Jongdae is tired.

It’s barely been two weeks but he already feels so mentally worn out, an incessant headache lingering behind his eyes. Yifan has established a strictly Chinese speaking policy within the dorms, making sure that the two Korean members avoid their mother tongue so as to practice and revise their Mandarin.

Jongdae still struggles with the language, feeling thoroughly exhausted by nightfall after having spent the day twisting his tongue into the complicated syllables and sounds of the unfamiliar words. His migraine only seems to grow the more he broods over which Chinese words to pick and how to put them in a fully comprehensible sentence.

It’s incredibly frustrating and next to impossible to hold a proper conversation when he can barely understand half of what’s being said. The subsequent long moments spent mulling over how to answer certainly don’t help the flow of the conversation either. It’s taxing and draining but Yifan remains adamant and firm about the arrangement, making sure that everyone follows through.

The rest of the Chinese members are naturally more than happy to comply so Jongdae decides to target Minseok. He’s finally able to corner the elder alone in his room when the others are busy in the kitchen or watching TV. Minseok is sitting on his bed, propped up against the headboard with a Chinese textbook in his hands. He looks up when he heard his door opening and smiles when Jongdae slips inside.

“Hey hyung,” Jongdae greets cheerfully as he plops himself down at the foot of the bed, “I’m bored.”

Minseok chuckles and answers in somewhat stilted Chinese, “Why don’t you go watch TV with the others?”

“I wanted to hang out with you,” Jongdae pouts, dragging out his words in hopes of making the way he’s answering in Korean more obvious.
“Well then,” Minseok stubbornly answers in Chinese as he pats the spot on the bed next to him with a suspiciously knowing smile, “get comfortable.”

Jongdae resists the urge to throw his hands in the air and instead settles for puffing his cheeks out.

“Can’t we use Korean?” he whines, slumping onto his side on the bed by Minseok’s legs, “just for now while the others aren’t around?”

He prods Minseok’s thigh and gives him the best puppy face he can muster and Minseok hesitates, his resolve seeming to waver slightly before he shakes his head apologetically.

“You know we can’t Jongdae, it’s for our own good,” he says frankly, patting Jongdae’s hair, “you know we have to get in as much practice as we can.”

“But I’m so tired,” Jongdae sighs, dropping the theatrics. He lets his hands fall to his sides as he turns onto his back to look up at the ceiling dejectedly (keeping the pout on his face, though, just in case.)

“You know, I remember someone begging me to speak Chinese with him, just one year ago,” there’s a grin on Minseok’s face, and he pauses to recall the right words to use before he goes on, “He would follow me all day to get me to spend more time with him to practice.”

Jongdae flushes at the memory, staring intently at a spot on the ceiling with pursed lips. Minseok pokes him on the forehead, “You even lectured me when I slipped up and spoke Korean a couple of times! Little brat.” He sounds reprimanding and fond at the same time.

Jongdae grumpily swats at the hand flicking his forehead, knowing he’s lost this battle miserably. There was probably never even a battle in the first place, he thinks glumly. Minseok is the perfect hyung, with too much respect for their leader to ever go behind his back and ignore his instructions, even with something as trivial as this. Minseok snickers, patting Jongdae’s cheek fondly as he picks up his Chinese textbook again.

“You’ll get used to it, Chenchen. You always do,” he says reassuringly, snorting at the frown Jongdae throws him for the nickname.

Jongdae hoists himself off the bed with a huff.

“You ,” he throws, tongue curling around the Chinese syllables (Luhan is a bad influence) and Minseok only sniggers harder.

Jongdae trudges back to his room, his mission a complete failure, much to his chagrin. There are open Chinese textbooks spread out all over his bed and Jongdae scowls at them. He had spent the night before trying to memorize the Chinese characters that were swimming before his tired eyes.

In a moment of frustration, he grabs the corner of his comforter and yanks it off the mattress, sending the books flying to the floor. He revels in the way the pages crumple, something he knows he’ll regret later.

He drops down onto the mattress, scowling childishly and he might have cringed at the way he was acting if he weren’t feeling so drained. After all, this is the life he wanted and what he chose. The foreignness and unfamiliarity are as refreshing as they are wearying and right now the scales are tipping more towards the latter. He fights the feeling but the desperate craving for a piece of home is hard to snub out.

Jongdae glances around the room and spots his laptop sitting on the bedframe where his mattress used to be before Luhan’s ministrations. He stares at it hesitantly, biting his lip. He moves off his bed towards the door and peeks out cautiously, his ears perking at the sound of the raucous laughter from the lounge where the others are watching a Chinese drama.

He creeps back inside and shuts the door silently before dashing towards his laptop. He jams his finger on the power button, drumming his fingers on the keys impatiently as though it might make the machine go faster. The second the screen brightens to show his desktop, his eyes instantly zone in on the blue icon of Skype and he holds his breath as he opens it up, waiting for the contact list to appear. There are several green dots, a number of people currently online but Jongdae barely sees them, his tunnel vision instantly zoning in on the contact he needs.
Jongdae clicks it to open up a chat window without hesitation and clicks the button for a video call, muttering pleas under his breath for his call to be accepted. It takes a few beeps and for a moment, his heart sinks, thinking that there’s no one on the other side of the line but the call picks up a second later.

“Hello? Jongdae?”

The computer screen is suddenly filled with Junmyeon’s face, slightly pixelated and his voice a little crackly through the internet connection.

The wave of absolute comfort and relief that washes over Jongdae is almost dizzying. It must be obvious in the way his face and his entire body relax because Junmyeon asks, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m good. You? ” Jongdae is unable to keep the content sigh from slipping out and he smiles brightly at Junmyeon’s face on the screen. Korean has never sounded so wonderful, the familiar syllables rolling off his tongue easily. Junmyeon answers similarly and Jongdae drinks up the words like water to a parched man’s throat. He misses this; the ease of a conversation in his mother tongue. It feels like it’s been so much longer than a couple of weeks since he’s felt this comfortable. He feels lighter already, he can finally breathe easy; the current comfort overshadows the pang of nostalgia it brings with it.

Jongdae can hear the distant chatter of the other members in the background on the other side of the line, even though Junmyeon is alone in his room.

“So, is there a special occasion for this video call? You’re usually too lazy to turn on your laptop,” Junmyeon grins teasingly.

Jongdae feels his face heat up, knowing full well that he could have called his phone if he wanted to hear Junmyeon talk. He decides not to tell him that this way, just for a little while, it doesn’t feel like they’re so far apart.

“Do I need a reason to want to talk to my favorite hyung, screen-to-screen?” he answers, looking pleasing with his little joke.

Junmyeon laughs, shaking his head and Jongdae wishes he could see the usual twinkle in his eyes through the lacking quality of the internet connection.

They launch into a conversation about how things are going on their respective sides. Video chatting makes it much easier than chatting apps to share stories and elaborate more on them. It’s so much more rewarding to actually hear the other’s laughter and see the scrunch of their face. They catch up on things they’d left out from their texts and chat messages to each other, cracking jokes and passing teasing comments at one another. This is as close as they’ll get to a face to face interaction when there’s a sea between them.

Their laughter finally dies down and they sober up in comfortable silence.

“Didn’t Yifan set up some sort of full time Mandarin speaking policy?” Junmyeon asks suddenly, donning a half serious expression on his face, “I should probably switch to Mandarin then!”

“Oh come on, hyung!” Jongdae whines pleadingly, pouting when Junmyeon laughs and clicks his tongue.

“Please,” he says, a little more seriously. He drops his eyes to his tightly wrung fingers on his lap for half a second before raising them back up to his screen. I need this.

Junmyeon is still smiling and it feels warm. “Okay.”


.


Junmyeon smiles as he closes his laptop, giving it a satisfied pat and stares at it fondly for a moment before setting it back on his nightstand. He leaves the room to rejoin the other members lounging in the dining room, half of them sprawled on the floor.

He slumps down on the couch beside Jongin, who’s engrossed in the video game he’s playing. Junmyeon leans forward towards the coffee table to snag a chicken leg from the bucket they had ordered earlier. He takes a giant bite, munching heartily and sighing contentedly.

Kyungsoo turns his head away from the TV screen for a moment and looks at Junmyeon with a look of surprise on his face.

“What?” Junmyeon asks through his mouthful, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

“That must have been one hell of a Skype call,” Kyungsoo answers with a small, knowing smile. He looks almost pleased for some reason.

“What do you mean?” Junmyeon looks nonplussed at Kyungsoo’s grin, cramming the remaining pieces of chicken into his mouth hungrily. He reaches out for another chicken leg from the bucket, even before he’s swallowed his mouthful.

“Well,” Kyungsoo starts, raising an eyebrow in amusement, “for one thing, your appetite is way better than it’s been all week.”

Junmyeon pauses mid munch as he stares at Kyungsoo, taken aback. There’s amusement in his eyes but Junmyeon sees the concern bubbling at the edge. He doesn’t miss the way Kyungsoo’s eyes drop down for a fleeting second to his cheekbones before darting back up. Junmyeon himself can’t deny the way they’ve become sharper and more prominent lately. He’s noticed the way his cheeks have sunken a little too.

Junmyeon swallows his mouthful thickly, the other chicken leg still in his hand but he makes no move to take a bite. He lowers his eyes, unsure of what to say; he’s burning with realization that he’s apparently much more obvious than he’d thought. Or Kyungsoo is far too perceptive for his own good. Perhaps it’s a mixture of both and Junmyeon considers apologizing for neglecting himself and for worrying Kyungsoo.

When he lifts his eyes again, Kyungsoo is still looking at him with a gentle smile and soft eyes. Junmyeon opens his mouth to speak but Kyungsoo stops him with a stern look, seeing right through him.

Junmyeon falls silent with a sigh. Instead he nods his head at Kyungsoo, an appreciative smile on his face.

Satisfied, Kyungsoo turns his head back towards the television but he swivels around a beat later, the amused glint back in his eyes as he grins impishly, “You should Skype Jongdae more often, maybe you’ll suddenly start cleaning up after yourself too.”

He earns himself a sharp smack on the back of his head as he sniggers and the other members throw confused looks in their direction.


-


Being a leader means Junmyeon is twice as busy as the other members on a regular day. It also means that the workload triples during comeback months. He has to deal with discussion meetings with the managers, he has to memorize schedules, speeches and scripts and most importantly he has to look after the rest of the members. All of that needs to be crammed into the time between dance practice and vocal lessons. The few instances where he has a moment to spare are spent grabbing a bite to eat or trying to get in a few more minutes of blissful sleep.

Junmyeon hardly has any time to chance a peek at his phone until the day is done and he’s completely spent. He crawls into bed, hair a little damp from the shower, and collapses into the cocoon of warmth under the blankets. His body still feels tense and tightly wound despite the exhaustion pulling heavily at his eyelids. He fights it off as he reaches out to grab his phone off the nightstand.

Kyungsoo is already asleep on the other side of the room so Junmyeon hides the glare of the screen light by burrowing himself fully under the comforter. He finds quite a number of notifications that have accumulated throughout the day; various texts, chat messages and Snaps all from Jongdae. Junmyeon smiles as he scrolls through the messages slowly, reading through Jongdae’s little updates on his day and laughing quietly at his reports of silly things the other members have done.

By the time he gets to the pictures, his cheeks are aching from the wide smile on his face that has yet to fade. He goes through the Snapchat notifications where Jongdae has sent numerous snapshots of the other unsuspecting members caught in compromising positions.
Then there are pictures of Jongdae with an arm thrown around different members’ shoulders, each pair grinning up at the camera.

Junmyeon’s smile slips a little and he feels something twist in his stomach, though he refuses to give it a name.

He wants to be in one of those pictures, smiling up at the camera, next to him. He hates that it’s like this; that Jongdae is there and Junmyeon is here.

He grits his teeth and pushes away the thoughts he constantly fights to repress, like that of the sea which Jongdae put between them when he left for China. Junmyeon shakes his head, angry at himself. He’s had his fair share of experiences like this; maintaining friendships with people he’s close with who have gone overseas.

He can do this.


-


They’re a few weeks into rehearsals for the upcoming comeback stage when it happens.

The M members are halfway through the latest rigorous choreography that their dance teacher is drilling into them, aiming for perfection. They’ve been at it for over six hours now, sweat dripping down their faces and their heavy pants match the beat of the music.

It feels too stiflingly hot and stuffy inside the studio and Jongdae wheezes, finding it hard to breathe. There isn’t enough air. His vision blurs a little and the room is spinning but he tries to keep it together. His head aches; it feels heavy and every beat of the music sends a hammer ricocheting through his brain. But Jongdae keeps moving, swallowing down the searing bile that’s rising in his throat.

They’re supposed to twist and slide to the right at one point but Jongdae’s feels his legs give out beneath him and he collapses, hitting the ground hard. His chest heaves as he struggles to take in rattling breaths past his chapped lips. The floor is freezing against Jongdae’s burning skin but his body feels like lead and he can’t move. He doesn’t have the strength to keep his eyes open and all he can hear past the thunderous pounding in his head is the sound of his own shallow breathing.

He barely registers the fact that he’s being moved until his stomach lurches, sending a wave of nausea through him and he gags weakly. He can hear the sound of muffled voices being raised but his focus slips with every chill that wracks through his body.

He thinks he hears someone calling his name, but then his vision goes black and he’s out.

.


When Jongdae comes to, he can feel the violent chattering of his teeth rattling his brain. Every part of his body aches and he’s freezing but his head feels like it’s on fire. He dimly registers the way his body is being jostled and his head lolls limply to the side. There’s cool fingers carding through his hair gently, soothing the burning ache. They feel almost familiar; fuzzy images from an old memory appear behind his eyelids and he sighs hoarsely. Jongdae feels the soft touches on his head but he can’t tell reality apart from his memory anymore; too delirious to try anyway.

He recalls the last time he felt like this, echoes of the memory in every chill that wracks his body. There had been fingers in his hair and a gentle voice murmuring in his ear; the only voice that mattered. He had forced his eyes open and all that went to his mind right then was reassurance that he’d be fine; safe at home and safe in Junmyeon’s hands.

Now the fingers are back in his hair and there’s the rumble of a low voice nearby. Jongdae’s heart leaps and he uses every ounce of strength in his body to crack his eyes open a sliver. The brightness burns and everything is blurry at first but Jongdae can vaguely make out the shape of a face hovering above his own. He tries to work his dry throat but it hurts even to croak.

The voice gets clearer and closer, gently coaxing him back to silence and Jongdae blinks, desperately trying to see through the blur. His vision sharpens the longer he persists, clearing the fog just enough to see.

Jongdae pieces together the facial features that come into view and he finally registers Yixing’s anxious face, eyebrows furrowed in a worried arch. The hum of an engine and the distinct smell of leather car seats penetrate his senses and Jongdae’s heart plummets.

This isn’t home and Junmyeon isn’t with him. Jongdae slips out of consciousness again.


-


Junmyeon is woken up from his nap by the incessant ringing of his phone. He fumbles for the device groggily, grumbling under his breath and ready to snap at whoever’s calling. The phone screen shows Jongdae’s name and Junmyeon’s expression softens a little as he presses the button to take the call.

“Jongdae ah, what-”

“Junmyeon.”

The voice on the other side of the line is not Jongdae’s and Junmyeon snaps to attention; all traces of sleep, gone.

“Yifan? Is everything alright?”

“Jongdae’s in the hospital.”

Junmyeon’s stomach plummets; feeling like someone has punched him in the gut and his insides go cold.

“What? What happened? Is he alright? Is he hurt?” he winces at the way his voice pitches higher than usual.

“Easy, easy Junmyeon! He’s asleep right now; they’re keeping him here for a little while because he’s weak. He collapsed during dance practice.”

Junmyeon swallows through the tightness in his throat and waits for Yifan to continue.

“Doctor said he’s got a really high fever and he’s severely dehydrated and over exhausted. He came to a couple of times when we were rushing him to the hospital but he’s been out since they put him on a drip an hour ago.”

Junmyeon reels at the news, clutching his phone so tightly that the hard edges dig into his palm.

“I should probably hang up now before the credit runs out; we didn’t have time to get our stuff when we rushed him into the van, but Jongdae actually had his phone on him. Let the others know and I’ll keep you posted; he… he’ll be alright Junmyeon-ah.”

The line goes dead. Junmyeon drops the hand by his ear, feeling frantic and agitated. There’s this burning sensation of misplaced anger b just below the surface, teetering on the brink of exploding.

It feels like there’s an itch under his skin; he needs to go to him, he needs to see him but he can’t because there’s a damn sea and thousands of miles lying between them. He would jump on a plane right this second if he could, except, once again, he can’t.

He remembers the last time Jongdae had been incapacitated by a fever; he’d looked so frail and breakable, shivering violently even as Junmyeon tucked him into bed with a blanket. Now he’s gone and landed himself in the hospital and Junmyeon isn’t there.

He tells himself it’s because he knows just how to take care of him when he’s like this. Back then, he’s the one who had spent the night sitting on a chair by his bedside, forcing himself to stay awake to change the rag on Jongdae’s forehead every so often and ease him back into bed when he woke in a coughing fit. Junmyeon knows the quickest way to ease Jongdae’s coughing, having found the right spots on his back to rub that soothed him the best. He’s the one who had squeezed Jongdae’s hand when he whimpered in his sleep, delirious and in pain.

He pushes down the spike of possessiveness he feels, telling himself it’s the feeling of responsibility as a leader kicking in except it’s not even the case right now. Not when they’re apart like this; like this, Junmyeon’s responsible for the five in his own dorm and Yifan is responsible for the other five in his charge. Countries apart.

He’s overreacting but he can’t find it in himself to think straight right now.

Jongdae’s more than taken care of and Junmyeon knows that. And really, maybe that’s why he’s overreacting like this; knowing that Jongdae can be alright without him. That he doesn’t need him and never did. Maybe that’s why he’d found it so easy to leave.
It’s a sharp sting that has Junmyeon feeling hollow and aching, faint traces of anger simmering dimly in the background.

Junmyeon tosses the phone aside, not even caring where it lands and he kicks the bedpost in a moment of frustration.

He’s too far away and this whole thing is far more stressful and emotionally draining than he had ever anticipated. The distance is getting to him in ways that it never used to before; he’s giving parts of himself and it’s leaving him feeling bare and aching. Junmyeon ing misses him but there’s an emptiness that’s pushing him to his breaking point and he can’t do this.

Junmyeon buries his face in his hands and moans in despair. He lifts his head with a sigh and looks for his phone, finding it on the floor where he’d tossed it earlier. He settles back under the blankets with the phone clutched in his hands, just in case he gets another call. He’s teetering right on the brink of breaking but he’s struggling to just hold on a while longer.