#eden (kpop)

[justmochi]

[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

[mahealinskis]

character growth

[theedengirls]

(  𓇢𓆸  )        . . .        𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄        𖥻        ᵀᴴᴱ 𝕯𝐎𝐎𝐌 𝑜𝒻 𝐏𝔸ℝ𝔸𝔻𝕀𝕊𝔼

EDEN ( 에덴 ) is a fictional South Korean five-member group that debuted on March 13th, 2018. Once bubbling beneath mainstream media, their cult-like following skyrocketed them into stardom, turning once lovely girls into global stars.

In 2015, U-Sound stood at the edge of the chasm of death: bankruptcy, vermillion spilling from the fissure and lapping at their feet in taunts should they not do something soon. Their survival—fragile, gossamer ligaments holding on for dear life—depended entirely on successfully constructing a new group. With two doomed boy groups beneath their still-callousing fingertips, the decision to debut a girl group was not a choice, it was a necessity.

Of their arsenal, there were but six girls who possessed what they required: the it factor. Of this batch, BOMI was a fan-favoured to debut, and while in rapping she showed just why she would debut one way or the other, the coin tossed for such a skill proved that she would, likewise, lack a certain finesse to public affairs that made even the most hardened of the publicity team nervous. Tentatively, she was made the leader of the trainee group.

The instating of Bomi as leader would prove disastrous. After a controversial post on her online journal, and the rumour that she was spotted with a trainee of the opposite gender at a restaurant, the entire publicity team felt their throats loosen the breath they had been holding since Bomi became a trainee: she was dropped from the label.

The creative team, however, could practically see the crimson of defeat each time they stepped into the building, a future of red ledgers until the entrance above their heads collapsed, as did the rest of the infrastructure.

Upon the official announcement that SILVER STARS—a girl group formed under the TV Show NEXT TO THE STARS—would not have their temporary contract renewed, and thus, they would disband that year, hope dared to itch at their hearts and pockets. In a desperate bid, U-Sound cast their nets out to gather any stray unemployed-idols. Now ex-members HAYUN and YEWON signed on with the company.

The acquirement of two Silver Stars girls birthed rumour of an impending girl group within a year and a half. Further speculation determined that the group would be formed around Hayun and Yewon.

By mid-2017, only Yewon remained of the two, leading to the supposed Leader Curse of U-Sound, which stated that whatever girl was named leader would leave the company within three months. This came in response to Hayun being the third leader to either leave or be removed from the trainee group.

Their debut in 2018 was an instant hit among those who had been following the group pre-debut. Despite praises from critics for their fresh sound, they failed to make any true impact with more mainstream audiences. It would not be until U-Sound was acquired by ARCADIAN ENTERTAINMENT in 2021, would EDEN begin to dominate the music world domestically and internationally.

(  𓇢𓆸  )        . . .        𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎        𖥻        ᵀᴴᴱ 𝕽𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝑜𝒻 𝐇𝕆ℙ𝔼

❛  Yewon.       (  1997 ).       leader, dancer, centre, vocalist

❛  Kittiya.       (  1997  ).      vocalist, rapper

❛  Rina.       (  1998  ).      rapper, dancer, face of the group

❛  Yoojin.       (  2000 ).      vocalist, dancer

❛  Maru.       (  2000  ).       visual, dancer, vocalist, maknae

[raleigh-edward]

I do love Garden of a Eden but as someone who also follows kpop in some capacity, I do wonder if these idols are really that depressed and struggle mentally and physically?

Like there have been several unfortunate cases in the past with Sulli, Hara, Jonghyun and Moonbin not to mention the infamous Burning Sun. A lot of idols have opened up about the toxic work culture, the ridiculous standards they're put up to but I wonder if there's more than meets the eye?

Like why would they put in so much effort if they're not exactly benefitting from those?

Why would others then aspire to debut? Why don't idols then leave their groups more often?

[sehnisweet]

Our cute actors ❤️ just a quick thing

[mixtapedoh]

list your top 5 albums from your top 5 artists and have people vote on which one matches your vibe

thank you sm always @permanentreverie <3 no one does it like you <3.

rip alone in iz world (israel kamakawiwo'ole), the stranger (billy joel), jack in the box (j.hope), dark & wild (bts), go further in lightness (gang of youths), coyote stories (the crane wives), impulso (dvicio) and so many more.... there was a cut off at five, but you are missed.

tagging @musicallisto, @scvrllet, @eclliipsed, @armsunfold, @heliads, and literally anyone else who is active who is even still here 😭😭😭

[ustalochka]

Sumin 💔

[onmyscreens-blog]

Yes

Hummmmm you sure? 😉💕

He was quick

You are right

How do you feel?

[kundaquarius]

Also, I'm thankful that Romance Club staff made Dean as LI, because I'm sorry but all the men in Garden Of Eden were horrible, thank god Dean exists.

[justmochi]

— TWITTER THREAD

eden & dokyeom being korea's power couple, a thread:

thanks to @ikissvernon for suggesting i do this. WE ARE CELEBRATING JISOO AND EDEN !!!

taglist :: @cafemilk-tea @cixrosie @moonlight-additions @cosmicwintr @fromfreesia @succulentmom @kimhyejin3108 @enhacolor @alixnsuperstxr @meginthebuilding27 @kang-ulzzang @hybesunstone @allthings-fandoms @itzy-eve @choihaneul @strmiu @angie-x3

[kpop-bbg]

[theedengirls]

❪ 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍. ❫        ━━━        ❛        a look into the eden girls.         ❜

you used to be alive                                     now you're almost mystic

                𝐓𝐖        ⦂        abuse, parental death, bullying, messy divorce

❛        𝕭y the lakeside, ever so diligently as delicately, she plaits strands of hair, tucking daisies where each overlap and tying off the braids with silk ribbons. She, this figurehead of patience in paradise, does this for each of the girls, and at supper, she hands them a freshly picked, gently washed and ever-gleaming . . . apple.        ❜

(  ᥫ᭡  ) ⠀ › ⠀ 𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐍        . . . 

When Yewon was five, her older cousin placed her atop his shoulders, fingers holding tightly to her knobby knees in fear that she might fall as they raced down a hill together. Her arms waved like the blades of grass in the summer, and she swore that if she could reach even just the tiniest bit higher, she would touch the sun and melt into a twinkling star and everything would be alright as she watched above all that she loved. She has been chasing the feeling since.

Born to a nameless mother in 1997, Lee Jihyun attempted to plant himself into the ground to withstand the torrential storms on the horizon that would surely come for his daughter. By age three, most of Yewon's days would be spent in the care of her aunt as Jihyun worked tirelessly, innocent eyes curious to the blossoming purple on her aunt's lovely pale skin. And each time that the inquisitive nature she grappled with surfaced, distorting the vision of a quiet child, asking her aunt where they came from, why some were more yellow, more green, her cousin would shush her before his father heard. And so Yewon remained quiet, head bowed down, tongue tacked down by a rusting nail, the taste burning her mouth each time the storm berated their home, filling her senses each time she would help piece everything together in the aftermath.

In 2013, she would audition for Next to the Stars on her cousin's insistence, him far more eager to hear back than she ever was. He would check the mail every day, listen intently for the phone to ringing, even a knock at the door, anything for confirmation on her acceptance. He lived through her, and she made him promise to think of himself next. The letter arrived when it was Yewon who checked, her very soul telling her to look. She was favoured in the competition for her dance skills and attitude, and would rank third out of the nine who debuted in Silver Stars as a lead dancer, sub-vocalist, and the maknae. By their disbandment, she searched for what would come next.

STAGE NAME: Yewon ( 예원 ) BIRTH NAME: Lee Yewon ( 이예원 ) OLD POSITION: Leader, centre, main dancer, lead vocalist NEW POSITION: Leader, dancer, vocalist, centre BIRTHDAY: May 25th, 1997 ZODIAC SIGN: Gemini HEIGHT: 158 cm ( 5'2" ) FACE CLAIM: Kang Seulgi

❛        𝕯rowning in a sea of viridian, she lays beneath the warmth of the sun, floating in the in-between of sleep and consciousness. Forever dreaming even as she laughs with the others, she turns the fruit in her hands with the meticulousness of a painter capturing their muse, and with a single sharp blade, slices the . . . apple.        ❜

(  ᥫ᭡  ) ⠀ › ⠀ 𝐊𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐊        . . .

She stood tall in her audition, head held up high in a confidence buried deeply beneath her skin. But Kittiya's hands shook behind her back, and her heart bruised the marrow of her bones in an attempt to break free. She counted down from ten, smiled at those who scrutinized every note, every breathe, every enunciation, determining if she was worthy. She could not disappoint her parents, even if she sometimes could not differentiate where her dreams ended and where theirs began.

One of Chatmanee and Niran Charoensuk's joys are mentioning how upon the birth of their daughter, Kittiya, in 1997, she did not cry. No, even then, newborn and still a stranger to the world, she had sung, sung so beautifully that the nurse who had handed the little baby to her eagerly awaiting mother noted that she would surely be a singer when she grew older with such lungs. There was simply no other option, her fate outlined so clearly that to delineate would be to spit in the face of the higher being who had blessed her with such gift. She could read sheet music before she could read books, tone near perfect even then that it brought tears to her father's eyes every instance she sang. By all means, she was a child prodigy, living in the faded legacy of her mother before she had given it all up to be a mother.

Between 2010-2013, Kittiya auditioned for SM Entertainment, Hybe, JYP Entertainment, all of which eventually rejected her, the disappointment so visible in her parents' faces despite their attempts to hide it that it made shame violently tear at her chest, so painful that she wished nothing more than to claw it out, her lungs and vocal chords too. 2014 saw a continuation of auditions in smaller companies, each telling her and her parents that they would get in touch with her at a later time to announce their decision. U-Sound had been the first to get back to her, and plagued with the fear that no one else would take her, Kittiya immediately joined.

STAGE NAME: Kittiya ( 키티야 ) BIRTH NAME: Kittiya Charoensuk ( กิตติยา ชาเรือนศักดิ์ ) KOREAN NAME: Choi Kieun ( 최기은 ) OLD POSITION: Main vocalist, lead rapper NEW POSITION: Vocalist, rapper BIRTHDAY: May 27th, 1997 ZODIAC SIGN: Gemini HEIGHT: 176.5 cm ( 5'9" ) FACE CLAIM: Nicha ❛ Minnie ❜ Yontararak

❛        𝕾and buries itself deep in the crevices of the body, she thinks if she speaks all that will spill is the sand of time, the past, the present, and the future all contained in her body. Guarding herself from the unknown that has captured her, she takes the hands of her saviours, and she cannot help but notice the sweet smell of . . . apples.        ❜

(  ᥫ᭡  ) ⠀ › ⠀ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐋        . . .

The day that the casket was lowered, it had been beautiful—a spring day where life and death softly giggled to each other, the flowers dotting the edge of the cemetery newly blooming. Rina did not shed a tear, she could not. Her mother wilted into nothingness before them and her sisters did not understand why their appa could not tuck them into bed. So she did it, kissed their foreheads, whispered blessings. And in the darkness, she finally cried, promising her father that she would make him proud.

Born in 1998, Rina is the eldest of four, all girls, all ever-so more rambunctious than the previous, a wild stamped of pigtails and squeaky sneakers that warned all of an impending torrent of never-ending conversations. Modestly comfortable, the Choi family bubbled with so much love that it was impossible to to not notice it even in passing. And while Choi Sangmin attempted to be there for his daughters as much as he possibly could, in the end, he would press tender kisses to their foreheads in goodbyes, whispering words of I love yous so gently that he hoped to form a cacoon around them by mere words to protect them from the world. Rina was thirteen when her parents died, her father physically, her mother metaphorically, a stray bullet, an act of service to his country. But no mumbles of sorrys could bring him back.

Left to take care of her family, Rina first auditioned for U-Sound in 2012 in a moment of selfishness, an escape when things had gotten difficult and she could not breathe without the suffocation of responsibilities. She declined her original acceptance, guilt too heavy. It would not be until 2014 when she had been scouted by the same company while taking her sisters school shopping. She had seen it as a sign, as the previous night she had asked her father for guidance. Despite her shorter training period in comparison to other trainees, Rina was one of it It Girls in U-Sounds arsenal, assured, despite the constant changes, that she would debut.

STAGE NAME: Rina ( 리나 ) BIRTH NAME: Choi Haneul ( 최하늘 ) OLD POSITION: Main rapper, lead dancer, face of the group NEW POSITION: Rapper, dancer, face of the group BIRTHDAY: April 5th, 1998 ZODIAC SIGN: Aries HEIGHT: 166 cm ( 5'5" ) FACE CLAIM: Kim ❛ BIBI ❜ Hyungseo

❛        𝕭eneath the blanket of night, she stands beneath the great tree, tilting her head upwards in curiosity, inquisitive, wondering how it got there. She cannot help but think that something has changed. And there, between her bare toes, squished and rotting, a decaying corpse of change that they will not be able to escape, is an . . . apple.        ❜

(  ᥫ᭡  ) ⠀ › ⠀ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐉𝐈𝐍        . . .

The TV crackled and boomed and shone so brightly that it hurt Yoojin's eyes as she practically pressed her face against the screen. She hummed along, mimicking the motions, the movements, the smiles and little vocal quirks that distinguished those on the family TV from those who mundanely worked outside of it. She could practically picture herself on the screen, on day, applauded and cheered and adored. She knew she was destined for greatness, and she would do all to reach it.

The birth of Yoojin in 2000 brought her mother to tears, and not simply for the hours-long birth that proclaimed Yoojin as the last of the Choi children. Park Sieun and Choi Inseong, at last, got their wish: a little baby girl. Yoojin was not just doted on by her parents, but by her elder brothers as well, despite the disinterest the second-youngest held for his baby sister at first. They had worried, Sieun and Inseong, that being raised with four elder boys would cause for extra picking. The reality of it was that Yoojin had them all around her little finger. From the very moment that she could put on plays, she would sequester her siblings, force them to sing, dance, act, anything, alongside her, the producer, choreographer, writer, and composer for the mix-matched family band her siblings reluctantly joined.

It came to no one's surprise, then, that as early as age ten, Yoojin began begging her parents to audition to become an idol, listing all that she could and their addresses, turned down each time. They had worried, then too, of how young she was to join such a thing. Yoojin despaired, yet again made another list, this time on reasons why she should be allowed, and yet again, turned down. It would not be until she was turning 16 when her parents at last caved in with the belief that they would prefer her to do something with their blessing rather than behind their backs, surprising her an advertisement for auditions at U-Sound as an early birthday present.

STAGE NAME: Yoojin ( 유진 )BIRTH NAME: Choi Yoojin ( 최유진 ) OLD POSITION: Lead vocalist, sub-rapper NEW POSITION: Vocalist, dancer, rapper BIRTHDAY: August 18th, 2000 ZODIAC SIGN: Leo HEIGHT: 175 cm ( 5'8" ) FACE CLAIM: Lee Gahyun

❛        𝕮limbing to the top of the mountain, she watches as the tides come and go and the endless horizon that encases her warmly into their own world. She, ever daring and bold, dives into the warm water, catching glimpses of a new world. When she goes back, she brings the world to her mouth and takes a bit of the . . . apple.        ❜

(  ᥫ᭡  ) ⠀ › ⠀ 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐔        . . . 

Maru's debut was not her first moment in the spotlight, it was an accumulation of everything. Before that, she would hide beneath the covers, scrolling through the comment sections, type her name in the search engine, read everything, the hate, the criticism, the mocking. Her talent mattered not in comparison to her family name, the remnants of it, disaster swept beneath the rug by her father. She would prove them all wrong, she would show her worth.

The birth of Maru in 2000 was broadcasted for all across the nation—her pink, wriggling self on the front page of the tabloids, tucked in the arms of her mother, Kim Seoyun, dressed in silk and dripping in pearls as she left the hospital, and halfheartedly shielded from the cameras by her father, Jung Taeyoon. The perfect family, beautiful parents and an adorable little girl. But perfection could not hold forever, and the fissures began to grow larger and larger until simple patches could no longer due. Maru was more accessory than a human being, and in the messy, slanderous divorce between the two A-list actors, ammunition. It was Maru's statement to the court, so tiny and scared, eyes searching for the comfort of her parents, that cemented the divorce in the favour of her father. She had lied, believing it would keep her family together.

Maru was nine when she first appeared on live television, a video of a choir solo shown during a part of an interview Seoyun had given. Ten when she acted by the side of her father, eleven when she began making rounds on variety shows, first praised, the little Jung gemstone. But bound to a cycle, despair crept in, intense online criticism picking away at any armour that her parents had been kind enough to help her build. She would join U-Sound in early 2017, despite offers from other companies, determined to prove that she didn't require the endless resources of bigger companies, she was born with raw talent that could not be matched.

STAGE NAME: Maru ( 마루 ) BIRTH NAME: Jung Maru ( 정마루 ) OLD POSITION: Visual, lead dancer, sub-vocalist, maknae NEW POSITION: Visual, dancer, vocalist, maknae BIRTHDAY: September 22nd, 2000 ZODIAC SIGN: Virgo HEIGHT: 170.5 cm (5'7") FACE CLAIM: Yu ❛ Karina ❜ Jimin

[raleigh-edward]

Please don't tell normies about Romance Club especially toxic kpop fans they're weird

Um what? It's literally a game app, and if more people are interested in the stories then what's your issue? It's not your personal app to gatekeep!?

Also, kindly refrain from generalising people whom you personally know very little about.

[zhoras-bitch]

If we can't have a secret sapphic relationship with one of the other girls from our kpop idol group. Having to deal with our stolen touches and glances being treated as fanservice by our conservative label management and queerbaiting by the twitter mob, as if our genuine feelings are somehow both too much and not enough at the same time. Then what's the point.

[hambbyong]

ok fuck it. everyone gets my oc art too.