Taeyong can feel the tension permeating the air, even from the front. He chances a glance at the back, where he sees Doyoung’s face scrunched up in displeasure, and Johnny’s resulting mood. Taeil looks vaguely uncomfortable, while Sicheng’s playing a game on his phone. Jaehyun meets his eyes, shrugging slightly as if to say, ‘I have no idea what’s happening’.

When he looks further back, though, at the rear seats, he sees Mark and Donghyuck looking particularly on edge. Yuta’s at the window, fast asleep, but Donghyuck seems to be murmuring something into Mark’s ear. Taeyong isn’t too worried about that knowing that, despite not wanting to show it, Donghyuck really does care about Mark.

No, what makes Taeyong worry is the frown marring Mark’s features. That, and the almost unreal paleness to his cheeks, that makes him look like death incarnate. Has he been eating right, or skipping meals? No, that can’t be right, he’s seen Mark eating rather heartily, before.

Taeyong still resolves to find out later, though.

“Alright guys, let’s go!” He calls, internally praying that everyone can actually hear him. They’re all dressed up now, makeup decorating their faces. It’s coated all over Taeyong’s cheeks and forehead, even neck. and it makes his features too stiff to move right. But it’ll ease off, he knows.

Luckily for him, some higher power out there must have heard his prayers, because they actually listen to him and obediently form into lines of two, like they’ve practiced so many times before. Taeyong, in particular, has no one to partner with, so to speak, but Jaehyun’s presence is comforting, from behind his back.

He peeks at the end of the line from the corner of his eye, gaze landing on Mark almost immediately. He feels a bit of a loss, considering that the younger has managed to avoid him so spectacularly so far, but vows to himself that it isn’t going to last through the day. He’s going to get to the bottom of things.

“Hyung?” He starts slightly when Sicheng first speaks, but relaxes quickly enough, turning to face one of his loveliest dongsaengs with a soft smile.

“Yeah, Win?” He addresses him affectionately, rewarded with a small, bashful smile, “What’s up?”

“Mark…looks sad.” Sicheng whispers, stuttering slightly over the pronunciation, “Hyung…will talk to him?”

“I plan to.” Taeyong assures, before something occurs to him, “Hey, do you know why Mark’s sad?”

Unfortunately, Sicheng shakes his head with a sad frown tugging at his full mouth.

“No.” He admits, biting his lip, “Hyung will find out?”

“Yeah.” Taeyong smiles at him with more confidence than he actually has, and claps him on the shoulder, “Hyung will find out what the problem is. Don’t worry.”

His heart is troubled, though, as he turns back to face the set. And, even as they’re called onto the set, his mind races, even as his lips pull up. Taeyong’s always been a good liar, and he’ll never forget that.

The interview is going well enough. Doyoung, luckily, has gotten over his terrible mood, and is smilingly exchanging jokes with one of the MCs in light-hearted jest. They’ve all got their scripts, sure, but they can ad-lib too, as long as it’s harmless; and, Doyoung’s always been particularly good at that.

Taeil is quiet, as usual, though he occasionally lets out a comment or two that has the rest of them choking on their laughter. Yet, Taeyong can see that neither of their maknaes have that same cheer. It’s rather off-putting, to be honest.

“Mark?” He’s cut off from his thoughts when one of the MCs calls out to the younger rapper, and he instinctively makes eye contact with the blonde; only for the boy to break it off, and smile cheerily at the interviewer, “I know this must be a question you’re asked often, but which of the hyungs would you like to be for a day, if you had the chance?”

She’s right, it’s a pretty common question, and Mark has a pretty standard answer to this, but with how things have been going recently, Taeyong isn’t sure—

“Of course, it’d be Taeyong hyung!” Mark laughs forcedly, and the words make Taeyong freeze, “He’s an amazing rapper, and an even better leader…I think that’s something incredible, really. He’s an inspiration.”

He even adds his usual ‘ball of fluff’’ smile towards the end of the sentence, making the interview coo, despite the pinched element to his features. Taeyong flashes a quick grin at him, not just for the cameras, but out of gratefulness; he didn’t think Mark would say something so meaningful, especially with how much he’s avoiding him now. To Taeyong, it means the world.

“I can’t wait to get home and crash.” Taeil’s telling him as they go towards the changing rooms together, to take off the suffocating makeup, “Jaehyun was telling me you stayed up pretty late too?”

“Ah, yeah.” Taeyong agrees quietly, “I was waiting for Mark, hyung.”

“He didn’t show up, did he?” Taeil frowns, looking disapproving for all of two seconds, before he sees Taeyong’s expression, and his indignation disappears, “There’s something more to this, isn’t there?”

“Yeah.” Taeyong confesses, “Honestly, hyung, something’s wrong with him—and everyone in Dream. I don’t know what it is, but—”

“Wait,” The both of them freeze at the unexpected voice behind them, turning around with guilty eyes to face Doyoung, who’s standing there with his arms crossed, “How do you even know that?”

“You didn’t see Mark yesterday, he was…” Taeyong searches for a word to describe the sight, but comes up blank, “It was really bad.”

“Right.” Doyoung still looks dubious, but his eyes soften.

“Haven’t any of them told you anything?” Taeil stresses, looking slightly concerned, “Maybe ask one of the younger kids?”

“Jaemin said Mark’s getting bullied,” Taeyong confessed, “And when I asked Renjun and Mark later, they just said—”

“You lied to me.” Taeyong pauses at the unexpected voice, dread filling his gut when he sees Jaehyun frowning at him, eyes alight with hurt, “How did you talk to them yesterday?”

“I, uh…” He fidgets on the spot as Taeil and Doyoung, as per some silent agreement, both turn to leave to the scene, “Jaehyun, I—”

The taller male steps forward, making Taeyong take a tiny one back.

“I said to sleep after Mark got home, didn’t I hyung?” His eyes don’t even show any anger, only the pain, and that makes Taeyong’s heart bleed from the guilt.

“He didn’t come home, though!” Taeyong insists, hands shaking as he hides them at his sides, “I called him and he said he was at the Dream dorms—”

“So, you should’ve slept!” Jaehyun spits out, and his touch feels like it’s burning through Taeyong’s thin shirt, “Like I asked you to!”

“You didn’t hear him yesterday, Jaehyun!” Taeyong finally snaps, shoving Jaehyun’s hands off him, “And you didn’t see him either! I’m…”

He drops his head, pulling back, “I’m scared for him, Jae.”

He sees Jaehyun’s eyes soften, and hears his sigh.

“You do things I ask you not to, hyung.” Jaehyun breathes out tiredly, and his arms are pulling Taeyong in, so that he’s breathing in his comforting scent, “I just say those things because I don’t want you to stress yourself.”

“I know.” Taeyong curls his fingers around the nape of Jaehyun’s neck to give him a tiny kiss to his jaw—a silent apology—before he steps back, “But I’m still worried about Mark.”

Jaehyun stares at him for a terrifyingly quiet moment, before nods, eyes steely.

“Right, then.” He decides, “We’ll ask Mark about it when we get back to the dorms. But hyung, you should probably stop stressing so much.”

“Okay.” Taeyong gives a half-hearted nod, not entirely convinced.

The both of them startle when loud footsteps echo around the corridors, Donghyuck appearing in a flushed mess of hair and sweat.

“It’s Mark!” He half-sobs out when Taeyong looks at him with alarm, “M-Mark, he f-fainted and—”

“Where is he?” Jaehyun asks urgently, because Taeyong’s frozen, hardly able to breathe because what happened to Mark, why’d it happen and why couldn’t Taeyong see this coming he’s a useless leader.

“Near the water coolers, by the other changing room, oh God.” Donghyuck’s eyes are watery, and Taeyong wants to point out that he’s never pegged him to be the emotional type, but it doesn’t befit the situation at hand and also, Taeyong can’t breathe.

“Right.” Jaehyun grabs Taeyong by the shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eye, “Hyung, go. I’ll take care of Donghyuck.”

“Huh?” Taeyong’s still a little out of it, but he understands at the squeeze of Jaehyun’s hands and jumps into action, racing away even before it occurs to him, “R-Right!”

He dashes through the corridors madly, retracing his steps, and nearly stumbles over himself when he sees Sicheng hovering worriedly around someone. He sees Yuta’s mop of silvery-grey hair, but it dims out of focus when he catches sight of Mark’s pale, pale face, cradled in Yuta’s lap.

“Did you try making him wake up?” Taeyong asks quickly, body moving on autopilot at Sicheng’s helpless shake of the head.

His legs fold from under him as he kneels near Mark’s head, taking his thin, slim features—he never was this gaunt—before he taps the side of Mark’s cheek, trying to get him to stir. It takes a while, but in nearly half a minute, Mark’s eyes flutter, and his lips part, as he groans tiredly.

“Mark?” Taeyong calls softly, as he looks around for something, anything, and his gaze lands on a stack of papers sitting innocently on a table nearby, “Baby, can you open your eyes for me?”

“M-Mark.” Yuta chokes out, carding his hands through Mark’s blonde tresses, “Wake up, please.”

Taeyong starts to fan him with the stack, after folding it once, to get him some air.

“Stay back, Sicheng.” He barks out, feeling slightly guilty when the boy rushes to do so, making up his mind to apologize later, “, where’s everyone else?”

True enough, the corridor is entirely deserted except for the three of them, and , no, Taeyong needs to focus.

“Should we take him somewhere else?” Yuta suggests, and Taeyong quickly shakes his head.

“No, let him stay like this for a little while.” He instructs, only to falter when Mark actually opens his eyes.

“Mark.” Sicheng breathes out in relief, still a respectable distance away.

“H-Hyung?” Mark croaks out, and then he’s struggling to push himself up, “W-What happened, I—”

“Shh, Hyung’s here.” Taeyong coos gently, slowly pushing him down, before turning to face Sicheng.

“Get me a bottle of water as fast as you can.” He orders, and poor Sicheng nearly trips over in his haste to find it.

Mark’s face, meanwhile, scrunches up in confusion, before a dawning realization; and, Taeyong can’t be imagining things when there’s a glimmer in his eyes.

“N-No.” He chokes out, eyes scrunching and no, not tears please, “I m-messed up, hyung, I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry—”

“Hey!” Taeyong interjects, vision beginning to blur with his own tears, “Mark, Minhyung, don’t say that, Hyung’s right here, you did fine baby.”

He doesn’t have any idea what Mark’s apologizing for, but it doesn’t matter, not when he’s a teary mess, and especially not when Yuta looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm right there.

“Here, let me.” Yuta obligingly allows him to take Mark from him, propping the teen against his shoulder, so that puffs of air hit his collar bone every time Mark breathes.

The worry doesn’t lessen, however, as he feels his shirt slowly dampening with every one of Mark’s stuttering breaths, and he soothingly rubs circles into his back. Before he knows it, Mark’s hiccupping into his neck, body almost entirely enveloping Taeyong’s lap, and when he meet’s Yuta’s confused eyes over his shoulder, he doesn’t know what to do.

“Hyung, what’s happening?” Yuta asks urgently, and Taeyong really wants to rip his hair out.

He doesn’t, though, just whispers an, “I don’t know” that has him feeling weaker than ever before. He tries asking Mark instead, murmuring his concern into his ear only for it to double, when Mark just shakes harder, clinging to him more tightly.

By then, Sicheng’s back, a frazzled Jaehyun and Taeil in tow. Taeyong wordlessly take the proffered water bottle, twisting open the cap and coaxing Mark into taking a couple of sips.

“Mark,” He murmurs gently, nudging Mark’s cheek with his shoulder, “You need to drink some water.”

Mark shakes his head, burrowing closer.

“D-Don’t deserve it.” He whimpers, mouth downturned, “O-Oh God—”

“None of that.” Taeyong gently admonishes, biting his lip to stop his own tears, pressing the head of the bottle against Mark’s trembling lips, “Drink this, okay?”

He successfully gets Mark to take a couple of tiny gulps, when he finally registers the low murmur of voices, the most prominent of those being their manager’s.

“Let go of him, Taeyong, we need to get him to the car.” His manager says, though not unkindly, but Taeyong shakes his head, pulling Mark closer to him, “Taeyong.”

He wordlessly lets them take Mark from him, arms decidedly feeling colder. The blonde’s still out of it, stumbling lightly as he’s helped to his feet, with the weak cry of ‘hyung’ coming out occasionally, but Taeyong is numb to it all. He lets Jaehyun pull him into his warmth, normally comforting but now suffocating.

“Hyung, why’re you crying?” Jaehyun asks, brows furrowed in concern.

Taeyong only then realizes his cheeks are damp.

It’s undernourishment.

Taeyong sits there, quietly, as his manager talks to him in slow, soothing tones. The man means well, Taeyong knows, but he can’t force himself to listen past the first two sentences.

“—which is why we’re thinking of admitting him to a hospital.” The man is saying, and that gets Taeyong’s attention, because he jumps to his feet, anger burning in his eyes.

“No.” He snaps out, making his manager balk in shock.

“But Taeyong, listen here—”

“No, you listen.” Taeyong snarls, evidently startling the man, “Mark is fine. There’s something else that’s bothering him, but I intend on figuring that out myself.”

“He could be suffering,” Their manager stresses, “From an eating disorder—”

“That’s not the problem!” Taeyong finally yells out, jumping to his feet, “That’s not the problem, and everyone knows it! You know it too, hyung!”

“Fine, fine!” The man holds his hands up in a placating gesture, eyes softening, “Fine, I’ll let you figure this out, but you haven’t got much time.”

“Thank you.” Taeyong’s dimly aware he’s shaking, as he settles back, voice growing smaller, “Thank you.”

“Donghyuck!” He calls urgently, as he steps into their silent dorms, “I need to speak to you!”

“Jeez, be a little quiet, hyung!” Donghyuck steps out from one of the rooms, “Mark’s sleeping.”

“Oh.” Taeyong is mute for a moment, before he nods, “That’s good.”

Donghyuck eyes him, looking older than his age for a mere second, before he sighs.

“You want to ask about what’s bothering him.” Donghyuck says flatly, and Taeyong nods, “Well, you might want to sit down for this.”

“How bad is it?” Taeyong inquires, as he settles across from Donghyuck on the couch, “It already looks kind of bad, but…”

“It’s…” Donghyuck hesitates, and Taeyong knows he isn’t going to like his answer, “It’s bad.”

“Look, I know the basics,” Taeyong says urgently, hands pressing into his knees, “Renjun told me that Mark essentially got yelled at, along with Chenle, but I don’t get how that’s related to anything.”

“As much as I hate to break Mark’s trust, he didn’t tell you the main thing.” Donghyuck bites his lip, “Look, Chenle actually left before Mark, so he had to hear a bunch of things that I don’t know the details of. But it’s made him really insecure and he always goes to practice his dancing now, for inhumane amount of times.”

“He’s overworking?” Taeyong says incredulously, despite being guilty of it himself, “.”

His fists curl in rage, vision tinting an angry red, at the thought of the man who did this to his dongsaeng. To Mark.

“Don’t go doing anything stupid, hyung, seriously.” Donghyuck warns, mouth thinning, “It’s not going to help.”

“Fine, I won’t.” Taeyong bites out with more venom than intended, making Donghyuck flinch back in surprise, and guilt eases its familiar weight into his bones, “Sorry.”

“Right.” Donghyuck eyes him warily, as he gets up to leave, “You should also probably sleep.”

“Yeah.” Taeyong nods.

Taeyong doesn’t sleep. Can’t.

He stumbles his way to the dance room, finding it empty and carelessly tossing his hat into a corner. He doesn’t turn on the lights, doesn’t try to turn on any music, just moves. Tries to dance his stress away, with every turn, every pivot, every movement defining the rage, and the pure, pure helplessness he’s feeling right now.

He wants to be able to help Mark, the sight of his red-rimmed eyes and guilt-bitten lips imprinted forever to Taeyong’s mind. It’s simply torturous, but he knows he has to keep it to himself, has to figure things out first. He can’t possibly bring the rest of his group in on this mess; he needs to brave through it himself.

Gosh, why does this have to happen to them?

As Taeyong drops to his knees, bead of sweat rolling down his sharp jaw, he finds no answer.