Mark quietly closed the door and answered his phone on the second ring, throwing himself down on the bed. He could hear the sounds of the rest of their group watching a movie in the living room. “Jackson?”

“Hi.” Jackson's voice sounded strained and hoarse, just with this one, short sound, not at all like his usual, natural huskiness, and Mark was immediately worried. He didn't even have to look at the time to feel guilty about keeping Jackson up when he should have been resting, preparing for the next taxing day of filming, even though Jackson had been the one to call him, not the other way around.

“Hi,” he replied after a short pause, staring at the ceiling of his room without really seeing it. “How was your day?”

“It was fine.” The answer was expected, but not the way Jackson’s voice cracked in the middle of it as he started coughing and suddenly Mark was sitting upright again, every muscle in his body tense and ready to sprint to Jackson and force him to drink tea, wear scarves, rest his voice and take better care of himself in general, alarm rising and knotting in his chest.

Jackson, however, was in China, and Mark was not.

“I can hear you worrying through the phone,” Jackson said softly after the coughing had ceased. “It's okay, I just overused my voice today. I'll be back in peak condition tomorrow, but I'll drink an extra cup of tea to make sure.”

“Yeah,” Mark sighed, biting back a comment about how organic green tea didn't fix every problem ever. He had long since stopped believing Jackson when the younger said he was fine, because Jackson would always, always say that, even when he was so sick he couldn't stand straight. Still, Mark was unable to do anything or even to make sure Jackson wasn't lying to him with the way things were right now, so he dropped back down on the bed. He heard the sound of sheets rustling from Jackson's side and imagined the boy in a similar position, lying on his bed in his Chinese hotel room, staring at the nondescript ceiling, only that Mark could hear the other boys laughing through the thin walls of their dorm and for Jackson there was only silence. “Are they making you drink enough water?”

There was a genuine smile in Jackson’s voice when he answered. “Yeah, they are. You’d think my mom had set them on the task with the way they check every half-hour if I'm really alright. Or maybe you did? You fuss over me more than my mom does, anyway.”

Mark closed his eyes. At least there were people taking care of him over there. He knew he could usually count on He Jiong for that, but now that Jackson wasn’t recording Go Fridge or Fresh Sunday - well, he worried. He really didn't have to, though. There was something about Jackson that made ev