Chapter Text
Half an hour isn’t much time to nap, but it’s enough to give Jisung the energy to psyche himself up before JYPE’s medic arrives. He’s always hated doctor’s appointments—it always feels like he’s shown up to class and forgotten his homework. He knows it’s ridiculous, but it just feels like if he’s not the picture of health, he’s doing something wrong. He expects to be reprimanded. That’s never what happens, and he knows that, but it’s how he feels every time.
The fact that someone has to come all the way to their dorms, in the evening, just for him, adds to the guilt in his chest. He really does feel infinitely better than he had earlier (which is admittedly not saying much), but he’s determined to look as okay as possible for this medic. If he seems poorly, it’ll feel like he’s failed a test. He wants to get a good grade.
Seungmin rouses him from his short sleep when they hear the medic’s arrived downstairs. Jisung sits up carefully, still dizzy, and throws most of his blankets aside. He keeps the electric one wrapped around his shoulders. He rubs his eyes and then smacks his cheeks to make himself as awake as possible with the time he has to work with.
Beside him, Minho gives him an annoyed look. He’s not sure what he’s doing wrong.
Changbin appears to shoo the rest of the guys away as Chan leads the woman into the common area, talking quietly with her. Minho doesn’t move an inch, of course; he’s firmly attached to Jisung’s side whether it’s practical or not. The others, for their part, allow Changbin to chase them off but don’t go far. They’re worried, of course, and they want to hear what the medic has to say.
They could be a little less obvious about it, though.
Hyunjin and Felix stay posted in the kitchen, pretending to text silently behind their turned backs so they can eavesdrop. The screens on their phones stay black. Changbin seems to have left at first, but every so often Jisung spots his arm from around the corner and realizes he’s standing in the hall leading to their bedrooms. Jeongin and Seungmin are probably the least sneaky. They keep randomly “needing” to come grab something out of the room. The two maknae take turns and eventually they’re casually grabbing a throw pillow, a potted plant, a singular shoe that belongs to neither of them.
Jisung would think it was funny if he wasn’t so nervous about the medic. She’s a middle-aged woman, pretty in a sophisticated way with a fiercely intelligent gaze. She kind of reminds him of his mom that way, which makes him feel even worse—he’ll have to tell his mother what happened to him next time they talk. She’ll be upset, and he’ll have to convince her she doesn’t need to fly all the way to Seoul. She’ll tell his father and his brother, and he’ll have to find a way to make them believe he can take care of himself. They already have their doubts.
When Chan brings the woman over, Jisung greets her politely, though he doesn’t stand for fear of how unstable he’ll be on his feet. Even though she smiles at him, he can’t help feeling like he’s in trouble.
“Your friend here tells me you’ve had quite the adventure today,” she begins, keeping the mood casual. Jisung’s not sure if she’s a doctor, nurse, or something else, but she has a lapel pin that says JYP, so she must be employed by them directly. He wonders how much the company knows and if he’s going to get punished for trespassing and causing trouble. He’s ruined Stray Kids’ schedule for at least today and tomorrow, too.
“Um, yeah, I guess,” he stutters, heart fluttering. Minho puts a hand on his knee and it’s only then he realizes he’s been shaking his leg nervously. He hopes he hasn’t been doing it for long.
“Could I look at your hands, please?” The medic kneels on the floor in front of where he’s sat on the couch, setting a professional-looking bag to her side.
Jisung raises an eyebrow, confused, but complies.
“Thank you. Don’t be so nervous. I just want to check your fingers for frostbite, dear.”
Chan exhales a weak laugh, sounding as anxious as Jisung feels. “Frostbite. I never even thought about that.”
The medic checks his hands over and seems happy with their condition. Jisung wants her to let go of him, but instead she moves to hold his wrist at the pulse point. He wants to hide under his blanket and disappear. “I understand you’ve had a head injury, is that right?”
He straightens at that. “It’s really not that bad—“
“Yeah, he, uh,” Chan interrupts, shutting him up with a glance. “He fell and hit the back of his head on a… metal door handle, right, Minho?”
Minho nods wordlessly. Something’s up with the vibes he’s putting off, but Jisung doesn’t have time to contemplate that at the moment.
“That must have hurt.”
Well, duh. “It didn’t—or, I mean, it did, but like, it’s not a big deal? I feel pretty okay now?”
The woman smiles at him kindly. “You don’t sound so sure. Tell me, are you feeling dizzy? Or maybe sick to your stomach?”
Of course he is.
“…Not really.”
She hums, locking her shrewd eyes onto his. It takes all his willpower not to look away. Now she reminds him of Minho, and he’s never been able to deceive Minho.
“Your friend also said you were asleep when I got here. Are you feeling more sleepy than usual?”
Jisung fidgets with his blanket uncomfortably. This is starting to feel like an interrogation.
“I mean, it’s like…” he pauses, trying to come up with something that will dismiss the concern he feels beating down on him from the rest of the members in nearby. It’s hard to think with his brain pulsating. “I think I’m just tired because it’s been a really stressful day? It’s not like I can’t stay awake, you know? I’m—I’m a normal amount of tired, I think?”
“Okay,” she replies simply. It’s at this point she retrieves a tiny flashlight from her bag and shines it directly into his eyes without warning. He winces immediately, and she grabs his chin to make him face forward so she can examine his pupils.
She takes his temperature, listens to his heart with a stethoscope, and checks his blood pressure. All the while, Jisung can feel the weight of Minho’s stare on his shoulders and hear the steps of Chan’s pacing behind her. The rest of the guys are being entirely too quiet. Eventually, she starts collecting her things back into her bag.
“Well, I think you’ve probably got a mild concussion, and you’re a little dehydrated. It seems like you’re feeling alright otherwise. While I would rather you had gone to the hospital earlier, I’m glad you’re doing relatively well now. I hope you’ll go to the urgent care if you start feeling worse, but ultimately it’ll be up to you.”
She stands and glances from Minho to Jisung to Chan, and offers a small smile. “I know the higher ups expect a lot out of you kids. I’m glad you have each other for support.” She goes to hand Jisung a business card, but Minho grabs it first. If she’s put off by it, she doesn’t show it. “I’m in Seoul for the next week, so you can contact me directly with any changes in how you’re feeling if you’d like. Otherwise I’d just say you need to take it easy for a few days. Rest your voice, and no particularly strenuous dancing or roughhousing, alright?”
Jisung nods eagerly, despite how it makes his head throb. He can’t wait for this to be over. All he wants is some sense of normalcy restored.
“It was nice meeting you,” she says politely. Finally, she joins Chan’s side and he leads her out.
Jisung slumps against Minho in relief. He’s not sure if he passed, but the test is over.
--------------
“Thank you so much for coming on such short notice,” Chan starts, flustered, as he escorts the medic into the hall and down the stairs. “We were all pretty worried about Hannie, so…“
“Keep a close eye on him for the next few hours,” she directs. “He seems to be doing well all things considered. I meant what I said; I’m really glad you boys look out for each other. I’ve worked with a lot of idol groups and some of them can hardly stand each other. I could tell right away that you’re all very close to one another.”
Chan laughs a little. “I’m sorry the guys were kind of breathing down your neck. None of us have much of a sense of personal space with each other.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s charming how much you all care,” she laughs back. Chan’s really glad management sent someone so kind. Especially since it had looked like Minho was ready to bite her head off if she made one wrong move.
They cross the lobby, but Chan stops right before they trigger the automatic door.
“Could I ask you something, just quickly, before you leave?”
She frowns. “Of course.”
Chan rubs at the back of his neck, unsure how to put his worries into words. But, he has to know.
“So, like, in your… professional opinion,” he starts, unable to look her in the eye. “I don’t know how cold it has to be out there exactly, but… I mean, if no one had found him, would he…? Since the temperature drops at night, would—would it have—“
She waits patiently for him to fight through his words. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to look at her.
“If- if we hadn’t found him, and he was stuck out in this weather all night, would—could he have… died?”
The medic opens her mouth to reply, then closes it. She offers him a sympathetic smile and touches his shoulder gently, in a motherly way. But she doesn’t say no.
“It’s a really good thing he was found.”
She says it kindly, but the words pierce Chan’s heart like an arrow. He’d suspected but now he knows. If things had been just a tiny bit different, if Jisung had hit his head a little harder and been knocked unconscious, if Minho hadn’t been able to spot him from the ground— Jisung would still be up there right now.
On the roof.
Alone.
Freezing.
Dying.
------------
With the wind taken out of his sails, Chan sluggishly makes his way back to their dorms. He wants to see everyone, especially Jisung, but he’s afraid they’ll read what he knows in his expression. He tries to think of anything else. Outside the door to the common area, he takes a deep breath and plasters a smile on his face before rejoining them.
They’re all swarming around Jisung, each member trying to stick as close to the rapper as possible. Jisung has moved to lie with his head in Minho’s lap, and he’s once again been covered with the blankets he’d shed when the medic came to examine him. Jisung hadn’t seemed totally honest about his condition earlier. Now, he’s gone a little pale, though Chan knows that often happens when his anxiety is getting the better of him. He’s hoping that’s all that’s wrong besides the concussion, because at least Jisung’s anxiety is something they know how to deal with. The devil they know versus the one they don’t.
Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin are seated on the floor in front of the couch, and it looks like they’re trying to pick out a movie. Chan’s not sure if it’s a good idea for Jisung to be watching a screen given how badly the flashlight had seemed to hurt his eyes. There’s microwave popcorn loudly popping in the kitchen, and when Hyunjin returns to the living area with it the others cheer. This is a group of guys who regularly have contests to see who can scream the loudest—their neighbors hate them.
Jisung flinches subtly and Chan knows their volume bothers him.
It occurs to him, not for the first time, that Jisung might not tell them if he’s in pain.
Chan takes a seat next to Minho, who’s gently stroking Jisung’s hair. Since Minho doesn’t acknowledge his presence, he looks over to Changbin on the other couch across from them and catches his eye. Changbin’s told him once, after the two of them had helped the younger calm down from a panic attack, that Jisung is the one of them he worries the most about. Chan discreetly nods down at Jisung and Changbin seems to get the message: they need to keep an eye on him.
The images scrolling on the screen stop with the highlight on Disney’s Frozen, and Jeongin sets the remote down.
“Hear me out.”
Jisung takes a second to comprehend what movie he’s suggesting and starts giggling. Felix and Seungmin do, too.
“That’s not funny,” Minho says sternly. It’s the first time he’s spoken in ages.
There’s an instant tension throughout the room.
“I mean, it’s a little funny,” Jisung returns, sounding small as he turns his head to look at Minho’s face.
Chan glances out of the corner of his eye and finds Minho’s just glaring straight ahead, looking through the TV rather than at it. He keeps a hand carding through Jisung’s hair even as the other looks up at him with concern.
“Executive decision: no musicals, guys,” Chan says finally, desperate to break the silence.
“What? Why not?” Hyunjin asks, stuffing a handful of popcorn into his mouth. The tension dissipates somewhat.
“Hannie’s supposed to rest his voice, remember?”
Jisung looks perplexed. “I’m just gonna watch it?”
“No, he’s got a point,” Seungmin realizes. “Hannie-hyung, you can’t watch something like that and not sing. That’s, like, physically not something you are capable of doing. You’re always singing.”
“No, I’m not!”
“You literally sang my own name at me for like twenty minutes yesterday,” Changbin adds.
“Well, you were ignoring me,” Jisung mutters defensively.
“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that again,” the older rapper scoffs, more softly than he probably intends. Chan hates the guilt in his eyes.
It gets uncomfortable again. It’s unnatural for their dorm to be quiet. This must be what people mean when they say a silence is loud.
Someone’s stomach makes a weird noise.
“Oh, hey, we should order actual food,” Chan suggests, relieved. This is simple, this is a problem he can fix. There’s a chorus of approval from the other guys. None of them have eaten much of anything since this morning, and Jisung and Felix hadn’t eaten then either. Chan selects a ramen place they often order from because if he gives the others the option to pick a place they’ll never decide. The perks of being the leader.
He passes his phone around and lets everyone input their own order because it’s easier to keep straight that way. The device makes its way around the room and circles back until it’s in Minho’s hands. He selects something quickly and tries to hand it to Jisung. Jisung either doesn’t notice or ignores him on purpose. Chan bites his lip, uncertain all over again.
“What do you want?” Minho asks him verbally instead. There’s a sharp edge to his voice.
“I, uh, I don’t want anything. I’m good.”
Chan and Changbin lock eyes for a second, then wordlessly look to Jisung. He seems nervous.
“Jisungie, it’s been almost 24 hours since you ate anything,” Felix tries, big dark eyes wide with worry.
“You’re nauseous after all, aren’t you, Jisung?” Chan sighs. He knew Jisung hadn’t been honest.
“… Maybe a little,” he confesses, sounding embarrassed. Chan has no idea why he would be. Apparently Jisung’s trying his best to worry them today.
(That’s not fair, of course. He knows Jisung hates worrying them more than almost anything).
“Pick something.” Minho demands. His agitated tone startles them all, and everyone turns to look at him.
“Minho,” Chan reprimands softly, “What’s gotten into you?”
Minho clenches his jaw and selects something for Jisung on Chan’s phone. He shoves it back into Chan’s hand stiffly.
Chan’s at a loss for words.
Jisung pushes himself off of Minho’s lap weakly, shifting to sit upright. He adjusts the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and crosses his arms, leaning against the arm of the couch and away from Minho. He refuses to look at Minho.
The others all look to Chan to save them from whatever this is. They’re in uncharted territory—Minho and Jisung never fight. Most of the groups’ arguments in general don’t get so bad that some time apart can’t heal them, but those two don’t even get that far. Even when Jisung is being as annoying as possible, he can still get a smile out of Minho. He says all the time that they’re soulmates, and so far Chan has seen no evidence to the contrary. The two of them being mad at each other simply does not happen.
Whatever is going on in Minho’s head to cause this attitude, Chan’s hoping it’ll pass if they leave it alone for a bit.
“Can we just pick a movie already?” Hyunjin pleads. They all want to move on.
---------------
They end up letting Jisung pick the movie, since he’s had the shittiest day, and he picks some obscure horror movie none of them have ever heard of.
Where normally they’d all be talking over each other to the point that no one could hear the movie, tonight the group just sits and snacks on popcorn until their order arrives. When it finally does, Jisung predictably does not eat anything, though he does drink some water. Chan hadn’t expected him to eat, with as pale as he'd gotten just looking at the popcorn, but he’d hoped.
It’s worrisome, but he’ll just have to make sure he eats a big breakfast in the morning. Hopefully he’s feeling better by then.
Three-fourths of the way through the film, after poor Felix has jumped out of his skin for the tenth time, Jisung and Minho seem to reconcile. It’s weird, Chan thinks, watching out of the corner of his eye. Neither of them says anything, but eventually Jisung ends up with his head on Minho’s shoulder and Minho puts his arm around his waist. There are no words exchanged, they just mutually decide they’re not upset with one another anymore.
If Chan didn’t know better, he’d think they have some kind of psychic link. It’s that bizarre.
He’s not complaining.
It’s not all that late by the time the credits roll, but he’s starting to see some of the maknae’s heads bob periodically as they try not to nod off. It’s been a long, stressful day for all of them. Still, no one wants to be the first person to head to bed this early, so Chan has to speak up.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to turn in,” he yawns exaggeratedly. His tactic works and the yawn spreads throughout the rest of the room. Felix and Jeongin both rub at their eyes and it’s disgustingly cute. They all start standing up and stretching while Chan walks around the room and makes sure everything’s more or less cleaned up. For a few minutes everything seems alright.
“Jisung,” Chan says, putting a warm hand on his shoulder as Jisung blinks tiredly. “Do you mind staying out here tonight, with me? I don’t have to leave until after noon. I’ll sleep on the other couch, that way if you need anything you can just wake me up.”
Jisung stretches his arms out in front of him, then rubs at the sore spot on the back of his head. “ ’Kay,” he agrees, too exhausted to care about anyone’s sleeping arrangements.
Changbin herds the rest of the group off to sleepily funnel out of the common area until it’s just Chan, Jisung, and Minho. Jisung curls up on the couch, practically asleep before his head reaches the pillow. Chan turns to get his own pillow and blanket situation sorted on the other couch. He can feel Minho’s eyes on his back the second he turns around. When he turns back around, however, Minho’s got his attention back on Jisung. He pulls a blanket up over Jisung’s shoulders and pauses.
“I can stay out here with him.”
Chan’s confused by that. “Mate, you’ve got that costume fitting with Innie in the morning. You should just go to bed, I’ll be here if he needs anything.”
Minho’s shoulders stiffen and Chan knows immediately he’s said the wrong thing. He expects an argument back, though he’s not sure what the problem is. Instead, Minho stands without facing him, and marches off down the hall towards their bedrooms. Even though he doesn’t say anything, he gives off the most agitated energy Chan’s ever seen him.
When Minho reaches the hallway, he pauses and spares a short glance back to Jisung asleep on the couch, and suddenly everything clicks.
Minho was never upset with Jisung.
He’s upset with Chan.
And Chan knows exactly why.
Earlier, when Jisung was missing, it had been Chan who had suggested they all go home. They’d left him. Minho had been hesitant even then, and when he had run off back to JYPE, Chan had tried to stop him. As far as Minho was concerned, Chan had been an obstacle to finding Jisung.
He’s lost his trust.
It dawns on Chan, horrifyingly, that if Minho had listened to him, they never would have found Jisung. He’d have been up there all night. The medic’s words from hours before pass through his veins like ice again. In Minho’s mind, Chan had almost gotten Jisung killed.
And Chan realizes with a sinking weight in his chest, he’s completely right.
----------------
Jisung wakes up, disoriented, sometime in the early morning. The sun’s not up yet, and the only lights in the room come from the sleepless city outside their window and the sliver of bright that’s escaped around the slightly ajar bathroom door. His head still throbs dully, but being in the dark helps. He’s still kind of sick to his stomach, but at this point he’s wondering if that’s not just because it’s been so long since he’s eaten.
He pushes himself up from his pillow, head spinning a little, and glances around. The clock on the wall tells him it’s past 4 in the morning, so he’s been asleep for a good while. He’s not feeling particularly rested, but he’s warm and that’s enough. Chan’s snoring softly, totally out cold on the other couch with his phone still in his hand. There’s a TikTok playing on repeat with no sound. Jisung feels a strange combination of happiness that Chan cares so much about him that he’s slept out here with him and guilt that he feels like he has to.
Jisung runs a hand over his face and tosses his blankets aside, swinging his legs over the side of the couch. He’s reasonably steady on his feet, now. He casts another glance over to Chan and decides to give one of his several blankets to the leader. Chan has a frown on his face and for a second Jisung’s afraid he’s woken him up when he shifts in his sleep. When he stills again, Jisung decides he’s okay to sneak off to the bathroom.
The brightness has him squinting hard as he slips in and closes the door behind him. It takes his eyes way too long to adjust, so he just grips the countertop until his knuckles are white and hangs his head down. He sucks in a long breath and holds it, then shakily exhales. He gradually lifts his heavy head and looks into the mirror.
He looks… not great, obviously, but not as bad as the others’ reactions made him think he would. His face is drained of its normal color and he has bags under his eyes but all in all he basically looks like he does after a panic attack—which is to say, terrible, but manageably so. He expected a lot worse.
Jisung washes his face more to make himself feel better than out of a real necessity to do so. He feels sort of detached from his body and the cold water on his face is grounding. Maybe it’s the concussion or lack of food, or maybe it’s the quiet darkness of the dorms but he feels spacey. He exits the bathroom, leaving the light on and the door open a crack like it was before. He considers heading to their shared bedrooms, but he’s too awake now to go back to sleep. Chan will probably freak out when he wakes up if he does that anyway, and Jisung’s pretty sick of being the one putting that worried look on his face.
He tiptoes cautiously back into the room when he’s startled by movement in the dark hallway across from him.
“What are you doing?” Minho asks, stepping into the dim light of the common area. He’s speaking at his normal volume, which seems insanely loud right now.
“Chan-hyung’s asleep!” He whisper-shouts, clutching his chest. He’d seriously thought there was a monster, which he’s choosing to blame on the concussion. “What are you doing?”
Minho glances over to Chan’s sleeping form, then silently closes the distance between he and Jisung. Now that they’re closer, Jisung can make out a strange look on Minho’s face. His eyes are shifty, and Jisung gets the feeling Minho doesn’t want to tell him why he’s up at this hour. It hurts, a little bit.
There aren’t supposed to be unshared secrets between them.
“I had a weird dream. I was just… checking up on you.”
Something about that sounds like a lie. It’s more likely that Minho hasn’t been asleep at all. Jisung looks him in the eyes, trying to decipher what he actually means to say. He doesn’t have much luck.
“I’m fine. You can go back to bed.”
“What were you doing creeping around like some kind of zombie?”
Jisung gives him an exasperated look. “I’m not ‘creeping around,’ I literally just had to use the bathroom. I didn’t realize I had to ask your permission.”
Minho sighs. He seems frustrated, more towards himself than Jisung. His shoulders are stiff and his face is pinched. Jisung’s not sure what to do to help, but it doesn’t seem like he’s planning to go back to bed and Jisung suddenly kind of desperately needs to cuddle someone anyway. And Minho is his preferred human-pillow, so…
The other guys have said before that Jisung sets the mood of the group and keeps them in high spirits. He’s not sure how much he believes that, but it’s worth a shot. He grabs Minho’s hands in his own, swinging their arms back and forth. When he finally gets Minho to make eye contact with him, he smiles as sweetly as he can manage in his condition, and gets a small crooked smirk in return.
Success.
Jisung leads Minho over to the windows. Minho goes to sit in a chair, but Jisung takes a seat on the floor instead, so Minho joins him. Jisung lays back and pulls Minho down with him so they’re both flat on the floor, side by side.
“If you look out the window from down here, you can see more sky than buildings,” he explains, sensing Minho’s confusion. “Hyunjin showed me once, when he was talking about art stuff. When it’s dark enough, you can pretend like you’re in outer space.”
Minho hums.
“It would be better if there were some stars,” Jisung adds, feeling kind of silly.
Minho turns his head and they’re looking in each other’s eyes again. Jisung thinks he could do that forever.
“There are plenty of stars,” Minho tells him, voice barely a whisper. They’re close enough that he probably would have heard it even if it was just a thought. “I can see them in your eyes.”
God.
What’s he supposed to say to that?
Jisung finds himself laughing quietly, amused and a little embarrassed. “I can’t believe you can stay stuff like that with a straight face.”
Minho laughs, too, his ears turning red to match the color spreading across Jisung’s cheeks.
Minho props his head up on his arm and reaches over to drape his other arm across Jisung’s small waist. “I’m glad you’re up, to be honest,” Minho admits. “I think I deserve to have you to myself for a while since I’m the one who found you.”
Jisung snorts. “You’d be saying that even if you weren’t.”
“Probably.”
Jisung turns onto his side and mirrors Minho’s pose. “Hey, seriously, can I ask you something?”
“What’s wrong?”
Jisung tries to choose his words carefully. “You just seemed kind of… pissed off earlier? You’re really tense, I know something’s bothering you.”
Minho removes his arm and looks away. “I’m sorry. I just—I was really worried about you, earlier. I still am, I guess. I’m trying not to be crazy possessive over you, but like… if I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do. I’d lose my mind.”
“Hey,” Jisung soothes, “don’t think about stuff like that. Everything’s fine, now, right? I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know,” Minho sighs. A little tension eases out of his body, but not enough. “I need to apologize to everyone.”
“They’ll understand,” Jisung tells him, but of course Minho knows that. “Hey, let’s go on a walk in the snow when your fitting is done tomorrow.”
Suddenly the back of Minho’s hand is on his forehead.
“What are you doing?” Jisung squirms out from under his touch.
“You must have a fever or something to be suggesting dumb stuff like that.”
“I don’t. Come on, you said you wanted me all to yourself,” Jisung brushes Minho’s arm away and climbs on top of him. “Spend time with me.”
Minho grins, and wraps his arms around Jisung’s waist.
Looking down at Minho, Jisung can see there are stars in his eyes, too.
---------------
Chan knows it’s a dream from the moment it starts, but that doesn’t stop the discomfort in his chest.
He’s in a pure white void, with snow all around him extending outward as far as he can see, but he’s warm. It’s wrong. Ahead of him is a big metal door, one that he knows he’s seen but can’t place right now. There are no walls around it; it stands alone. He approaches the door and grabs the handle. It doesn’t open.
He feels like he’s being watched.
Chan walks a few steps to round the back of the free-standing door. Just as he reaches out to press the bar and try to open it from that side, he hears a voice.
“How could you leave me, hyung?”
Jisung.
It echoes from every direction, cold and emotionless, a ghost’s voice. But Chan knows it’s him. He whips around, frantically turning to find Jisung, or something, anything—but there’s nothing but snow, Chan, and the door.
“You were supposed to protect me but you left me behind.”
“No, no, I—Jisung, where are you?!” He runs a few paces in different directions, but his legs are slow like he’s in water and he doesn’t know where to go. It’s a dream, it’s just a dream. The voice echoes again, this time from behind the door.
“Channie-hyung, how could you let me die?”
He launches himself into the door and pushes through.
The snow on the other side is stained red with blood.
----------
Chan jolts awake, gasping as his phone falls to the floor. He lies there for a minute, staring at the ceiling, remembering the feeling of the blankets on him and the cushion below him. He’s home, he’s in the living room, Jisung is safe on the other couch. The others are all in bed. Everyone is where they should be. Chan sits up slowly and looks over—
—And his heart stops because Jisung’s not there.
Chan flings the blankets off and jumps to his feet in a panic. The fabric collects at his feet and he ends up staggering when it trips him up, but he’s got to go, he has to find—
“Jisung!”
“Over here,” Minho’s voice calmly responds.
Chan practically breaks his neck he turns so fast in his direction, but there they are, Jisung hovering over Minho as the older idol holds younger’s waist. They have matching dumbfounded expressions as they stare back. Chan’s chest heaves as he collects himself.
“Han Jisung, you’re seriously gonna give me a heart attack.”
“Sorry, hyung,” Jisung says shyly.
Chan sighs and crosses the room to where they are and gives them a suspicious look.
“What’s, uh, what’s with the PDA?”
Jisung twitches, his cheeks flushing, and immediately climbs off of Minho’s chest. Minho’s hands don’t seem to want to let him go.
“We were just, uh—“
“Stargazing,” Minho finishes. They share a knowing look and Chan feels like he’s missing something.
“…Right. So, uh, everything’s okay then?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay,” Chan doesn’t want to intrude on… whatever this is, but he’s still keyed up from the nightmare and he can’t help but want to keep them in his line of sight. He pulls a nearby chair over and takes a seat. “You guys are seriously giving me gray hairs.”
“You can’t blame us just because you’re old,” Minho deadpans, sitting up.
Chan makes a face and Jisung laughs, making himself comfortable by stretching out and resting his head on Minho’s lap the same way he had earlier, on the couch. The sight of them reminds Chan of Minho’s previous attitude. He doesn’t seem upset now, but Chan can tell he’s still holding something back.
They sit in silence for a while, looking out the window at nothing.
Eventually, Chan gets the nerve to speak. “Minho,” he begins quietly. “Listen, I know you’re mad—”
Minho doesn’t look at him. “That’s just what my face looks like.”
“You don’t have to pretend. You’re totally right to be upset with me.”
Jisung grabs Minho’s hands as if to offer him emotional support. Chan wonders what they’ve been talking about, and how long they’ve been up for.
“No, I need to explain, hyung.”
Chan stays silent, giving Minho the space he needs to speak.
Minho takes a second to formulate his thoughts and starts again. “I’m not mad at you. I was just… I was mad at anything coming between me and Jisung. After what happened, it was like I just couldn’t trust anyone to take care of him but myself, if that makes sense.”
“It makes perfect sense, Minho.”
For once, Jisung is the quietest of them. He seems content to watch the snow fall outside idly while Chan and Minho deal with the tension between them.
“It’s not like it was your fault,” Minho continues softly. “None of us knew where he was. What happened wasn’t anyone’s fault, but I guess in my mind I had to be angry at someone. “
Chan sits back in his chair. “How did you know he was still at JYPE, anyway?”
“I didn’t, I just knew I had to check again. I figured I’d make security show me the cameras if I didn’t find him right away.” Minho finally turns and meets Chan’s eye with a small smile. “I knew he’d be somewhere stupid, you know?”
“Yeah,” Chan smiles back, then sobers a little. “I was worried about you, too. I had no idea if something happened to you when you hung up like that. If it wasn’t for Hyunjin I probably would have crashed the car.”
“You can’t blame me for your poor driving skills either,” Minho jokes dryly. Chan shoves at his shoulder with his foot. “Seriously, though. I wasn’t trying to scare you when I did that. I saw Jisung and I panicked.”
In his lap, Jisung shifts uncomfortably, but doesn’t join the conversation. He’s got his eyes closed but Chan doubts he’s asleep.
“It’s alright. I’m glad you spotted him up there.” Minho stiffens and Chan gets the feeling he hasn’t told him everything. “Minho?”
“Chan, I—“ he begins, voice cracking. In the dim light, Chan can see Minho’s eyes shining and realizes he’s on the verge of tears. It’s alarming. Minho almost never cries, not in front of someone else. “God, you should have seen him. I don’t know what made me look up, I guess I must have felt him watching me. And I knew it was him right away, even though it was dark, and—“
He takes his hands out of Jisung’s grasp so that he can haul Jisung upright and hold him against his chest. Jisung looks uncomfortable now that he can’t pretend to be asleep. “He was leaning over, a-and he was, like, swaying, and I thought he was gonna fall right in front of me.”
Chan takes a shaky breath. He can almost picture the image in his mind, and it sends a shiver down his spine. It’s no wonder Minho’s been so upset—he’s traumatized.
Jisung takes his hands again and holds them close to his own heart. His face goes even paler than it already was and Chan wonders if Jisung is hearing this information for the first time, too.
“Jisungie,” Minho says, tucking his head into the crook of Jisung’s neck. “I was so afraid that I’d get to the roof and you’d be gone.”
There are tears streaming down his face now. Chan hops off the chair and almost tackles the other two into a hug. He chokes on a sob and holds them as tightly as he can, like if he lets go they’ll both disappear.
The three of them stay like that for a while, letting their tears fly without hesitation.
Eventually they’re all drained.
But, now that everything’s out in the open, the air feels lighter. Like gravity’s been weighing down on their shoulders all day and suddenly it’s let up.
Once Jisung’s finally had enough of their affection, he tries to wriggle free from being trapped between his hyungs. “You’re suffocating me,” he whines.
“Too bad,” Minho replies, though he lets go when Chan does and allows Jisung a fraction of separation from him.
Chan looks at the clock and it’s around 5:30 in the morning. The sun’s not up yet, but he seriously doubts that any of them could go back to sleep no matter how tired they are. They’re just going to have to be worn out today. Again, he finds himself drawn to a problem he can fix.
“You guys want way-too-early breakfast?” He stands and crosses the room to flip the light switch. The others both flinch at the sudden light, but Chan’s satisfied that Jisung doesn’t recoil the way he had when he’d had the flashlight shone in his eyes. “It’ll be a while before the other guys are up, but…”
“That sounds good,” Minho responds, then pauses. He looks at Jisung awkwardly. “I know I was an asshole about it before, Jisungie, but promise me you’re going to eat something?”
“You do need to eat something, Hannie,” Chan adds, casting a serious look his way. “Even if your stomach is still upset. I’m scared you’re gonna faint.”
Jisung rolls his eyes at him, thoroughly done with being fussed over. Chan can tell he’s feeling better. “I’m okay,” he sighs exasperatedly. “I know how to take care of myself. I’m not an idiot.”
“Debatable,” Minho smirks.
“They’re just store bought so they’re not as good as Lixie’s, but we have brownies if anyone’s interested?”
“Wait,” Jisung exclaims, his big expressive eyes wide, “I can have a brownie for breakfast?!”
“I’m about to blow your mind, Sungie,” Chan laughs fondly, “You’re an adult. You can have multiple brownies for breakfast.”
Jisung’s eyes are bigger than the moon above the clouds and Chan can’t help but laugh at him.
Minho helps Jisung up and leads him into the kitchen with an arm around his waist. He casually slings the other arm across Chan’s shoulders when they get there. Despite the early hour, Chan can hear the beginnings of movement from the bedrooms. Soon he’ll be able to have all of them in his line of sight at once, safe, where they belong.
Chan knows, for sure this time, that everything’s going to be alright.