unsuitable.”

Victor immediately reverts back to his blank expression, which tickles you even more.

Both of you have taken leave and are staying at home doing nothing, apart from the moments you can’t control your fingers and they knead his cheeks or tousle his hair. Each and every time, he would either swat away or evade your claws. Apart from that, everything has been very peaceful, until...

“Since you’re so small that you’d probably drown if you fall into the bathtub, should I help you bathe?” You suggest earnestly.

Knowing that he can’t convince you otherwise, Victor reluctantly agrees to your request to wash him up.

Standing stark naked in the bathtub, the clear water covers nothing.

You glance at it��casually. “When Little Vic becomes smaller, everything else becomes smaller too...”

“...dummy, don’t look.” 

The child’s cheeks are pinkish and tender, and it seems to redden even more after hearing your words.

“Stand here and don’t move. I’ll get the shampoo.” You pat his wet hair and turn around, heading to the shelf to retrieve the bottle of shampoo he uses frequently. 

However, the bathroom floor is too slippery. Accidentally stepping on a puddle of water, your body lunges forwards.

“Be careful!” 

The pain you anticipated doesn’t arrive. Instead, you’re greeted by a warm touch. You flick open an eye.

Victor frowns in pain, his hair dripping with water, sticking to his forehead. There is obvious worry in his eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Your brain is stunned by the depth in his eyes, and you can only nod in a daze. 

Sensing this, Victor’s large hand, which was originally on your waist, travels up your spine slowly. His searing eyes causes your breathing to hitch and your mouth to feel dry.

Satisfied by the effect he has on you, the corners of Victor’s lips twitch slightly.

“A dummy said something she shouldn’t have. Now, are you ready to accept your punishment?”

[ GAVIN ]

“Yes, so sorry to trouble you, Captain Eli. And no, it’s not that serious, you don’t have to specially visit. Thank you for the hard work.” You sit on the sofa while making a call to Eli, asking him to help Gavin apply for leave.

Gavin sits beside you quietly, looking at his tiny hands in a trace-like state. He clenches them, but doesn’t feel the strength he’s familiar with.

“All right, let’s just treat today as a rest day. How long will this last?” Your maternal instincts are set alight when facing this tiny Gavin. Carrying him onto your lap, you can’t help but knead his cheeks.

Gavin doesn’t struggle, letting you do whatever you want. “It won’t be long, but it does feel a little strange...”

“I think it’s very cute. Like this, I really can’t bear to let you go~” You place your right hand on the top of his head, patting his soft hair. He probably said it wouldn’t last long so you wouldn’t worry.

“Ahem... it’s fine as long as you like it.” That’s right - Gavin has always been pampering you, and this remains the same even if he turns tiny.

“Gavin, shall we have KFC for lunch? It’s been such a long time since we’ve eaten it.” You rub your hands together, yearning for the KFC New Orleans chicken wings, chicken popcorn and...

Gavin smiles when he sees how eager you are. “I heard the kid’s meal comes with a Conan toy.”

You’re brought out of your thoughts, and there are almost stars in your eyes. “You really know me too well! Thank you, Little Gavin~” 

Gavin subconsciously reaches out to tousle your hair, but since his short arm can’t reach the top of your head, he lowers his arm and holds your hand instead.

Leading him out of the house, you suddenly feel as though you’re holding onto your son. Your eyes crinkle as you tug on his hand. “Today, Little Gav has to follow his mother closely.”

“Cough cough cough cough...” As though you gave him a shock, Gavin chokes violently. With a slight redness in his cheeks, he says your name softly. You laugh, carrying him to the backseat of the car and fastening his seat belt before settling yourself into the driver’s seat.

“Drive more-”

“Drive more slowly - I’ve heard these three words so many times already.” You cut him off before he can finish. Somehow, causing Little Gavin to blush is even more interesting than usual. 

Gavin furrows his brows and changes his words.

“Then, be careful.”

Considering how there’s a ‘child’ in the car, you drive as smoothly as possible, reaching the nearest KFC in the shopping mall only after half an hour. 

“A kid’s meal, a Beijing chicken roll, and a 10-piece chicken bucket. Little Gav, do you want popcorn chicken?” You turn your head to Little Gavin, who is behind you.

He retrieves a mobile phone from the Mickey Mouse backpack you forced him to carry, and hands it to you. “If you want it, just order it.”

"I’ll have the big portion then.” You unlock the phone with your fingerprint, showing the payment code to the clerk. After scanning the code, the clerk takes out a Conan toy and gives it to Gavin.

“Little boy, this is a toy which comes with the kid’s meal.”

Gavin takes the toy from her hand and stores it into the bag. 

There aren’t many people, and most of the patrons are parents with their children. Originally, the two of you planned to pretend to be a mother-son duo and leave quietly after eating. However, a girl around the same height as Little Gavin walks over.

“Little brother, would you like to play in the children’s playground?” The girl’s face is red, her cheeks plump, and the pigtails on her head sway with her movements adorably.

“No he can’t.” You refuse the little girl’s request even before Gavin speaks. 

The girl turns her pleading gaze towards Gavin, who’s helping you get ketchup. He frowns. “I’m not going.”

Perhaps never experiencing such treatment before, the little girl’s eyes immediately turn misty, and it looks as though tears are about to spill from them. Feeling as though you’ve bullied her, you soften your voice and comfort her.

“Little girl, this brother isn’t feeling well today, so he can’t play with you, sorry about that.” 

The child’s mother quickly comes over to apologise, takes the girl away, and compliments your “son” for being both cute and handsome.

After seeing that they’ve walked a distance away, you rub your chin thoughtfully and lower your voice, teasingly saying, “Even as a kid, Senior attracts the eyes of the opposite sex.”

Gavin takes out the Conan toy and hands it to you. “I didn’t expect my girl to feel jealous over a child.”

You dip a fry into ketchup and feed it to him. “I’m not the sour one - it’s the ketchup!”

[Note] In Chinese, jealousy is 吃醋 (”chi cu” - loosely translated to “eating vinegar”. So when MC says she’s “not the sour one”, it’s a pun!

After lunch, the both of you decide to head home to rest since the weather is too hot to remain outside. 

Travelling at noon on a hot summer day causes a sheen of sweat to appear on both of your bodies. 

After returning home, you head to separate bathrooms to have a shower. When Little Gavin steps out, wrapped in a bath towel that is usually only enough to cover his lower body, you can’t help but laugh.

“Gavin, are you wearing a tube top?”

He frowns, lifting the bath towel which is threatening to fall. “The only thing I have is that set of clothes which turned small along with me. I can’t wear anything else.”

You poke his tummy and hug him close to your chest. “Good boy, it’s time to go to sleep~”

The air-conditioning makes the room temperature just right, and you fall asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. 

When you awake, the little person in your arms is gone. Instead, you’re resting on a firm arm. A naked man props his head on his palm next to you, smiling and gazing at you tenderly as if he wants to engrave your appearance, the intoxicating sunset, and the beautiful scene of summer on his heart forever. 

You can’t help but stare at his tender and clear face. In the cramped space, the sound of your breathing is amplified.

“Slept too much?” he breaks the silence.

Something occurs to you and you ask in surprise, “Did you know when you’d change back?”

“Mm.” Gavin lowers the arm supporting his upper body and lays down again, reaching out to hug you into his arms. His chin rests on top of your head, and the familiar touch sends tingles down your spine. 

The arms around your waist tighten, and his voice is low and hoarse. 

“Don’t move. I've been holding back for a long time.”

[ LUCIEN ]

You’re pretty sure you’re either still asleep, or having a hallucination. After shaking your head a few more times, the scene in front of you remains unchanged. 

You hold one side of the table to prevent yourself from falling to the ground from dizziness. In front of you is Lucien, his eyes crinkled with a smile... to be more precise, he’s a smaller version of Lucien.

"Lucien, what happened to you?!” You have no idea how to react to the sight before you. “Were you attacked by Voldemort's black magic?" 

Lucien waves your hands away in resignation, and says comfortingly. “It’s likely Evol fluctuations. It shouldn’t last long.”

Curious, you tug at his hair. “Is this for real? Mm, much cuter than usual.”

He takes your hand from the top of his head and holds it tightly. “Didn’t we agree to visit the bookstore to pick out books together today? Aren’t you going to prepare?”

"Are you sure you can still go to the bookstore like this?" You ask in uncertainty, looking at his small frame.

“If it’s something I agreed with you, I’ll definitely fulfil it.” He looks at you with a smile, his eyes gentle and firm, channelling ripples in your heart. Seeing you staring at him in a daze, he chuckles. "Go change your clothes, little fool.

You nod blankly, turning around to head into the room.

-

There are twice as many patrons in the bookstore over the weekend as compared to normal. Book lovers are either shuttling through the bookshelves or reading quietly with a cup of coffee in front of them. 

In contrast to the quietness in this area, the children's book section is much livelier. The walls are decorated with childlike decorative paintings, and the bookshelves are also constructed into various shapes - small houses, elephants, tall trees...

You hold Lucien’s hand as you walk past the children's book section. Feeling mischievous, you look at Lucien, whose height reaches your waist. "Little Lucien, do you want to pick a picture book?"

Lucien lowers his head and doesn’t speak, simply quickening his pace as he holds you. After walking to the western literature section, Lucien stops. “These are the books people my age read.”

The shop helper was just about to ask if he needed directions to the children's book section pauses. 

You laugh softly, taking a collection of poems from the shelf, and read it softly. 

“I love you, for putting your hand into my heaped-up heart, and passing over all the foolish, weak things that you can’t help dimly seeing there, and for drawing out, into the light...”

“All the beautiful belongings that no one else had looked quite far enough to find.”

Someone continues the second half of the sentence. The moment you lift your head, Lucien’s eyes turn icy. 

"It’s ‘Love’ from Roy Croft, right?” The uninvited man leans against the bookshelf in front of you and makes an inviting gesture. "Beautiful lady, may I invite you to have a cup of coffee with me?"”

Before you have time to speak, you hear a childish babble from Lucien. "Mom, dad would be anxious if we don’t get home soon.” 

Lucien smiles, his eyes crinkling as he tugs at the hem of your clothes. Nothing seems out of the ordinary - that is, if you ignore how he almost broke the hardcover copy of the “Theory of Psychoanalysis” in his hand.

Knowing that it’s no good to stay any longer, you take the few books Lucien picked, and prepare to leave. “Sorry, I should be going off with my... son.”

With a look of regret, the man shifts so you can access the aisle. “Next time, then.”

Carrying Lucien, you want to sprint away from this strange man. At the same time, you find the special smile on Lucien’s face very familiar. Every time he catches you doing something ‘bad’, he wears such an expression when he’s about to punish you.

After making your purchase at the checkout counter, you decide to use this rare opportunity to take Lucien to the trampoline. You’ve always wanted to experience it, but have always been too embarrassed to go. This way, you can play on the trampoline under the guise of bringing a child along with you.

Just as you’re able to compliment yourself for your wit, Lucien suddenly grips his chest and gasps, as though he can’t bear the pain.

"Lucien? What's wrong?" You grip his small body anxiously. 

Lucien raises his head with difficulty, his forehead covered with beads of sweat. “Let’s return quickly. I think I’m changing back.”

When you hear that, you dare not delay further. You step on the accelerator, and drive home before Lucien changes back.

As soon as he sits on the sofa, the little Lucien in front of you morphs back to his usual self, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. 

You thought this incident would pass, but you had forgotten that Lucien, a sly fox, doesn’t forget debts owed to him...

“My wife didn’t refuse that man in the bookstore today.”

"You didn’t even give me the chance to refuse,” you gripe, wrapping your legs around his waist.

...

Your whole body is sore, and you don't want to get up at all. Fortunately, it’s the weekend and you can spend the whole day in bed.

There is still lingering warmth in the vacant space beside you. In your line of sight, you see a thick book on the bedside table, and you can barely support yourself as you pick it up. 

Andersen's Fairy Tales.

"I got it from the children's section yesterday. Since I was a child for a while, I bought a book meant for a child." Lucien tousles your hair affectionately, and reaches out to place the storybook to the side. 

"After all, there’s a child at home who needs to listen to stories before bed."

[ KIRO ]

“Where’s Kiro? Where’s my fat... I mean, big Kiro?” You look around exaggeratedly, gesturing with your hands around the height of 176cm, as if you were really looking for him.

“...Miss Chips, stop pretending that you don’t see me.” Kiro looks at your antics in resignation. 

That’s right - the waist-high blond kid in front of you is your Mr Chips.

“I’m sorry, it's just really hard to believe that you’ve suddenly turned small.” Though you’re apologising, your hands cling to his cheeks. Sure enough, they feel like how you imagined. Soft and smooth, which make people reluctant to let go.

"Miss Chips, let go!" Kiro, who initially let you do whatever you want to him,, begins struggling when he realises you have no intention of sparing him.

You let go reluctantly, peeling your hands off his face. 

"Miss Chips, I asked for time off from Savin after telling him I wasn’t feeling well. Shall we go out to play?” 

As expected of Kiro. Even if his body size has turned abnormally small, he can still be optimistic about it, and still be in the mood to play.

“’Not feeling well’? It’s no good to lie to Savin, right?” You look at him, slightly troubled. 

“Savin doesn’t know that I have Evol. Ah, just tell me if you’re going or not.” Kiro opens his eyes wide, as though afraid he would receive words of rejection from you.

You prop your chin and think. "The amusement park then?"  

"Of course! We’ve planned to go for a long time!” Kiro jumps in place with excitement in his tiny body, looking adorable. "I haven't played the running escape game in the amusement park for a long while~”

You size him up, shaking your head regretfully. "Kiro, with your height... are you still able to run fast?" 

"...” Little Kiro feels slightly offended.

Although there may be many restrictions, you still drive to the amusement park with enthusiasm.

-

“All the best Kiro! Just a little bit more.” You watch him stand on his tiptoes laboriously, trying to reach the height permitting him to ride the rollercoaster.

"I made it!" Pleasantly surprised, he sees that his... hair reaches the red line. The staff ruthlessly presses his hair down. "Sorry kid, your height doesn’t pass, so you can't ride this.”

“..." Little Kiro wants to shut himself down. 

"It's okay Kiro, let's go play something else.” You pat him on the head comfortingly, ready to take him to other attractions. Kiro hangs his hand low, utterly aggrieved. "Miss Chips, I suddenly like amusement park rides won’t make me happy.”

You can’t bear to see your Little Sun being unhappy, so you lift him up off the ground. "If you aren’t happy, let's find a restaurant for dessert first, then play later?" 

When he hears that his favourite Miss Chips is bringing him to eat his favourite desserts, the Little Sun’s eyes light up. “Okay, okay~”

Smiling, it occurs to you that this personality and body are actually not that incompatible.

You order a teddy-bear shaped European bun and two dragon fruit juices stored in magic wands, taking a brief rest.

"This seems to be the first time I’m eating with Miss Chips in public.” Kiro dangles his feet off the bench triumphantly, taking out his mobile phone. "I want to take pictures of all our ‘firsts’”.

"Kiro, if Savin sees that, he’d chop your body into pieces.” You remind him softly. 

Sure enough, the fearless and brave Little Kiro stiffens, then quickly puts the phone back into the Donald Duck bag behind him, pretending he never made such a suggestion. "Forget it..." 

“Excuse me, do you have plans to let your brother become a child star?” Your conversation is interrupted by a man in sunglasses. He stands stands beside your table and looks at you expectantly. 

Before you can speak, Kiro answers. "I don’t want to. I hate all that stuff about having to maintain my figure.”

In response to his vehement refusal, the man in sunglasses continues. "No, no, being a child star is very relaxing, and you can even become very famous. Kid, do you want to give it a try?”

"No.” He says this clearly, giving you the impression that he’s been traumatised by Savin’s ‘torture’ over the years.

Not wanting to further entangle yourself with this man, you step in. “Sorry, we don’t have such a plan. We’re heading to another attraction, so please let us pass.” 

While you say this, you pick up the magic wand drinks on the table and lead Kiro out of the dessert shop.

“I didn’t think you’d still attract people’s attention even as a child.” You look at him with mirth.

Kiro scratches his head in irritation. "Absolute Charm is so annoying during these situations!"

You burst out laughing, helping him tidy his messy hair. Holding his hand, you complete all the other rides in the park. 

"Kiro, this is the last thing you can play.” You gulp, gazing at the dark, silent building in front of you. Unlike haunted houses in other places where there are monsters with scary teeth and claws decorating the walls outside this haunted house takes place in a small forest, keeping it out of the noise. The door opens quietly, as though making a silent invitation. 

Kiro squeezes your hand. "Let's go, Miss Chips. A superhero cannot back down!”

Upon entering the house, you discover that there is a line of people, and there are many, like you, have brought children with them to experience the attraction. The staff checks and accepts the express tickets in your hand, and allows around ten of you walk in together.  

The lifelike props and the crying of children fill your ears, and the shrill screams of women make the atmosphere even more terrifying. Trembling slightly, you grab Kiro’s hand, and he grips you. "Don't be afraid, I’ll protect you!”

Although he’s obviously afraid himself, he comforts and protects you from start to finish. 

He’s definitely your superhero.  

After finally getting out of the haunted house, all the children who went in with you, apart from Kiro, are bawling. Little Kiro, with his face pale, is still holding onto your hand.

"Congratulations to the bravest child. As a reward, here are coupons to the night floating parade!" The staff smiles and hands him two paper coupons. 

He receives them in a daze, and doesn’t respond until he walks out of the building and asks, “Miss Chips, does this count as cheating?”

You wink slyly. “If it’s such an adorable kid, cheating is forgivable~”

Kiro agrees with a nod. “Yes, cuteness is a ticket to doing whatever one wants~" He looks at the cartoon electronic watch on his wrist, and suddenly pulls you into a run. "Hurry up Miss Chips, we won't make it to the floating parade in time!”

[ SHAW ] 

You’ve always been calling Shaw “little brat”, but you didn’t expect your words to turn into reality. 

“I’m Shaw, the only graduate student from the Department of Archaeology at Loveland University. When I was playing games instead of sleeping last night, I didn't know that my hair had started falling out. At the time, I picked up the fallen hair but ignored the other harms of staying up late. After that, I was forced to go to bed. When I woke up, my body had shrunk! Although my body has become smaller, I’m as mischievous as always...”

You stand on the bed, raising your right hand exaggeratedly and forming the classic pose of the famous detective Conan.

"...” Shaw, who’s smaller than usual, stands at the side of the bed, looking as though he’s watching a fool.

"You should visit a brain doctor.” He picks up the pillow that fell to the floor accidentally because of your big movements. 

You laugh and get off the bed. "This is the first time I’m seeing a Little Shaw - when you look this small, you’re much cuter than usual.” You grab his cheeks with both hands and knead them to your heart’s delight.

"Don't do that!" He waves your hand away, stepping backwards and walking out the door. Seeming to remember something, he turns around. "I took leave today. You better be at home today too so you can take care of me. It’d save me from inconveniences.”

You purse your lips, mumbling softly, "What do you mean ‘took leave’? All you did was tell the teacher you wouldn’t be in class. You definitely didn't go through the formal leave procedures.” 

Although you’re complaining, you still call Anna to ask for a day off. 

By the time you’ve changed your clothes and freshened up, you find Shaw having breakfast in the living room and watching television. 

You walk over, picking up a dumpling and stuffing it into your mouth. "You’re unexpectedly thoughtful, knowing how to order takeaway for us.”

Shaw scoots over, making space for you. He lifts his head and says disdainfully, "If I didn't order takeaway, I’d become the first kid in Loveland City to starve to death because he didn't eat breakfast." He quickly grabs the last fried dough stick on the table. "Hey, don't touch my fried dough stick!" 

Knowing there’s no chance of grabbing it, you retract your hand and pick up a tea egg instead. “Stingy.”

"I'm a growing boy. Don’t you feel ashamed snatching precious nutrition from me?" He takes a bite of the fritter in his hand and looks at you in disdain.  

"You’re twenty, Uncle Shaw." You retort.

"I look six, okay!”

You click your tongue, pick up the remote control, and switch to a channel playing "Peppa Pig" before placing it back on the table.

"Children should look like children, and watch cartoons that are good for the brain." You turn his head so he faces the television screen.

On it, a pink piglet hops around in the mud pit, splashing muddy water on her brother George.

Shaw looks at you, his face dark. “Do you think I’m you? Isn't this something which suits your intellect?" 

You don the standard smile of a flight attendant, answering him in the sweetest voice you can muster. "Didn't you say you’re six years old? Little brat?"

Shaw looks at you sympathetically. "Unexpectedly, Auntie MC is old enough to have a bad memory, and forgot that my body possesses a twenty-year-old soul." 

Is it illegal to whack a child? If it weren’t against the law, I’d whack him to death!

Stuffed with food and drink, you’re half-lying on the sofa, leaving only a small space for Shaw. You poke his back. “Little Shaw, clean the table.”

He turns around blankly. "I’m a kid. You do the cleaning." 

Fine, even though he’s a child now, he knows how to switch between being an adult and a child when it suits his interests. You decide to teach him a lesson.

You smile and suggest, "I'll take you out to play later.”

Listening to his, Shaw lifts his eyes lazily. “Oh? Is your conscience pricking at you?”

“Children have to write reflections after going out to play. No less than 800 words.” You hold your palm out to him. "Also, you have to give me your money, and let the adult decide your share of the pocket money.

“I knew you weren’t so kind.” Shaw turns away from you. "I want fried chicken cola for lunch. Remember to order properly.”

You roll your eyes, whipping out your phone to order takeaway. You swear that you’re buying it for yourself, not following what he says just because he looks cute.

There’s plenty of fried chicken to go around in the afternoon, so there’s no repeat of the food-snatching that happened in the morning. 

After you’re full from cola and fried chicken, you clear the table and urge him to take a nap. "Children need their afternoon naps, or they won’t grow tall." 

Shaw refuses. "I'm 1.82 meters tall!”

You stare at Shaw, who isn’t even as tall as the television. Even if you don’t speak, what you want to express is self-evident.

He comprehends the meaning in your stare and scratches his head in irritation. You seize this opportunity, whisking him up into your arms and walking towards the bedroom. 

"I don't want to sleep!" He struggles violently, causing you to lose balance and fall forwards.

"Ah!”

“Damn!”

...

You find yourself straddling the enlarged version of Shaw, staring at him with wide eyes.

With a mischievous smile, he strokes your waist. “Since you can’t wait, I have no choice but to comply with your wishes.” 

-

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author