Jimin realizes there are things he could have done differently. Logically speaking, he knows that he should have recognized his familiar behaviors, that he should have paid more attention to the signs and taken them as a legitimate warning and then acted accordingly.

But the funny thing about stress is that it's hard to overcome... And the funny thing about epilepsy is that it gives absolutely no leeway, no slack.

It's just that he's always been so smart about it. It hadn't been an issue in his adult life because he understood the limits of his body and he understood what he had to do to take care of it. That's not to say he doesn't push his body to (and sometimes past) those limits, but he always draws a line somewhere.

He'd gotten to the root of his triggers a long time ago, long before Bangtan. He knows what stress and poor body management does to his brain and his nervous system. It's all about balance, really. If he's on a strict diet and exercise plan, then he makes sure to sleep well and not take on more schedules than he can handle. If they need to go days without sleep, he makes sure he's eating, drinking water, and taking breaks. When he has back-to-back performances that all require a great deal of physical and mental effort, self care becomes almost as much of a priority as his stages. And he always, always takes his medication. He knows that drugs can only do so much, but he still acknowledges their importance to the general function of his body. Because of this, he makes sure to take his medicine every 24 hours without fail- even when he's in a different time zone having just landed from a 12-hour flight and the last thing he wants to do when he gets to his new hotel room is dig through a carry-on for a bottle of pills before collapsing into bed. 

It helps that the managers, executives, and band leader are aware of his condition and how to handle him if needed. They always give him opportunities to take naps on those especially long weeks, providing him with empty studio space or dressing rooms for 20 minutes here and there to rest up without drawing any extra attention to the somewhat special treatment. Over the years, they have even managed to work out a system of looking after his nutritional health without seeming condescending or controlling. Jimin is thankful for their efforts, and it hadn't been an issue for so long that his condition was no longer a constant presence in his mind.

Perhaps he should have thought about it a bit more.

He's getting his makeup done when he begins feeling withdrawn. He doesn't even realize it himself until he's asked a question by an approaching stylist and can't seem to comprehend the words coming out of or the thoughts in his own head. He had simply allowed himself to mentally check out sitting in a tall chair surrounded by flourescent lights with his eyes closed as the makeup artist carefully applied the finishing touches to his look. It's only him and Hoseok left in the dressing room, the others already in the space preparing for their... what was it? A performance? An interview? Ah- that's it- They were due to record another TV interview this afternoon following the two they did live for separate radio stations this morning as a part of their packed American schedule. They were only in town for a few days and were probably well overbooked.

"Jimin-ssi?" the call of his name fights hard to break through his consciousness, but his eyelids and tongue are simply too heavy to respond to his body's commands; he couldn't even quirk up his lip in a smile when he heard Hoseok's infectious laughter, likely assuming he'd fallen asleep in the makeup chair. His name gets repeated yet again by the same stylist, and he knows her- he knows her very well, she is their head stylist. She had traveled with them to many different countries, he'd signed photocards for her children, even exchanged gifts on birthdays... but for the life of him, Jimin could not picture her face nor remember her name in that moment.

Jimin's eyes open in what feels like supersonic speed (but looks more like he's trying to move through molasses) as the realization dawns on him that this is it- he's going to have a seizure. His mouth goes dry and he needs to communicate what's happening, but the words are jumbled in his head. His eyes glance around in a panic, trying to find something that might help. He knows what he's supposed to do, he's learned this, he's practiced this. He's supposed to tell someone what's happening, and then he's supposed to lay down. He runs through the instructions over and over in his head in the following seconds, but can't muster up the ability to follow them. The two commands occupy his mind so much that he finds himself incapable of acting, incapable of identifying his surroundings or the physical aspects of his own body.

It's only when Hoseok comes closer, much too close to his face, that he can focus on anything but his circular thoughts. He's speaking, and he looks concerned- downright frightened, more likely. Jimin can relate; he's afraid and confused right now too. He wants to look beyond Hoseok's face to get a better grip on reality, but when he tries, all he can see is his own reflection in the mirror in front of him, and wow, that's not me, why are the lights so bright, who are these ladies around me, what was I just doing?

That's just too much for his mind to handle, and he knows there are more important matters at hand, he just can't remember what- Oh! Somewhere in the back of his mind, it registers that he only has a few minutes to settle things before he loses what little communicative ability he has left.

"Help," and he's gasping, hands clasping around the plastic arm rests of his chair. He was never able to tell if the shortness of breath was a symptom or just the manifestation of his anxiety with the situation. Regardless of how long he's been living like this, he always hates the seizures- hates them so much. And it's been so long, truly, since his last that he's even more afraid that he's not as mentally prepared as he used to be.

In his early teenage years, he would have insisted that he's never fully prepared, that they're always like this and that there's nothing he could change at this point. He only got serious about preventative measures once he began thinking seriously about auditioning as an idol, because as scary as the seizures may be, perfection in all other aspects of his life took precedence: dance, appearance, grades. But the motivation to train and perform on the larger stage, doing what he loves for a living with others who depended on his health as much as he did caused him to crack down on his destructive habits. It worked throughout his trainee period, though he was required to disclose all information about his medical condition to Bighit just in case. That proved to be useful just weeks after Bangtan's debut when Jimin's body failed him several hours into a private vocal lesson. After that incident was handled by their head manager Sejin, the company found it necessary to clue Namjoon in as well, and after heavy discussion with everyone involved about how to avoid a similar situation, there had never been another slip-up.

Hoseok is about three seconds short of combusting. He doesn't spare a thought to the fact that he's ruining Jimin's newly styled hair by running his fingers through his bangs to brush them up off of his face. "Jimin, can you hear me?" he asks gently, thankfully contrasting his unnerved mind. He only noticed something was amiss when Jimin became unresponsive after appearing to wake up in the makeup chair. "Hey, Chim, are you alright?" He's speaking slowly and clearly in hopes that Jimin will be able to hear and understand him. 

Suddenly, Jimin's unfocused eyes lock with Hoseok's as the younger's body tenses slightly. "Help," he gasps out, and Hoseok's brain goes into overdrive.

"What can I do?" he's asking, worried that his friend is having a panic attack. He knows touch doesn't always have positive effects on people experiencing such levels of panic, but Jimin is such a tactile person that Hoseok doesn't think twice about cupping the younger's face in his hands. "What's wrong? How can I help?" he reiterates after several moments of silence while Jimin's eyes flit between each of Hoseok's.

It's quiet for a bit longer, but Hoseok sees Jimin's mouth moving slowly and his throat contracting in attempts to produce sound. "I- ... I- I- hyung," he gasps again after the utterance. "I'm- seizure, help." One of Jimin's hands moves from the arm rest to grasp at Hoseok's sleeve.

The older is at a loss. "You- you what?" he asks dumbly. He averts his eyes for only a moment to meet those of the woman who had been doing Jimin's makeup, presumably an Asian-American who may or may not speak Kor