It is yongguk who finds junhong on the floor, lying on his back with the head turned up towards the ceiling and tilted slightly to the left. The practice room is freezing despite the air conditioner being switched off, the building’s central thermostat ensuring the dance studio is cold as anyway. yongguk notices junhong’s ipod rigged to mini speakers half a metre from the younger boy’s feet even as he curses under his breath and pulls his hooded jacket tighter around his waist.

“Why is he suddenly out of energy again,” he mumbles to no one in particular, sighing as he walks up to the maknae. Junhong must have been practising the choreography of their latest single on his own, perhaps polishing up his solo parts or refining some footwork.

junhong is impressively diligent like that.

yongguk fights the urge to wake the boy with harsh words and mandatory nagging – because crashing like that on the floor will give him one heck of a neckache and does their main dancer really need another injury to think about because the bruises on legs from hours of skidding and colliding with hard parquet floors are enough aren’t they –

He crouches gingerly beside the gangly teen instead.

“Are you asleep?”

No response.

He must have been pretty exhausted to sleep so deeply, and the leader somehow feels a knot in the throat, the kind that makes his face contort a bit; in the midst of making sure everyone is ready for the comeback he must have somehow missed taking care of the members themselves. junhong included.

For a start he should have at least remembered to remind junhong not to practise for too many hours on end when he saw him leave the dorm, to come back to eat with them at least. It happens to be one of their rare rest days after all.

“junhongie. wake up, let’s go eat,” yongguk reaches out a hand to shake junhong’s arm gently.

It is then that he realises something is off, that junhong is frigid to the touch and clammy at that, that he is laying too still and doesn’t seem to breathing.

“Junhong! Hey!” calm down calm down don’t panic – he forces hysteria back down his throat (it can’t be anything serious it’s probably just—) and reaches across to place his palm under the taller boy’s nostrils, hoping for even a faint sign of life—

Nothing.

At least his heart is beating, yongguk surmises, pressing his left ear against junhong’s bony chest, albeit too slowly to be remotely normal. If he’s completely honest, yongguk doesn’t know at all what to do.

All he knows is junhong presumely fainted while training and there would have been no one to help him, and right now yongguk still isn’t sure there’s someone to help him, either.

“Uhh… uhh,” yongguk thinks aloud to himself as he straightens up, resting on his knees. He should probably call the others. Or their manager or an ambulance. He fumbles for his phone – dropping it a couple times before keeping it in his grip successfully – and dials himchan. He needs someone who doesn’t call him hyung to settle things like the ambulance and manager, but more so to assure him he’s not ing everything up.

-

junhong has never passed out before and so doesn’t recognise the symptoms when they come, the sudden wave of nausea and the chills that has nothing to do with temperature and the clamminess in his palms and most disconcertingly, the way his vision seems to have weird spots all over it.

He swallows. Probably just need a drink of water, but otherwise time is running out for him to be as stage-ready as he would like. He detests the way his feet still trip over the unfamiliar dance steps (still being used to executing the old ones with exacting perfection), hates the way sometimes he doesn’t catch his breath in the right place and ends up too breathless to continue when he has to both speed rap and dance at the same time.

It all comes down to experience and how many times you’ve done the same routine over and over, and he isn’t about to this up, so he puts the song on repeat and sets his mouth in a line and grits his teeth and dances through the spots growing in his view.

-

The smooth polished floor isn’t the most welcoming to a rogue head, especially not one that crashes down at such a great height as junhong, and junhong is still recovering from the impact when he comes to and sees a very creased face just a breath’s gap away from him, staring too intensely into his eyes.

The first thing he notices is how excessively bright the room is, enough to make his head throb and nausea return to the back of his throat, and the second is yongguk’s yelp of surprise (coming across to him as slightly muffled) and “you’re up-”and rough hands brushing his bangs from his eyes.

He notices his clothes seem to feel too heavy for his body and almost credits it to generally being in a bad shape, until he lifts his head groggily to look down at himself. Oh. A chunky black hoodie is spread across him, too short for him but definitely contributing to his slightly warmer torso.

“junhong-ah,” he turns his eyes to the voice and sees yongguk sitting by his head, dressed (seemingly painfully) in a tank top and trackpants and visibly shivering. “You feeling better?”

“I’m okay,” junhong opens his mouth to say, but lets out a dry croak instead. It morphs quickly into a small coughing fit.

yongguk blinks in surprise, then springs into action by propping himself into a kneeling position again. He the younger boy’s hair.

“It’s okay, don’t say anything, the rest are on the way with-”

“-Hyung, you’re freezing,” junhong interjects, somewhat weakly.

“And you’ve been lying on the ground, out cold! I don’t even know how long for or why and-!” yongguk snarls before he can stop himself, anxiety having not been fully dissipated by the phone call with himchan.

“Just-just… be quiet,” he breathes, collecting himself. A second of hesitation, and then—

“wait, the floor is cold-!”

He ignores the maknae and lies flat on the ground, as close to the tall boy as possible.

“Shh. Sleep, you’re tired.”

There is no space left between them now, so it’s only natural for yongguk to feel around with his left hand until it connects with a right, lacing his fingers with longer, slender ones. junhong’s hand is still slightly clammy but it is not uncomfortable, and yongguk concentrates his thoughts on exploring the unknown territory of the area between the other boy’s index finger and thumb.

junhong hasn’t said anything since yongguk lay down a moment ago.

“For warmth,” yongguk says simply, and closes his eyes in wait for the rest to find them like this. 

---

what even is banglo