Archive of Our Own

From the moment he opened his eyes, he already knew today was going really crap.

Seonghwa was probably already up; there was strip of light coming from the under-side of their bedroom door, and it provided enough light for his eyes to see the room. He couldn't hear anything from the top bunk, no sounds of breathing.

He stared at the shadowy underside of the bed above him, desperately raking through his activities of the previous day. He must have done something to cause this ache that was pulsing in the base of his skull. Maybe he slept wrong? Maybe it was a strained muscle? Or maybe he had hit his head on something yesterday, he was quite clumsy when he was sleep-deprived, and he was always sleep-deprived—

A bolt of black shot through his left eye, and he blinked. There was now a muddied patch in his vision, but in the dark it was a bit hard to tell how bad the visual symptom was. But it's pretty obvious now what this meant.

Fuck. He hated migraines.

Hongjoong sat up as slowly as he could, trying not to exacerbate the problem. His hands felt like static as he groped around for his glasses. He would just have to just go with this look for the rest of the day (With how unsteady he felt right now, he would sooner end up stabbing himself in the eye than put his contacts in).

As he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to conjure up a reason to not get out of bed, the door opened and Seonghwa stuck his head in. Hongjoong flinched at the brightness streaming in, not wanting to look at it, but he knew he would have to go out eventually.

"Good, you're up. Van leaves in 10 minutes, if you want to bathe, you better hurry."

He tried his best to do everything as fast as he could, but his head was pounding and his hands shook so hard he couldn't put his toothpaste on his toothbrush. But he was determined to brush his teeth, so he resorted to putting the toothbrush down on the ledge and tried to get most of the paste in the brush instead of in the sink. It worked. For the most part.

The headache got worse as he shuffled out of the room after getting ready. Some of the boys were already dressed and around living area, eating breakfast and talking way too loudly for 4am in the morning. He swallowed drily, feeling his single hour of sleep drip like the acid down his shoulders and neck.

He needed water. It was a good thing that Seonghwa was already there, filling up his bottle for the day, so he just had to tug on his sleeve and ask him to help him do his too. The older boy glanced at him briefly, but he needed to sit down, now, or he would trip on his own feet.

"Good morning!" Wooyoung chirped as he sat down at the dining table. The boy beamed at his mumbled response and threw his arm around his shoulders to give him a hug. Hongjoong tried to smile at the gesture, but in truth he was biting down on his lip to keep himself from crying out when the movement sent a lightning jolt of pain through his temple. There were zigs now in the muddied spot. He would have to take his medicine when they started to zag.

If the members thought he was quiet that morning, they didn't say anything. San was being extra affectionate that morning — he offered to give him a massage while they waited for the rest of the members to gather outside. Hongjoong managed to reply with a hair ruffle and said maybe later, so the boy decided to link arms with him instead. He felt like his eyes were burning, and his brain felt like it was melting. He tracked the ocular spot. Not time for medication yet, so he had to grin and bear it. He wrapped his scarf tightly around his face, so the members couldn't see him flinching every time the invisible knife was stabbed into his head.

It was a good thing the sky's still dark, he thought, glancing at the window at the end of the corridor. It meant he had time to get used to the light. Mingi closed the door and it beeped shut as Yeosang tugged his shoes on. The rest of the boys stood around, waiting as he leaned on the wall. There was movement on his left, so he looked up so he could see out of his good eye and saw Seonghwa staring expectantly at him. For a beat, he was confused, then he remembered. Leader duties.

"Right, um." he started hoarsely, "A reminder that the schedule for today is long, but! Very doable. First up is the salon, please try not to mess up your hair after that, because we will not get to see the stylist noonas and hyungs again today. We have an interview at... at 10am. They are coming down to the office, so in the meantime, try not to y'know. Touch stuff unnecessarily."

Wow, it sure was hard to remember stuff when you're basically blind in one eye and your head was being squeezed like a sponge... with metal claws.

"Uh. Lunch is at 1pm, in between you can bathe and change because that's our only filmed programme for today. I k-know Yeo and Wooyoung, y'all want to do a Vlive? So maybe you want to keep the clothes and makeup on. I don't know. At 2pm..."

He winced as a spark of bright pain interrupted his sentence. He shut his left eye as he continued, trying not to let on how uncomfortable he felt.

"2pm, Jongho and Yunho, and me, 3 of us have to go down to the other studio to record some stuff. Mingi, you may have to come with us, so just be prepared. Yeah. Uhm. Apart from that, it's practice until 7pm, dinner at the usual timing, and after that we are free to work on whatever. Van comes for us at 11pm. Got that?"

"Got it!" he had to hide a wince at the unified half-shout. At least San, who arms were still linked with his, refrained from participating this morning. Closing his bad eye also seemed to lift the pressure of the headache slightly, so he kept it shut. They all step into the lift, and the light was almost unbearably bright, so Hongjoong was glad he only has one eye being subjected to it.

"Something up with your eye, hyung?"

Wooyoung was looking at him, and his comment made the rest of the members glance over curiously as well.

"Oh, no, it's just..." he hesitated, unsure about how to tell them about the condition. In all honesty, it was never a problem, at least not when they first met each other. He used to have migraines more often when he was in middle school, but once he hit puberty, they had mostly stopped. The last severe flare-up he had was almost a year ago, and it had been during Chuseok, so his mum took care of him then.

"Is there something in your eye? Here..." Seonghwa, ever prepared, dug through his pockets and pulled out a packet of wet tissue. Hongjoong accepted it with a mumbled thanks, just as the door opened.

The lobby outside was bright, so he waited until they were standing outside before opening his eye and pretending to wipe it. To his relief, the blurry spot in his vision have not gotten bigger, and the zigs were actually getting less... jarring. He pressed the cold wet tissue against his eye, and the coolness was actually rather soothing. His headache was almost tolerable after awhile.

San's arm was still linked with his, and he was watching.

"Is it a stye, hyung?" he smiled at the boy and took the tissue away, stuffing it into his pocket.

"No, there’s nothing, see? Just a bit of dirt probably." San squinted at his face. The morning darkness was actually quite comfortable, much better than the bright indoor lights, and although the ocular blot didn't go away, he was feeling a little better by the time the van pulled up. The autumn air was rather cool and brisk as well, which helped him feel less like something that had been steamrolled over by a two-ton truck.

What he did not anticipate, however, was how much of a torture the salon would be today.

Hongjoong could see (read: feel) the building before they were even in front of it. He cursed internally and began digging around in his bag for a cap of some sort. Sunglasses? Maybe. But that would look so weird, especially at this time of day. The aura was easing, his vision was clearing, but this meant that the next phase was about to set in, and that was usually the main event of the migraine. There was no escaping it, ultimately, so he made sure he had his bottle with him, and his small packet of medication in the side pocket. As the van pulled to a stop, he braced himself.

The cap wasn't enough to shield his already impaired vision from the fluorescent lights of the salon. Every time he blinked, an ice pick went tunneling through his skull. OK, that's it. He had to take something. Anything.

He ducked out to the washroom while his members were being split up to different parts of the salon, and washed down the two pills he had before splashing some cold water on his face. He felt so nauseous. His head hurt so bad, he had to squat down on the floor of the washroom for a bit, trying to breathe evenly as he waited for the medicine to kick in. He was very grateful that the medicine was fast acting — if it had been a few minutes later, he would have had thrown up from the sheer amount agony he would've been in. When the pain eased by several notches, he could open his eyes in the brightly lit washroom without being overwhelmed in pain.

He hurried back out and found the hairstylist noona, apologizing for taking too long in the toilet. He tried to settle his queasy stomach as he looked over his complexion in the mirror. Fuck, he looked like a ghost. Was this what he always looked like, or did he just look exceptionally gross today?

The pain continued to stay at a tolerable level as he got his hair done. Still, he didn't want to move around, so when she was done, he asked the stylist noona to get the makeup hyung to come over instead. She had been concerned, but he had convinced her that it was because his legs were sore from dancing and he wanted to sleep, so he didn't want to move from his seat. It wasn't uncommon for them to request this, but usually Hongjoong would rather move than inconvenience others. Nevertheless, the noona just shrugged and called the hyung over without asking any further.

After he was done however, he sat there for a bit, trying to figure out how to go to the waiting area in the other side of the salon. He could never tell how long a migraine phase lasted, and it always varied. If he was struck by an ocular spot, or some other kind of aura on the way... he really didn't want to know what the salon floor tasted like, nope, no thanks.

"Hyung, are you done?" Thank God, Yunho. He spun his chair and saw Yunho coming to him, eyes fixed on his phone where he was playing some shooting game. He grabbed his sleeve; the boy was used to this level of physical contact from, well, from all of them, so the taller boy automatically allowed it.

"I'm done, how's everyone else?" if Yunho was confused about how Hongjoong basically latched onto his jumper and followed him all the way through the salon and to the waiting room sofa, he didn't say anything. They both sat down and Yunho continued to chatter as he played his game, talking happily about how the stylist said he didn't have to put in colored contacts today, so that's why he was done so early. Hongjoong tried to smile, but his head was hot and pulsing like an infected wound. Still, it could be worse, though, so he wasn't going to start complaining.

Yeosang and Wooyoung came over to wait just as he was about to shut his eyes and rest. Seonghwa was next to join, and he's carrying some stuff in his hands. He couldn't see it from where he sat, but whatever it was, it must be good because Wooyoung yelled and jumped up immediately, clearly overjoyed.

"Woomin hyung got some snacks for us. Woo, pass this to San. I've already given Mingi and Jongho theirs." the oldest said. Hongjoong's stomach did a full-ass flip when he pressed a cream bun into his hands. Wooyoung seemed pretty excited, why didn't Seonghwa give the bun to him instead?

"I'm not hungry." he said weakly, but he could feel the disapproval of his roommate. Wooyoung had run off, and Yeosang and Yunho were already opening their bread. 

"That's what you said about dinner last night, that means you used up your free get-out-of-meal card for this week. No skipping breakfast." chided Seonghwa. When he didn't answer, the man reached over and ripped open the packaging for him.

"Eat."

Hongjoong wanted to cry. It's okay, he told himself. He could feel Seonghwa watching him.

Just take a few bites, and save the rest in your bag. Also, your head is not hurting as badly now, so you won't throw up. You just don't have an appetite, but take a few bites.

He started picking at the bun, and he thought he saw Seonghwa smile at the edge of his vision, but he couldn't be sure because his head was heavy with pain. Wooyoung was back and he squeezed between him and Yunho, wriggling happily. Hongjoong gave him a bite of his bun when Seonghwa looked away, at which Wooyoung beamed and gave him a big warm hug. That did make him feel a little better.

The others were done within the hour, and Hongjoong linked arms with Wooyoung as they got ready to go to the car, just in case. He knew he was being extra clingy today, and extra quiet, he could see Jongho and Seonghwa casting him looks, but when the former asked if he was OK, he said he's just tired and he had a mild headache. He didn't get much sleep last night. Both statements are true. His headache was not as bad as it was when he entered the salon, and he did only sleep a single hour.

He settled in the back of the car and buckled in for the ride. There was morning traffic, that meant they would take some time, so he shut his eyes and went to sleep.

A jolt of the car woke him, and their manager called back, apologising for jamming the brake. The members who were awake acknowledged what he said, but he did not respond because he was too busy with the sharp stab of pain that went through his head with every honk made by the neighboring cars. Stupid thing is still not done, he cursed. He did not want to jinx it but he had not had a prolonged migraine for a while now. Too bad he had makeup on now, this meant he couldn't press something cold to his face. God knows what that could do for this damn headache.

They reached the company building with a few minutes to spare to their appointment, so Hongjoong and their managers had step on it and ask the boys to hurry up a little, and get into the building, down to the basement, and into the meeting room. San and Mingi raced ahead, and he wanted to tell them not to run, because they're going to get themselves all hot and sweaty and it would look terrible on camera. But there were zigs in his vision now, and his head had nails in it. If he had to shout, his brain would just split into half. He could feel the cold sweat on his back. There wasn't time for him to duck out and take another painkiller, the stronger one, and the anti-emetic. He thought the first dose would last him a good part of the day, maybe even until practice.

Forget practice, he didn't think he was even going to make it to lunch. 

Just get through this. Just this interview. He told himself inwardly as they streamed into the meeting room, where a camera crew was already set up. The metal claws were back and they were clamping down on his temples. He felt shivery and weak, like he had just been hit by a bout of chills.

As the other members got into their places, one of the crew came over to tell him that the questions were actually in English because this was going to be put on YouTube as well. They asked if they would like to do the interview in both English and Korean, but this would mean he would have to translate everything his members said.

He felt like crying when he said no, he couldn't. It was too much. Not today. He told the producer that the questions were too difficult he would need more time than they had today to prepare. The production crew seemed OK, but he knew he was letting down his members. This was his job, as a leader, and he couldn't even do it. He just couldn't do it. What kind of leader did that make him?

As the rest got into their places, he touched Yeosang's hand and whispered to him, asking him to tell the members that he wants them to handle the questions, just for practice. He will do any questions regarding the concepts and such, but they need to do the rest.

The kids seemed to take it well, San was behind him and he placed his hands on his shoulders and squeezed them reassuringly. It was a comforting gesture, but it could not ease the feeling of doom that was dawning on him now. His vision was starting to twist and spin, and he felt like he was on a boat out in the choppy ocean. His stomach did not like that one bit. He pressed his tongue firmly to the roof of his mouth and hoped that something would eventually let up.

He really tried his best to smile as the camera started to roll but he couldn't really tell where the camera was, or the lens. His members were easier to focus on, despite his bad eye, so he turned often to look at them instead. The boys took the non-thematic and personal questions, and he managed to recite his lines for the concept, and come up with the rest. Even smiled a few times. But all the movement was making his battered head spin like a top. He could swear the room was shaking. No way could he be so fucking dizzy.

He tried his best to sit still and took a deep breath to steady himself as the crew told him that they were about to film the ending shot. Last shot.

"Thank you, byebye! See you soon!" he waved, plastering what he hoped was a bright grin on his face. The other members followed his lead and waved as well, saying their goodbyes. Once the director shouted cut, however, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

Hongjoong jumped to his feet and moved straight for the door.

"Thank you, thank you, excuse me—"

As soon as he left the room, a electric shock of icy pain nearly cut out his vision entirely. He stumbled, his stomach twisting and turning. He felt so, so sick.

Down the hall, down the hall, he chanted mentally as he ran, his hand pressed preemptively over his mouth, left, then right.

The washroom was empty when he burst in and made for a cubicle, throwing the lid up just in time for him to start throwing up. His throat strained and stung from the effort. Every heave felt like someone was jamming a hot poker up his brainstem and twisting.

He couldn't bear to open his eyes, because he is pretty sure the light will burn like a bitch. His ears are ringing from his own gagging, and just about everything hurts. Hongjoong can't even tell if he's throwing up food, or if it was just bile at this point. All he knew is that he hurt and he just wanted to pass out and not feel like this. The retching abated for a moment and he sat down hard on the tiled floor, panting like he had just run a marathon.

The washroom door opened.

"Hongjoong-ah? Are you alright?"

Hongjoong's eyes automatically opened, and he regretted it almost instantly. The light made it feel like pure acid had been dumped on his skull. The pain was so terrible he choked and barely made it to the toilet before he dry-heaved. His stomach was probably empty now, because nothing came out, but it felt worse than when there was actually stuff to throw up.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his back, rubbing soothingly as he tried to stop gagging. But he couldn't because of how bright everything was, and how horrible the pain was. He felt Seonghwa's fingers on his neck, then his forehead.

"What is it? Is it something you ate earlier? You don't have a fever."

His voice was soft and it didn't hurt to listen to him, so Hongjoong tried to focus on that. His fingers were nice and cold as well, which helped immensely. The nausea eased a little, so he could breathe and eventually croak.

"Migraine. The lights... Please, could you—" his stomach contracted and he gagged again, but he could hear Seonghwa moving. The older boy opened the door of the washroom and between his strained, bitter breaths, there was a murmur of sound. Crap, the kids were outside. How much had they heard? Did they hear him throwing up? Could they hear him—His head was being rent into two, and all he could do was moan in agony.

"Hongjoong, the lights are off." Seonghwa was back beside him, and he felt him touch his arm. He grabbed blindly at the man's arm, then took his cold fingers and pressed it to his left eye, where the pain was the most intense.  Seonghwa stayed with him, waiting until it passed.

"Do you need to stay here? Or would you like to go somewhere else to lie down?"

He let go of Seonghwa's hand and opened his eyes by a sliver. He was infinitely relieved that yes, the main lights were off, all that was left to illuminate the washroom was the light coming from under the door, which didn't cause him too much pain if he focused Seonghwa's face. The older boy looked pale and worried. He knew this must look absolutely terrifying to someone who has never watched anybody go through a migraine attack, much less someone close to them. Hongjoong swallowed, then spoke, his voice feeling like sandpaper on his tongue.

"Shirt... Is it—"

"No, it looked fine. The collar of your jacket has some though... But I could help you take it off."

"Please." Seonghwa took some toilet paper and passed it to him to let him clean his mouth, waiting patiently even though Hongjoong moved like his limbs were made of lead. They had might as well be, he was so exhausted and tired from all the pain. His friend let him hold onto his arm and lean his head against his shoulder as they worked together to get his jacket off. Hongjoong was drifting in and out of awareness at this point, his hands barely worked and the dull throbbing was distant. His migraines often ebbed and flowed, however, so it wouldn't be long before another wave hit. Without his medication, this could go on for hours, sometimes days if he waited to take the next dose .

"Joong, do you think you could move on your own?" It was at that very moment that another wave hit him, this one was a hammer, right into the frontal lobe of his already battered head. He gasped involuntarily. That was probably indication enough for Seonghwa, because the next thing he felt was his jacket being put carefully over his shattered skull, so it blocked out the light, but was not too tight around his head so he couldn't breathe. He trusted the other, he had to because he literally was crippled by the pain, everything hurt and he couldn't move. In the haze, he heard the toilet flush, felt an arm on his back and under his knees, and then Seonghwa lifted him slowly, gently. He was glad he was no longer as nauseous as he had been a few minutes ago; god knows what their stylists would do to him if he ruined the jacket. Right now, if he bit down on his lip, and clenched his fists, he could hold it back.

The wave faded to a hot ache as he felt Seonghwa carry him out of the cubicle. He felt Seonghwa nudge the door open with his knee. There was the sound of the door opening and a sudden influx of voices, albeit pitched lower than they would usually be — Seonghwa probably told them what was going on. Fuck. He never wanted them to find out this way, thought Hongjoong tiredly as he heard Seonghwa shush the group and started asking them things in a soft voice. His face was buried in the other boy's shoulder, so he could feel how the words rumbled in his chest, although he couldn't hear them that clearly.

"... Sleeping bag... Studio C. Wooyoung, take the... Lights on low... Min, Jong... Yunho, stay with me, in case..."

He was already slipping out of consciousness, completely spent by everything that he had to endure. The migraine had retreated for the moment and he wanted to take the time to fall asleep, to escape another flare. If he napped, maybe he would wake up feeling better.

Right now, he was warm, he was comfortable. The steady thrum of the walk rocked him like a beat, and he found himself slipping, tumbling down into slumber, carried by the lowered voices of his roommate and the younger members.

He didn't know how long he managed to sleep for, but when he woke he felt so cold, his teeth started chattering. His head was hurting again, but it wasn't that bad, just yet. Then all the memories of what happened before he drifted off to sleep hit him, and he felt his chest tighten. They know now, they must think he has been hiding things from them. Either that or they must think that something is severely wrong with him. Crap.

A throb reminded him that the headache was still there. As if it was telling him, you thought I was gone? Tough luck, mate.

Fucking hell, he cursed in a sudden rush of savage anger, fucking migraines. He hated this shit.

Hongjoong opened his eyes, and let them adjust to the dim room. He tried to look around as best as he could from where he lay on the ground, in a sleeping bag. He was lying in what looked like the smallest studio room they have, he could tell from it's shape. The lights were on, but they were turned all the way down to a faint, blue glow, almost to the point of darkness. God, it was so damn cold in here that he could feel himself shaking. His eyes darted around, and caught sight of his phone which someone had left beside his head. Without thinking, his hand reached for it and tapped it to wake it, only for him to recoil with a soft cry when the screen lit up white and a bolt of lightning shot through his head. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck." he muttered, feeling the painful pressure behind his left eye building. That was so stupid, he should have known better than to do that.

He reached out to flip the phone upside down, then opened his eyes again to look about the room. He needed his medication. The room was empty save for some chairs and cushions. His bag wasn't here but he needed it now, before everything spiralled. Everything was already starting to sway, like a galley of a ship caught in a storm.

"Seonghwa. Seonghwa!" he called out. When no one answered, he tried again, "Seonghwa!"

You're not at home. This room is soundproof, you dumb-ass, his tired brain supplied, and he bit back a groan. After allowing himself yet another moment of misery, he started to sit up, trying to move as slowly as possible so he would not aggravate the vertigo. Someone had folded up their hoodie and put it under his head as a pillow. It was decently over-sized so he shrugged it on as fast as he could with shaking hands, pulling the hood over his eyes and pressing his hand over it to check if it blacked out his vision.

Now it was just a matter of him finding any one of the others. He tried to think about the layout of the training rooms, knowing he only had so much time before things got out of hand again. Getting to his feet, he stumbled for the door, and placed a hand on the handle. Hood down, arm thrown over his eyes so that all he could possibly see was black.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, tugged the handle up, and pushed.

The walk to the training rooms was more tricky than he had anticipated. He thought he knew the place well enough, what with having trained here for as long as he had, but navigating without sight and a poor sense of balance did not help his situation. He was trying to stick close to the walls, as he went through the lounge, but he had since lost count of the number of tables and chairs he had walked into, or the number of times he had tripped and fell over his own feet. It was like he was trying to get to the dance studio not just blindfolded, but while walking through a rickety boat in the middle of a sea storm, and an anvil battering ceaselessly against his tired brain.

His ears perked slightly when he heard the faint sound of music. Great, that meant there was probably someone in the dance studio, and he must be getting there. He wandered into what he felt was the corridor which led down to the dance room, and from then on it was quite easy, no more obstacles. The beat drummed in time with his pulse as he walked (well, more like shuffled) towards the sound, making his jaw ache. The song was not doing any favours for his already pounding head.

As if it had heard him, the song ended at that exact moment. It was a damn good thing that he was counting the doors then, so he knew which room he was at. He felt about for the handle and after some difficulty discerning which was left, right, up and down, he managed to open the door.

"... wasn't great, but at least we got through the whole thing this time." what sounded like Yunho's voice commented quietly. Hongjoong could hear the other members' soft panting as he inched the door open carefully. He wanted to go in but he didn't want to end up ramming the door into one of the boys, "Let's run through it from the top—"

"Kids?" he called out, his voice hoarse and thin from disuse and vomiting.

There was an abrupt silence, during which he was trying to figure out what was shaking, him or the ground. Then there came a soft stunned, "Hyung?" from what sounded like Wooyoung, and then there's a flurry of movement, and he felt someone grasp his right arm, firmly. He couldn't see, but his head automatically turned to the person beside him, and once he hissed, Hongjoong knew that it was San.

"Hyung, what the hell are you doing? You should be resting."

He suddenly realized that he has no idea what was going on, which part of the day they are at, and what he had missed out on. A shiver of anxiety seized him. Was this dance practice? But the BB hyungs were supposed go come in today, what happened? Was it even still the same day?

"What time is it?" he asked, faintly. He felt cold, but not because of the temperature of the room. He could hear the pounding of his head, and he wanted desperately to squeeze his hands to his temples and grind out the pain and confusion. How time had he lost? What did he sleep through? "What time is it now, San-ah?" 

"Are you sure that is what you should be concerned about that right now?" came a bark, and Hongjoong flinched and jerked backwards without thinking. Jongho's voice had been louder than he expected, and it sent a heated blade through his temples. He wanted to drop down to the floor and just lie there in agony for a while, but San was holding him up with his hand. His ears were ringing as he grit his teeth.

At that moment, another arm caught him around the shoulders, and more or less supported him as he was guided somewhere else.

"Hyung, let's sit down, OK? Here's a chair..." Yunho's gentle voice felt like a soft blanket over his aching shoulders, and he obediently took a seat on the stool he had been brought to. He heard the scuffing of shoes as the members moved as well, and Yunho's warmth as he moved to stand behind him.

He tried to stay focused, but now he couldn't recall why he had came all the way to the dance studio. His stomach was rolling with the increasing pressure in his head. The knife that had been buried in his head had not been taken out, instead, every time he breathed, even though he tried to be careful, it sent the pain up a degree. He tensed, trying to keep from showing how much it bothered him, although he desperately wanted to rip his brain out from his skull just for it to stop hurting.

He hated this. He hated being like this, he hated being taken care of. He hated not knowing what to do, he hated how there was nothing he could do. He hated being the weak link.

He hated this.

"... Hongjoong? " Hearing his name pulled him back to the present. He hadn't heard anything that had been said. Hongjoong tried to swallow hard past the nausea.

"Did... Did someone say something?"

"Seonghwa hyung said the lights are off, you don't have to cover your eyes anymore." the hand on his knee (he only just noticed, there was a hand on his knee) squeezed gently.

"All off? Dark?" he managed. The knife twisted and he bit back a whimper.

"The lights in the corridor are on, if not there'll be no way to see." His stomach did a swoop. That would do it. That would be enough to set his nausea off. But he understood why it had to be on. He didn't have a choice.

He fumbled, using his unoccupied hand to touch Seonghwa's hand on his knee.

"Do you need something?"

He did not dare to open his mouth, for fear he would end up throwing up on his roommate. So he just touched his hand to his own chest, hoping that Seonghwa would get it.

"What is it?" He clapped a hand over his mouth, hoping that it would clue Seonghwa in to what he needed. Seonghwa's hand on his knee tightened.

"Do you need a bin?" he nodded a little, dropping his hand. His stomach was already uneasy, once he let himself open his eyes, it would all just come to a head.

"Woo, go get the bin." there was rustle as the younger boy took off.

"Do you feel sick?"

He used his hand to mime a little, followed by lights. Seonghwa seemed to understand.

"Is the migraine still there?" Yunho asked from behind him. He felt the boy touch his hair, his fingers raking themselves gently through them. His nails on his scalp was a rather pleasant sensation, Hongjoong would admit, as he leaned into it. It distracted him momentarily from the migraine.

"Mmhmm." The crinkling sound of plastic drew closer, and he felt Seonghwa take the bin and put it down beside him. He picked it up with a shaking hand and jammed it between his knees.

"Thank you. Hwa, Yun, you may wanna move away. It will be a bit gross, sorry, boys." he croaked, and felt Yunho retreat a little, but his hand stayed in his shoulder. Seonghwa's touch disappeared and reappeared on his back.

He took a deep breath, and dropped his hand. For a moment he saw was the light. After being in the dark for so long, it was like staring straight into the midday sun without sunglasses. He managed to see the blurry shadows of his members gathered around him, before the light scissored up into his brain and the pain went off like a firework trapped in a small plastic box and he ducked for the bin.

Then he was vomiting, his stomach seizing as he threw up whatever was in his system. Which meant it was mostly bile and water, since he had already gone through an earlier round of puking. But the blinding agony that was his head soon surpassed the feeling of his stomach being squeezed out like an empty tube of toothpaste. He tried not to close his eyes, even on his worse migraines, he could handle a little light, he just had to wait out the wave. Or waves. There was the sound of someone coughing, and after a beat, he realized it was himself, before another wave of heaving. His throat burned as he retched, until nothing came up. He could feel Yunho moving to his right a little, and put a hand on his forehead to hold him up, so he didn't end up face planting on the ground. God, his cold fingers felt so great. It lessened the pressure slightly so the wave wasn't as long as the previous.

The cramping stopped for a moment, and he could breathe. As long as he kept his eyes at half-mast, Hongjoong could see the dimly lit dance floor without his head getting sliced into half. Seonghwa was rubbing his back gently from behind, and Yunho's hand was still against his forehead. The rest of the members were much closer now, all kneeling or squatting close to him, even though he told the idiots that it was gross and they should stand further away.

"Guys-" his voice broke off, cracked by the puking and his own hazy confusion. San's hand was on his thigh, and his eyes looked bright. Wooyoung was next to him arms wrapped around his knees and fixed resolutely on a spot above Hongjoong's head; the boy hated with people puked, they all knew. But he hadn't moved the opposite side of the room, as he would usually have. Mingi and Yeosang were similarly close as well, with Mingi having a steadying hand on the bottom of bin and Yeosang with an arm wrapped loosely around his torso in case he fell, half kneeling beside him.

"Hongjoong, I sent Jongho for the ice packs. Will that help?" Fuck yes, he almost blurted. But at that moment another flare hit and he had to duck back down again. When he was done with this one, Jongho was back, and he took the ice pack gratefully. The pain was still a hot hatchet lodged in his skull, but as soon as he nudged Yunho's hand away and pressed the ice pack against his forehead, it dropped to about three-quarters of what it has been previously. He was breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath now that he wasn't heaving like he was trying to puke up his lunch from 8th grade. Yunho helped him hold the pack against his head as Jongho produced a pack of wet tissues from behind him.

Mingi eased the waste bucket out from between his knees as he let his hands be wiped. San took a piece of the tissue and helped him clean his mouth, murmuring softly about how he hopes Hongjoong won't mind, and how he did really well to aim for the bin, the hoodie he was wearing (Yunho's hoodie apparently) was barely touched by the spatter.

Usually, he would make a fuss about being touched and coddled, but right now he literally didn't even have the strength to hold himself up. He leaned on Yunho and let the other boy hold the ice pack for him, watching blearily as the kids busied themselves with cleaning up. Yeosang touched his knee to get his attention, asking in his quiet way if there was anything he could get him. He asked for his bag and water. There was medicine inside, he said, his voice barely a whisper. The kids were the quietest he had ever seen them, so quiet that Yeosang and Mingi could nod at his request and take off for the items. Wooyoung said he would go get him warm water and disappeared. Seonghwa had gone off to throw the things in the bin, but they didn't start chattering, just moving to sit closer or be closer to him, Jongho sitting on his knees beside him, watching his face for any signs of discomfort, San with his hands on Hongjoong's knee, his chin resting on them. Yunho was still holding the pack against his head, his hand massaging his neck. When Mingi came back with some cold water, they watched him drink some, eyes alert and focused. It was strangely endearing and warmed him up a little.

"Do you often get migraines, hyung?" Jongho finally asked, after he set down the bottle and leaned back into Yunho. Hongjoong's eyes fell on the youngest, and his heart tightened a little when he saw the brightness of un-shed tears in Jongho's eyes. He tried to smile, and stretched out a hand to find Jongho's arm. The boy allowed the physical contact, even offered his hand automatically, which was considerate and sweet.

"... Used to, when I was young, after a while... It stopped. They started coming back about 2 years ago. But I haven't had one since Chuseok last year," Yeosang came back with his bag and sat down, waiting for Hongjoong to tell him what to do, "there's a pouch that looks like a bag, it's blue. Could you...?"

"Of course." Hongjoong wanted to close his eyes and fall asleep, but if he does that all his effort to open his eyes would have been for nothing. So he settled for letting Jongho run his fingers across his knuckles and Yunho scratch his scalp gently as they watched Yeosang look through the bag.

"Here's the warm water, hyung." Wooyoung were back, holding a ceramic cup gingerly in his hands. Yeosang made a triumphant sound, brandishing the blue pouch in his hand. Hongjoong couldn't help but smile at the joyful look on his face.

"Thank you. Yeo, pass it to me please," he tapped at Yunho's hand to tell him he didn't need the ice pack for the moment, because he needed to sit up. He could survive without it for a bit, besides, he's sure Yunho's hand was getting numb from the cold.

The kids stared openly at him as he unzipped the pouch and began rummaging through his prescriptions. After a few rounds of squinting and reading the English (he wasn't wearing his glasses, so he had to ask San to help him read the packets) he had what he needed. With the ice pack gone, he could feel the pressure building up again behind his eyes, and his hands were shaking again. Seonghwa returned with the bin and put it down beside him, just in time to take over the mess of pills and packets from San so that the former could rearrange and keep it while Hongjoong took his medication.

"This is a lot of stuff, Hong," the oldest said, quietly as he sorted through blister packs of pills. The kids closer to him turned to watch watch their other hyung scrutinize the medication as he packed them back in slowly. Hongjoong waved his hand dismissively, uncapping the injection device he had and holding it in his mouth as he rolled up the sleeve of Yunho's hoodie and his shirt. He pushed the fabric up until he could see his upper arm and quickly swiped the fleshy part of it with an alcohol swab. 

They turned back in time to see him take the injection device from his mouth, and plunge swiftly but firmly into the soft flesh of his upper arm. There was click and a sharp sting, and after 5 beats, the deed was done.

"Whoa, hyung, what did you just do?" he capped and tossed the injection into the freshly-lined bin, which Mingi immediately reached inside of to take out the device.

"Mingi-ah, you can look at that, but be careful. There's a needle in there." he said hoarsely as he gestured towards Yunho for the ice pack again. This time he didn't want him to hold it up, he could feel that the boy's hands were rubbery with cold, so he did it himself. The medicine would kick in in a few minutes. He sat forward and popped the nausea pills out of their packet, keeping an eye on San and Mingi as they uncapped and fiddled with the device. Wooyoung handed him the warm water to take the medicine with, before scooting over to where his friends were trying to read the instructions on the device.

"Why is it all in English," complained Mingi, "What does this say, Jee? Ja... Jam? Jami?"

"That's a Z, Mingi, Zemb."

"Where's the needle?" Yeosang asked as he slid over to look at the item with the rest. 

"Hyung, what's that for?" Yunho asked as he rubbed Hongjoong's shoulders with his hands. It actually felt pretty nice; he relaxed into the younger's touch.

"Injection, it has pre-loaded medicine in the cartridge, and when my pain gets bad I can just," he mimicked the sound of popping off the cap and injecting himself with it. Mingi and San flinched instinctively, dropping the device.

"These injections, and a lot of these medicines are prescriptions," Seonghwa said slowly, "Hongjoong, how bad do your migraines get that you need these?"

He felt himself flush a little at Seonghwa's question. Yunho's hands had stopped, and Jongho was staring at him with a hard look in his eye as well, as if daring him to lie to them again.

"Well, they are usually about the same, like what you guys saw earlier. It's painful, it makes me nauseous, sometimes I puke, sometimes I get dizzy and I faint," this made the members look up at him with wide, fearful eyes, and he waved his hand, saying in a comforting voice,"that has only happened twice before, and I was really small then, like 6 years old. It hasn't happened since then. It really isn't that important. I can handle it myself, I don't want you all to start worrying.

There was pin-drop silence, as the members looked from him, to one another, to the pen on the floor. Suddenly Hongjoong felt like maybe he had said something wrong. But he meant it. He meant what he said. 

"We will have no choice but to worry, if you hide things like this from us, hyung." Yeosang said quietly, taking the device from the floor and capping it up, before dumping it back into the bin, "We need to know these things, like how we know about Mingi's back, and Wooyoung's back, and Seonghwa hyung and Jongho's injuries, and my hand. Like how Yunho talks about his grandpa, and San talks about how he feels about himself, or like when I talk about how I feel about the things people say about me."

Hongjoong felt his gut twist at this, not because of the nausea. San gripped his leg, his eyes soft and pained.

"We want to know. We would rather know than have something happen to you and not understand what is going on. It was scary, hyung, watching you suffer like that. And none of us knew what to do and how to help you." 

"We can't protect you either," Seonghwa said. He looked at his friend, who was zipping the pouch close, a grave look in his eye. "Earlier, the production crew saw you run out of the room and were talking. The managers heard you were ill from them, and wanted to send you to the hospital immediately, and we only managed to stopped them because you told me it was a migraine before you passed out. We lied to them and told them you ate something bad and had a headache, then they were willing to let you sleep in the studio while we practised." 

Hongjoong fiddled with the hem of his hoodie guiltily. He was glad the boys intervened and prevented him from getting sent to the hospital. They would have likely kept him overnight there, as they always did when they couldn't get the records to ascertain the patient's condition. He would have missed out on a lot more than just work, and it would have gotten out. He hated migraines but he was pretty sure he hated hospitals and tabloids more. 

"Please tell us next time, okay hyung? When you're hurting or not well, even if you don't think it's important. It's important to us." Mingi said, as he shuffled up next to Hongjoong, eyes wide and earnest. He gave a small smile and ruffled the boy's hair. The pain of the migraine was a fraction of what it was previously, so he could focus on his boys now.

"Okay. I'll tell you next time." Some of their faces lit up at his response, But Jongho grabbed his arm firmly, growling, like the little bear he was.

"Promise." He touched the boy's hand. 

"I promise." The boy relaxed, looking satisfied at his answer. Hongjoong felt a sudden rush of emotion, happiness, guilt, and comfort all at once. He didn't know whether to smile or laugh, so he did the next best thing, and pulled Jongho in for a tight, warm hug. The younger boy did not resist, choosing instead to sink into his embrace, resting his head on Hongjoong's shoulder.

"Thank you, all of you." Before he knew it, he was in the center a group hug. He savored the warmth of every single one of his team, his boys, his family. 

"OK, now that that's done, it's time to get back to practice." He said as they pulled apart. His statement was immediately met by groans and whines, which made him smile. He loved when they were like this, noisy and expressive. It felt nice. It felt like home. 

"But, hyung!" 

"It's almost dinner time, can't we practise after?" 

He got to his feet, only wobbling slightly. Yunho stuck close to him, his arm around his shoulders in case he felt unsteady. The migraine had retreated to a mild throb, he could look at the light coming in from the corridor outside without feeling like someone was trying to stab his eyes out.

"No buts. I'll stick around here and watch. Once the nausea medicine starts working, I'll join you." 

The grumbles ceased immediately. Seonghwa looked thunderstruck, "You must be joking." 

"No, I feel better now, see, you can all talk normally now, I'm not bothered. And the light, it doesn't make me—"

Before he could finish, he felt someone take the hood of the sweater he had on, and tug it over his eyes, then he was being bodily lifted. Everyone was chattering at once, so he couldn't figure out what was going on.

"Hey, hey, put me down. Guys—"

He felt himself get put on someone's back, and before he could scramble off, the person stood up. He clung onto dear life, because holy shit, this person was tall; Yunho.

"Jeong Yunho, let me down!"

"No. Seonghwa hyung is in charge of us until you are all better, and hyung said you're supposed to go back and rest." Yunho stated, his arms hooking tightly onto his legs. San's shrill and irate voice came from behind him, his hand pressing on Hongjoong's back in case he tried to get off.

"No practice! None for you. You're supposed to go and rest."

They started moving, and from the sounds of it, the rest of the group was following as well. He tried to lift up his hood to see where they were going, to which there was a soft shriek (Wooyoung) and someone yanked the hood down again.

"No puking too! It was very disgusting!" He wanted to laugh at the panic in Wooyoung's voice.

"Just take the day off, the boys and I can handle ourselves," Seonghwa's hand wrapped gently around his wrist, but instead of making him feel better, he felt like shrinking into a ball.

"But... I've missed out on the whole day, recording, and practice. Who went for the recording in the end? Why aren't the BB hyungs here? We were supposed to have practice with them today."

He felt Yunho start to answer, but then Seonghwa cut him off with a sharp sound, before speaking.

"We will update you later, now, you will rest. If you don't rest, then we just won't update you. And we will ask the management to take you off the schedule for the rest of the week."

"But we have filming this week, and recordings—"

"Exactly." 

"You can't do that." 

"Watch me." this was the coldest he had ever heard Seonghwa sound. He fell quiet, the other members as well, as they came to a stop.

"I'll go see if there is a proper cushion or pillow. Boys, stay with him in the room and make sure he goes to sleep and does not stay awake using his phone."

"Yessir!" chorused Wooyoung and Mingi, and he heard the studio door open as Seonghwa's footsteps receded into a distance.

"OK we're here, hyung. Now go lie down." Yunho let him down from his back. He took off his hood, his eyes adjusting to the dark blue glow of the room without much trouble. His head was still pulsing, and he felt unsteady on his feet, so he was grateful when San held his hand and led him to the sleeping bag.

"Don't worry about Seonghwa hyung, hyung." Mingi said as he slid into the sleeping bag, "he's always like that when I'm hurt too."

"He's just worried, like the rest of us." Jongho added, sitting down beside him. Hongjoong stared glumly as Wooyoung took his phone and slipped it into his pocket, as the rest of the members sat around him, not too close to be uncomfortable, but close enough so he could hear them if they whispered.

"Mm." there was a knock on the door, and Seonghwa inched it open. 

"Coming in. It's fully lit outside." Hongjoong obediently covered his eyes until he heard the door click shut. Seonghwa trod through the throng of boys to hand him a firm but reasonably comfortable pillow.

"OK time to lie down. The rest of you, not a word unless absolutely necessary. If you don't want to be quiet, you can't stay here, got it?"

Hongjoong continued to watch as the boys all nodded. All of them just sat and stared at him, seven pairs of bright, intense eyes. 

He knew a losing fight when he saw one. With a sigh, he settled down under the bag, eyes flitting from member to member. Wooyoung was at his head, as soon as he lay down the kid started combing his fingers through Hongjoong's hair. It was incredibly soothing and comfortable.

Seonghwa was watching him. He knew the others were probably staring at him as well, but suddenly he felt so tired. The events of the day were hitting him, all at once, and he felt like he could sleep for days.

He could feel his eyes closing. But he didn't want to go yet. He had something to say.. Something to say to... to...

"What is it, Hong?" Seonghwa's voice was smooth and soft as a feather.

"Love all of you. Thank you... for taking care of me."

Just when he was about to sink into his slumber, he heard a small chuckle, and a response.

"We love you too."

And it was enough.