Taeyong wakes up to the loud clamor of voices.

Well, to be honest, Taeyong can’t even tell if he’s actually awake or not, because everything’s swimming around, tracing dizzy shapes into the ceiling. His arms feel like lead, and so does his head, as he tries to push himself up and falls back against the bed, pillow cushioning his head. He curls into himself just a bit, shivering as the goosebumps prickle across his skin.

It’s really cold.

For some reason, Taeyong feels…kind of lost. As he manages to finally sit up, head slumped against the wall, he recalls going to meet Dream’s dance instructor. Remembers the scathing words, the burning touch and—

He squeezes his eyes shut.

“I don’t want to be an idol anymore.”

His body throbs, as he forces himself up, knees nearly buckling under his weight as he makes his way to the door. It’s getting harder to breathe, he realizes faintly, hand grappling feebly for the doorknob. It feels cool against his fingers, and Taeyong wonders if he could just stand there, relish the cold against the heat of his skin, but he knows he can’t do that. His legs wouldn’t last that long anyway.

Leaning heavily into the wall, Taeyong manages to pull open the door, though his arm aches after that, and staggers out, blinking at the sudden light spilling into the hall. Now that he’s not in the darkness of his room any longer, he can actually coherently make out the shouting, and it leaves a sick taste in his mouth.

“It’s not his fault!” Taeyong’s heart jumps when he hears Mark shout, Marks’ here, he’s okay, he’s alright, “He didn’t know, Donghyuck!”

“It doesn’t matter!” That Donghyuck’s nasally voice, screaming into the air, Taeyong dimly acknowledges, as he forces another step forward, “He’s our hyung, he should’ve taken care of you in the first place and—”

“Very honestly,” That’s Jeno—Taeyong stops, and furrows his eyebrows—and what are the Dream kids doing here? He figures they might’ve come to see Mark, since they’re likely concerned, “We should’ve helped from the start because it wouldn’t have come this far.”

“What’re you saying?” Donghyuck sounds furious, and Taeyong winces, “That it’s my fault? I tried okay, it’s not my fault Mark wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Donghyuck.” That’s Taeil speaking, voice sharp, “Look, we all made mistakes—even us, I acknowledge that. But there’s nothing we can do about it now, except try and fix things.”

“Hyung, it’s not.” Taeyong just about loses it when he hears Mark sob, and he’s almost there, just a couple of steps, come on, “I should’ve done something, it’s my fault, but please don’t blame—”

“If you’re going to say Taeyong hyung, you should stop right there.” Donghyuck presses, “He should’ve helped you, and he didn’t.”

“Because I didn’t let him!” Mark corrects hastily, voice still teary, but Taeyong’s frozen, shocked still.

That…was his name, right? Taeyong knows he hasn’t done enough for Mark but for someone else to point it out…it hurts. More than the waves of heat crashing over him, more than the drums in his skull, more than everything; there’s an ache in his chest, a silent poison that takes its own sweet time to close up on him.

He should’ve tried harder, should’ve taken care of Mark better, he’s terrible, terrible, terrible and why would anyone want to defend him? He’s the one who’s messed up.

Taeyong’s mouth tastes sour now and he pushes forward those few steps, thin frame shivering from the blast of cold he gets from the movement. His hands find an armchair nearby, as he wobbles his way into the living room, where people are crowded to each other, tension palpable.

No one’s seen him yet, entirely focused on Donghyuck’s fuming, narrowed eyes, directed at Mark; the Dream members, especially, look particularly terrified, with Jaemin looking half as though he wants to in, but is too afraid to actually try. Jeno has his hand on Donghyuck’s shoulder and, as Taeyong slowly trudges his way in from behind them, is saying something to the brunette in hushed tones.

Taeyong looks up and locks gazes with Yuta, who’s pressed against the counter of the neighboring kitchen, arms crossed; the Japanese man’s eyes quickly widen, though, and without a word, he pushes forward, ploughing between Donghyuck and Mark to support him, arm hooking around Taeyong’s waist.

“Thanks.” Taeyong says tiredly, words mushing together, as Jaehyun notices, soft eyes narrowing into crescents.

“Taeyong.” He says sternly, hands on his hips, and that’s when everyone else notices he’s there.

“Hyung?” Mark’s pale face swims tantalizingly in front of him, pinched in worry and fear, maybe, “You should…should be resting, right?”

Taeyong shakes his head groggily, fingers pressing into Jaehyun’s arm when Yuta passes him over.

“No.” He rasps, dizzily, clinging to his partner, “Just…I just need to sit down.”

Donghyuck’s staring at him with wide eyes, even as Jeno pulls him back; though, to be frank, even he’s staring at Taeyong like he’s some kind of zoo animal.

Exhibit A: The Failed Leader.

Taeyong smiles to himself bitterly, even as Jaehyun sets him down on the couch which Taeil was previously occupying. Taeyong looks around confusedly for the brunette, finding him smiling reassuringly at him from Mark’s side. His gaze is clear, focused—everything Taeyong isn’t feeling up to being, at the moment.

“What’s happening?” He asks, head pressed back into the inviting coolness of the couch. It’s strange, he finds, that his head feels warm, while the rest of him trembles from the cold.

Jisung takes that as a sign to step forward, face significantly paler than the last time Taeyong remembers seeing him.

“Renjun hyung told us you came to the dorms.” Jisung says quickly, “He was pretty freaked out. Apparently, he said you looked like you came from a fight and were looking for Mark so we came here.”

“Hyung.” Jaemin interrupts, taking a hesitant step towards Taeyong, “Are you… are you sick?”

“No he is.” Donghyuck mutters petulantly, but something in his eyes is softer, before he turns back to Mark, “Look, I’m sorry I said all that, but…”

He cuts himself off, blinking quickly, and Mark seems to understand, hesitantly holding his arms open. Donghyuck wastes no time, folding into them and pressing his head onto Mark’s shoulder.

“I know I messed up.” He cracks out, and Taeyong hurts, just at the sound of his voice, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not…” Mark looks lost, eyes wide, and Taeyong wants to step in, but before he can do that, Renjun’s already moving forward.

“Donghyuck, it’ll be fine.” The orange-haired boy says, though even he looks weary, and Taeyong has a strong sense of sadness because these are kids, they shouldn’t have to deal with these problems, “But no one knows what’s really going on?”

“Is it the bullying thing?” Jaemin interrupts quietly, and that’s when Yuta reacts.

“Bullying?” He demands angrily, before turning his piercing gaze on Taeyong, who can only curl up some more, “Hyung, you never told me that—”

“I found out for sure just…” Taeyong scrunches his features, unsure of the timeline, “Y-Yesterday?”

“Today.” Jaehyun corrects gently, eyes shadowed, “Look, this is becoming messier as we speak. I think we should just…have some alone time first, and then talk about everything again.”

Donghyuck looks like he wants to argue but, at Mark’s pleading gaze, snaps his mouth shut, looking positively murderous.

“Actually, hyung.” Taeyong looks up blearily at the sound of Mark’s voice, “I’ll…I’ll talk to them first.”

Taeyong absently waits, before he realizes that everyone’s looking at him for permission (isn’t that strange) and nods.

“Just…” Taeyong coughs, throat burning, “Just remember your limits, okay? D-Don’t go overboard.”

Mark nods, looking worried, before his expression clears, turning into bashful realization.

“Well, I can’t walk, so…” He looks at each of the hyungs, gaze trailing from Taeil to Yuta to Sicheng (Taeyong didn’t even realize, he’s so out of it) to Jaehyun to Taeyong again and, wait, they’re missing people. Worry strikes Taeyong: shouldn’t Mark be seen by a doctor? Then, he remembers his own refusal to do so, and wallows in his hypocrisy.

“We’ll clear out.” Taeil nods, before hesitatingly putting his hand on the blonde’s shoulder, “Look, I hope you’ll be alright. But you’ll need to talk about things with us too.”

“Okay.” Mark smiles weakly, though Taeyong can still see the indecision dancing in his eyes, “Thanks, hyung.”

“Wait, guys.” Taeyong interrupts, wincing as a wave of pain rocks his skull at the loud tone he’s tried to use, “Where’s Doyoung? And Johnny?”

“Doyoung had a schedule,” Yuta answers quickly—Taeyong should’ve remembered, why is he like this, how did he even become leader—before his eyes dim in muted confusion, “But I don’t know about Johnny…”

“Oh my god.” Taeyong’s attention is drawn immediately back to Mark, who meets his glossy eyes with horror, “Hyung, hyung, I told him, I told him, oh God—”

“Hey, hey!” Donghyuck tries to calm the blonde down, but Mark’s shaking only gets worse and Sicheng moves forward, cupping Mark’s cheeks with his hands.

“Shh, breathe.” He says soothingly, and Taeyong’s too petrified to even move, because he understands exactly what Mark’s talking about and if Johnny knows—

“Hyung,” Jaehyun’s gripping his shoulders, bringing him back as always, “Relax. Let me take you back to the room and—”

“Jaehyun,” Taeyong says shakily, “Johnny knows, Jaehyun—”

“Well I don’t.” Jaehyun snaps, and Taeyong flinches at the sudden harshness in his tone; the blonde realizes that and exhales heavily, shaking his head, “Can we just…let’s just go back inside, please?”

“Okay.” Taeyong lowers his gaze, even as Jaehyun gets up. His breath is permanently stuck in his throat, and he feels kind of sick as Jaehyun helps him make his way back to the room, grip tight. Something’s wrong with the man and Taeyong isn’t sure what, but he’s probably justified in his anger.

Anger is all Taeyong deserves.

“J-Jaehyun?” He asks hesitantly, once he’s pushed onto the bed, and Jaehyun’s slammed the door shut behind them, “What’s…what’s wrong?”

Jaehyun chuckles, but it’s all wrong, it’s not supposed to sound like this, so distorted and jaded. Taeyong’s heart is fixed in his throat.

“What’s wrong?” He chokes out and, in the next second, he just flops over on his own bed, pressing his face into his hands, “You can’t seriously be asking me that.”

Taeyong can’t speak, at loss for words. His headache is growing worse, but he doesn’t know what to say.

“Look, even Johnny knows!” Jaehyun brings his hands back from his face and no, his eyes are rimmed red and Taeyong doesn’t know what to do, “I’m your…I’m your boyfriend, and you always leave me out of the loop and I thought…I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

“I mean,” He adds, eyes scrunching up in pain, and no, Taeyong can’t handle that, “I didn’t even know about this until Mark pointed it out.”

He takes Taeyong’s hand, running his fingers lightly over the reddish bruise spread over Taeyong’s knuckles, and the dried blood that he hasn’t washed off yet, “I didn’t know even know about the blood, I…”

He breaks off, and Taeyong doesn’t hold himself back anymore, hands wrapping around the taller man tightly, holding him close.

“It’s not mine.” He says quickly, though it doesn’t do much to improve Jaehyun’s mood, he can tell.

“You mean the world to me.” Jaehyun cuts through, voice muffled under Taeyong’s sweater, “And I don’t know, I feel like you don’t think I’m trustworthy enough—”

“No.” The words resonate heavily in Taeyong’s mind, the stream of they don’t trust you coming back to haunt him, “Jaehyun, you mean…you mean everything to me, I just…”

He drops his head onto Jaehyun’s adjacent shoulder, arms winding further around the blonde, as he scrambles for words.

“I just…thought it would be a burden.” He admits it quietly, the one thing that’s been bugging him since the beginning, “I thought I could take care of everything on my own but…”

He closes his eyes, letting the tears trace their familiar path down his cheeks, “I’m not good enough for that.”

He feels Jaehyun tense and inwardly winces. Has he made everything worse? He’s so dumb sometimes, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying and why is he supposed to be the responsible one when he doesn’t even know how?

“Who told you that?” Jaehyun demands, and Taeyong shakes his head, pressing his trembling body into Jaehyun’s cool embrace. His skin feels like it’s on fire again, “Hyung, who told you that?”

“No one had to.” Taeyong shakes his head, and bites his lip because maybe it’s time Jaehyun sees how messed up he is, how out of control and crazy. The tears don’t stop, the tears never stop.

Jaehyun opens his mouth to say something, but the door is slammed open then, with Taeil walking inside purposefully, only to balk in poorly constrained shock. Taeyong’s cheeks flush when he realizes what it might look like to them, and he sneakily wipes away his tears.

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” That’s Yuta’s voice, and he screams in horror at the sight, flailing dramatically into Sicheng’s arms.

The Chinese native, for his part, looks entirely unamused.

“Taeyong is hurt?” He asks Jaehyun seriously, even as the other two remain frozen in shock.

“Something like that.” Jaehyun nods, smiling weakly, though he rubs Taeyong’s back—they’ll be talking more later, “What’s up?”

“We just wanted to talk about everything that’s been going on—” Taeil starts, only for Yuta to interrupt.

“We can come back later if you’re busy though, bye—”

“No, it’s okay.” Taeyong slurs—huh, when did his head get so heavy—and rolls out of Jaehyun’s hold, propping against the wall and reveling in its chilly surface, “Come in.”

“If you’re sure…” Taeil looks unconvinced.

“Is there something happening?” Sicheng asks, even as he makes himself at home on the other bed, “Between you two?”

“No, we’re fine now.” The squeeze of the hand Jaehyun delivers him is loaded, and Taeyong gives a tiny one back, even through the haze, “But you’re right, we need to talk about things.”

“I’m sorry to ask you this while you’re still sick, Tae.” Taeil says seriously, as Yuta closes the door, “But do you know what Mark’s talking about, exactly?”

“Yeah.” Taeyong nods, looking down and picking at the bedsheets, “But I don’t think it’s my place to tell, Taeil hyung.”

“Okay, fair enough.” Yuta crosses his arms, looking unnaturally serious, “But how about we talk about what’s going on with you?”

“You have been acting strange.” Taeil concedes, “Ever since Mark—” He breaks off, eyes alight. “Is it connected?”

“No!” Taeyong answers quickly, throat still raspy, because there’s really no connection, Taeyong’s always known, “I just… I’ve been thinking.”

“Thinking.” Sicheng repeats flatly, and since when has the cheerful boy been this worn-out? Another mistake on Taeyong’s part.

“Look, we can tell something’s up.” Yuta glances at Jaehyun, who’s being strangely silent, “And it’s getting kind of annoying, because we can see that, but you don’t clue us in. Ever.”

Taeyong can’t speak, because Yuta has a point. But he can’t possibly tell them the reason why, can’t just say I don’t want to tell you because I know you’ll leave me and I’ll be all alone.

“Look.” Jaehyun finally speaks, “I kind of feel the same as you guys, but Taeyong hyung isn’t very good at confiding in people.”

“He…” The blonde hesitates, catching Taeyong’s eyes and as much as Taeyong wants to shout no, don’t do this, he knows it’ll have to happen eventually. So, he nods.

“He thinks he’s a burden.” Jaehyun blurts out and, not expecting that, Taeyong turns to face him with wide eyes bright with fever, “He doesn’t understand that we all love him, and that we’re a team and we’re supposed to work together.”

“Is that true?” Taeil asks, face paler. Yuta’s freckles are stark against his cheeks and that’s funny, Taeyong has never noticed those before.

But Taeyong doesn’t know what to say, how to refute it. He drops his eyes to the bedspread.

“Hey.” Taeil says, voice soft, “Taeyong. TY. Taebreeze.”

Taeyong can’t help but crack a smile at the familiar nickname, even as the tears continue to course out of his eyes, and Taeil’s answering grin makes him feel warmer.

“We love you, okay?” Yuta’s voice cracks as he bites back his own tears (why? Not for Taeyong, surely), while Sicheng doesn’t bother with words, just barreling right into Taeyong and squeezing him to near death. Even still, it feels nice, and Taeyong drops his head onto the boy’s shoulder, trying to get closer. His eyelids feel heavier than usual, so maybe he’s tired?

“I don’t know about the others,” Taeyong looks tiredly at Jaehyun, chest warming when his slender fingers entwine with his own, “But I’m going to remind you of that every single day until you start to believe it.”

“Hey, what do you mean by that?!” Yuta affronts jokingly, before grinning a bright, teary smile that looks so familiar it hurts, “You’re the pillar of NCT, right? You’re the one who’s always supporting us, hyung.”

“Exactly.” Taeil nods, before smirking, “And Lord knows my job would be much harder if you weren’t.”

“I…” Taeyong chokes out, but words fail him, because this is something he only could’ve ever dreamed of, one of those dreams that reaches for the stars but never comes to being.

“Uh,” Sicheng hesitantly interrupts the quiet, which is beginning to get awkward, “Group hug?”

He scrunches his nose rather adorably then, “Did I say that right?”

“Yeah.” Taeil acknowledges with a soft smile.

“I’m on board!” Yuta bounds over happily, throwing his arms around Taeyong, and then Jaehyun and Taeil exchange a glance, joining in on the huddle as well, “Expect this from the rest of us every day!”

Taeyong’s never felt this warm before, head smushed awkwardly at Taeil’s collar bone, and arm pressed at an odd angle between Sicheng and Jaehyun’s torsos, Yuta breathing uncomfortably into his neck. It’s…it’s nice.

And Taeyong allows himself a bit of hope.

 Hey! I remembered this time, and I'm low-key proud. Thank you for reading this story!! It means a lot :)