A night of yaja time goes horribly wrong. For Jaebum, anyway.

Like they say, hate the game, not the player, or whatever it is, anyway. Jaebum thinks his life would be a lot better following that policy. Unfortunately, there exists the troublesome phenomenon of maknae line, which sometimes makes this a really, really difficult policy to follow.

In contrast to usual nights, four people sit in a grumpy, constricted silence. Constricted both in mind and in their physical bodies because they’ve been stuffed one by one in the back seat of the van, while three considerably more free spirits lounge up in front, relishing the rare chance to have space they didn’t have to fight for and more leg room than what’s necessary (except for Yugyeom, that is, because more leg room is always necessary, as he likes to hint when the others are feeling particularly vertically challenged), while the rest of them (the adults, Jackson grumbles, but Jaebum begs to differ) suffocate in the back.

“You can’t let them come up front,” Bambam had clearly ordered the other two more forgiving souls in the car once they’d gotten in and made themselves comfortable (or uncomfortable, in Jaebum’s case). “We earned this. It’s our right.”

Jinyoung had muttered something about brats are going to die tomorrow under his breath, and Bambam had swelled a little in his seat, about to deliver an earthshaking comeback, when Youngjae had been the one to pipe up, albeit with a little nervous laughter after, for them to keep it down back there.

Jaebum wonders whose incredibly idiotic idea it’d been to split the teams into maknaes versus hyungs for the game they’d specially recorded and played for the fans, until he remembers that he’d just as idiotically agreed to it because he’d thought, of course, there was no way the maknaes were going to win, not outnumbered and against them, right?

Wrong.

And everyone knows the punishment that encompasses everything a maknae has ever wanted is yaja time in some warped dimension where they are completely free from responsibility and have an abundance of obedient dongsaengs in loving servitude, so it’s no wonder that the four of them now trudge in begrudging silence up the stairs while the three youngest chatter happily behind them.

Once Jaebum gets into the dorm he slumps straight onto the couch, knowing Bambam will probably (definitely) take this privilege to shower first and use up all the hot water, and every joint cries out in relief as his body slackens against the softness of the surface.

He catches Yugyeom’s eye by accident as the maknae heads over to shower once Bambam and Youngjae are done- there it is, quiet and still but clear as day, the concerned invitation to shower first because he knows how painfully long these days can drag on for the leader, but apparently Bambam didn’t receive the title of best friend for nothing because he catches on faster than Jaebum can respond with an it’s okay, you go ahead.

“Don’t you dare, Gyeom, he’s going last,” the maknae leader hollers from their shared room, and Jaebum rolls his eyes so hard he feels like they’re going to fall out of his head.

“You still need to make us food,” Youngjae yawns from the couch, where he’s stretching out luxuriously, head pillowed comfortably on Mark’s lap, shower-damp hair in stiff peaks and all. Jaebum notes, with dry interest, that he’s taking greater advantage of times like this with every passing occasion. “And clean up the toilet after we’re all done.”

Bambam’s laughter drops like iron weights in Jaebum’s mind when it bursts out and bounces all around the tiny space, so much it almost hurts. Stars are corkscrewing behind his eyes when he feels a gentle pressure around his arm, and feels someone pulling him securely to his feet.

“Hurry, hyung,” Yugyeom whispers, pushing him quickly to the bathroom while Bambam’s still laughing, and in the split second after they enter all they hear is a muffled explosion of protests on Youngjae’s part before the door’s shut behind them, sinking them into a comfortable silence.

“Go ahead,” Jaebum mumbles anyway, because the toilet bowl suddenly looks like an extremely attractive surface to fall asleep upon, he realizes. But then it occurs to him a few minutes later that Yugyeom’s pulling off his shirt, guiding his arms through the sleeves and over his head.

“You should’ve told Bambam you were this tired,” Yugyeom sighs in complaint, and Jaebum feels properly demeaned. “He would’ve let up a little.”

“I don’t,” Jaebum’s struggling to string words together with fatigue as he undresses clumsily. “Have to. Permission. ‘M leader.”

Yugyeom laughs breathily, voice weighed down with a general sleepiness as well.

“You’re cute when you’re tired, Jaebum-ah,” Jaebum’s propelled gently in the direction of the shower area, and feels oddly annoyed and pampered.

“I’m hyung,” he insists sleepily, before turning on the shower and sighing in relief as the warmth of the water seeps in, soothing the cracks of aches in his bones.

“Not now,” Yugyeom’s voice is muffled through the sound of the shower and the glass door that separates them, and he can vaguely hear the younger boy yawning, hints of fond condescension barely audible but still ever as tangible in the tiny space. “You aren’t.”

And that is literally all Jaebum remembers of that night.

*

He wakes up trapped somewhere under a blanket and a knee. This isn’t all too life-changing, seeing as he’s been rooming with Youngjae for a considerable amount of time now, but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant.

It takes him what feels like three hours to extricate his head from Youngjae’s legs and a nice soft fluffy blanket, during which he curses everyone and everything because all he wants to do, honestly, is sleep some more. Thankfully, it’s still dark out by the time he gets up, meaning he’s got enough time to go wake everyone up and force them to splash some water on their face and brush their teeth before it’s five hours straight of practice again.

Jaebum totters unsteadily up, realizing in a moment that they’re all in the living room, asleep on mattresses, probably after playing extra rounds of games last night and getting snuggly sentimental vibes. His stomach twists uncomfortably when he glances at the clock on the wall, before relaxing once he realizes they’re on time.

“Up,” he half-croaks, half-grunts, kicking the lump on the mattress next to him, stumbling up to get to the light switch. To his relief, there’s someone already up in the kitchen, poking around the cutlery, by the sound of it. One less person making them late. “Guys, get up,” Jaebum winces- his voice sounds terrible in the mornings. He wonders how much vocal training he has on later, before deciding that there are more important things on hand.

The tinkering is getting louder in the kitchen, and the sound of running water trickles into the room. Under the blankets, someone stirs, making a sleepy noise- probably Jackson, by the sound of it.

“Guys,” Jaebum’s voice is horrible. He hopes it’s fixed soon, really, he does. “Guys we’re going to be late, can everyone just get up already?”

“Damn,” and Jaebum knows the grumbling dissent is definitely Jackson this time, and that apparently the morning’s screwing with his voice too. “Since when did you care?”

Jaebum blinks once, twice, trying to understand what Jackson’s saying. “Uh. Since I was in charge of waking everyone?”

“You are?” Bambam surfaces, a mess of dark hair and puffy eyes, rubbing sleep grit away grumpily. “Why wasn’t I informed. You guys never take me seriously.”

“’Course we do, hyung,” Jackson yawns, stretching out on the mattress, pushing another blanket-wrapped body off onto the floor, and Jaebum vaguely hears Mark squall in indignity, the upset sound muffled through the blanket. It’s strange, how naturally Jackson calls Bambam that, and Jaebum pauses for a moment, before deciding it’s some extended form of yaja time in which the older boy teases Bambam with the last tendrils of his short-lived control over them. He wouldn’t put it past Jackson to do something like that, anyway.

“Up,” Jaebum feels for Youngjae’s body under the mattress before stumbling over to the light switch and flicking it on, and everyone groans simultaneously. In the kitchen, Jaebum hears the clink of washed dishes against the draining board, and frowns. Did someone get up early to wash dishes? That sounds like the sort of manual labour he’d be cornered into doing.

“Brat,” Bambam howls. “My eyes.”

“Yaja time is over, Bambam, you can stop calling me that now,” Jaebum mumbles, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and blinking now that he can see everything clearly. His voice is still wonky, though it’s probably nothing some warm honey water and a shower can’t help.

From the mattress, Bambam squints from under the blanket at him. “What’d you say?”

“Yeah, what?” Jackson’s sitting cross legged on the sheets now, yawning. “Jaebum can you get me that water bottle? Like, on the table?”

Jaebum blinks once, twice. Jackson, too?

“Why do I have to get that for you?”

“Because you’re the maknae, Jaebummie, it up,” someone says from under the blanket, and Jaebum almost does a double take as Jinyoung crawls out, before sitting on his knees as he rubs his eyes.

“No he’s not!” Jackson sounds scandalized, and Jaebum thinks oh thank heavens for one second, before Jackson plunges a hand under the blankets with supernatural accuracy that can only be afforded to one who either has x-ray vision or has executed said action many times and learned through trial and error, and drags out a dishevelled Mark, brandishing him in front of Jinyoung. “He is!”

Now that he gets a good look under the light, though, Jaebum frowns a little, looking at Mark, still being dangled tiredly over the blankets. Is it just him or does Mark look, sort of, different?

“Shut up and start showering,” Bambam’s straightening his pajama top, running a hand through his hair, sending a look over at Jackson, and to Jaebum’s utter amazement and awe, Jackson heels, drops Mark obediently onto the sheets, and scuttles over to the bathroom.

(What amazes him too is that Bambam actually asked someone to shower before him, too, but Jackson obeying anyone younger than him like that sort of supersedes all else.)

“Why can’t you listen to me like that?” Jaebum gripes in Jackson’s direction, ignoring the rustle of the sheets as the others start to get up too, but a looming shadow towards him forces his gaze over to Bambam’s direction.

“Because you’re the maknae,” Bambam mutters irritably, starting to gather up pillows and blankets. “Jinyoung, put these back in your room.”

Jaebum thinks he hears the vague sound of something breaking in his brain as he watches Jinyoung accept the blankets, still half asleep, before tottering off to the rooms.

“Bambam,” he says, half fearfully this time. “Bambam this isn’t funny anymore. Guys, whatever you’re doing, please stop.”

“What’s up with you?” Bambam straightens with a couple of blankets under his arm, finally looking him full in the eye, tossing a pillow in Mark’s direction and catching the boy in the face with an oomph. And Jaebum is suddenly aware of the fact that Bambam is towering at least a good few centimetres over him, looking down at him with an air of reluctant authority that Jaebum knows all too well, because he’s quite sure he looks at all of them the same way. And why the heck does Bambam look so different- the lines of his face are sharper, cheeks thinner, the ghost of long suffering smiles imprinted into the edges of his eyes, making them look even more tired.

“Hyung?” Mark asks blearily from where he’s kneeling on the mattress, still rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm, and Jaebum’s heart rate takes an unhealthy hike, because is it just him or does Mark look smaller, almost? He’s sitting on his calves, shoulders hunched, body positively tiny, and when he looks up blankly Jaebum thinks there’s a fill in his cheeks, a childlike innocence glinting in his round eyes.

“Why are you calling me hyung,” Jaebum’s voice is rising steadily, panic breaking through the firm control that’s been forced down his throat since predebut days when he was told he had to lead a group of kids not much younger than him out of rookie-dom into their shared dream of fame. “Why are you calling anyone hyung. No one’s hyung here,” he’s looking with increasing fear from Bambam to Mark, breathing uneasy, expecting anyone (Jinyoung, probably) to jump out of nowhere and shout got you! “Guys, what the hell is going on? Stop it, this isn’t funny anymore.”

Bambam inhales irritably, but then the sound of running water in the kitchen stops abruptly, and there’s the soft sound of bare footsteps padding towards the living room. Jaebum’s momentarily extremely distracted as someone he doesn’t recognise walks into the living room, hands flecked with soap suds, long dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal oddly sculpted arms, and the frame of his shoulders occupying enough space for anyone to pay attention to him the moment he steps into a room, dark eyes alert but laced with fatigued annoyance. Jaebum’s mostly confused, before horrible realisation sets in for the third time that morning and he understands who he’s looking at.

“What’s going on, guys,” Yugyeom sounds like he hadn’t even bothered to phrase it as a question, pushing hair out of his face. “It’s six thirty in the morning, could you at least save it for later?”

Bambam points at Yugyeom, then at Jaebum, then raises his hands in surrender, picking up a few blankets and pillows and Mark and heading off in the direction of the rooms, kicking in the final lump in the room still sleeping whilst doing so.

“Yugyeom-…” Jaebum starts, but his voice sounds ridiculously scared and higher pitched than he remembers it being and it hits him that this isn’t his morning voice, it’s his voice and this is actually real and happening and his brain is slowly shredding itself to pieces in his head.

“Jaebum,” Yugyeom cuts through it, with the air of a tired parent who’s been through this too many times to be patient. “We’ve spoken about mornings and it’s difficult enough for everyone preparing for practice without someone shout-…Jaebum?”

White patches are forming in Jaebum’s vision with increasing magnitude and speed and his arms and legs are beginning to feel like concrete, almost, brain short circuiting with the overload of information, and without actually meaning to then Jaebum just sort of-…

“Jaebum, are you-…Jaebum!”

*

Embarrassingly, it’s these words that swim into Jaebum’s rather shattered mind and plant themselves stubbornly, occasionally echoing lazily around when they don’t have anything better to do than to wreck him further, and it’s these words that force him out of an obviously hallucination induced slumber back into reality.

Jaebum blinks to consciousness in an artificially dark room to the soft sound of voices, on a pillow and a mattress and with a nice blanket and he would unashamedly go back to sleep if it weren’t for his current situation.

Current situation referring to the whole Got7’s ages might have been “accidentally” reversed by some capricious higher power with a lot of time and ability thing, if you haven’t already gathered.

But then he hears a soft chuckle from the other side of the room (not exactly very far away, anyway) and tunes into the quiet conversation, hoping desperately for some sort of haha I can’t believe we got him that was fantastic he’s going to kill us when he wakes up. He’s sorely disappointed.

“…and make sure the kids go to sleep, if I catch Jackson coercing Mark into playing video games with him again during designated rest time I’ll throw that kid out of a window, I swear.”

Jaebum steels himself very hard in order not to start crying then and there. It’s terrible, men don’t cry- probably the teenage hormones back to bite him in the , he decides.

“It’s as much Mark’s fault as it is Jackson’s,” Bambam retorts in a sharp whisper. “You always stick up for him and Jaebum. He’s not exactly the innocent flower he’s impressed on you and Youngjae, you know, especially Youngjae-…”

“You’re really starting on me about that now? And tell Jinyoung that Jaebum’s fine and to go to bed, it’s probably just fatigue. We’ve all been pretty exhausted this week. I’ll take care of him, you go get some rest too.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Bambam warns, and it’s so surreal, hearing all this in their voices, seeing them open their mouths and listening to what he or Jinyoung would’ve been saying. “This break’s for you as much as it is for all of us. What about that time-…”

“Jaebum?”

Jaebum stiffens marginally at the mention of his name, finally giving up the pretence of still being asleep and cracking open an eyelid reluctantly.

“How’s your head?” Yugyeom’s the one to ask first, outline of his features just barely visible in the soft bluish light from the curtains, and Jaebum makes a croaking sound. “Bam, can you pass me the bottle?”

“Catch,” Bambam says shortly, tossing him the bottle, before giving Jaebum a long, hard look as Yugyeom opens the bottle for him. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

“What’s going on?” Jaebum finally manages to croak, and by this time Yugyeom’s settled on the side of his bed, and started running his hand in lengthy, soothing patterns up and down his back.

“After you passed out? Yugyeom and Jackson carried you here, and I called Manager hyung,” Bambam’s leaning against the door frame, now, informing him in an extremely unamused tone. “I think Noyoung-hyung panicked after hearing you fainted so he gave us all the morning off from practice. What was that, anyway? Why didn’t you tell any of us you were feeling sick?”

“’M not sick,” Jaebum’s struggling to get up, but his head spins like helicopter blades once he does, and he feels himself being gently pushed back down onto the pillow. “No, listen, Bambam-…”

“That’s hyung to you,” Bambam reminds him none too gently, obviously still smarting from the previous experience, and something sick twists in Jaebum’s stomach once the gravity of the situation hits him again. “And that’s no excuse to-…”

They’re interrupted by the sound of something smashing outside, and a lot of hushed expletives and clean it up fast they’re coming out and Yugyeom sighs.

“Can you?” He asks, and Bambam shoots him a sour look.

“Only because of Jaebum,” the (now) younger boy reminds him grumpily, before walking out and closing the door sharply, not before Jaebum hears him swear loudly in Thai at someone (probably Jackson).

“How are you feeling?” Yugyeom presses a hand to his forehead, and Jaebum is suddenly very aware of the fact that it’s just the two of them left in the room, now, with Bambam gone. “You didn’t seem to be having a fever, but I told Manager you were sickly because I didn’t know how to explain it otherwise. What happened just now?”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum chokes a little over the fear rising at the back of his throat, now. “What’s going on? Why is everyone younger than you-…why is Mark the youngest?”

Yugyeom sends him an extremely measured look of concealed concern. “Because that’s the way it’s always been?”

“No,” Jaebum’s winded, coughing slightly as he tries to take in the entirety of the situation. “Mark’s the oldest and you’re the youngest. That’s the way it’s always been.”

“Did you hit your head or something yesterday?” Yugyeom’s running a hand through his hair, now, cool fingers pressing gently into his scalp, and Jaebum feels embarrassingly tame.

“No, I’m telling you,” he insists, the desperation in his voice hitching up a notch. “I’m serious, one night I’m tired and yelling at everyone to go to bed and the next everything is like it’s reversed, now Mark’s the youngest and everything is weird-…”

Something clicks at the back of his mind, and his eyes widen. “Wait. Yugyeom. How old am I?”

Yugyeom looks more than slightly puzzled when he replies, “…eighteen? Since January?”

“I am twenty-one,” Jaebum wheezes. He’s pushing himself up onto his elbows, looking around the room. “Yugyeom I’m twenty-one, you’re seventeen turning eighteen in November, and this is not my room.”

“Jaebum, if this is some joke you’re trying to pull, April isn’t for another month-…”

“Is there a mirror around here?” Jaebum’s rubbing his eyes, squinting through the semi-darkness. Yugyeom sighs, and stands to go turn on the light, before sliding open a cabinet in the wall and taking out an obviously disused compact mirror, probably given by a fan.

Jaebum finds dread pooling in his stomach as he takes the mirror, popping it open with trembling hands, and once the light flicks on he finds himself staring at-…

“Holy ,” Jaebum is this close to having a mental breakdown and crying right now. It’s him, for sure- him about four or five years ago, in all his semi-grown, skinny, prepubescent glory. “Oh my-…”

“You’re turning pale,” Yugyeom plucks the mirror out of his hands despite Jaebum’s reluctance to relinquish it, looking at him with concern.

“Yugyeom, I’m going crazy,” Jaebum near whimpers, and to his surprise he feels warm arms wrap themselves around his back, enveloping him in a way they never could back where he came from, back in his own world.

“You’re not,” Yugyeom’s words are firm, but he seems to be deliberating very carefully on what to say. “Listen, how about I call the rest to listen to what you have to say, and we all figure this out together, okay?”

“They’re not going to listen to me,” Jaebum says rather pathetically, and Yugyeom chuckles.

“I’ll make sure they do,” he’s walking towards the door, now, reaching towards the doorknob, when something occurs to Jaebum.

“They listen to you?” he blinks, once, twice, and Yugyeom shoots him a partially confused smile.

“Of course they do, well, sometimes, anyway,” he turns the doorknob, chuckling. “Don’t people usually have to listen to leaders?”

And then the horrible magnitude of everything sinks in, some sort of final blow to the attacks on Jaebum’s brain since the morning, and he almost faints again. Almost. He’s getting better at this whole existential business.

Then Yugyeom quickly steps aside to make way for a bullet train Jinyoung to barrel in and launch himself onto Jaebum, anxious and noisy and shaking him a lot, and Jaebum thinks he might have to refute that statement.

*

“So you’re saying,” Jackson says slowly, frowning, like it’s taking him some great level of mental capacity to comprehend this. “You come from a universe where everything is reversed.”

“Not everything, just our ages,” Jaebum tries to be patient, when really, his brain feels like it’s been broken and stepped on and gross. “Like Mark’s the oldest-…”

“I’m the oldest?” Mark pipes up, looking at Jaebum with interest for the first time during that entire conversation. “Am I leader? Do I get to push people around?”

“No, you’re just quiet and you trick,” Jaebum says, slightly bitter, and Jackson snorts really loudly. “And besides, I’m leader and I don’t get to push people around.”

“Wow, almost sounded like you said you were leader for a second back there,” Bambam adds drily, from where he’s perched on the sofa arm, long legs and arms crossed with lazy elegance so he looks like a statue, almost.

“I am,” Jaebum says, exasperated. “Why is it so hard to believe that?”

“Because you’re-…” Youngjae speaks, faltering slightly when Jaebum turns to look at him, his gaze flicking to the floor. “I don’t know. You.”

“You say that like I’m some sort of delinquent or something,” Jaebum shoots back, aware that his voice is rougher, louder than it usually would be. Slightly less in control, like it’d been back when all he cared about was dancing and nothing else.

“Uh, hate to break it to you,” Jackson says earnestly, like all he’s ever wanted to do in life is break it to Jaebum. “But-…”

“What matters,” Yugyeom suddenly cuts in, and Jaebum’s shocked, really, at how everyone magically shuts up and looks over. “Is that he thinks he’s been switched, and we need to find a way to help.”

“This isn’t some sci-fi movie, Gyeom, people can’t just get switched,” Bambam scowls. “How do you know he isn’t just playing with us?”

But Jaebum’s got more things on his mind now. “,” he breathes. “, we’ve been switched, oh my God things are probably going crazy back there, Jinyoung’s going to kill me-…”

“Why?” Jinyoung’s looking over in interest. “Hey, Jaebummie, am I good looking over there?”

“That’s not the concern right now,” Yugyeom says, shooting a look over in Jinyoung’s direction, and the younger boy concedes grumpily. “We need to figure out what to do.”

“How about we eat first,” Jackson says brightly. “Then we can think.”

“Someone buy us ddeokbokki,” Jinyoung suggests, eyes alight.

“And someone stole my Lucky Charms cereal last week!” Mark complains. “When I found out who did it-…”

“You’ll what, trick into our face?” Jackson rolls his eyes, pushing Mark off the sofa before grinning widely. “Marknae?”

“This is useless,” Bambam groans. “Youngjae-…”

“Why me?” Youngjae pouts. “You guys are always making me do stuff.”

“…-go downstairs and get breakfast,” Bambam continues like he hasn’t heard. “Everyone else shut up and keep thinking.”

In the meantime Jaebum sits through it all, breathing getting continuously shallower, until he feels a presence by his side.

“Hey, you okay?” Yugyeom’s asking in concern, rubbing his back. “We’ll figure this out, don’t you worry about a thing.”

“It’s just-…this is a lot to take in,” Jaebum confesses, slumping helplessly as Jackson starts to play-wrestle with Mark, stopping only when he’s sitting on the (new) maknae on the floor, only because Bambam had snapped at both of them. “Everything’s so different.”

“Tell us about your life back there,” Yugyeom suggests encouragingly, expression unchanging as he reaches down to bodily lift Jackson up by the back of his shirt and plop him on the couch so Mark can breathe. “Maybe that’ll help you feel better? Anyway, I’m sure we’re pretty much all curious to know how things are in a world where Mark’s the oldest and I’m the youngest.”

“Yeah!” Jinyoung says enthusiastically, before adding in an undertone. “I’m hot, right, Jaebummie? I have to be hot by then-…”

“We’re all attractive in our own ways, Jinyoungie, and that includes you,” Bambam says in a tone that suggests he’s been drilled to say this just over a couple hundred times. “But yeah, I am pretty interested in this freak world where you’re leader and Yugyeom and I are the youngest.”

“Don’t you all think I’d be interested too,” Youngjae grumbles from the doorway, where he’s putting his shoes on.

“Get the food and we’ll fill you in later,” Bambam says absently. “Hurry it up.”

They can hear Youngjae muttering in angry dissent all the way until the door closes behind him.

“Okay, now talk, Jaebummie,” Jackson points, bouncing up and down in the couch in his excitement. “I’m hot over there, aren’t I?”

“Language,” Yugyeom says warningly. Jackson ignores him.

“Just tell us everything already,” Mark says in a tone that suggests complete and utter boredom, inspecting a fingernail he must’ve chipped while Jackson was sitting on him.

“I’m, uh, I’m second oldest,” Jaebum stutters, too alarmed by the fact that it takes him a second or two to properly recall to retaliate against the fact that no one around here seems to respect him. “I’m the leader. Jackson and Bambam give me grief and Jinyoung helps me out sometimes and I have to make sure Youngjae talks more during interviews and that Yugyeom doesn’t say anything that might get us in trouble. I yell at you guys to perform well onstage and during dance practice and make sure no one is ostracised during group activities. I try to make the foreigners and locals mix well and take care of everyone’s health when I can. Yeah.”

There’s a long moment of silence after that in which everyone ponders the notion.

“I can see the yelling part,” Jackson’s the one to break it, of course, squinting hard. “And uh, the yelling part.”

“What is so wrong with me over here that you guys can’t seem to believe I’m the leader?” Jaebum snipes. “And that’s not even the problem here- how are we supposed to switch things back?”

“Well…” Jinyoung shrugs. “You woke up and things were weird, right? Maybe you just have to go back to sleep, and things will be normal again when you wake up.”

“That’s a thought,” Yugyeom says, noticeably relieved. “Any other ideas?”

“Or,” Jackson starts excitedly. “There’s a lost monument somewhere out there in the pyramids of Egypt responsible for switching you with another you existing in that alternate universe, and we have to go on a road trip including a journey of self-discovery and a cute spontaneous video montage with a pop song from a few years back now to find-…”

“Okay, I guess not,” Bambam says loudly.

“Well, then I have to sleep now!” Jaebum says urgently, standing up.

“Uh, I guess you could try,” Mark says drily, feet up on the backrest of the sofa in his boredom.

“We’ll leave you to it,” Bambam nods once towards the room, unravelling his limbs to stand up. “The rest of you losers better prep for our schedules today- we’ve still got a radio interview this afternoon.”

“Just ignore the noise and try to sleep,” Yugyeom says gently, propelling Jaebum into the room and closing the door to a crack. “Before you know it, you’ll be back, uhm, back where you came from, and everything will be back to normal.”

*

Or not.

Jaebum sits in a depressed silence at the back of the van, Mark plugged into his iPod and completely ignoring him on his right, while the hyungs (that still sounds so weird) talk up front.

“I still can’t believe it didn’t work,” Jinyoung complains, before turning back to scrutinise Jaebum. “You did sleep, right, Jaebummie?”

“Yeah,” Jaebum mumbles, leaning back against the headrest. It’d been pretty damn hard, too- he’d spent at least half an hour tossing and turning, wired with anxiety.

“Hey,” Yugyeom says from the passenger seat- Jaebum can’t see his face well, but the reassurance in his voice speaks for itself. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure something out.”

“You’d better,” Mark suddenly pipes up, apparently not so deaf after all. “If they’ve really been switched and if Jaebum’s really the leader over there, our JB’s probably causing a lot more trouble there than this one is over here.”

Jaebum buries his face in his hands and groans.

*

As if it isn’t weird enough walking into Sukira and not being the one leading the greeting, Jaebum also isn’t given the chance to speak throughout the entire first half of the show.

Yugyeom had quietly gestured for Jaebum to sit between him and Jinyoung at the start, and the show had started- but the usual questions about what do you think of your latest album and say something for the fans who are listening now fly right over Jaebum’s head to people like Bambam and Jackson, leaving Jaebum teetering uncomfortably at the edge of his seat, bursting with pre-programmed responses and the urgent need to give them.

“JB-ssi,” Ryeowook says finally, reading into his script, and Jaebum almost replies too quickly into the mike- Yugyeom’s hand against his back and Youngjae’s encouraging smile from across the table steadies him, though. “Got7’s silent cool main dancer! Can you show us the point move for your latest promotional song, If You Do?”

Jaebum’s mouth goes dry. Main dancer?

“Ah,” both Yugyeom and Bambam interject quickly, but it’s Jinyoung who steps up to the plate merrily.

“JB’s sick today, so I’ll take over!”

The tiny studio breaks out into claps, and Jaebum follows mechanically- so I’m the main dancer, here. Not among the oldest, no leader position, and now, no vocals.

Yugyeom leans over as Jinyoung’s lapping up the attention on the other side of the studio. “Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier- I thought it was the same, over there.”

“Yugyeom,” Jaebum whispers back uneasily. “What’s my…my image here? What do I do?”

“Well, um,” Yugyeom shifts awkwardly, thinking for a moment. “You dance, and then you, you know, do that,” he makes an odd sort of face here, and Jaebum blanches, offended. “-thing you do for the fans. For a really, well, general, picture, think, uh, emo dancing hipster jerk, that sort of thing.”

Jaebum stares at him, waiting for confirmation, and when obliged, slides down in his seat so far that only the top of his head can be seen, emitting something akin to a pained cat noise.

“JB-ssi!” Ryeowook says, sounding both amused and slightly disturbed. “You seem to be giving a great reaction to Jinyoung’s dancing here!”

Jackson hollers out JJ PROJECT, almost deafening everyone in the room, and Jaebum winces, straightening instinctively in his chair and resigning himself to brood in a repressed silence.

“Yugyeom-ssi, Got7’s calm leader,” Ryeowook goes on brightly after that- he seems to feel the need to announce each member’s title after them, like he’s knighting them, or something. “With the “bad boy” image you all are bringing with your latest title track, do any of the members hold such traits?”

Everyone in the room snorts, then, and Jaebum swears their eyes flick towards him for a split second there.

“Well,” Yugyeom chuckles- Jaebum can still feel the other boy’s hand on the small of his back, and the thought’s comforting, somehow. “Some of us might have a reputation for being cold, but I can assure you, none of us are that sort of person.”

“Of course, as the great leader everyone’s heard so much about, Yugyeom-ssi would know s well,” Ryeowook laughs, clapping. “Which brings us to our first quiz, on how well the Got7 members know each other, right after the music!”

Jaebum blinks once, twice, at Yugyeom, who raises a brow at him as the staff start puttering around them immediately, passing out folded papers and pens, as music plays in the background.

They’ve never called me that before.

“Something wrong?” Yugyeom mumbles, passing him a slip of paper from the staff, as Bambam strikes up conversation with Ryeowook on the other side of the room, and Jaebum shakes his head, returning his eyes to the paper.

He wonders, for a moment, if this is some twisted way of teaching him a lesson about his own leadership style, and sets his jaw into the microphone, grudgingly accepting the fact that yeah, maybe he might learn a thing or two here.

But then Jackson starts hyena laughing into the mic after Mark viciously javelin-throws a pen at him and misses, almost permanently damaging everyone’s eardrums, and Jaebum lets out a pained sigh, wondering if it’s worth the price he’s paying.

*

By the time he’s back at the dorm, however, Jaebum comes to the poignant realisation that he’s never missed his leader position quite this much.

Never has he wished so much he could just say something, even if it’s just a greeting or to yell at everyone to get in line or have their manager come up to him with instructions. He thinks back, miserably, to the time he would detest these responsibilities with a sulky, burning passion, only to miss being able to do anything at all now. Now, it’s shut up, don’t say anything, look good, shush, occasionally prove the extent of your ness because girls love jerks. It’s driving him up the wall.

“Who’s first on the shower roster tonight?” Yugyeom sighs from the kitchen, and Jinyoung and Jackson promptly start fighting for first shower, Bambam yells at them from his room, and Mark snores on the couch.

“You’re going to get back there, don’t worry,” Youngjae smiles at Jaebum then, narrowly missing Jackson’s flying fist, aimed at Jinyoung. “Stories always end like that.”

“Yeah, well, stories are fictional,” Jaebum grumbles, feeling like a soda can that’s been left to tumble down an entire building’s worth of stairs, pent up and uncomfortable and angry.

“Look, let’s all take a shower, then gather to think of something else again, alright?” Jaebum feels a hand tug his arm, and looks up (still up, he bemoans) to see Yugyeom pulling him up off the couch, obviously exhausted, pushing him towards the bathroom. “Go take a shower, before Bam gets in and uses up all the hot water.”

“Why do you always let them use the shower first,” Bambam gripes loudly from their shared room, as Jaebum numbly lets himself be propelled into the bathroom, and Yugyeom laughs breathily-…

…-and something clicks then.

“Yaja time.”

“What?” Yugyeom’s looking wearily over at where Jinyoung and Jackson are still fighting, and Youngjae’s crammed into one side of the couch with a long-suffering expression, as though this happens often.

“I got it! We were playing yaja time!” Jaebum’s suddenly jumping, eyes wide, turning back to the living room. “We were playing yaja time, and that’s when this whole thing started! It makes sense- we have to play yaja time now!”

There’s a moment of silence as the rest of them, frozen in the middle of whatever they’re doing (Jinyoung’s knuckle up Jackson’s left nostril), processing what he’s just said.

Then Mark and Jackson promptly cheer, and Bambam and Youngjae groan.

“Yaja time!” Mark bounces up, iPod forgotten, looking at Youngjae gleefully. “Hyu-…Jae, make me a sandwich! And wash all the dishes!”

“Yah, Bambam-ah!” Jackson hollers from the sofa, where he’s sprawled out over the cushions. “Could you get me a soft drink? With ice? Get the one I like!”

“Are you sure about this,” Yugyeom asks tiredly, then, as Bambam emerges from the room, first sending a death glare at Jackson, then at Jaebum, and the latter nods vigorously.

“Yeah! We were playing yaja time because us mak-…hyungs lost a game, and that’s what started this whole thing,” Jaebum’s giddy with hope, now. “It’s going to work this time, I can feel it.”

“Alright, then,” Yugyeom winces as Jinyoung shoots him an evil look from the couch, no doubt concocting something terrible to make him do. “As long as it gets you back there.”

Jinyoung whines loudly in protest, however, as Jaebum, catching on, quickly pushes Yugyeom into the bathroom, easing the door shut to the chaos outside.

He knows what to do now, and never has he wanted more for things to go back to the way they were.

“Go and shower first,” Jaebum offers, glancing in the direction of the living room, where they can hear Bambam yelling, probably as Jackson and Mark are tussling with him, and turns back to see Yugyeom obliging with a resigned nod.

“I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“You forgot something,” Jaebum calls out, feeling a lot more at ease now as he plucks his toothbrush from its holder, and the shower starts from behind the curtain. There’s a pause, then-…

“I suppose I should be thanking you, hyung,” Yugyeom sounds like a mixture of annoyed, tired, and fond. It’s a familiar sound for him.

“No problem, Yugyeom-ah,” Jaebum starts brushing his teeth to the sound of Youngjae being terrorised by Jinyoung and Mark in the kitchen with a grin, then, properly assured now.

*

Jaebum wakes up alone this time.

When he remembers, he struggles up on his double mattress, stumbling on the sheets before pulling the door open, sticking his head out to look around wildly.

The first thing he sees is a properly small Bambam, on an apple juice packet, who takes one look at him, then flees for his life towards his room.

“He’s awake!”

Something clangs loudly in the kitchen, and Jinyoung emerges, scowling, Jackson peeking out cautiously from behind, chocolate crumbs all over his face.

“Look, if you’re going to-…”

“Jinyoung!” Jaebum leaps out, wrapping the other man in a breathtaking hug, before promptly leaving him and going over to Mark and Jackson’s room, pushing open the door to see a groggy Youngjae on the bunk bed and Mark on his laptop, focus unwavering. “Yes, it worked! Everything’s back!”

“What’s back?” Youngjae yawns.

“You’re okay now?” Jinyoung says warily, Bambam looking out from his room now, and after taking a good look at Jaebum, sighs explosively. “Gosh, what was that even about yesterday? You were a total jerk to Noyoung hyung and every staff member in a one metre radius, you didn’t want to say anything at our interview yesterday, and you kept going on and on about Yugyeom being the leader- what was that even about?”

“, okay I’ll fix everything, I swear,” Jaebum flops back on the couch, inhaling deeply. “You won’t believe what happened- I woke up yesterday into this freak world where Yugyeom was the oldest and Mark was the youngest, and everything was reversed, it was so weird- we must’ve gotten switched, or something.”

The entire room blinks owlishly at him, and Jackson takes a subtle step back, eyes shifting uncertainly.

“I lost ten years of my life trying to convince the rest of them over there, I’m not planning to lose them again here,” Jaebum says flatly, before getting up, groaning. “Now I have to fix that idiot’s mess.”

“Wait,” Bambam pipes up, eyes sparkling. “Wait, if you’re not jack crazy or lying, you mean-…I was the second oldest, over there? Was I hot? Man, did I get to boss everyone around?”

“I couldn’t have debuted young,” Jackson pushes Jinyoung aside to get to the bathroom mirror, inspecting his face. “My acne would’ve sunken the whole group.”

“Still does,” Jinyoung retorts, bruised.

“What was I like?”

Everyone turns to look at Yugyeom, halfway behind Bambam, looking curiously over at Jaebum. “I mean, you did say I was leader, right? What was that like?”

Everyone except Jaebum and Yugyeom plunges into a lengthy, thoughtful silence, considering the idea, before-…

“Nahh,” Jackson sticks his tongue out. “You’re a great dancer, kid, but you’d make a y leader, no offence.”

“As if anyone would listen to you, man,” Bambam cackles, slapping Yugyeom on the shoulder.

“Yeah, it’d be cute to think about it, but unrealistic,” Youngjae yawns, on his way to the bathroom.

“Actually,” Jaebum clears his throat loudly, looking at Yugyeom. “He was pretty good- great, actually. Even better than me.”

Yugyeom beams, genuinely happy, then, and Mark makes an odd snorting noise from his room.

But then Jaebum’s phone starts ringing, and the crowd diffuses as he picks up the call, Jinyoung grumbling and making the maknaes swear off yaja time for the rest of their lives, as Noyoung’s cautious voice comes over the phone.

“Jaebum?”

“Yes, hyung!” Jaebum replies immediately, relieved to be back here at last, and there’s an extended silence on the other side- Jaebum can almost see Noyoung standing in the lobby of their company building, completely unamused at this turn of events, wistfully eyeing the resignation forms under the receptionist’s desk.

“Practice today morning, recording at 3pm, and make sure the rest are ready for your flight tomorrow to Tokyo,” he pauses cautiously here. “And are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I was a little, uh, out of it yesterday, but I’m back properly today,” Jaebum promises. “Anything else you need us to do?”

“Nope, you guys are good,” Noyoung sounds relieved. “Remember, 3pm today, and tell Youngjae not to wear the fedora this time, the people doing the arrangement say evil spirits will ride in on it, or something- basically, don’t let him wear it. And don’t let Bambam make our baggage weight exceed for Tokyo like he did for Bangkok.”

“Got it, hyung,” Jaebum grins, before he says goodbye and hangs up, turning back to the living room.

This is what he wants to do, he’s sure of it now. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it well.

“Yah,” he calls out comfortably, then, striding towards his own room. “Get ready for practice and prepare to pack after dinner tonight for Tokyo- one luggage, okay, Bam. Van’s arriving at eight-thirty. And stop ruining your diet, Jackson.”

There’s a low grumble of yeah, he’s back for sure from the kitchen, where Jaebum knows that Jackson’s stuffing his face with chocolate cereal, and the former laughs, heading for the shower.

It sure feels good to be home.

a/n: welp yay that's the end of that. i did think long and hard about their characterisation in this fic after the receiving comments that a friend gave me, but i think in the entirety of the situation, aka including group dynamic and everything (especially with regard to the so called hyungs of the group), i stand by my characterisation? hehe yup. there's a reason why this fic is titled so XDD 

hope you guys enjoyed, and i hope to hear your thoughts in comments? >.< have a great day guys!