Hoya doesn’t remember when they started practicing. There’s a certain point past which he enters a mindset where the world around him starts to fade. He doesn’t feel his own sweat, the burn in his muscles, his own suffering. His mind goes somewhere to be locked up, invulnerable behind iron bars.

Dongwoo, though, is not the same. He pants beside Hoya, his beats beginning to lag behind. Dongwoo is very aware of his own suffering. He pushes through it, probably the way Hoya does, just another obstacle to be jumped, but there’s a hot knife twisting in his gut, and he’s not sure how much more of this he can take.

Dongwoo collapses. Hoya immediately drops to the floor, kneeling beside him. He grabs Dongwoo’s shoulders and shakes him, he yells his name, but he doesn’t respond. Hoya stumbles as he stands up and fumbles with the buckles on his bag, finally extracting his phone. He calls an ambulance.

Almost every Infinite member has gone to the hospital at some point.

Hoya thinks this as he sits in the ambulance next to the unconscious Dongwoo. He doesn’t need to worry. The timing’s just bad, right after yesterday and all... Really, hospital visits are like common procedures to Infinite. There’s a yelp or sharp intake of breath during practice, a brief examination, the transportation by van and manager to the hospital, and then the explanation. The member would return in a couple days, waving the doctor’s note instructing him to take it easy for a few days around like a badge of courage, or at least a waiver get out of his chores, and the other members would grudgingly oblige.

Hoya hears the sirens above him and tries to hold Dongwoo’s gurney steady as the ambulance takes a particularly sharp turn. This whole situation is actually quite different. There was only a collapse, silence, and the undeniable need for an ambulance, driven urgently by a stranger. Hoya is not looking at a couple days of missed practice, he’s staring into a yawning black unknown, and he is smaller than a tiny white vehicle, making a lot of racket but only able to go so fast.

The only person who would have the slightest clue of what’s going on right now is passed out in the gurney beside him, and Hoya suddenly feels a flash of annoyance. Why didn’t Dongwoo say anything? Of all people, Hoya should’ve known something was up.

Just as quickly, though, his annoyance is gone. Of course Dongwoo wouldn’t say anything. That’s how he is.

He takes Dongwoo’s hand between his own and shocked by its cold, rubs it between his palms, trying to transfer some of his own heat to it.

Dongwoo comes to in the emergency room. His vital signs are checked as he blinks and squints, trying to recognize the unfamiliar room. It seems that his condition isn’t life-threatening, although it does warrant some attention.

“When did you faint?” the doctor asks.

“Um…” Dongwoo’s mind is still reeling, and the fluorescent lighting doesn’t help.  

“About fifteen minutes ago,” Hoya fills in. The doctor turns towards him.

“What was he doing?”

“Dancing.”

“Did you notice anything abnormal before he fainted?”

“No.”

After making a couple quick jots on his clipboard, the doctor presses his stethoscope against Dongwoo’s chest, then slides it around to his back. He tilts his head and bites the inside of his cheek, pressing down with his stethoscope more firmly.

“Have you been feeling ill recently? Sudden weakness? Pain?”

That question cuts through the fog of Dongwoo’s confusion. He knows that answer. He glances at Hoya and sees the firmness inherent in the broad angles of Hoya’s face, the confidence in his stolid expression, and he considers telling the doctor that there’s nothing. Maybe, if by not saying anything the pain would be scared away by his stubborn unwillingness to acknowledge it.

Dongwoo then remembers that he’s in an emergency room.

“Yes… Around my stomach,” Dongwoo says.

The doctor simply nods as he continues listening to his stethoscope. From the corner of his eye, Dongwoo sees Hoya’s visage flinch, his gaze flicker for just a second, and in that flicker he sees Hoya’s perfect face marred by lines around his mouth and dark circles under his eyes.

Dongwoo fainted because of pretty innocuous reasons: exhaustion, stress, dehydration, nothing out of the ordinary. However, the doctor had slashed his pen across his clipboard a couple times after listening to Dongwoo’s back, and on that basis Dongwoo was admitted into the hospital. There had been a couple unexpected findings during the check up, and the doctor wanted to run a few tests to confirm some of his suspicions.

Dongwoo laughs about the whole situation: his fainting, the plastic covered hospital bed that crinkles as he crawls on, the lack of pajamas, and anything else he can think of until he sees that familiar slight upturn at the corners of Hoya’s mouth. He urges Hoya to leave, telling him that he should be practicing and that he could come pick him up tomorrow when the doctors were “done with their fun.” Hoya finally relents, only agreeing to leave after promising Dongwoo that he’ll practicing enough for both of them. That makes Dongwoo laugh, and Hoya smiles back.

As Hoya stands up, he prepares to ask Dongwoo the question he’s been thinking about this whole time, about what he said in the emergency room. He hesitates, looking away from Dongwoo, but Dongwoo can clearly see the flicker again on his face, and he winces. It’s a small movement, but the plastic on the bed amplifies it with a crinkle and with that Hoya is turned and propelled out into the hospital hallway. His pace quickens as he approaches the stairs until he’s almost running, running to stop himself from looking back at Dongwoo to see the faltering of his smile.