It was stupid. 

They hadn’t even said anything bad. They’d only been saying the truth. He hadn’t done something horribly wrong, and this was on the smaller side of things compared to what other stuff he’d dealt with. So it was stupid that he was here, trying to dance away feelings that shouldn’t exist. 

Right after the... Fiasco . Wooyoung had left the room, found an empty practice room and locked it in his desire to be left alone. He needed to practice anyway, he was falling a bit behind on all dance work except 2pm’s because he’d made sure he’d completely get that first. He set some music on and started practicing a new song, then he’d moved on to focus on creating new choreographies because that was also part of his job now. Not only for 2pm, for himself, for special events inside the company. He wasn’t alone, though, there were others who’ll help him. But he had the time now, so why not try to get ahead of his work?

He snorted, as if that would ever happen. 

Dancing gave him an escape, he knew it was stupid to take those words to heart but his heart was a little stupid too. But as he spun and his arms and legs jutted out and he practically swayed across the room, he couldn’t help but feel a little calmer. 

The calm before the storm. 

The emotions hit in the middle of a contemporary choreo, a style he’d always had to put extra work into. The sudden assault of his own feelings left him precariously balancing on one foot with the rest of his body looming over the floor. He held his breath, blinking rapidly in an attempt to wave off the salty water forming in his eyes. They didn’t relent, and he blurrily watched as a small shiny teardrop hit the gleaming practice floor. 

Gasping, he swung himself backward but in a distraught mindset, he placed his other foot on the ground in a wrong way and ended up falling with a thunk on the beige ground. He jumped back up, and felt something wet make its way down his cheeks. Why was he crying? He wasn’t feeling bad, he’d heard worse. They’d been through worse. Why was this affecting him so much? He dropped to his knees as a bout of rage overtook him and he slammed his fists onto the floor. Wooyoung panted, the sides of his fists stinging and red though he’d only slammed it a few times, no more than six. He was sweating, more than he should’ve been after only an hour of practice. Why was he overreacting? What was wrong with him?

He got up again, struggling a little more than last time. He should’ve brought a bottle of water with him, but unfortunately his stupid mind couldn’t think straight before and not now either. Logically, and even in his heart, he knew he shouldn’ bet, and he wasn’t, that offended by whatever they had said. He had no idea what was causing him to feel so overwhelmed. 

Wooyoung stretched his arm and upper body to grab his phone which had been casually tossed near a wall when he’d first entered. His limber fingers enclosed around the tough case and gripped it tightly. He examined his own grip through curious eyes, before a shake of his head, and a loosened fist. Wooyoung knew that he was more on the emotional half of the group, but that didn’t explain this strange outburst. Still, he could feel it weighing inside him as he tried to ward off the thoughts teetering on the edge of sadness and hurt. He opened his phone, there were personal texts from Chansung, Taecyeon and Minjun, the latter two asking to speak with him and the former asking where he was. Even on the group chat, they were asking where he was. He debated inside himself whether to respond or not, but in the end he didn’t want them to worry (or be burdened) so he sent a quick text to Chansung saying he was practicing. 

The man didn’t like lying, so Wooyoung got up and started the music again. He poured energy into every move, every little step, and still after ninety more minutes, the tears wouldn’t leave his eyes and he had no idea why. 

He collapsed with his back against the wall, eyes fluttering close to rest after he had upped the intensity in order to get these unexplainable feelings away. He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t sad. So why did he want to crawl into a hole, or more preferably, someone’s arms but that wasn’t going to happen because he wasn’t sad. Wooyoung drew his knees together and got ahold of his phone once again. His limbs were aching and he really didn’t think he’d be able to practice just as hard tomorrow, it’s fine, the practice only made him better. 

He didn’t even bother to look at the messages as he opened his phone, it was getting late and he knew it. So he quickly opened up youtube, they were advised to not look at the comments but screw it. Wooyoung opened up 2pm’s latest performance and carefully analysed it. He and Taec had missed a beat there, Nichkhun shortcutted one move, he was positioned too far away, then he was too close… Wooyoung growled with frustration at watching himself perform, how could he ever want less practice time when he was like that on stage? His dance was substantial, but there were details on the stage and something else was missing too. He had no idea what, perhaps he’ll ask the others, but there was some sort of spark missing. Woo felt adrenaline course through him and the need to get up and start dancing again. Glancing at the time, ten o’ clock, he sighed and repressed the feeling. He didn’t want to go back to the dorm yet but he didn’t want the others to worry. 

Wooyoung stood up too fast, his head spinning as he struggled to walk. He stood there for a few seconds, trying to get his bearings before moving again. He finally took a step and uh oh. His knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. Before he could do anything else, his eyes closed and the last thing he felt was his side hitting the cold hard floor. 

***

When Wooyoung awoke, it was too his ring tone blaring into his year. He groaned, curling up ready to go back to sleep. 

Except he wasn’t in bed.

His eyes shot open and here he was, on the dance room’s floor with the lights on and his phone right next to his ear. The man practically jumped up, only to regret it as his head spun. He squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again to look at his phone. It was Eleven, had he been asleep for an hour? Not asleep, he knew he had fainted, but he also knew he wasn’t ready to accept it yet. So the Busan man heaved himself up, more carefully this time. The last call had been from Nichkhun, he’d just been about to call back when the screen lit up again, this time from Minjun. 

“Wooyoung? Where are you? I’m so worried, oh my god, you’re not hurt right?” Minjun’s voice frantically filtered through, Wooyoung felt a pang of guilt at the other’s babbling (and also a pang of appreciation for being cared about). 

“I lost track of time, I’m sorry,” Wooyoung tried his best to put as much genuinity as he could into the apology, he truly was sorry. He didn’t want to worry the others, that was the opposite of his intention. Minjun continued on to make sure he was okay, and Wooyoung didn’t even realize that he had lied about fainting. But the man didn’t mention it, he would not cause further distress to his band not when he’d already done this along with a busy schedule at other times too. “I’m heading home right now,”

“Do you want me to come pick you up? You’re in that locked practice room in the building right?” Minjun’s concern flitted through, at least his mind was off what happened earlier in the day. “Taec and I were checking the rooms before we left and one was locked and then Chansung-ah said you were practicing,”

“It’s okay, hyung,” the younger tried to sound cheery, which hopefully worked even though he grimaced through it. His head was pounding. “I’m coming and I’m fine.”