KingMingyu

“Oh, I know.” Yerin chuckled, tucking the menus into their holder. “We’re still missing six, so you’re helping.”

“Are you not understanding the weight of what I’m saying?” Myungjun asked again, trailing after his partner around the restaurant floor as she searched beneath tables and chairs for the missing menus. “I turn thirty next year and then it’s goodbye to my career.”

“I guess it’s not great,” Yerin replied, sounding a little more distant as she peered under another table. “But at least you don’t have to worry about that until after your service.”

Myungjun huffed.

He liked his life.

He liked living with his partner of six years. He liked that she gave him and his members hefty discounts whenever they came to eat. He liked how things were now, even if he was already more than halfway through being twenty-eight.

And he liked what they had built together.

If the work dried up for him, they'd have to cut back. Yerin would insist they would manage, but he'd know exactly what that meant.

She'd stop getting the occasional manicure. She'd switch to box dye for her mid-length brown hair. They'd eat out less.

And worst of all...

She'd sell her grandmother’s rings.

“Sorry, but no.” The lady at the desk- Julie- said with a small smile.

“What?” Taehyung stood there a little confused. He was already running late to a rehearsal for 2.0 and now he was becoming later and later. “Why?”

“I’m sorry, sir. The policy states that if you don’t have your company issued ID card, then you can use your fingerprint or ID number. Since you don’t have the card, the finger machine isn’t working and you don’t have your ID, I can’t let you in.” Julie really did look apologetic, her brown curls bouncing a little as she bowed her head for a second to show respect. 

Taehyung put down his rehearsal bag on the floor and pulled out his phone from his pocket. “What about if I message someone and they can confirm I’m who I say I am?”

“That would be okay, but-” Julie paused, her hand waving as she tried to find the word to say. “The phones don’t work. The service is out in the building. The weather is stopping the phones.” 

“The service? Do you mean that the building doesn’t have phone service?” 

Julie gave a small, almost embarrassed nod, like she knew how ridiculous it sounded.

“Yes, sir. It happens sometimes when the weather gets like this. The signal just… disappears.” She gestured vaguely upward, as if the clouds themselves were personally responsible.

Taehyung stared at her for a second, his brain trying to process the absolute comedy of the situation. Late. No ID. Fingerprint scanner dead. And now- of course- no signal.

“Right,” he said slowly, dragging a hand down his face. “Amazing. Perfect. Love that for me.”

Julie pressed her lips together, clearly fighting the urge to smile at his reaction.

He glanced past her toward the hallway he knew like the back of his hand. Studios. Practice rooms. The place he had practically lived in for years. And yet here he was, locked out like a trainee who forgot their first-day badge.

“Okay,” he tried again, shifting tactics. “Hypothetically… if someone important walked past. Someone who works here. They could vouch for me?”

Julie frowned again. “They would either have to be from head office or from whatever co-company you work for.”

“That’s… Alright.” Taehyung took a second to think before turning back to Julie. “Do you know when things might be up and running again?” 

“Some time tomorrow.” Makes sense given it’s already 7pm and most people who work in the building are either already at their desks, or going home for the evening. 

“Okay, okay.” Taehyung put his bag back over his shoulder as an idea pops up- “What about radio? Are they still running?”

“Radio?” Julie looked around her desk to the black machines that she had had to use a few times in her few weeks on the reception desk. “The radios… They might be. I can try?”

“Please.” Taehyung said, softer this time.

After a few minutes on the radio, she turned back to him. “You can go through now, Mr Kim.”

He nodded, walking to the open gate before turning back with a slight smile. “You knew who I was the whole time?”

So, San got it.

It had been his life for pretty much as long as he can remember, coming along at some point during his pre-school days when the teacher noticed that San was not his usual self.

It just sometimes really sucks.

“Five minutes guys. Re-fuel, drink, do what you need to do.” The manager looked around, his brows raising ever so slightly to San. He nodded, knowing what the older man meant. The others would go to their water bottles that were stood up in the corner to give some privacy to San as he went to check on his numbers.

“Okay?” Yongeun asked softly at San’s side. Their management team was good to all of them. Between Hongjoong’s ADHD meds, Mingi’s therapy appointments and San’s diabetes, they never made anyone feel bad for needing a moment to deal with whatever was going on.

San displayed the screen, the number already dipping. The arrow beside it pointed stubbornly downward.

“…Yeah,” he sighed, reaching for the mini packets of gummies that were always stored in there for emergencies.

Yongeun leaned closer, glancing at the number.

“Low?”

San nodded, chewing. “Just a little.”

The arrow on the graph was still pointing down, but slower now.

“Caught it early.”

“Good,” Yongeun said quietly. “You know the drill, okay?”

"Gather around guys." Mark said, sitting down in the middle of the couch as the six other members filed in after getting off the stage as 7 for the last time. He could already feel another round of tears springing up after the one's already shed on stage. 

Jisung, rather reluctantly, sat down on Mark's left. Renjun went on Mark's left. Jeno sat with Jaemin on the floor while Chenle took the armchair. Donghyuck was last, curling up on the couch behind Mark with his arms draped loosely around his shoulders.

"About time." Jaemin said quietly, leaning his head against Jeno's shoulder. 

Chenle chuckled softly from the armchair, "Way past time." He said, glancing down at his hands.

Mark blinked, looking down at the floor as well. 

"Guys," He started, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before reopening them. "Let's just... take a second, please?"

"Hyung," Jisung started, sitting up a little straighter as he glanced around at everyone else before settling back onto Mark's arm. "We've been taking seconds for years." 

Donghyuck tightened his arms around Mark's shoulders, resting his chin on the top of Mark's head. The silence stretched for a moment longer before Mark sighed. 

"Okay," He said, shifting slightly so that Donghyuck wasn't resting entirely on his skull. "Okay." 

"I'm sorry." Mark said suddenly, glancing around at the faces of his members. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you guys more about what's going on. I just... didn't fully understand it myself." 

"Can you tell us why?" Renjun asked, reaching for Mark's hand to squeeze it.

"I-" Mark paused to take another settling breath before continuing. "I can't keep pretending that the piled on projects I've been given over the past ten years haven't taken too much from me. I don't know who Lee Minhyung is, let alone Mark Lee."

The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Jeno shifted, his knee bumping against Jaemin's, who didn't even react. Chenle's fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against the armrest, the sound loud in the stillness. 

"I don't want to take away from what you're saying." Donghyuck said slowly, his voice soft and careful. "But I've felt the same way. Maybe not to the extent that you have, but this company is a lot. It's either you're overworked to death, or you're not doing anything. I'm tired of it as well."

Chenle exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers stilling. "Remember that time they pulled me out of rehearsal for NCT China prep and shoved me into Dream’s comeback with no warning? I cried in the bathroom for an hour. Not because I didn’t want to be with you guys- but because nobody even asked." His voice cracked on the last word, and Jaemin reached over to squeeze his ankle without looking up.

Jisung curled tighter against Mark’s side, voice muffled. "They made me dye my hair four times in two months last year. My scalp bled. Manager-nim just handed me a pack of tissues and told me to suck it up."

Jaemin lifted his head then, eyes red-rimmed but dry. "I used to think it was worth it," he said, voice steady in a way that made Jeno turn to look at him. "The pain, the exhaustion—all of it. Because we were doing this together." He swallowed hard. "But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about us. It became about numbers. About how many albums we could sell before they moved us to the next thing."

Renjun’s grip on Mark’s hand tightened. "We’re not kids anymore," he murmured. "We don’t have to keep pretending this is okay." The words hung in the air, fragile as the first crack in ice.

"Do you think you'll try to ask for better terms?" Mark's voice was quiet, hesitant, like he already knew the answer.

Jeno exhaled sharply through his nose, rubbing his palms over his knees. "What good would it do? They'll just tell us we're lucky to be here, that we signed the contracts, that no other company would have chosen for us to debut, that we're ugly? I-" Jeno paused, looking down at the ground for a second as he choked up a little. "I don't think I can carry on working under a company, with people who would willingly say that to a 15 year old." His voice sounded wet, thick with emotion, and Jaemin leaned into his side, pressing their shoulders together.

Chenle barked out a laugh, bitter and sharp. "Better terms," he echoed, shaking his head. "Like they'd ever give us anything. Remember when they told Mark-hyung he couldn't go to his grandfather's funeral because they needed him for filming? Or when they made Hyuck sing through a vocal hemorrhage?" The words landed like stones, and Mark flinched, Donghyuck's arms tightening around him reflexively.

"At least we have- had each other." Jisung's smile wobbled a little, lips curling up just slightly. "No one can take away the happy memories we have together."

"Urrgh!" She groaned, rubbing her forehead, fingers digging into her scalp as she tried to push past the headache that had taken up residence behind her dry eyes overnight. "I am never, ever, under any circumstances- ever drinking again." 

Minyeong scoffed softly, approaching the sofa with a bottle of water and a cup of tea. She set the bottle next to Giselle, sipping gently on the tea. “Do you want me to hold you to that?”  

Giselle peeled one eye open, squinting against the cruel sunlight slicing through the blinds. "Depends," she muttered, fumbling for the water bottle. "Are you gonna be nice about it?" Her fingers closed around the plastic, cool against her skin, and she gulped down half of it before coming up for air. The headache pulsed like a bad DJ set behind her temples.

"Okay." Minyeong said with a small grin. “If you say so.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, tapping a few buttons before turning the screen towards Giselle. The screen displayed a picture of Giselle from the night before- staring off into the middle distance at whoever was on the other side. She really did get drunk.

"I'm officially going T-total." She took another sip, grimacing at the dryness in her throat. "Why on Earth does a Breast Cancer awareness company decide to hold a party with an open bar like that and invite a bunch of idols? It's just asking for issues."

“It is. I don't understand why they did that either, Unnie.” Minyeong sighed, tucking her legs beneath her as she settled on the edge of the sofa. “It didn’t even feel like… a charity event. More like a launch party that forgot what it was for.”

Giselle huffed faintly in agreement, pressing the bottle to her forehead again.

Minyeong hesitated.

“And-” She shifted, fingers tightening slightly around her cup. “I might be overthinking it, but… did your drinks taste normal?”

Giselle cracked one eye open again, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” Minyeong exhaled softly. “I was watching the bar for a bit- some of them kept switching bottles around. Not even checking labels properly. And a couple people looked… worse than they should’ve been? Faster than they should’ve been.”

Giselle stilled.

There was a flicker of something in her memory- too loud music, a drink pressed into her hand, the taste just slightly off. Sweeter, maybe. Or stronger. She couldn’t quite pin it down.

“I thought it was just because it was an open bar,” Minyeong added quickly. “People overdoing it, you know?”

“…Yeah.” Giselle’s voice came out slower this time. Less certain.

Her fingers tightened around the bottle.

“You think they wanted us to get drunk?”

Giselle’s fingers tightened around the water bottle, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. The thought settled in her stomach like a stone- cold, heavy, and entirely unwelcome. “That… would make a twisted kind of sense,” she admitted slowly. “If they wanted headlines, scandal, drama- getting idols wasted at a charity event would definitely do it.”

She swallowed.

Something wasn’t right.

Not just the headache- worse. Her stomach twisted sharply, a sudden, violent lurch that stole the breath from her lungs. The room tipped, the light through the blinds turning harsh, blinding. She squeezed her eyes shut, but it didn’t help- if anything, it made the spinning worse.

“Min…” Her voice came out thinner than she meant, her tongue heavy, clumsy. The water bottle slipped slightly in her grip.

Minyeong’s expression changed instantly. “Giselle?”

Another wave hit- stronger. Too fast. Wrong.

Before she could argue, Minyeong was hauling her upright, an arm braced around her as Giselle’s knees threatened to give out beneath her. The short walk to the bathroom felt endless, each step unsteady, her body lagging half a second behind itself.

She barely made it.

Giselle collapsed onto the toilet, retching hard, her whole body jerking with the force of it. Heat rushed to her face, then vanished just as quickly, leaving her cold and shaking. Somewhere behind her, Minyeong was saying her name, voice tight with worry, but it sounded distant—like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel.

This wasn’t a hangover.

"Hey Sunnie." The manager, Hajoon, spoke carefully as he deftly worked on getting the blood pressure machine on his arm. "Just keep breathing like you are. We don't think you blacked out, but we're going to keep you on the floor for a few minutes, okay?"

Sunoo couldn't manage more then a little nod, earning a soft head rub by Heeseung.  

The cold press of the blood pressure cuff tightened around his arm, a grounding discomfort amidst the lingering dizziness. Around him, the hushed murmurs of the other members around the room. Jake’s low, worried questions, Jay’s sharp inhale filtered through the air like distant radio static. Heeseung’s fingers lingered in Sunoo’s hair, not moving, just resting there like an anchor. "You scared us," Heeseung murmured, voice barely above a whisper. Sunoo wanted to apologize, but his tongue felt too heavy, the words lodged somewhere between his ribs and throat. "Don't talk, just rest."  

Sunoo blinked slowly, focusing on the ceiling tiles, counting the tiny perforations like stars. Someone- Jungwon, probably- had draped a jacket over his shoulders, the warmth seeping through his thin practice shirt. The blood pressure machine beeped softly, Hajoon nodding to himself before gently removing the cuff. "BP's stabilizing," he announced, more to the room than to Sunoo. "Let's give him space-"  

"Like hell," Jay muttered, already crouching next to Heeseung, his knee brushing Sunoo’s hip. "He doesn't just collapse for no reason."  

Hajoon sighed, rubbing his temple. "We'll get him checked out properly, Jay-ah. Right now, he needs air and quiet."  

Sunoo swallowed, finally finding his voice, thin as it was. "M'okay," he managed. "Just…got dizzy."  

"Because you haven't eaten properly in days," Jake interjected, uncharacteristically sharp. Sunoo flinched, and Jake immediately softened, guilt flickering across his face. "Sorry. Just- you can't keep doing this to yourself."  

Heeseung’s fingers twitched in Sunoo’s hair. "I'm sorry if this is because of me."

"No, no." Jungwon, their fearless leader, appeared at Sunoo's ankle with a slight frown. "You're doing what's best for you. All of us support you in this."  

The silence that followed was thick, the kind that settled in the space between exhales. Sunoo could feel the weight of six pairs of eyes on him- concerned, waiting, holding their breath. He wanted to curl into himself, to disappear into the floorboards. Instead, he let his fingers twitch against the cold laminate, grounding himself in the sensation. Jungwon’s frown deepened, but before he could speak, Jay shifted, his hand hovering uncertainly over Sunoo’s wrist before finally resting there, warm and steady. “You’re shaking,” Jay murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

"I'm... scared." Sunoo shifted in place as he felt some of his energy returning, grabbing hold of Heeseung's free hand. "I love you all, but... it's going to change."

It was probably why they encouraged him to do theatre, join a dance academy and a vocal school. Any way for him to get his energy out and do something creative, Mingi was joining and... he loved it. Getting to be creative and make something out of what seemed like nothing lit a spark under Mingi.  

By the time he turned sixteen, Mingi had choreographed more routines than he could count. Some for school plays, others just for fun in the mirrored studio after hours, where the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead and the vinyl flooring smelled faintly of sweat and disinfectant. His parents never complained about the late pickups, even when he lingered by the studio doors, panting and grinning, long after the last bus had left. They’d just hand him a takeout container of kimchi fried rice, still warm from the kitchen, and ask if he’d remembered to stretch.

And there was his best friend. Jeong Yunho.  

2cm difference, 4 months and a younger brother that had primed Yunho to care in a certain way that- 

"Shut up." Mingi huffed, looking at himself in the mirror of his, San and Seonghwa's shared dorms. "You are not gay, Mingi. You've just known Yunho for a very long time."

A knock at the door interrupted Mingi's spiralling thoughts. He turned in time for Seonghwa to appear in the crack, opening it fully with a sigh when he saw Mingi was dressed. 

"You okay?"  

Mingi blinked, realizing he’d been gripping the edge of the dresser hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He forced his fingers to uncurl, flexing them absently. “Yeah,” he lied, then immediately regretted it when Seonghwa’s eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly knowing way. The older boy leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, and Mingi could practically see the gears turning behind his sharp eyes.

"Anxious?" Mingi knew it was a stupid lie and one that more then likely come to bite him in the ass down the line, but- He couldn't get into it right now and just needed Seonghwa to stop looking at him like that. 

Seonghwa exhaled through his nose, long and slow, like he was counting backwards from ten. Mingi recognized the tactic, it was something that Seonghwa always does when a dongsaeng is doing something stupid, but Mingi was already walking backwards towards his bed, as if distance would diffuse whatever bomb was ticking between them. 

"Okay," Seonghwa said finally, pushing off the doorframe. "But if that's the reason, we should talk to Hongjoong about this. He’s already noticed you zoning out during rehearsals.”

Mingi swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Hongjoong noticing anything was bad news- the man had a sixth sense for dysfunction in the group, especially when it came to Mingi. “It’s not about that,” Mingi muttered, rubbing at his wrist where his pulse jumped under the skin. “It's... It's nothing, Hyung."

Seonghwa didn’t move. The silence stretched between them, thick enough to choke on, until Mingi sat down on the bed, clutching his head in his arms. "You know," Seonghwa said quietly, stepping closer, "I've known you long enough to tell when something's eating at you. And whatever it is, it's not 'nothing.'" 

Mingi let out a shaky breath, pressing his palms into his eyes until colourful spots bloomed behind his eyelids. The mattress dipped as Seonghwa sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. Mingi could smell the faint citrus of his shampoo, something clean and sharp that made his stomach twist.

"I'm not ready to talk about it, please Hyung?"  

Seonghwa exhaled through his nose again, slower this time, like he was trying to decide whether to press the issue or let it go. Mingi could feel the weight of his hesitation in the way the mattress shifted slightly beneath them. Finally, Seonghwa leaned back, resting his weight on his hands. "Alright," he conceded, though his tone made it clear this wasn't over. "But I will tell Hongjoong you don't feel well or something so you can get out of practice."

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered to her reflection. She’d said it every day since she’d been offered the job, ever since the agency she’d applied to shortly after graduation had replied with We’d like to move forward.

She was technically Korean, so it made sense why she’d been sent here, but-

Hailey was scared.

“Welcome to Korea,” the flight attendant said as Jeong-rin finally stepped off the plane and into the cool morning air of what was meant to be her new home.

“Thank you,” she murmured, bowing slightly before continuing down the steps and across the forecourt toward the sliding doors of the terminal.

She followed the rest of the passengers through baggage claim, waiting until her three suitcases appeared on the carousel. She wrestled them onto a large trolley, adding the two bags she’d carried with her through the flight.

Customs was easier than she’d expected. She handed over her passport along with the paperwork for her visa, temporary driver’s licence application, and financial declaration.

“Everything seems to be in order, Miss Kang. Welcome to Korea,” the woman at the desk said with a polite smile.

“Thank you,” Jeong-rin replied, bowing again before walking through the automatic doors into the main terminal.

She scanned the crowd, searching for someone with a clipboard or a sign bearing her name.

She spotted him almost instantly.

A tall man in a black suit stood just off to the side, holding a board with 강정린 written neatly in Hangul. He looked mildly bored, glancing around with a faint frown- until he noticed her approaching.

“Kang Jeong-rin?” he asked, voice deep and professional.

“Yes, that’s me,” she replied, bowing slightly.

“Good. Please follow me.” He offered a small, polite smile, gesturing for her to come with him. “You’ll be staying in the same apartment block as several new employees. It should make settling in easier.”

“Thank you,” she said, pushing the trolley along until he noticed her struggling and took over without comment.

She hesitated before speaking again. “Do you… work with the company, or-?”

He paused, briefly puzzled by the question.

Damn it, she thought. Small talk really doesn’t happen here.

“My official position covers several subsidiaries under HYBE,” he replied carefully. “However, most of my responsibilities involve KOZ.”

“Ah.” She nodded, unsure what else to say.

He sighed quietly as they passed through the doors into the car park. “Is this your first time in Korea, Miss Kang?”

“Yes… is it obvious?” she asked with a small laugh.

“A little,” he admitted, glancing at her properly this time. “And- without meaning to sound rude- small talk isn’t very common here. People don’t usually make conversation with someone they’ve just met.”

“Oh.” Hailey nodded, laughing under her breath. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He bowed slightly as he loaded her suitcases into the boot. “I just thought I’d warn you before a senior does.”

That earned a small smile from her.

Once they were on the road out of Incheon, she opened her mouth to speak — then closed it again.

“I won’t tell you off if you want to ask questions,” he added after a moment. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay.” She relaxed a little. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Jeong Yong-jin,” he said, glancing at her in the rear-view mirror. “Most people call me Jin.”

“Nice to meet you, Jin. Thank you for picking me up.”

“It’s my job,” he replied easily. “But you’re welcome.”

She watched the city unfold outside the window, neon and concrete blending together as Seoul slowly introduced itself.

“So, Miss Kang,” Yong-jin said eventually. “What made you want to come to Korea?”

She thought for a moment. “I worked for a translation agency — Korean to English. My grandparents on both sides moved to the UK in the 1940s and 50s, so I grew up bilingual. I studied marketing and news broadcasting, with Korean as a minor. After graduating, this job came up… and it felt like an opportunity I couldn’t turn down.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s… really impressive.”

“Thank you,” she smiled. “And please- call me Jeong-rin.”

“Alright, Jeong-rin.”

They pulled onto a quieter street lined with apartment buildings.

“Welcome home,” Yong-jin said, stopping in front of one of them.

He helped her inside, stopping at a door marked 207, and handed her an envelope.

“This has the door code and instructions for changing it, two physical keys, a local map, takeaway menus, and a list of employees in the building. My number’s inside as well.”

“No questions,” she said honestly.

“Good. Then I’ll leave you to it.” He bowed slightly. “Good luck, Jeong-rin.”

“Thank you.”

She waited until he was gone before entering the code and stepping inside.

The apartment was small, but clean. Functional. Quiet.

She leaned back against the door, exhaling.

“This is my home now,” she murmured.

“Its a little funny, you have to admit.” He joked at the nurse on the other side of the desk, his arm still very firmly around his bloated tummy. “Pharmacy run with the runs.”

“Its certainly something, sir.” She at least was willing to humour him, which Jisung appreciated, sliding the box of Imodium across the desk. “115,000 won please.”

Jisung smiled, tapping his phone onto the card reader. It chimed a few times before it confirmed it went through. “Thank you.”

"Please, please." He spoke into the early morning air. 5am, too early for them to be awake just yet.

He knew he had a fever, too hot under the covers yet too cold when he moved out from under them. But leaders didn't get sick to the point of missing out on their job. Serim knew how to pace himself to deal with it. This was a reason enough to have never given him the job. Wonjin seemed to be good enough to do it himself.

He reached out to his phone, tucked under the pillow after Hyeongjun didn't want to put it on his usual stand by his bedroom door. The light was too bright on his tired eyes, but he maanged to pull up Serim's contact, not even thinking before tapping the phone icon.

The phone rang three times before Serim picked up. "Hyeongjun? Why are you awake?"

Hyeongjun swallowed thickly, trying to stop the sudden surge of tears that were threatening to break free- "Hyung." He whispered, voice cracking, "Hyung, I don't feel good." And just like that, Hyeongjun started crying.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Serim said softly, "Where are you?"

"In bed," Hyeongjun mumbled, "But I'm hot and cold and I feel really bad."

"I'll be there in five minutes, okay? Just hold on."

Hyeongjun nodded, forgetting Serim couldn't see him. "Okay."

"Are Woobinnie and Wonjinnie still asleep?" Hyeongjun could already hear the former leader at his wardrobe, probably putting the easiest thing on so he could get to his dongesang faster. 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"Good, don't wake them up. I'll be there soon." Serim hung up, and Hyeongjun let his phone fall onto the mattress next to him.

He curled up tighter, pulling the covers over his head, trying to stop the shivering. He felt so pathetic. He was supposed to be the leader, but he couldn't even handle a simple fever.

The door creaked open, and Hyeongjun peeked out from under the covers. Serim was standing there, already dressed in sweats and a hoodie, his hair slightly messy like he just rolled out of bed.

"Hey," Serim whispered, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge. He reached out and brushed Hyeongjun's damp bangs away from his forehead. "You're a little warm."

Hyeongjun sniffled, "I know."

Serim sighed, "You did the right thing calling me." The former leader started rubbing small circles into Hyeongjun's warm hand. “Talk to me. What’s been stuck in your head?”

"I-" Hyeongjun huffed a little, shifting to hold Serim's hand better. "I don't like being leader." He finally admitted, voice small.

"Ah." Serim nodded, understanding. "I was thinking it might be something to do with that." 

"I hate the pressure that comes with it." Hyeongjun squeezed Serim's hand a little. "I get the company wants to try something different, but... I hate having to do the greeting, knowing that even the fans hate that it's me and Wonjinnie doing it instead of you. I just want to be the group's sunshine." He admitted softly.

Serim hummed, rubbing Hyeongjun's knuckles. "I know, sweetheart. I know." He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Hyeongjun's forehead. "Maybe we should talk with the company about potentially moving the leadership back to me. If the leadership is making you literally sick, it's not with it, right?" 

"No, it's not." Hyeongjun sighed, leaning into Serim's touch. "I just don't want the others to be disappointed." 

"They won't be." Serim assured him. "They love you, leader or not."

Hyeongjun smiled weakly, "Yeah, they do."

"I'm going to get you some medicine, okay?" Serim stood up, "And some water."

Hyeongjun nodded, "Okay."

"Be back in a minute." Serim ruffled Hyeongjun's hair before leaving the room.

"Hey." He smiled, approaching the bed carefully as the bundle in Jiwoo's arms. "I'm sorry I don't have much time, but-"

"It's okay, Hobi." Jiwoo grinned, shifting the baby in her arms. "I know."

Hoseok hesitated, glancing down at the newborn bundled in blankets. His niece, the first baby in their family since they were kids, and he could barely see her.

"You look good with her," Hoseok said softly. Jiwoo grinned, adjusting her hold.

"Want to hold her?"

Hoseok's stomach dropped, hands already shaking. "I- I shouldn't. My hands are dirty, my uniform is gross." Hoseok glanced down at himself, his uniform stained up with mud and God knows what from various drills. 

"Okay." Jiwoo was still smiling. She looked tired, which was to be expected, but so unbelievably happy. 

Of course none of them minded, but they had wondered in the back of their minds what it could have been the result of, until Kai was the one who finally brought it up as they were getting ready for a stage one day.

“Hyung, were you in a house fire? Is that why you have scars down your back?”

It made the leader pause, briefly casting a look towards his only hyung for some sort of support that Yeonjun wasn’t sure he would be able to give.

“Um…” Soobin mumbled softly. “It’s complicated.”

“You… You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Kai frowned, walking quickly up to Soobin, giving him a hug, which the elder reciprocated easily, putting his face into the maknae’s shoulder, suppressing the need to cry.

The group as a whole did not usually let themselves cry in front of each other, so whenever it did happen, they were not sure how to react. It took time before Soobin was ready, sniffling a little into his sleeve before sitting down next to the eldest, the others all staying within arms reach of each other.

It was a winter’s day and Soobin happened to be off from school with the flu. His siblings were in school and his parents were at work, so the Ajumma from next door agreed to check in on Soobin throughout the day every two hours to make sure that his fever was not too high and or he needed something but was too weak to get it himself. It was okay until around 3pm when Soobin started to smell what he could not describe at the time was something akin to a forest fire burning. He tired to get up to see what it was, but he was too weak and dizzy to do anything and ended up collapsing to the floor in an uncomfortable heap.

What followed was only speculation as the Ajumma had burst in, trying to get Soobin out as there was an active fire going on in the apartment next door and it was spreading fast. She struggled for some time before she eventually was able to get Soobin up, by which time the fire was spreading to Soobin’s apartment and into his room. The smoke must have been so dense and thickening by the second, taking her consciousness away from her and she collapsed shortly afterwards next to Soobin. 

The firefighters had been called, finding Soobin and the Ajumma just as Soobin was sort of gaining consciousness back. It was the fight or flight response, the doctors explained. The firefighters got him out first, reassuring him that they would get the Ajumma out afterwards, they were kind and got him into an ambulance quickly, minding all of the damage that had taken place in the twenty minute inferno he was stuck in.

His mum arrived just before he was transported to the hospital, tears streaming down her face. She held her son’s hand, gently reassuring him that he was going to be fine over the roar of oxygen that was being pumped through his mask and treatments they were trying to apply to his damaged skin. It felt like a hellscape and heaven in the same breath.

The doctors determined quickly that Soobin’s back had extensive 2nd degree burns which needed to be monitored in the hospital to prevent infection from setting in as well as moderate lung damage, treated by oxygen therapy that would also continue on at home. But the Ajumma was not so lucky.

“She passed away?” Kai asked, now holding the leader’s hands.

“Yeah… The family let me be there when they took her off life support and just held me for a while, even thought it should have been the other way around… Or I shouldn’t have even been there in the first place… She was looking after me in the first place.”

“Hyung, no.” They gasped softly, Taehyun grasping the leader’s chin to look at Soobin better. “She sounded like a wonderful person.”

“She was.” Soobin nodded, wiping his eyes and have them all a smile. “I forgave myself years ago, but just sometimes it catches me off guard and I’m reminded of what happened.”

“Why don’t we go home a bit early today and watch something?” Asked Beomgyu, looking to Yeonjun for support. The eldest stood up too, collecting his bag.

“We’ve worked so hard recently, one evening off wouldn’t do us much harm, we can even tell the manager-hyung that Kai isn’t feeling well, make it more believable.”

As the newly appointed leader, Jonghyeon decided to go around the members and ask if there was anything that he needed to know about before their proper debut preparations started up and he would not have enough time to do so. It meant asking about their allergies, general dietary requirements and anything that Jonghyeon could help with, or something that the company could not about.

“Okay, so Minhyun-ah. I have been going around the members to ask if there was anything that I need to know about, if you have an allergy, intolerance, if you might need some time to yourself.”

“Of course, yeah.” Minhyun nodded, sitting cross legged on the bed. “The company does already know, but I have an allergy to salt.”

“Okay, what does that mean? No added salt into food?” Jeonghyeon asked, writing down the information into his notebook. 

“Yes and the company has given me permission to one of the showers that are in the gym that’s down the road, otherwise I could start to have an allergic reaction to the salt in my sweat.”

“Would it be better if we organise having you shower first?”

“Ah, no.” Minhyun shook his head. “I don’t want to force you to do that for me, the thing I have going on with the gym works for me, I shouldn’t have the other members bend to something that I can deal with myself”

“But you’re a member of this group, Hyunnie, the others wouldn’t mind.” 

“I appreciate it, Jonghyun-ah, but I’d rather just keep things how they are and if things change, I can always start showering at the dorm.” 

It didn’t feel fair for a member to have to go out of their way to deal with an allergy that they are not able to control, but if Minhyun wanted to deal with it himself, then Jonghyeon had to respect that.

“Okay, just reach out if you need some more help, yeah?”

"I, um- I wanted to say thank you." She smiled, clutching the teddy bear that Athena dropped on her bed the previous evening. "You girls have renewed my love of music." She giggled wetly, covering her mouth. "I didn't think I'd even get back into the studio, so thank you."

"We love you too, Unnie." Haram whispered, smiling softly. "You've done so much for us."

"Yeah! Like, I wouldn't even have moved from Stockholm and become a K-pop idol if it wasn't for this company." Athena cheered, bouncing slightly.

Chanelle rolled her eyes fondly, placing her hand on Athena's shoulder to stop her bouncing. "But you need to take care of yourself. We will be okay without you for a little bit, okay?" She frowned slightly, cupping Yuni's cheek. "You need rest."

Yuni sighed, leaning into Chanelle's touch. "I know, I know. It's just... I don't want this to go away. The doctors might think I'm not well enough to return and the company decides to disband the group."

"They won't." Yewon reached for Yuni's hand. "Please let us keep the Fifty Fifty name alive, okay?" She grinned. "We'll make you proud."

Yuni nodded, wiping her eyes. "I know you will. You already have." She chuckled. "I'm going to go now before I change my mind."

“Okay.” Chanelle smiled. “We love you, Unnie.”

Yuni took her suitcase, rolling her suitcase down the hallway towards the front door. “I love you.” She whispered so carefully. 

“It’s not my fault that Jisungie got sick and needed my help.” 

“No, no. This is not Jisung’s fault.” His mum came over, gently smoothing the duvet that was covering her son over. “But it’s not yours for taking care of him. I understand that Jisung is important to you, but you’ve not been well recently and you need to take better care of yourself, otherwise you are going to come down with something that takes a lot longer to get over.”

It wasn’t tears of sadness that ran down the second oldest member’s face. His mother had been incredibly supportive through everything. All of the dreams, all of the failures, through everything. She was even there when Minho had fainted at practice and had to go to the hospital for some monitoring despite the other members being there. But most of all, she had been there when he tearfully admitted to her while in the stuffy hospital room that he thought he was in love with Jisung after the care the younger took to help Minho into some normal clothes.

“I just never want Jisungie to be in pain, you know?”

“I know.” She reached over and took up her son’s hand. “Jisung has always been an important person in your life and I will never stop you from help him out, but sometimes you have to take care of yourself and ensure that you don’t end up hurt yourself. I’m sure that Jisungie wouldn’t want to see you hurt because of him, right?”

“I love him.. So much.” Minho squeezed his mother’s hand a little. “He is my everything and I can’t see him ever in pain.”

“But… Minho, listen to me when I say this, yeah?” Minho nodded. “There are going to be times when Jisung is in pain and there is nothing you can do about it. You not doing anything about it does not make you a bad person or someone who does not care about Jisung enough, it means that you have set a boundary within yourself to allow him to get hurt and be there for him in the best way possible. It’s well and truly impossible to prevent everything and I am sure that Jisung would do the same for you if you also got hurt, but you both have to be okay with the idea that the other might not be okay and the best thing is to be there.”

“He’s my best friend, Eomma.”

“Then take care of him, but also yourself. Let him make mistakes and learn from them. That way you two can be the best person for each other, okay?”

"Hi." Dahyun said breathlessly. "Do... Do you have a minute to talk?" She gestured to the hallway, her fingers trembling slightly.

Kyungmi hesitated, glancing at the producer who nodded. "Sure." She followed Dahyun into the corridor, leaning against the wall. "You look like you've been crying."

Dahyun laughed nervously, rubbing her cheeks. "I have."

Kyungmi frowned, reaching out to wipe a smudge of mascara from Dahyun's cheekbone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Everything." Dahyun swallowed, looking down at their feet, the polished floors reflecting the overhead lights like a mirror. "Kyungmi... I like you. More than just friends." The words tumbled out before she could stop them, her pulse roaring in her ears like a freight train. "And I need you to know and to ask if you wanted to come with me to the movies on Friday."

"Oh." Kyungmi blinked, her hand freezing mid-air. The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating, until Dahyun felt like she might pass out from holding her breath. Then, slowly, Kyungmi's lips curled into a small frown. "I... didn't peg you are some who... thought like that." Her voice wasn't cruel, just confused.

Dahyun's heart plummeted. "Thought like that?" The air suddenly felt cold- suffocating.

"Yeah." Kyungmi nodded. "I've... I've seen you at Church before, so I assumed... You knew how... we felt about stuff."