Mark wakes up, vision swimming, to an unfamiliar face. Understandably, his first reaction is to freak out—ergo, grab his pillow and try to whack the figure with it.

That is, until his vision adjusts and he sees Johnny staring crossly at him, hair ruffled and messy.

“Oh, hyung.” He drops the pillow, flushing in shame, “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t see you there—”

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

“Y’know,” Johnny interrupts his thoughts, and Mark watches in confusion as his mouth quirks into a half-smile, “I was gonna apologize to you for totally being a the other day, but now we’re even.”

“What?” Mark’s confused because what’s Johnny even talking about? “You weren’t mean to me, hyung.”

“Yes, I was.” Johnny interrupts, tone firm, and Mark swallows back his protest, “I didn’t see that you were struggling and was… mean to you for no reason, Mark. It’s not excusable, so don’t you even try.”

“…Okay.” He agrees quietly, even as his mind cries its dissent, and Johnny nods with a pleased hum, “N-Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything but…why am I here, hyung?”

He looks around confusedly, seeing Donghyuck’s well-made, uninhabited bed next to his.

“Oh.” Johnny’s mouth does this strange thing, and Mark doesn’t know what expression he’s going for, “To be honest…I don’t know.”

“What?”

“Well,” Johnny looks awkwardly at the bedspread, picking absently at it, “Taeyong found you. In the dance room, all knocked out, apparently.”

“Hyung…found me?” The words taste strange in Mark’s mouth, even as Johnny nods, and he shakes his head, “In the dance—”

It all hits him at once and he gasps at the sudden tumble of emotions riding through him, the pain, fear, desperation, pain-tears-pain and Taeyong hyung, where is he?

“Taeyong hyung.” Mark chokes out, tears already dribbling down his face already. His hip stings, in a painful reminder, “Johnny hyung, where is he, please?”

“Whoa!” Johnny holds Mark back as he struggles to get out of bed—he needs to see hyung now, needs him—hands warm, but not enough, “You’re not nearly rested enough! Besides, he can’t really see you right now either.”

“What?” The last sentence gets Mark’s attention, and he shakes in his spot, “What happened to him?”

Is hyung hurt is he okay is he is he is he—

“Nothing serious.” Johnny assures, pushing Mark down to lie in bed again, even though the blonde’s muscles are taut, wanting to jump up again, “Just a mild fever, he’ll be alright.”

“Fever?” Mark whispers out, words dripping off his tongue like acid, burning him through.

Taeyong hyung’s sick. He’s sick. Sick because of Mark, because Mark keeps asking him for more and more, and there’s nothing more to give, but he still asks.

“Mark.” Johnny lays a hand on Mark’s thigh, the uninjured side, “Is something wrong? Why did you pass out?”

“I…” Mark doesn’t want to tell him, but Mark’s weak, so he blurts it out, “My hip was hurting a lot yesterday.”

“Which one?” Johnny’s frowning and look what you’ve done, stressing him out too, like one hyung isn’t enough, “This one?”

At Mark’s shake of the head, he points to the throbbing side, the one to the wall, “That one?”

“Yeah.” Mark rasps out, voice shaking. Johnny pays it no mind, gently reaching around Mark to turn him over and he hates that he can’t help, can only watch, “Hyung, please, be careful.”

“I got it.” Mark winces as Johnny gently takes his left leg and props it on his lap, before gently pulling up the loose cloth of his pants, “Just tell me if—”

His hands freeze, just as his voice breaks off, and Mark’s too afraid to look, but he does anyway because he’s so dumb, dumb idiotic Mark.

Johnny’s eyes are wide, shock filtering through them unabashed, as he gapes at Mark’s side. When Mark follows his gaze, he understands as well, nausea rocketing through him at the sight of the mottled purple spreading over the jut of his hip, blue tinting the edges, like his skin is a canvas for pain.

“Who…” Johnny looks furious now, eyes burning, “Who did this to you?”

Mark doesn’t trust his voice, just shakes his head. When Johnny repeats the question, he shakes his head again. And flinches, when fingers gently take his chin to tilt his head so that he can meet Johnny’s soft, understanding eyes.

“Tell me who it was.” Johnny asks kindly, voice still carrying that determined steel to it, and because Mark’s stupid, he tells him.

And Johnny’s gone, leaving cold air behind him and a half-opened door.

Eventually, Mark pulls down the leg of his pant, and tries hobbling to his feet. His legs immediately buckle at the pain, so he gives up the venture, collapsing onto his bed again. His eyes, once again, stray to Donghyuck’s bed, and he can’t help the tiny sound that escapes from his throat.

He wants Donghyuck. Needs Donghyuck. But since he was stupid, Donghyuck finally left.

“Mark?” He sees Yuta and Doyoung’s anxious faces peering through his door, “Can we come in?”

Mark feels an unnecessary spike of fear at the sight of Doyoung—eyes narrowed into a glare, voice sharp—but shakes it off, trying for a smile, and nodding.

“Is Taeyong hyung feeling better?” He asks worriedly, trying to relieve some of the pressure crushing his chest.

“A bit.” Doyoung answers hesitantly, looking like he wants to say something but is inadvertently interrupted by his companion.

“Forget Taeyong, right now!” Yuta rushes to sit by Mark’s side, hand combing through his hair, “Focus on yourself first! Are you feeling a bit better? Should I try to make something: soup, maybe?”

“No thanks, hyung.” Mark says frankly, but half-heartedly returns his embrace, “I just…”

Want Taeyong first.

“How long have you been feeling like this?” Doyoung asks softly, and Mark stiffens as the bed dips under the extra weight. He knows what it means, but he doesn’t want to hear it.

“Not very long.” Mark looks away, and he knows Yuta and Doyoung are exchanging concerned glances from above his head right now.

“Look, Mark,” Doyoung says, and Mark tenses, “I’m sorry.”

…What?

He blinks, not expecting that. He’s gotten two apologies today…and for no reason, as well? It doesn’t make—makes no sense, why should the hyungs need to apologize when they’ve done nothing wrong?

“For what, hyung?” He inquires, and he truly doesn’t understand, “You were just upset, it’s understandable.”

“No!” Doyoung violently protests, even as Yuta gets up to go make something for Mark, “I was stressed about that interview, sure, but there was no excuse for me to take it out on you.”

The same thing Johnny said. How strange.

Mark stiffens when Doyoung pulls him close—his second hug for the day—and rubs his back comfortingly.

“Hyung is sorry.” He pulls back, eyeing Mark critically, “I should’ve taken care of you better, and I’m sorry for not living up to that.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“It is.” His tone brokers no argument. Mark nods, conceding defeat, even though he doesn’t understand why everyone’s being so nice to him all of a sudden. He doesn’t deserve any of their kindness if he’s only pulling them down.

He startles when Doyoung plants a wet smooch against his cheek, before freezing entirely, cheeks slowly turning cherry red.

“H-Hyung.” He buries his face in his hands as Doyoung, “Why?”

He doesn’t want to admit it, but it brings a warmth to his chest that he’s been missing for a really long time now.

By then, Yuta’s come back, holding a tray of piping hot stew.

“Sustenance for you!” He jokes, before glaring at Doyoung, “And don’t harass my baby.”

“He’s not your baby.” Doyoung sticks his tongue out, and even though Mark knows he’s only doing it for fun, his cheeks warm, “He’s Taeyong and Jaehyun’s love child!”

He’s ashamed to say it, but Mark actually chokes.

“Hyung,” He wheezes, smiling for the first time in a long time, “That’s a terrible joke.”

“Besides,” Doyoung continues, ignoring Mark’s protests, “He’s also my lovely dongsaeng, so I can dote as much as I want!”

He litters Mark’s face with little pecks after that, and Mark grows warm when Yuta abandons the soup, laying them on him too. It’s the safest he’s felt in a while, surrounded by his hyungs’ warmth, and he wishes he could just live in this moment forever.

“…So, who’d you think bottoms?”

“Hyung!”

“Doyoung!”

Once he finally manages to finish the soup, Mark eyes Doyoung carefully. No matter how much he’s laughed in the past hour or so, he still can’t get Taeyong off his mind. He just…he needs to make sure that Taeyong’s okay, that Mark hasn’t done too much damage.

Before he can actually open his mouth to ask, Doyoung speaks.

“I…have to go right now.” He says carefully, “I’ve got a schedule. But Yuta’s here, and Taeil hyung and Win should be back from the store, so they’ll keep you company.”

His warm gaze solidifies into a glare.

“Do not get out of bed, you hear?” He raises an eyebrow, and Mark can actually see the undercurrent of worry in his eyes.

“B-but,” Mark blurts out before he can stop himself—he never could control his stupid mouth, “T-Taeyong hyung. I need to see him!”

“Oh my god.” Doyoung sighs in frustration, before snapping, “Okay fine, go see him! But straight to bed right after.”

“Okay, hyung.” Mark nods eagerly relieved, and doesn’t even complain when Doyoung hugs him and heads out of the room. His hands are starting to get clammy, and he knows why.

Since Yuta isn’t back—and Mark physically cannot hold himself back any longer—he manages to swing his legs over the bed, wincing as the action shoots a spike of pain up his left side. He bites his lip unsurely, setting his uninjured foot on the ground first, before gingerly setting his left down as well. When there’s isn’t any pain, he takes it as a sign and stands up.

Only, that’s a mistake, because he comes toppling over, a blistering pain burning into his side, and Mark squeezes his eyes shut, waiting for impact. He’s so stupid, he should’ve figured his body’s too weak and—

He doesn’t hit the ground.

Instead, he feels strong arms encasing him, and picking him up rather easily.

“Hyung?” Mark squints, knowing it’s one of them but not entirely sure; that is, until he sees Sicheng’s full lips turned down, “Oh, uh, thanks.”

“Mark.” Sicheng says seriously, as he opens the door again, “Doyoung didn’t tell to wait?”

“I mean, he did but.” Mark shifts uncomfortably under Sicheng’s unnaturally strict gaze, “I, uh…”

“Mark.” Sicheng sighs, “The other hyungs… worried. I am too.”

“Thank you.” Mark hesitantly lays a hand on Sicheng’s arm, before promptly flushing, “I can try to walk?”

“No.” Sicheng shakes his head resolutely, akin to a child, “You’re hurt. I won’t let you.”

“Okay then.” Mark can’t stop the redness in his cheeks anymore, and buries his head into Sicheng’s neck, “This is so embarrassing, I’m not a baby.”

“But Mark’s hurt.” Sicheng counters smoothly and Mark gives up. It feels nice to be doted on again, after being in charge of things back in the Dream dorm—

Mark’s eyes widen, and he swears in his head. He totally forgot about them, and a hot curl of shame passes through him when he realizes he’s worse at being a leader than he thought. A leader wouldn’t ever forget about any members. Taeyong, for example, always makes it a point to message Mark and Donghyuck with encouraging messages whenever they’re promoting Dream.

There’s so much Mark needs to live up to and he… he really can’t do this anymore. He wasn’t lying to Taeyong when he said he didn’t want to be an idol; he’s not good enough to continue doing that. But… Mark just doesn’t know. What does he want that he’s good enough for?

“We’re here!” Sicheng’s bubbly voice reaches Mark again and, as he pushes open the door, Mark stiffens.

“Can you put me down?” He asks Sicheng quietly, and the man obliges this time, setting him gently down on a soft mattress: Jaehyun’s maybe? Mark can’t remember well enough.

Speaking of Jaehyun, the man’s looking more tired than he ever has before, as he approaches Mark. He feels a quick flush of guilt, seeing the haggard man’s normally vibrant eyes look so dulled.

“Mark.” He automatically pushes against the palm that’s set against his head, a sigh releasing into the stillness of the room, “How are you, my soulmate?”

Mark can’t help the tiny giggle that escapes him, even as his muscles protest at just that, so he just forces a smile to his lips.

“I’m okay.” He lies, “How about Taeyong hyung?”

Jaehyun stares at him unwaveringly, before he relents and looks to the other side of the room, where a bed is pushed up against the wall. Mark can’t see well enough, because of the dim light, but he guesses that the shape is his hyung.

“Taeyong hyung.” Jaehyun’s features scrunch up, “He’s got a pretty high fever—”

“Johnny hyung said it was mild!” Mark blurts, panic beginning to build up, “Didn’t you guys call Manager-nim yet—?”

“Hold your horses.” Jaehyun squeezes Mark’s shoulders tightly, though he looks like he needs that more, “Johnny hyung probably didn’t tell you because he knew you’d react like this,”

Guiltily, Mark looks away. He’s feeling that particular emotion a lot these days, and it makes sense considering how much he’s messed up.

God, he doesn’t even know how to start trying to fix everything.

“Secondly,” Jaehyun continues, pulling Mark from his thoughts, “I…Taeyong hyung isn’t letting me contact anyone. He says he can deal with it himself.”

“No, he can’t.” Mark wants to jump out of bed and hug Taeyong to death, even though he’s the reason this happened in the first place, “Jae hyung, please.”

“I promised.” Jaehyun whispers guiltily, “But if we can’t bring it down by tonight, I’ll have to break it.”

“Can I…” Mark chokes back the bile threatening to climb up his throat, “Could I possibly see him?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already, to be honest.” Jaehyun says, but there’s a tightness to his eyes, “There wouldn’t be something keeping you from that? Linked to why Win had to carry you here?”

“I, yeah…” Mark’s throat closes up, and he feels uncomfortable with his hyung for the first time, “I hurt my hip, s’all, but it’ll be better by tomorrow, no doubt.”

“If you can’t walk because of it, then we should probably get to the hospital.”

“No!” Mark blurts out hastily, no hospitals he hates them, “I don’t want to go, please!”

“Mark.” Jaehyun presses, “You clearly have a serious injury. An injury which, I’m ashamed to say, I haven’t even seen yet.”

He holds up a hand, and Mark’s protest dies in his throat. Why can’t Jaehyun understand that Mark doesn’t want to hurt people anymore?

“Since you and Taeyong are obviously in over your heads, you are going to have to rest for as long as we think you need to.” He’s obviously referring to the rest of Mark’s hyungs, “And if, only ‘if’, we decide you can move around again, you can do what you want. Until then,”

Jaehyun catches Mark’s eyes, more serious than Mark’s ever seen him, “Rest.”

Mark doesn’t know how, or why, but something in Jaehyun’s words triggers his tears, as they trickle out slowly.

“Hyung,” Mark can’t help the low sob that escapes him, hands pressing to his mouth; why won’t they stop? “Hyung, I… I’m…”

“Shush.” Jaehyun pulls him close, Mark’s head fitting perfectly into his taller body, “It’s alright, Mark, it’s okay to cry.”

“I’m so tired.” He chokes out, everything rushing to him at once, like a huge tide crashing over his head, “I don’t want to do this anymore h-hyung, I’m s-so t-tired.”

“I know.” Jaehyun sounds close to tears—Mark’s fault, all Mark’s fault—and runs a soothing hand down Mark’s back (but he doesn’t deserve that), “I know.”

They stay like that for a while—Mark doesn’t want to talk, while Jaehyun is soft, but there, unwilling to pry—when a low groan interrupts them.

“Jaehyun.”

Mark’s beating heart nearly stops in his chest at Taeyong’s recognizable voice, even through the sickness. It’s rougher than Mark remembers, more coarse and tired and why couldn’t Mark keep his problems to himself, why did he need to pull Taeyong into everything?

“I’m here, babe!” Jaehyun calls, gently shifting Mark to the side so he can go over to Taeyong’s bed. Mark watches dazedly as Jaehyun bends down to gently whisper something to the cloth-swaddled bundle, sees Taeyong undoubtedly struggle to sit up even through Jaehyun’s protests.

“No, I can take care of myself.” Mark can finally hear Taeyong’s hoarse voice, but still can’t see him as he leans against the headboard of his bed, “…Why’s it so dark in here?”

“I’m turning the lights on, wait.” Jaehyun sounds cross, and Mark instinctively wants to curl into himself, because maybe it’s his fault; he hears Jaehyun muttering to himself about stupid, overworking idiots, even as the light switch is flipped on.

And, as he blinks away the harshness of the light, Mark can finally see Taeyong. He’s completely cocooned in a blanket, but Mark can still see his flushed cheeks and watery eyes, and still hear his labored breaths. His skin is deathly pale, though, and sweat is beginning to bead along his brow: a sign that the fever might gradually be dissipating.

“Taeyong hyung.” Mark whispers, and he wants to reach out, take his hyung close and apologize over and over again (even though it’s never going to be enough), “Hyung, I’m—”

“Why…?” Mark’s throat closes up as he watches Taeyong struggle to get the words out, “Why…aren’t you in the hospital?”

“Because he’s just like you.” Jaehyun makes his presence known, and Mark startles, having completely forgotten about him, “Self-sacrificing, and entirely oblivious to everyone else’s feelings.”

Mark experiences a foreign feeling when Taeyong flinches back at the words, maybe an anger? Protectiveness? He isn’t exactly sure, but it’s quelled when Jaehyun notices, and his eyes soften.

“I’m sorry.” The blonde rakes his hand through his hair, flopping down next to Taeyong and that’s when Mark realizes he’s just as tired as the two of them, “I wasn’t thinking when I said that, I didn’t mean it.”

“No,” Taeyong’s voice cracks as he whispers, “It’s alright, I…”

He breaks off helplessly, the most vulnerable Mark’s ever seen him, eyes shining and bright with sickness.

“Can you help me up please?” He sounds pained, and it hurts Mark even more than his hip does, because Taeyong’s always been sostrong for Mark that seeing him like this is just unbelievable. Taeyong looks small, so tiny, and he can’t believe he’s never noticed, he’s a terrible dongsaeng—

Mark manages to hobble to his feet before Jaehyun can, and all but throws himself at Taeyong’s unprepared figure, arms wrapping around his hyung before anyone can even blink. His leg screams with pain, but it’s irrelevant, now.

He feels, rather than hears, Taeyong’s sharp intake of breath, but doesn’t care how disgusted his hyung’s got to be with him because he needs this, needs to show Taeyong how much Mark loves him and how much Mark owes him. How apologetic he is because he’s ruined Taeyong life.

Taeyong’s hand trails over his back, startling him when it brushes against the nape of Mark’s neck to pull him closer, so the younger rapper can feel the heat burning through his clothes. Taeyong seems thinner than before, Mark realizes as he tilts his head to the side—

Only to freeze, at the sight of red coating Taeyong’s knuckles.

“Hyung.” He whispers, horrified, hands shakily taking Taeyong’s, “W-What is this?”

Taeyong’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head, refusing to meet Mark’s eyes, and this only makes Mark all the more concerned, heart rate spiking in fear. For some reason, he’s got a feeling that Taeyong’s done something that he thinks is wrong, but that doesn’t make sense, Taeyong’s never been wrong about anything.

“What?” Jaehyun’s distorted voice sounds from behind them, and Mark momentarily tenses, having forgotten about his hyung’s presence entirely (a terrible dongsaeng, that’s all he is), “Tae, is that…”

A low gasp.

“Is that blood?”

“No!” Taeyong gasps hurriedly, before his entire body tenses up and a cough wracks his thin form, rocking Mark with it as well. Mark feels so helpless like this, watching his hyung suffer and being able to do nothing to help.

“No, it’s just a bruise.” He whispers wearily, before his eyes drift shut, “Jaehyun, I’m…I’m really tired.”

His fingers, pulsing hot and scorching Mark’s skin, claw gently at Taeyong’s cheeks, as though trying to keep himself awake.

“Go to sleep, hyung.” Mark encourages, even though a tiny part of him thinks maybe hyung’s trying to avoid me because it makes sense, Mark hasn’t done anything but burden him, “I’ll…see you later?”

“Hm, yes.” Taeyong’s is already lolling into Mark’s shoulder as he speaks, hot breath ghosting across his skin, “Hyung loves you, just… just remember that.”

“Okay.” Mark squeezes Taeyong the tiniest bit, blinking back tears because does hyung really mean that? Does he actually love me, even though I’ve only ever hurt him, only ever pushed him away and hurt? “I…I love you too, hyung.”

Taeyong’s already fast asleep, though, breath rattling in his throat and features scrunched up tight in pain. Jaehyun’s hands are already at work, separating Mark from his hyung gently and helping him lie down. Mark just watches them, something bitter in his mouth—no, not jealousy, that would be ridiculous. Just…he just wishes he has someone like Taeyong does, his own source of comfort. But, Mark’s not worth it, so he should probably just give up.

“Mark,” Jaehyun helps him stand, and Mark lets him numbly, “D’you wanna go sit outside and watch some TV with me?”

“You’re not staying with hyung?” Mark blurts out, and freezes, but Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind, smiling sweetly at him.

“Hyung’s going to be okay.” He says firmly, as he helps Mark into the armchair, across where Yuta’s settled on the sofa, “Don’t worry.”

“Taeyong?” Yuta asks, and at Jaehyun’s nod, laughs reassuringly, “He’ll be in tip top shape, soon!”

“I hope so.” Mark whispers, attention turning to the bright lights on the TV, letting it play patterns across his face. It doesn’t even register, what he’s watching, but it’s silent, peaceful, just like he prefers.

The peace, of course, only lasts a minute, before the door is slammed open, and a blur of brown races in, headed straight for Mark.

His breath catches, upon impact, stopping in his lungs because Donghyuck’s pressed close to him, tears soaking into his shirt.

“.” He chokes out, and Mark is too surprised to react as the wet spot on his shoulder grows, “Hyung, I’m so sorry.”

Yuta looks concerned, while Jaehyun just smiles reassuringly—but Mark isn’t looking at them, no. His hands wrapped tightly around Donghyuck, he’s looking at the doorway, where the members of NCT Dream stand, a similar look of horror decorating their faces.