Wooyoung hadn't come back. It had been an hour and still no one could find him and I knew, I just knew that this was serious. One hour turned to two, which turned to three and my worry heightened to a point of hysteria and I even resorted to asking if it was some sort of sick hidden camera prank. But I knew it was more than that. He was in trouble and there was nothing I could do.

My thoughts became feverish and I couldn't stop images of his body, broken and pale and empty of the light that I so loved, from blurring my vision. He had been gone for three days now, three days that felt more like three years of suffering. I couldn't help wondering "what if?" What if he never came back? What if I never got to see him again? What if he was out there, alone and dying? There was so much left unsaid between us and I had so much left to experience with him.

Panic tightened like a noose around my neck and I gasped awake, helplessly pulling at the duvet that kept my arms imprisoned. I could feel heat rising inside my throat and the room lurched as I leant over the side of the bed and vomited. The door slammed open.

"Hyung!" Chansung took one look at the mess on the floor before striding forward and tearing away the sheets. He half lifted half dragged me from the mattress, steadying me until I was lowered gently onto the sofa in the living room. "Someone get a glass of water!" he shouted, just as the door to Taecyeon and Junsu's room was wrenched open, followed by Junho's.

A glass was towards me a second later but my hands were trembling so badly that water overflowed and Taecyeon took it back. He pressed it to my lips, his other hand brushing my forehead. "Junho, get a cold flannel."

Two thumbs, Junsu's, swiped at my cheeks and it was only then that I realised I was crying.

"He'll come back, Khun," Taec said in English, his rough voice soothing in my ears. "He'll come back."