Junmyeon sits bolt upright with a gasp so loud it rings in his ears. Bright light hits him like a blow to the face, and he squints painfully, raising a hand to his eyes to shade them. It is sunlight that’s dazzling him, he realizes after a few moments. Sunlight, but sunlight as he’s never experienced it before. It somehow seems to be coming from around him and below him as well as above. As his eyes adjust to the brightness, he becomes slowly able to see his surroundings. He lowers his shading hand and looks around.

What? The word drifts, small and bewildered, into a mind gone blank with confusion.

He is sitting on sand. Fine, white-gold, sun-baked sand, burning hot even through the fabric of his jeans. The sand stretches out in all directions as far his eyes can see, endless miles of rolling white dunes, patterned in ripples where the wind caresses them. The sky is a high, high bowl that stretches down around him to touch the horizon. It is such a pale blue it’s almost white, and the white sun glares fiercely in it. The heat bakes down through his hair, so powerful it feels like it’s burning his scalp, but for some reason, Junmyeon doesn’t feel hot at all. He isn’t sweating, though the air is scorchingly dry and shimmering with heat-waves. In fact, he is cold. He digs icy hands into the hot sand at his sides and shivers.

“What’s happened?” he asks aloud, and his voice is a small, lost sound in a vast world of emptiness.

“Where am I?”

***

Suho is surrounded by rows upon endless rows of glowing lightsticks, all jumping in rhythm, stretching high up into the darkness of the stadium as far as his eyes can see. The screaming is deafening, but he’s used to that. His earpiece pumps the backing track into his ear as he jumps and waves in time with the beat and the screaming fans. Endorphins race through his body as he sings and shouts to the crowd. He pours his heart and soul into every concert, and the fans pour the energy back. It’s an incredible feeling, indescribable, and he’s so high on it he feels like he could fly. He wouldn’t change this for the world.

“I say E-X, you say O!” he chants along with the other members, and the fans cry the chant back at them. “E-X-O! E-X-O!”

The stage thrums with energy, pulsing up through his feet. Suho makes his way down one of the long catwalks extending out across the stadium floor. Below him, the front row of fans are kept several metres clear from the stage edge by metal barriers and security guards. From the catwalk opposite Baekhyun waves to catch his attention, and when Suho makes eye contact the other singer tosses something small across the gap between the catwalks. Suho snatches the spinning phone out of the air with one hand to screams of adulation from the crowd. It is set up to broadcast live to the giant screen the size of a building at the back of the stage, so that the fans can see what they see. He points the camera back at Baekhyun and sees him flash up on the big screen behind him. He laughs and points the phone down at foot-level, panning across the excited faces of the front-row fans behind their metal barricade.

The beat changes into a faster, driving rhythm, thumping through his body. Suho spins around to see Chanyeol coming up the catwalk behind him. The rapper holds a microphone to his mouth and launches into a blazing rap, punctuated by bursts of light and coloured smoke all around. Suho holds the phone up, catching Chanyeol on the giant screen behind them. He slowly walks backwards as Chanyeol advances down the catwalk towards him, keeping his face in the frame. Chanyeol looks awesome. His deep red hair is styled up like an anime character, and although he’s wearing an intense expression to match the rap, Suho can see the fun sparkling in his eyes.

They’re pretty close together now, Suho still stepping backwards as Chanyeol raps into his phone screen. Coloured smoke explodes up on both sides of them, and lasers beam down through the smoke. Chanyeol is coming to the end of his rap. Suho focuses on the phone screen, watching Chanyeol through it, and at the same time he starts to think about the next part of the show, about the song that comes next and what position he needs to get into. 

Chanyeol’s rap falters and his face changes, mouth opening in sudden alarm, microphone dropping from his hand as he starts to reach out. Suho’s backward-stepping foot comes down, expecting to land on solid ground, and finds only empty air. He hasn’t a hope of saving himself, and Chanyeol is just far enough away that his frantic lunge isn’t quite enough to reach him.

He falls. The fall only takes the space of a single heartbeat, but to Suho that heartbeat seems an eternity. He’s falling, falling, falling—

He hits the stadium floor three metres below with a blow so stunning it seems to momentarily drive him out of his own body. His head bounces off the concrete with an ugly crack, and a starburst of agony explodes in the centre of his brain. The phone flies out of his suddenly nerveless hand. It bounces once, and shatters. For a moment, everything goes black.

Screaming. There’s darkness and there’s screaming, and it’s different screaming now. He hears the difference. Not excited screams anymore. Scared. These screams are scared.

Distantly, Suho knows what has happened. He has fallen off the stage, and now he is lying motionless on the ground beneath it, like he’s dead, or at least badly hurt. No wonder the poor fans are screaming. He has to get up. He has to let them know he’s okay. And he will. He will. He just needs a second.

The blackness crowding his vision recedes a little, and high above him he sees Chanyeol. The rapper is crouching at the edge of the stage and staring down at him. Suho tries to focus on his face, but suddenly Chanyeol is leaping down, dropping the three metres to land in a crouch on the stadium floor. Suho tries to sit up, but Chanyeol goes to his knees beside him and holds his shoulders to the ground.

“No, hyung. Don’t move.”

Chanyeol has gone dead white and his eyes are like dark holes in his face. Suho wants to tell Chanyeol not to look so scared, to let him sit up and show the fans he’s okay, but suddenly there are more people everywhere, dozens it seems, all crowding around him, blocking him from view of the crowd. He sees the black uniforms of security guards, the orange vests of the event medics, and then everything starts to go blurred and confused. Medics take over from Chanyeol, holding his shoulders down, and Chanyeol grabs his hand instead.

Suho wants to say something, anything, but somehow he can’t quite find his way to his mouth. Instead he squeezes Chanyeol’s hand. I’m okay, he tries to make the squeeze say. Don’t look so scared. I’ll be fine. Just give me a second.

***

Well, he’s not going to find out what’s happened by just sitting here in the middle of the endless desert and staring.

Junmyeon gets to his feet and brushes white sand from his jeans. It’s so fine it’s almost powder. It leaves behind a pale dust that coats his skin and makes it sparkle. There’s mica in the sand, he thinks, or quartz, perhaps. Tiny crystals that reflect the sunlight. He turns around in a circle, searching for anything, anything that looks familiar, any clue that might help him figure out where he is and how the hell he got here.

He thinks they were going somewhere. Yes, that feels right. They were going somewhere, him and all the others. It was going to be a long journey, long and hard, but it would be okay because they were together. But they are not together now. Where are the others? Why is he all alone here in this strange, empty, endless white desert?

A distant strain of music reaches him, like the echo of a memory, and it brings words with it, and the association clicks.

El Dorado.

That’s right. They were going to El Dorado.

***

There is music all around him. Suho hears Kyungsoo’s voice lift up and soar, clear and powerful as always. Yes, their next song, that’s right. They have to keep the show going. Chanyeol shouldn’t be down here with him on the cold, dark floor beneath the stage. He should be up there with the others. The show must go on. That’s the rule, that’s always the rule. No matter what happens, the show must go on. Suho should be up there too, he knows he should be. And he will be. Maybe he won’t quite make it for this song, but the next song for sure.

I just need a second, he tries to make his voice say. His lips move this time, he thinks. Is he speaking? Maybe. It’s too loud with screams and music to tell.

“Hyung?” Chanyeol’s distraught face is breaking Suho’s heart. The young rapper leans in closer. “Are you okay? Can you hear me? Hyung…”

The medics are doing something to him but Suho ignores them.

“Chanyeol...” His own voice sounds weirdly distant.

“Yes, yes hyung, I’m here.”

“Go...get back on…”

Chanyeol shakes his head. His lips set into a stubborn line in his white face.

“No! I’m not leaving you.”

“They...need you...”

“You need me more,” Chanyeol says fiercely. Suho closes his eyes. Chanyeol is going to get in trouble if he doesn’t get back on stage soon. One member down isn’t so bad, and it’s only Suho, he’s not all that important, they can manage without him. But losing Chanyeol too will put too much strain on the others. Chanyeol is the main rapper, he has so many lines. EXO needs him.

“Hey, kid, stay with us,” a different voice says firmly. Slowly, Suho opens his eyes again. It’s harder than it should be. The voice belongs to one of the medics, an older man with hair greying at the temples and a calm, professional voice. “I need you to keep your eyes open, okay?”

“Hyung, you'll be okay.” But Chanyeol is nearly crying. Suho can hear it in his voice.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Don’t worry ‘bout me…”

His eyes are just so heavy. It’s so hard to keep them open. They’re trying to close of their own accord, and he has little power to stop them.

“What is his name?” the medic asks Chanyeol.

“Junmyeon. Kim Junmyeon.”

“Junmyeon, you still with me?”

Suho tries to reply, but he doesn't think he quite manages it.

“Open your eyes for me, Junmyeon,” the medic commands again. Suho tries, he really tries. He wants to do as he’s told. He almost cries with the effort of it, but he manages to open his eyes again.

“Tired…” he whispers. Everything is going strange and dim. There’s a sharp pain growing behind his eye. His eyes want to close. He wants to sleep.

But no. The concert. The next song. He was going to get back onstage for the next song. His vision begins to twitch, and he starts to shake. How could he forget something like that? He needs to be on stage. He’ll ruin the concert. 

“Chanyeol,” he cries suddenly. “The next song!”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says tearfully. “You don’t have to do it.”

“No, I h-have to—” He’s shaking so much his teeth are knocking together, and he’s cold. He’s so cold. Fear rises up inside him, and he starts to gasp for air, panicking.

“It’s okay, Junmyeon.” It’s the medic again, voice just as calm as before. “It’s just the shock. It’s the adrenaline flooding your system. It happens when you have an accident like that, but it’s okay, you’ll be fine. Hey, you’re still listening to me, right?”

Dimly, Suho understands that the medic is talking to keep him from giving in to the dragging sleep that’s trying to pull him away from the panic and the rising pain behind his eye. He tries to stop shaking and gasping. He tries to answer. He wants to tell the medic that he understands and that he’ll stay awake, and he wants to tell Chanyeol not to worry, that he’ll get a grip any moment now and he’ll be back onstage for the next song, but he’s lost the way to his voice again.

The medic continues. “Tell you what, Junmyeon, you’re going to have a hell of a headache but you’re going to be fine, you just stay still and stay awake for me, and you’ll be fine, right? Right, Junmyeon?”

Why are they calling him that? It’s a concert, he’s performing. He needs to be Suho right now, not Junmyeon. He tries to tell the medic this, but he’s shaking too hard to get the words out. He needs to get back on stage.

He tries to fight the medics off. They’re strapping him to something hard, big wide straps across his chest and over his forehead, and he can’t be strapped down now, he can’t let them do this to him. He needs to get up and get back onstage!

“Stop fighting,” the medic tells him firmly. “It’s important that you don’t move. We’re going to take you to hospital.”

“No,” Suho cries weakly. “Chanyeol, don’t let them take me...tell them I’m okay...I can still do it…” But even though he wants to, he really really wants to be able to do it, he somehow understands that willpower might not be enough to get him through this time.

They’ve tied him down and now they’re lifting him up and the world is sailing away from him in swoops of pain, in screams, in flashes of light and darkness. He closes his eyes to get away from it all.

“Stay with me, kid,” the medic repeats. “Junmyeon? Open your eyes for me, Junmyeon…”

***

“El Dorado,” Junmyeon says aloud. Now he remembers. The words bring Tao’s confused, permanently tired-looking face to him.

“El Dorado?” he’d repeated, fumbling with the unfamiliar words as they’d studied the lyrics to their new song. “What is El Dorado?”

“It’s a place,” Junmyeon had explained. “A mythical place.”

“El Dorado.” Yixing’s voice now. The words had come dreamily in his gentle voice, and Junmyeon had seen the dreams reflected in his eyes.

“It sounds magical, right?” He’d smiled at the two Chinese members. “It sounds like a shining city in the middle of a vast desert, or a castle built on a floating rock high among the clouds. The kind of place where it’s always sunrise or sunset, and where the world is always just about to end, or perhaps it’s only just beginning.”

“A place in a story,” said Tao, and Yixing smiled his dreamer’s smile.

Now Junmyeon understands. He doesn’t know what has happened to the others, or why he has ended up in this endless desert all alone. But he knows he has to go to El Dorado.

A shining city. Junmyeon looks around again. There ought to be a shining city. He shades his eyes against the bright, hot sunlight that is somehow failing to warm up his icy body and searches the horizon. And there, between two rolling sand-dunes far, far away, he sees a flash of silver. He stares harder, and sees tiny, distant towers, gleaming domes and spires reaching for the sky. He takes his hand from his eyes. It is so far away he almost despairs of ever reaching it, but he has no choice.

He starts to walk.

***

A thumb gently opens his eye and he sees the face of the medic peering down at him.

“That’s it, good kid. You see me now, huh?”

“Yeah…”

“You stay awake for me, okay?”

He hears the double thump of car doors closing and realizes the ambulance siren he’s been hearing all along had gotten really loud and then stopped, and now there are lights flashing, and cool outside air on his face, which is the only part of him not covered by a rough blanket which tickles at his chin. Despite the blanket, he’s freezing.

“Chanyeol?” he whispers. He rolls his eyes, since his head has been strapped down to stop him moving it, but he can’t see Chanyeol anywhere. Did he go back on stage? That’s good, that’s what he should have done. Suho is relieved, but at the same time, he’s scared. He’s scared and he’s alone, and even though he knows it’s selfish, he wishes Chanyeol was still with him.

He feels movement and hears people talking above him, and then he’s inside a building which he knows is a hospital, and someone is getting in his face, asking him questions in a calm voice, shining a light in his eyes.

“What is your name?”

“Suho,” he whispers. Frowns. No, Suho is for concerts and songs and fanmeets and interviews. He’s not Suho right now. "Junmyeon..."

“Do you know where you are?”

His vision is growing dim. Not dark, though. He has an idea that it should go dark when he closes his eyes, but instead, everything just gets brighter and brighter.

“Gotta find the El Dorado,” he whispers, and is gone.

***

Junmyeon has been walking forever, it seems. The sun is so high and so bright, and the sand is soft and slippery. His feet sink into it, making it hard to walk. The light is so dazzling that it hurts his eyes, and he still doesn’t understand why he isn’t hot. Surely he should be sweating like crazy. He can feel how dry the air is, and the heat radiating from the sand is so strong he feels it burning even through the rubber soles of his sneakers, but somehow he is still cold.

The shining city is a little closer. It’s hard to judge distance through the heat-shimmer of the desert, but the rising spires are definitely clearer, the curve of the domes sharper. He thinks he sees a high wall surrounding the city. How white it is. How it glows. Perhaps it is made of crystal, the same crystal that makes the sand sparkle so.

Suddenly he hears a crack, like a bolt of lightning out of clear sky, and then a booming crash of thunder. He stops walking and spins around. He sees his line of footprints in the sand behind him. They disappear into a massive dark thunderhead boiling up in the white sky behind him. It is purple-black and monstrous, and hovers low over the white sand. He sees a vast rushing shadow cross the desert towards him, and realizes it is the shadow of the storm as it towers higher and higher. It blocks out the sun, and plunges Junmyeon into darkness.

He spins back around and starts to run towards the shining city, his feet sinking into the powdery sand t