Oh no, I fell asleep!

That is Taemin’s first thought when he wakes up-

-in a hotel room that he does not remember.

Although it’s entirely possible that he found his way back to his hotel room and then promptly forgot about it, Taemin is willing to bet that he’s no longer in Canada. The décor of the room feels somewhat different from the one he shared with Kibum, though he can’t quite put his finger on the reason why. It’s as if the air itself has changed.

Taemin pulls himself out of bed and s his way through the dimly lit room towards the window and pulls the curtains back to reveal the unmistakeable skyline of Osaka.

Bitterly, Taemin thinks that he should have listened to Kibum and tried to find his way back to his own room; at least then he’d still be in a universe where Kibum is his boyfriend and they are on good terms. Then he tugs at his hair in frustration, because alternate universes are not a thing and what he really needs is to see a doctor.

A buzzing sound interrupts his self-flagellation. Someone’s calling him; the contact flashing on the screen is Jonghyun. It’s out of character for Jonghyun to be calling him instead of texting, especially in the morning, so Taemin immediately answers even though he’s not up for conversation yet. “Hyung?”

“We were supposed to go swimming, remember?”

Taemin most certainly does not remember, and he’s in no mood for a swim either. “Hyung…”

“Oh my God, you’re supposed to be motivating me! What is this?”

“Hyyyuuuunnggg,” Taemin whines, throwing himself backwards into bed.

“Ugh fine, we’ll cancel the swim. Honestly, what was I thinking? I should have asked Minho. But I’m awake already, so let’s get breakfast at least?”

That, Taemin can do. He can figure out why they’re in Japan and Jonghyun – like Kibum – is always worth following when he’s looking for food; he knows the best places and – unlike Kibum – he always pays. “Sure.”

*

Jonghyun takes him to a café that does soufflé pancakes.

The choco-caramel pancakes Taemin orders arrive in a high stack, coated with chococate powder and generously drizzled with caramel, looking eminently Instagrammable. Taemin’s heart splinters just a little more. The weekend before their argument – before all of this started – Kibum had been experimenting with different recipes for soufflé pancakes. They had gone to the Galaxy Mart around the corner from Kibum’s flat and Taemin had insisted on getting rainbow sprinkles to top the pancakes and Kibum had about it; Kibum made pancakes for breakfast, lunch and tea all in a row and Taemin had enjoyed being his assistant chef taste-tester even though he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth. More than the pancakes itself, Taemin loved how excited Kibum had been with his newest project. Whenever Kibum is excited, his eyes light up and he laughs easily.

“Oh, Taemin-ah, where have you floated off to?” Jonghyun says it so melodiously that Taemin is impressed, not annoyed.

“Nowhere, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

Taemin isn’t ready to be honest about his health concerns, so he substitutes it with a situation that’s as analogous as he can come up with spontaneously. “Do you sometimes miss the days when we just debuted?”

“Sometimes,” Jonghyun quickly agrees. He keeps his eyes on his pancakes, as though they’re having a casual conversation, and Taemin appreciates how Jonghyun is always so considerate and so emotionally attuned to his needs to know when Taemin needs such consideration. “Are you missing it now?”

Is he? Taemin drags a forkful of pancake through caramel, buying time for him to think. He doesn’t miss being 15, in the throes of puberty and trying desperately to prove that he’s capable of doing everything – singing, dancing, variety – just as well as his hyungs.

But there is something less tangible about that time that he misses. “Don’t you feel… sometimes, I guess, that you don’t know what you’re doing anymore? I never felt that way back then.”

“At work?” Jonghyun asks.

“Like, when we were younger, they’d just give us a concept and say ‘make it yours’ and we would. And it worked. We never put a foot wrong between Replay and Sherlock. Even Dream Girl.”

“I wouldn’t say we’ve made any missteps since then either.”

“I know, that’s not… we pick concepts now, but honestly, I have no real idea whether a particular concept is going to work or not. It’s like I’m making blind guesses about things which have billions of won riding on them, and I know now that no one else has any more of a clue either, but…” Taemin runs out of words then, not knowing how to describe why things are different.

“But it feels like you’re swimming in the ocean and you’re barely keeping your head above water, whereas before this you didn’t feel that way?”

Brilliant Jonghyun. Taemin sends him a grateful smile; he always finds the correct words for the things Taemin wants to talk about. When he was younger he was so obsessed with proving that he was just as good as any of them, but as he’s grown he’s come to appreciate how they’re strong and clever in ways he’s not without being jealous.

“It’s insecurity,” Jonghyun explains. “It’s not the decisions that bother you, it’s that you don’t feel confident that you’ll be able to deal with the consequences of those decisions.”

Jonghyun is right. “Do you ever feel that way?” Though Jonghyun thinks about things in much more depth than Taemin, he and Kibum are far more confident in their views and wants at meetings than the other members.

“Of course,” Jonghyun replies. “It was a lot worse for me when I was younger, so you just have to push through the-” Something changes in Jonghyun’s face and Taemin glances over his shoulder, thinking that Jonghyun saw something that surprised him. “No, that’s bull. Forget what I said. Taemin-ah, if you feel insecure, then that’s how you feel. Don’t force yourself to pretend that everything is okay. Rely on others, ask for advice, get whatever help you need. If we bring this back to the ocean metaphor, it’s not a sign of a weakness to cling to a lifebuoy if you’re tired of swimming.”

*

Jinie-hyung is apoplectic when they come back at noon, stuffed full of good food and in good spirits. They’re late, apparently, to get to the Kyocera Dome, and Jonghyun apologises for forgetting the schedule. Taemin apologises too, though he has no idea what the schedule is.

It’s an SMTown concert. That’s both a relief and an annoyance; a relief because he’s not in any condition to perform a whole concert, but an annoyance because he’s in no mood to interact with all of his colleagues and to share the limited backstage space with the huge menagerie of SM idols and their battalions of stylists, managers and crew.

On the drive to the supposedly private entry of the stadium, Taemin spots fans lined up, some with cameras and some with letters and gift bags – the vast majority of whom are wearing black t-shirts with EXO’s logo – and wonders whether there is a universe out there were SHINee is more popular than EXO.

Thanks to their seniority, SHINee has been given a decently-sized dressing room. Jinki and Kibum are there; the former sleeping stretched out on the couch and the latter painting his nails black and yellow.

“Yah,” Kibum says when they enter “where on earth did you two run off to?”

Before Taemin can say anything, Jonghyun answers, with glee, “Shiawase no Pancake.”

“Oh my God, you traitor,” Kibum exclaims, exaggerated, and Taemin laughs. This, at least, hasn’t changed. “You keep saying they have the best pancakes and that we must go, then you take this philistine instead.”

“He was awake, you weren’t.”

Taemin leaves them to their friendly bickering and looks around the dressing room, and he finds a setlist on the make-up table. They’re performing Sherlock, View and Fire; thankfully, these are all performances he doesn’t need to rehearse. “This isn’t too bad,” he muses. “But why aren’t we performing anything newer, or Japanese?”

“This again,” Kibum says. “We’ve had this argument already and anyway, what’s the point of bringing it up now? It’s too late to change the setlist.”

“Guys, don’t fight,” Jinki mumbles.

“Fight?” Kyung Hee noona’s voice joins the mix; Taemin turns to the door to find her there together with their usual team of stylists. “What’s this?”

“We’re not fighting,” Jonghyun replies. “Is it time already? We’re not going on stage until much later.”

“Where did Minho run off to?" The question comes from Jung Hee, Minho's stylist. She's sporting a head of red hair, which is a departure from her usual black bob; Taemin's heart beats uneasily at this sudden change, so he averts his eyes and tries not to think about it.

"Probably with Shidae-noonas," Jinki answers.

Taemin follows the beckoning of his own stylist to sit in the make-up chair. Around him, the sound of hairdryers, make-up kits and idle chat fill the air, comforting in their familiarity. Taemin finds himself able to relax a little, so he rolls his stiff shoulders and closes his eyes; he's not going to fall asleep when his stylist is, as always, yanking his hair far too harshly for comfort or blending make-up on his face as if he's a dirty table that needs to be vigorously dusted.

"You're done," she proclaims, and Kibum immediately makes a low sound of disapproval. "Ugh, I'm so jealous," he complains, which prompts Jinki to respond with "You're jealous? You barely take ten minutes more than him, I'm the one who should be complaining about the layers and layers it takes to cover up-"

Taemin heads for the couch and sits next to Minho's grumpy stylist.

"Oh, you're staying here?" Jonghyun asks.

Where else would he go, Taemin wonders. Does Jonghyun expect him to go and hunt Minho down?

"Seniors don't go looking for juniors," Kibum remarks, seemingly out of nowhere. "Right, Taemin?"

"I guess?"

Was Jonghyun referring to Jongin then? He must be here, EXO is on the setlist. Taemin has been so pre-occupied with Kibum that he hasn't given any thought to the other people in his life, like Jongin and Taesun and his parents.

"What are we doing for dinner?" he asks instead.

Jinki replies. "Yunho's rented the penthouse suite for an afterparty, most people will be going there I guess."

Jonghyun makes as much of a sound of disgust as he can with his stylist applying lipgloss on him. "The Hyatt's food is always this close to stale, though. Unless he's planning to order pizzas or something."

"People don't go to afterparties for fine dining," Kibum replies, and privately, Taemin agrees.

"Who's not going?" Jonghyun asks.

Jinki shrugs. "I don't know, me?"

"Why bother answering then? Kibum-ah, are you going? And how did I not hear about this party?"

Kibum tips his head back to allow his stylist to powder his neck. "You kidnapped that kid and ran away? The news was going around as we were departing from the hotel. And of course I’m going. Do you think I have it in me to say no to free booze?”

Taemin sighs aloud. There go his hopes of getting Kibum alone after the concert.

“Oh, what do you have to be sighing about?” Kibum asks.

“It’s nothing,” Taemin replies, but by then everyone’s attention has turned to the door, which creaks noisily as it’s pushed open. Minho comes in, leading a troop of girls who Taemin recognises as their juniors, Red Velvet. Their hair is dyed in wild shades and he can’t place whether this is something else that’s odd or whether it’s just a part of their promotions. The room, which is already a bit small for Taemin’s tastes, now feels claustrophobic.

“Oppa, there you are!” Seulgi says; Taemin only picks up that she’s talking to him when she squeezes past the stylists to sit next to him and loop their arms together. “Why didn’t you come to find me?”

Why would he, Taemin wonders. Had he promised to show them a particular dance move or was it a social thing, encouragement or congratulations on a new album or achievement? Irene and Wendy sit on the couch too, crowding them, and Seulgi shifts closer to him; so close that they’re practically glued together.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

She huffs, but not angrily. “It’s okay, I came to find you. I’ll always come.”

It’s an unusually flirtatious statement. Taemin thinks she’s overstepping a little when she leans in as if to kiss him, and then he’s throwing himself back so quickly that he nearly pulls a muscle.

“What are you doing?” he cries out, louder than is polite but surely he can’t be blamed for that? He glances around the room and finds every single person studiously avoiding them, as if they’re witnessing a private moment.

Dread creeps over Taemin. He turns back to Seulgi, who is angry now. She’s got her arms crossed and her eyes are wet, and she’s not looking at him either. “You never change,” she hisses. “I don’t know why I try so hard when you don’t care.”

“Change?”

“We’re in a closed room. The only people in here are your members and mine, and they all know we’re dating. You don’t have to act like I’m a leper even in here.”

The only word Taemin hears is ‘dating’. He looks to Kibum again, anxious, but Kibum is feigning interest in an eyeshadow palette. No one has contradicted Seulgi; no one even seems surprised by her statement.

“Aigoo…” Minho squishes himself into the already overloaded couch. “Don’t fight now, you’ll have a miserable time on stage. Seulgi-yah, he’s always like this, but you guys can have a good time at the afterparty, right?”

“Whatever,” she replies. “I’m clearly not wanted here, so I’ll leave. Thank you, sunbaenim, for apologising even when you have nothing to apologise for,” she says to Minho.

The girls leave with her, and Yeri takes the time to shoot him a baleful glare before she closes the door behind her. Taemin feels like a worm in the sun.

“Yah, you should lighten up a little. I know you’re being careful but you don’t have to push her away-”

“No, he has every right to,” Jonghyun interjects, on his behalf. “Just because they’re dating, does it mean that they own each other? If he doesn’t want to be touched, she should respect it.”

“Oh come on,” Kibum says. “She wasn’t groping him, she just went for a kiss. If anyone I was dating recoiled from me like that, it would be over in a heartbeat… Taemin-ah, you need to buy her something expensive.”

It’s so casual, the way Kibum says it, as if the idea of Taemin dating someone else means nothing at all to him. What happened to them?

A wave of nausea washes over him.

He pushes past the stylists, ignoring Jinki’s calls for him to stay and Jonghyun and Kibum’s continued bickering. Luckily, the layout of the Kyocera Dome is not new to him; he manages to find the nearest bathroom and make it into a stall just in time for his stomach to empty itself in a violent rush of bile and half-digested brunch. He heaves and heaves until his shoulders and back ache and sweat drips down his forehead and still his stomach roils.

“Sunbae, are you okay?”

He doesn’t recognise the voice asking. “Get my manager,” he chokes out. He feels like he’s dying.

By the time Jin raps on the door of his stall, the worst of it is over. Taemin sits on the floor and rests his head on the cool cement of the wall, and tries not to breathe too much or too quickly or too heavily in case his stomach is triggered again. He slides the lock open with his foot – flexibility being one of the perks of being a dancer – and Jin comes in. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to go to the hospital,” Taemin tells him. “I think I’m having a .”

From the way Jin’s expression morphs from disbelief to horror, and the way the blood drains from his face, Taemin guesses that he wasn’t expecting a problem on this scale when he was summoned here by Taemin’s junior. “Why do you think that?”

“My mind isn’t right,” Taemin says, before realising how vague that description is. Why can’t Jin take him at his word? “It’s like… my brain is swiss cheese, there are so many holes in it. I can’t remember coming to Japan, I don’t know what concert this is or what year or day it is, apparently I’m dating Seulgi but I barely even recognise her face-”

“Okay, okay, calm down-”

“How can I calm down?! I’m dying! I’m turning into a vegetable and no one seems to notice!”

“Right, okay.” Jin holds his hand up, putting a stop to Taemin’s rant. “We’ll get you to a hospital, all you have to do is not panic.” He makes a call to someone – Taemin doesn’t know who – and helps Taemin to his feet. “Steady, can you walk to the car?”

“Yeah.” His legs are weak, but his body is fine; it’s his brain that’s failing him.

Outside the bathroom, an audience has gathered, of managers and juniors but not one person from his own treacherous group. Not his boyfriend who it appears is no longer his boyfriend. The thought makes Taemin’s legs weaken and he sways in Jin’s grasp, and Jin steadies him with an arm around his waist. “Just a little more, Taemin-ah. You can do it.”

They go down to the basement. A car is waiting just outside the lifts – a nondescript silver Honda instead of the sleek black MPVs they use – and in the driver’s seat is Euisoo. Jin puts him in the passenger seat and tells Euisoo to take care of the rest of the group, and then they’re off to the hospital. It is a tense ride, with Jin driving over the speed limit and Taemin trying not to panic; his heart is racing and his stomach is spasming despite being empty, and despite that all he can think of is Kibum’s expression, the laughter in his voice as he told Taemin to buy Seulgi something expensive.

*

“How long has this been going on?”

Taemin doesn’t know how to answer that question. To him, it’s only been a few days since that night that he argued with Kibum, but time seems to have skipped back and forth since then. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ve lost sense of time.”

The doctor’s mouth thins. Not a good sign then. “Can you tell me what your memory is like?”

So Taemin does; he explains how he’s lost all memory of where he is and how he gets there and everything that happens around brief periods of consciousness, of how the things he does remember are like islands in a vast ocean of things he cannot remember, and he watches as Jin’s face pales even more until the poor man looks like he’s on the verge of a panic attack himself.

The doctor sends him for a battery of tests; MRIs and x-rays and brain-wave measurements; Jin dutifully follows him to each one as though he’s Taemin’s shadow, until at long last all of the tests are done and they’re sitting in the lobby waiting for the results to be sent to the doctor so that he can advise them. Outside, the sky is dark; the concert must be well underway now, or perhaps even close to its end.

He wonders what will happen to him. If he has some sort of brain wasting disease, and it’s so bad that he’s forgotten more than he remembers, then it’s unlikely he’ll be able to work much longer. He’ll probably need to stay in some care home, or else he’d be a terrible burden to his family.

He’s expecting the worst when the doctor calls them back in. What he doesn’t expect is for the doctor to say “Well, the tests all came back negative for any physical ailment. Apart from a low body fat percentage and slight dehydration, you’re in good health.”

“I’m not lying,” Taemin protests, frustrated.

“I don’t think you are,” the doctor replies. “The problem appears to be psychological, not physiological. There are many reasons why people forget, or block, certain memories. Trauma, stress, depression… that’s not my area of expertise, so my recommendation is that you stop working for the moment and consult a psychiatrist.”

*

“I’m not crazy,” Taemin says, even though he knows that people with mental health issues aren’t actually crazy and that if Jonghyun heard him, he’d be disappointed. “Nothing traumatic happened to me.”

After leaving the hospital, Jin let him know that Lee Soo Man had flown out to Japan the moment he’d heard about Taemin going to the hospital. He’s at the hotel now, waiting to see them. His concern is worrying; Taemin feels like a prize racehorse that’s on the verge of being shot.

Jin is surprisingly magnanimous about it. “Maybe your mind is blocking the traumatic event, that’s why you think nothing has happened. Perhaps it’s so tied to your daily life that you forget more memories than you remember. That’s why you need to see a psychiatrist, to go through what you’ve forgotten to find what’s common to those memories.”

The common thing, as far as Taemin can tell, must be Kibum. Kibum is such a large part of his life that if his mind were trying to block memories of him and things that are affected by him, it would end up looking like the post-apocalyptic hellscape that it currently is. But if that were true, Taemin thinks, it’s not something he can easily share with a company-mandated psychologist.

“You’re treding,” Jin says then, breaking his line of thought. “The members explained your absence by saying that you have a stomach bug, so fans are trending tags like get well soon and whatnot.”

“Should I post something?”

“Not now. Let the night pass, tomorrow you can post an apology and say you’ve recovered.”

The Hyatt looms in the foreground.

“Am I really dating Seulgi?”

That question makes Jin smile. “Yes, why do you sound so upset about it? You’re the one who asked her out… I swear, you didn’t stop smiling for a whole week after she said yes.”

*

On the 2^nd floor of the hotel is the hotel’s most expensive suite; it takes up the entire left wing and can only be accessed with a special fob. That is Lee Soo Man’s room for the night, and that is where Jin takes Taemin.

Soo Man throws his arms open in greeting. “Taemin-ah, are you alright? The moment your manager told me you asked for the hospital I told myself that there must be a serious reason for it. I know you, you’re the sort who would dance even with a broken leg, so tell me, what happened?”

“He’s losing his memories. Couldn’t even remember where he was, couldn’t remember the songs and dances they were supposed to do, he couldn’t even keep his food down,” Jin says, coolly lying on his behalf. “I thought he was having a , so I’m the one who decided to take him to the hospital.”

“That’s the right decision,” Soo Man says. “These things need immediate treatment. But you’re back so soon?”

“Tests were inconclusive,” Jin lies again. “The doctor said he’s probably not in any danger, but he’ll need to see specialists to figure out what’s going on.”

“Don’t you worry, Taemin-ah, we’ll get you the best treatment money can buy, even if I have to pay for it myself.”

It’s a half-truth, as most things are with Soo Man. As long as he’s still useful, they’ll spare no expense keeping him in prime condition; the moment he becomes a liability, they’ll cut him off like a rotting limb from a healthy plant. Nonetheless, half a mercy is better than none.

“Thank you.”

Soo Man waves it off. “Have you eaten? You must be tired. Why don’t you go and rest? Order some room service, whatever you want.”

Taemin gratefully grasps this excuse to take his leave. Jin walks him back to his room – he doesn’t remember the number – and waits with him until the Italian set meal he ordered gets there.

“Did the members ask about me?”

“Of course,” Jin replies “But Euisoo told them it was a stomach thing. If you want to tell them the truth, you can.”

“Where are they?” is what Taemin asks, but what he means is ‘why haven’t they come to see me?’

Jin only answers the question he hears. “Minho and Kibum are at the afterparty, Jinki’s gone out by himself and Jonghyun is at Kichisen with Taeyeon, Junmyeon and some others.”

As soon as Jin leaves, Taemin abandons his meal to root through his suitcase. In his shaving kit, he finds his emergency stash of Xanax and pops one, chases it down with Coke from the mini fridge and chucks the rest of his uneaten meal in the bathroom where he can’t smell it.

As artificial sleep makes his eyelids heavy, he checks his phone.

There are no messages from Kibum.

XXXXX

hiya! this update took a while, but to compensate it's a bit longer. enjoy!