chapter 1

Dance practice had ended up lasting an hour longer than it had originally been scheduled to be, and despite everyone being tired to some degree – with some to the point where they would happily lay down on the dirty floor and fall asleep right there – no one had opened their mouth to voice a single complaint. The ones that still were to be drained of the remaining energy they had were perhaps fine with the extra hour as it meant more time they could dedicate to perfecting a move, while the ones that had reached the bottom of their reserves were most likely too tired to state their thoughts.

Their next comeback was approaching with steady – but faster than they would have wanted – steps, and the constant stream of long and tiring workdays frequently resulted in daydreams where they would yearn for the sleep their schedules never seemed to let them get enough of. The daydreams – regardless of how pleasant they were – only deepened their desires for the thing they would not be able to get in the foreseeable future as they wouldn’t be allowed to slack off during the preparations and promotions of the album. Their hours would be spent on vocal lessons – so they would be able to sing the songs to a T when half-awake if asked to – and hours upon hours in the practice room – so the choreographies to their new songs as well as their old songs would be drilled into their brains – not on sleeping even though that was all their bodies were begging them for.

Hoseok and Jimin were the only ones out of the seven of them who were still standing and were in the slow process of going step by step through the choreography to Fire. It had been a long time since they had had to perform it in front of a crowd, and because it was one of the songs that had been put on all three of the setlists for the upcoming tour they wanted to make sure they had everything down and would be able to execute the dance perfectly.

Jungkook who would usually have joined in on the extra practice instead lay on the floor with Taehyung, his head resting on his hyung’s stomach and listening to the other’s heartbeat while said hyung was slowly beginning to drift off, the elder’s fingers were carefully playing with the younger’s delicate strands of hair but would every few seconds still as he would descend further into the sweet embrace of sleep.

Seokjin and Namjoon were sitting side by side leaning against the wall opposite of the floor to ceiling mirrors. The elder of the two was resting his head on the taller male’s shoulder, both of his eyes closed and mouth open in an attempt to get more oxygen down into his deprived lungs, and the leader was gazing around the room with tired eyes and a half empty water bottle clutched weakly in his right hand.

Yoongi – like the rest of the members – was tired, but his level of tiredness had gotten to the point where it felt like the fatigue had taken up permanent residence in his bones. The thought of taking a nap was a regular thing that crossed his mind, but he never let it become reality no matter how inviting it sounded to his brain as he knew that if he were to close his eyes and give in for even just a few minutes there would be no chance that he would have the will nor the strength to get himself up again. His body would despite the signals his brain was sending out refuse all movement and lay still on the cool floor of the practice room so his feverish skin could soak up all the cold from the floor.

If he were to lay down and give in to the thought he would end up staying on the floor until the others announced practice was over. He would let the others carry his exhausted body to the car despite the organ in his head screaming at him that he needed to wake up, and he would let them tug him into bed even though his mind was yelling that there were important things that he needed to finish before he could allow himself the luxury of letting the world around him melt away into nothing.

The deep-set exhaustion he had been enduring these last couple of weeks somehow felt heavier than all the other times in the past where he had experienced it – which was weird seeing as their schedules at the current moment compared to the ones they had had back then were roughly the same – and he hadn’t understood why at first, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense to his sleep deprived brain. Every single day – except for the days where he was dragged back to the dorm by the others because he didn’t have the energy to say no – he would stay back at the company and lock himself in his studio until the early hours of the morning where he would then proceed to drag himself back to the dorm unless he didn’t have the energy to do so in which case he would crash on the old couch in the corner of his studio.

He knew the stress he was putting himself under wasn’t doing him any favors, but he couldn’t just stop doing the things that were causing the pressure he was experiencing. This wasn’t something that he could just push aside and pick back up later when the bumps in the road had been fixed. And because of it the amount of sleep he had been getting a night had been reduced drastically over the last 3 weeks, and it was physically showing as dark circles had formed under his eyes and quickly gotten so dark that he at this point to avoid questions had to apply concealer every single day and cross his fingers that nobody would comment about his sudden decision to start wearing makeup when it wasn’t required. His muscles had begun to hurt as well whenever he would move a lot over longer periods of time, which meant that a lot of their dance practices would begin to feel like torture towards the end. It was honestly a wonder that he hadn’t collapsed yet.

On top of all of those things he wasn’t feeling well and hadn’t been for the last couple of days, he had been able to play his sluggishness off as him just being more tired than usual because of comeback preparations, but during the last couple of days – around the same time his health started to decline – it had become harder to keep the act up of him being fine.

His stomach hadn’t stopped churning for the last hour and a half and the small breakfast he had forced down that morning was threatening to come back up, which was why he was at the current moment crouching down in front of his bag – which he had thrown a plastic bag inside the week prior in case a predicament like the one he was experiencing were to happen – with his back turned to the others and an arm around his complaining stomach.

He felt like he was less than a minute away from puking the contents of his stomach out onto the floor, and was on the verge of silently excusing himself to the bathroom so he would be in front of a toilet when the inevitable eventually happened when a voice a voice abruptly cut through the thin wall of the soundless bubble his mind in his distress had attempted to form around him as a protective layer between his inaudible anguish and the rest of the world.

“Everyone grab your stuff, I think we can all agree that it’s time to stop for today and get home, so get ready and I’ll try to get ahold of one of the manager hyungs,” Namjoon said, voice sounding less tired than his appearance would make you believe he was, and put the now empty water bottle in his hand down on the floor a little off to the side so he could get himself off the floor and help Seokjin – who was waking up from the short slumber he had managed to fall into – get up.

Yoongi breathed a sigh of relief at the news that the others would be going home as it meant they wouldn’t be around to see him throw up, but immediately regretted doing so as the building nausea turned up several notches and he found himself quietly gagging. His hands automatically went to frantically search through his bag only to quickly find out that someone had been in it sometime between last night and this morning as the plastic bag he had been looking for was gone and a medium sized tupperware container that hadn’t previously been there was taking up space in one of the corners.

He could feel as partially digested bits of his small breakfast started to creep up his throat and had to slam his hand over his mouth to avoid spitting out the substance that was beginning to find its way into his mouth. It may have tasted okay when he ate it this morning, but he couldn’t say the same thing about it now when it was making a reappearance in his mouth after hours of having been submerged in his stomach acid.

He wanted to spit it out so badly and rid his mouth of the foul-tasting matter that the things he knew would immediately follow his hastily made decision didn’t seem all that bad in the moment. In the end he reluctantly swallowed the chunky pieces back down and his body gave a shudder when he felt it slide back down his esophagus.

By the time Yoongi raised his head again Namjoon had left the room to find one of their managers so they could have someone drive them back to the dorm, Seokjin had his hands full with the two youngest members because they had been too tired to move on their own and therefore needed someone to carry them – which was why the eldest was now stuck carrying the maknae in his arms and the second youngest on his back as if the two of them were the same sizes they had been back during the group’s debut – and Jimin and Hoseok had finished their run-through of Fire and were snickering at their eldest hyung who – albeit them not putting in any effort to be quiet – weren’t able to hear their laughter because Taehyung was mumbling gibberish into his ears.

“YAH! Are you two going to help at all?! Go pick up our bags or I swear I’ll make sure you won’t eat meat for a week!” Seokjin practically screamed at the two dancers when he – after having struggled to turn around with the added weight of Taehyung and Jungkook on his back – discovered the two giggling idiots.

Yoongi’s hands had automatically raised to cover his ears when Seokjin’s booming voice had shot through his sensitive ear canals with a shrill cry, but he lowered them again not long after when he realized the action wasn’t going to benefit him any more than not covering them would as the eldest was no longer yelling.

The two members of the dance line begrudgingly walked towards the corner of the room where they had all dumped their bags when they had arrived. Unfortunately for Yoongi – whose stomach had quieted down but was still slushing dangerously – that was where he had decided to go when his body had started acting up.

Hoseok and Jimin turned to each other and exchanged matching worried looks when they got closer to the bags and it registered in their brains that the eldest rapper wasn’t looking too good.

Hoseok was considered one of the most caring members in their close-knit group, so when they had gotten in close enough proximity to the elder he had crouched down and placed his right hand onto the rapper’s left shoulder. He had just wanted to make sure the other was alright, but perhaps it would have been best to announce themselves before initiating contact as the elder had been staring off into space and had seemed to be unaware that him and Jimin had approached him.

The small flinch forward Yoongi’s body made at his touch shouldn’t have been as worrying to them as it had been since they knew the elder was just coming back to his senses after having been whisked away by his thoughts, but they couldn’t stop the concern from seeping in and setting root in their minds.

Hoseok’s mouth turned into a frown as the two dancers turned to look at each other.

“Hyung? Are you okay? Is there anything Hoseok hyung or I can help with?” Jimin asked in a low and caring voice from where he was crouched down on Yoongi’s right side. He reluctantly let his left hand touch down on Yoongi’s back, afraid that the rapper would react the same way towards his touch as he had with Hoseok’s, but when the other didn’t move away or show any additional signs of discomfort he began moving his hands in circles on the second eldest’s lower back. He could feel the bumps of Yoongi’s spine beneath his hand despite the layer of fabric between his and the other’s skin but didn’t open his mouth to say anything.

He may not have been the first one of the members to notice that something was wrong, but that didn’t mean that he was any less concerned about the elder’s wellbeing. He could see that the elder had lost weight and with his hand on the other’s back he could feel it as well with the way the vertebrae in his hyung’s back was poking out more than what could be considered healthy. He could see that Yoongi was considerably more tired nowadays despite all the high-end concealer he would cover himself with and the energized front he attempted to put on whenever he was in the presence of the other members, and his worry for the elder only grew greater the more nights he would wake up at 3am to the sound of the front door slamming shut. There had been a lot of times where he had wanted to tell Namjoon or Seokjin about the second eldest always coming home late into the night, but whenever he got the chance to pull either of them aside so he could express his concern for the rapper he would hesitate for a moment too long and the window of opportunity would disappear.

“I’m fine Jimin-ah. Hyung’s just a little tired, but we all are. There’s nothing to worry about,” Yoongi said dismissively, trying to keep his mental and physical discomfort from coating his words. His dongsaengs had more important things to do than hover worryingly around him because he hadn’t taken proper care of himself and had gotten sick, so to keep up the pretense that nothing was wrong he carefully drew back from his bag, keeping his body slightly curled in on itself so he could continue relieving the pressure threatening to make him spill his breakfast onto the floor.

When Yoongi raised his head and looked to the left he was met with Hoseok’s concerned eyes staring back at him. In an attempt to reassure the other rapper he dropped his left arm from where it had been loosely wrapped around his midsection and patted the younger’s thigh. His lips stretched into a small smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

”Are you sure hyung?” Hoseok asked the elder and covered the cold hand on his exposed thigh with his own two warm ones in an attempt at helping restore warmth to it.

During the beginning of dance practice he had been quick to notice the way his hyung was forcing his body to go through the movements of their choreography, every move lacking its usual power, muscle memory seeming to be the only reason the second eldest was still able to keep up with the rest of them. He saw how the other would trip over his own feet only to immediately get back into the routine like nothing had happened and how he would shake his head as if something was obscuring his vision. He hadn’t said anything at the time or even pulled the elder aside during their water breaks to question him about it, he had simply passed it off as the elder’s mind still clinging on to sleep as the rapper had dozed off during the drive to the company, but looking at the other’s unusually pale complexion now he could see that doing so had been a mistake.

“Is everything okay over here? Yoongi-yah?” Yoongi heard Seokjin ask from somewhere behind him, but he didn’t turn around to face the other, uneasy about the possibility that the small action would further aggravate his turning stomach.

Jimin’s hand stopped its ministrations on Yoongi’s lower back when he twisted his body so he would be able to see the eldest member without worsening his neck’s condition by attempting to mimic an owl, but picked it back up again once he had gotten settled in his new position. His eyes locked with Seokjin’s the moment he raised his head, but a second later the eldest broke the connection and both of their gazes drifted back to Yoongi.

“I’m fine hyung,” Yoongi told the elder before either of the dancers next to him got to open their mouths and say something that would increase the amount of concern dripping from his hyung’s words.

When it registered how unusually calm his stomach had become he unfurled his upper body – pulling the hand Hoseok was gripping back and accidentally knocking off the hand Jimin was using to draw circles on his back in the process – and moved to get off the floor as this was his chance to get to his studio. However, before he had gotten to move more than 3 inches off the floor, Hoseok and Jimin had each respectively hooked one of their arms underneath his thin ones and were pulling him up, not letting his shaky legs support any of his weight.

Yoongi, surprised by the two members’ action, let them lift him up without complaint, but drew his arms back to his sides as soon as he felt like he could somewhat support himself again without needing their help.

“I’m going to the studio. I’ll probably be home late so don’t wait up for me,” Yoongi said and cast his eyes to the floor to avoid the three other members gazes before hurriedly making his way out of the room, he heard Seokjin’s yell but ignored it and let the door fall shut behind him. He knew his comment and abrupt exit from the room had been unnecessary as none of the members could force him to go back to the dorm with them if he didn’t want to, but he had had no control over it, his mouth had just started spewing words without his consent and his legs had carried him away from the others as if they had a mind of their own.

“Yoongi-yah! You forgot your!–“ Before Seokjin got to finish his sentence the door slammed shut and he was left staring along with Hoseok and Jimin who had turned to follow the rapper with their eyes the moment he began walking, “bag…” the eldest finished lamely. He had already guessed that the younger would spend the evening in his studio once again, so he had sneaked a tupperware box filled with leftovers from the day prior into the rapper’s bag this morning before they left, but it seemed now that doing so had all been for nothing.

”I’ll give Yoongi hyung his bag,” Jimin said and turned around to pick the rapper’s forgotten bag off the floor. When he looked back around to face Seokjin, the eldest gave him a small smile and nodded his head towards the door in a `go ahead´ motion.

“Be quick,” Seokjin told the younger, who replied back with an `okay´ just before the door slammed shut for the second time that day.

“Hyung! Wait up!” Jimin called after Yoongi, but the elder continued walking, eventually turning a corner and disappearing out of the younger’s sight. The singer sped up his pace so he could close the distance between them, but the elder only seemed to get further away.

“Hyung!” Jimin yelled but Yoongi still didn’t respond. The hallway was empty and there were no other sounds than their footsteps so the other should be able to hear him clearly. Was his hyung ignoring him?

Yoongi had heard Jimin call after him and he felt bad for ignoring him, but the humiliation he knew he would feel if he stopped walking and let the younger catch up to him was greater than the guilt. Originally he had been heading for the nearest toilet because the nausea swirling around in his stomach had started acting up before he had gotten to even take 2 steps out of the practice room, but then the singer had left the others to follow after him and he’d had to change his course because the bathrooms weren’t soundproof and he didn’t want the other to hear him throw up as that would only further cement it to the younger that he wasn’t fine.

He could see the door to his studio in the distance but could also hear Jimin’s approaching steps behind him, the noise of the other’s feet slapping against the floor sounded deafening to his ears as his heartbeat climbed to match the rhythmic pulsing behind his eyes.

The moment he stood in front of the door he didn’t waste a single second before hastily punching the code in on the touchscreen. The door unlocked with a deep clang as the deadbolt retracted and he pushed the handle down, swinging the door open just enough for him to snake his way inside, and flung it shut again the moment he had gotten both of his feet over the threshold.

His studio was quiet, not even the low humming of his computer was present, instantly making him realize how loud and heavy his breathing was. He tried to take a step forward so he could close the second door, but his legs refused to move. He resigned to not having the strength to do anything and leaned back against the door, eyes closed with his head tilted slightly towards the ceiling and shoulders drooping down low so it would be easier to breathe.

His head was feeling heavier as the seconds went on, but the pain didn’t leave. He could feel his hands shaking by his sides where they hung limply. His mouth watered.

He’d had less than a second to fully comprehend what was about to happen before his legs buckled under him and he fell onto his knees harshly enough that it would have left him with abrasions had he not been wearing track pants. His abdominal muscles contracted, and then the food he had managed to eat that morning – despite the nausea he had been experiencing since the evening before – was forcing its way back up his esophagus and onto the floor of the studio.

He didn’t know how long it had gone on for, but he had stopped throwing up a couple of minutes ago – his body being unable to expel more because there was nothing left in his stomach for it to bring up – and were now just kneeling on all fours, hands planted firmly on the wooden flooring far enough away from the small puddle of sick that there would still be plenty enough space between the extremities and the half-digested food if he spread his fingers. His throat and nose stung because of the stomach acid and there was a bad taste in the back of his mouth.

It took him several attempts at taking deep breaths to come back to most of his senses. His heart was still beating loudly in his ears and his inhales would occasionally get caught in his throat resulting in short lasting coughing fits, but it was process.

He must have been a couple of minutes into his breathing exercises by the time the blaring sound of his heartbeat and the rushing of his blood had calmed enough that his ears could no longer pick it up. The newfound silence only interrupted by his breathing made way for soft ringing.

He raised his head from where it had previously been drooping towards the floor and looked around the room to figure out where the sound that was plaguing his ears was coming from, but disorientation was making it impossible for him to pinpoint the direction from which it was originating. It felt as if the melody was approaching him from all directions.

He went to pick himself up, but the room was spinning too much for him to get his feet under him properly. His right foot slipped, and he was sent falling sideways into the side of his couch, head slamming against the furniture before he could stop his descend. Pain bloomed in his right temple and he gripped his head, mouth dropping open with a sharp intake of breath as he nursed the hurt spot on his forehead.

When the pain decreased to a tolerable level he reached up with his right hand to grasp the leather armrest of his couch and pulled his body up, the muscles in his arms and legs struggling as he finally got up on his feet after several attempts.

He struggled to make his way around the piece of leather furniture as his body would sway and his knees would buckle for a second every now and then before straightening out again because the weight that had been put on them would become too much for them to support.

He managed to avoid the vomit on the floor, and when he finally got around the armrest he let himself collapse onto the cushions, his sore body fitting perfectly into the indents that had progressively begun forming over the years because of the countless amount of nights he had ended up spending in the studio instead of going back to the dorm.

The ringing had died down by the time he had gotten onto the couch, and with the only lead he’d had taken away there was no longer any reason for him to continue looking for the source of the noise, so he let himself melt further into the cushions that were already working wonders on relieving the pain he had been carrying around in his bones for the last couple of days. He would have fallen asleep if the stench emitted by the vomit hadn’t been there.

A groan escaped his lips and his eyes screwed shut when his nose caught a particular bad whiff of the offending smell, and suddenly the nausea that had disappeared shortly after his stomach had been emptied came back, leaving him dry heaving over the side of the couch until his abdominal muscles started cramping and the only thing being let out of his mouth was choked up sobs. The tears that had at some point started falling from his eyes glimmered against his cheeks when they were caught by the overhead light.

He doesn’t know how much time had passed as he had quickly lost track of time, but by the time he was slowly raising himself up to an upright position the cramps had completely stopped and the throbbing pain that had started up on the top of his skull sometime after his abdominal muscles had started seizing had dulled to small pangs that would only happen whenever he sniffled. The nausea wasn’t as bad as it had originally been, but it was still there, swirling around in the bottom of his stomach, waiting for the next opportunity to strike.

The smell wafting through the air wasn’t as bad as it had been before either, and he didn’t know if he should be worrying about it possibly being a sign that his sense of smell was failing him or be glad that he wouldn’t continue to be forced to smell his own vomit.

He was about to attempt to pull himself off the couch when he felt something start to vibrate against his thigh and the ringing from before was once again spilling into the room.

He moved his hand down the front of his track pants until it slipped into a pocket he had forgotten was there and came in contact with a cold flat rectangular object. He frowned, wrinkles showing up for a second before the skin smoothed out again, and pulled the buzzing object out and into his line of sight.

He felt stupid for momentarily forgetting what a phone was, but then the screen lit up and the thought was quickly erased before it could continue to fester. Seokjin was calling him.

But why would Seokjin be calling him when the elder member knew that he didn’t like to be interrupted while he was in the studio because it would always pull him out the productive mindset that he got into and hinder him unable to continue working with the same vigor he had been performing with before the interference.

His eyes moved further up the screen and widened when his vision stopped blurring the numbers together and he could see what the time was.

How the hell had four hours already gone by?

Had he fallen asleep on the couch? He didn’t remember having fallen asleep nor ever having had his eyes closed, but the lack of utter exhaustion that over time had become the norm to him was a testimony that he had indeed fallen asleep or passed out at some point.

His thoughts had ended up completely sidetracking him, so by the time he had shook his head to clear his mind and were lifting his finger to accept the call from his – more than likely – concerned hyung the call had already ended and his eyes were met with the sight of his notification list instead of the six year old picture of his hyung.

His mouth opened the slightest bit, showing a small glint of his teeth, when he saw the large amount of texts he had received from the others. There was a considerable amount of unanswered calls as well with Seokjin being the one with the largest count.

When he scrolled down the list of texts with a twitching finger he was surprised to see that Jimin was the member to have sent the most, his messages ranging from several lines to two words.

Seokjin had contrary to his incredible amount of calls only sent one text, and it was the same copy-pasted message that he had received from the eldest all the other nights the last couple of weeks.

“Remember not to stay out too late. Send me a text when you’re leaving”.

It had been sent nearly two hours ago.

He should call his hyung back or at the very least inform the elder that he would be back at the dorm within the next half hour. He wasn’t going to be able to get any work done in his current condition anyway so there was no reason to stay.

The voice in his head was telling him to stay, but working on the song would have to wait for another night where he felt less like death and would actually be able to comprehend what he had written a couple of nights prior. He didn’t want to end up throwing away the words he had managed to piece together just because he was frustrated again. It had taken him four days to get to the point he was now, and he didn’t want to ruin that progress.

He brought his phone closer to his face – in the hopes that doing so would help his struggling vision focus on the screen better – and moved from page to page until he found his contacts. The harsh lighting from the LCD screen hurt his eyes but he continued to scroll down his contact list until he found Seokjin.

He hadn’t even gotten to write 5 words before the screen went dark and an old picture of Namjoon as well as the words “Bighit Kim Namjoon” popped up.

His finger lifted on its own and swiped the bar at the bottom of the screen, accepting the call.

“Hyung?” It was the first word spoken through the speakers, and even though his mind had gradually begun to fog up again he could tell that the voice hadn’t belonged to the owner of the phone that was calling him but to Jimin.

“Yoongi hyung? Are you there?” That had been Namjoon.

“Hyung if you’re there please answer. The others are worried, and I’m starting to be as well. Hyung-“ Namjoon was cut off by Jimin before he got to finish what he had been about to say.

“I don’t think he’s there hyung, maybe the phone picked up by itself. Hyung’s been saying that his phone has been bugging him lately so it’s possible. We should just end the call..”

He knew he should tell them that he was there and say that he was okay instead of just lurking in the dark, but he didn’t know if his brain was functioning enough that it would be able to construct sentences that would make sense, or if he would even be able to produce any sound from his vocal cords after all the abuse his throat had gone through because his body had suddenly decided that it wanted to see whether it would be possible to eject his stomach through his mouth.

His mouth opened to respond to the singer despite his brain telling him to keep quiet and wait for one of them to hang up.

“I’m-“ Was all he managed to croak out with a barely audible voice before his throat constricted and he was sent into a violent coughing attack that was making him dizzier the longer it went on because he wasn´t able to breathe in new oxygen to replace what was being pushed out of his lungs.

He tried to hold the phone away from himself to minimize the amount of noise that would be picked up by the microphone and get through to the other side, but his arm was too heavy for his tired muscles to hold up so instead it just fell to hang by his side while he coughed into the crook of his left elbow.

He blinked his eyes to get rid of the tears the coughing had brought forward, but it only resulted in more tears as the pain that had settled behind his eyes started pulsing.

“Hyung are–” Was all he got to hear before his ears started ringing, cutting him off from hearing the rest of what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

He doesn’t know when, but at some point he must have stood up without realizing because instead of sitting down like he should be he was stumbling around on his quaking legs as if he was drunk.

He should go back to the couch, but he couldn’t see it anymore, actually, he couldn’t see anything anymore.

He could feel his legs moving but he didn’t know which direction he was walking, if he even was walking or if the sensations were just his brain playing tricks on him.

He felt a sharp pain as his knees made contact with the hardwood floor for the second time within the last six hours.

His phone must have slipped from his grasp at some point, cause when he lifted both of his hands to grab his throbbing head there was nothing in his right one.

He tried to shake his head to clear his vision, but it didn’t work, and instead his headache worsened tremendously and what had previously been white clouds turned into an inky black darkness.

Yoongi’s body fell to the floor with a thud.

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