In the myriads of lights and color and deafening white noise creating a sound harmony, when Taekwoon has become Leo and Leo is at the top of the world, there is something amiss. There are smiles and endorphins clouding the air, but then comes the deviation to shatter the image of their little world. They all notice it immediately, even if it takes more than a second to fully comprehend and to understand, what do we do now? So foreign and strange, scary even.

Leo sees it happen only a few feet before him and freezes for a moment when his shy euphoria is broken down and his heart leaps a little too high because this wasn’t supposed to happen.

This was never supposed to happen.

But it does, and Leo becomes Taekwoon again and Taekwoon curses himself for his slow reaction, even if he is the first to bolt over as the shadow of his leader, his friend, falters and falls to the hard and unforgiving floor. He doesn’t get up.

Then Taekwoon is there at his side, turning him over with gentle, but nervous hands as the music dims out to die. The chorus of screaming girls grows silent as the other members crouches down next to the duo, because this isn’t a joke.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon mumbles with slight urgency, and he doesn’t even care if his mic is still on. Hakyeon’s eyes are closed, but scrunched up and a wince mars his features. Taekwoon is vaguely aware of the older’s confused arm reaching out to nothing at all just for something to hold on to in his bewildered state, and Wonshik grabs it securely and steady as the rock he is.

“Hakyeon,” Taekwoon repeats again, and doesn’t bother concealing the urgency in his voice. He taps Hakyeon’s cheek softly, but his only reward is a faint moan barely even there through the distorted chaos of sounds enveloping them from all sides.

“Can you hear us, Hakyeon?” Hongbin says on Hakyeon’s other side, practical and levelheaded. There is no immediate response, and Sanghyuk and Wonshik exchange helpless glances to avoid looking to the apprehensive crowd behind them. Jaehwan is frowning to himself. They don’t know what to do now, not when the one with the reins has fallen off the horse and lies in a poor lump on the ground. There should be some sensible cause of action that just seems obscure to them in the moment, but no one can find anything to make sense of the situation again. Why isn’t anyone helping them – pulling them off to the right direction when they clearly are as bewildered as any?

That’s when Taekwoon decides, this .

He steadies himself firmly on his knees and slip one arm under Hakyeon’s shoulder, one under his legs. Hongbin looks at him with a look Taekwoon doesn’t want to decipher, and Wonshik lets go of Haekyeon’s limp hand. They rise next to him, hovering awkwardly behind as he adjusts their smallest member more neatly in his arms. His suit tugs uncomfortably over his neck at the strain it wasn’t designed for and the tie seems a little too tight, but nothing to do about that now.

“Taekwoon-hyung – “ Sanghyuk begins and sounds a little hesitant, but he silences himself before Hongbin can throw him a disapproving look.

Taekwoon ignores them, just like he ignores everything else. It is surprisingly easy to shut out the world sometimes, an aid he has come to take great relief in from time to time, and this is no exception. From the moment he stretches his legs and shifts his arms comfortably, his eyes are set on the visual goal that appears to him the most sensible. Everything else is unimportant and irrelevant – no need for Taekwoon to notice, not when he glances down to his leader’s frail figure.

Hakyeon is thin for a grown man, but still heavy and doesn’t quite fit in Taekwoon’s hold, but the walk to the end of the stage and down, down to privacy is a short one. Taekwoon bristles past Wonshik wordlessly, and they follow without question. The stage is relatively small, fortunately not the biggest venue they have performed at, but still large enough for the short walk to become too long.

Hakyeon’s eyes twitch a little, but don’t open when Taekwoon descends the stairs backstage and once again ignores everyone around without as much as a recognizing glance. They are useless, their confused and hesitant reaches too little and too late, and Taekwoon prefers to hold onto his personally acquired charge himself. He doesn’t trust anyone else right now – not immediately. In a few minutes, when worry and adrenaline have sunk to a tolerable level, he will let coaches and personal assistants take care of Hakyeon while he and the other members are fussed about and given a small water bottle each, as if it fixes everything.

Taekwoon knows it won’t. The other members know it too. The staff knows it too.

Isn’t this, Taekwoon thinks and very consciously tightens his hold on Hakyeon in minimal symbolic fashion, isn’t this enough proof? How much should they push themselves through the pain before their furnaces are deemed too heavy?

If it was up to Taekwoon they would already be done with this part.

Their manager approaches, wading his way through staring, dumb crewmembers, and his expression seems unreadable, but certainly not pleased. Though beyond that, it is impossible to discern whether he is worried or angry – perhaps a little bit of both, though the subjects of his concern another unclear chapter.

“Taekwoon-ah – “ he says as he reaches his charges, and his voice is more than a little strained. “What happened?”

Taekwoon only gives him a small scowl, hoping the obscene make-up doesn’t entirely clear his face off all intimidating elements. What happened, he asked. What does he think happened, can’t he see it even now?

“Hakyeon needs help,” he states plainly in the end, because there is no use in getting angry at their manager. Not now, and not today. And that is the simplest explanation.

He doesn’t wait for a reply, but brushes past the older man with Jaehwan’s warm hand resting strangely comfortably at his back, almost pushing him on. He hears Sanghyuk being held back to demand more answers, but the maknae can’t say anything more than the rest of them. Hakyeon usually speaks for them.

The dressing room turned lounge had never been this far away, but the walk from the stage to their functioning sanctuary, in lack of a less consecrated term, is unusually long, and Taekwoon knows exactly why, but his pace is already as quick as should be. Wonshik runs ahead of him to open the door, and he holds it as the oldest upstanding member maneuver his way through with his cargo.

There is a tiny, tiny couch in there, slightly hard and lumpy, but it suffices, just like everything else. Taekwoon deposits Hakyeon there, carefully and unminding of the stylists’ curios glances. He makes sure the limp arms don’t fall off and slips a spare sweater idly hanging off the corner of the sofa under Hakyeon’s head. Tie, the tie. He grabs the knot and loosens it gently, unfastening the top two buttons for good measure as well.

A light green bottle enters his peripheral vision, and when he looks to the side, Hongbin is there, wordlessly handing him the cold water. Taekwoon nods in thanks and halts for only a brief second before crouching down and pressing the bottle to the side of Hakyeon’s face. The leader’s face twitches a little again in response.

“Is hyung gonna be okay?” Jaehwan asks hesitantly. “I mean, he…” Yes, what about it, Jaehwan-ah. You know what’s wrong and how it played out back there. You know everything.

“He’ll be fine,” Wonshik declares confidently, and he believes it, they all do, even if it doesn’t sound like an optimistic conviction. “It’s hyung, after all.” There is no need to point out that what if, it could have been anyone of them. The silent consensus of not voicing this concern is familiar to them by now, frustrating as it may seem.

“Manager-sshi is requesting first aid personnel now,” Sanghyuk announces as he steps into the room. The stylists have silently made their way out now, and for a short time, there are only the members in there. Soon, crews and assistants and cameras and everything will be crowding the room, but it is pleasingly quiet for now. A few moments of reprieve before it starts up again. “He wasn’t very happy.”

“Well, we’re not happy either,” Wonshik says with a frown and seems almost personally offended. “Shouldn’t this be a fair indicator that it’s gone too far? I mean, hyung ing collapsed today! Isn’t that – “

“We know, Wonshik, don’t bother,” Jaehwan says uncharacteristically softly, and Taekwoon silently agrees. Throwing fits in a closed dressing room won’t help them at all. Even Wonshik should know this, and he probably does, Taekwoon thinks to himself. His knees are starting to hurt from the crouched position, and he moves the water bottle to Hakyeon’s other cheek. The condense leaves watery trails over his chin, but Taekwoon won’t wipe it off. Hakyeon can do it himself, later.

“What about the fans?” Sanghyuk mumbles and slumps down in a chair near the corner. “They’re probably worried.”

“Rightly so,” Wonshik sounds harsh, but he doesn’t mean it that way. He’s just upset about all the constants in his present life that he, despite his best wishes, is unable to do anything about. It’s not the first time he lets his aggression get the better of him in stressed situations, Taekwoon observes and mentally recount the times the rapper has snapped for things too trivial to waste energy about.

This is far from trivial, though, he concedes as he moves the water bottle back to Hakyeon’s still wet cheek.

“We’ll deal with that later,” Hongbin says. It sounds like a welcome idea right now, the members think as they look down at their leader.

They can really see it now, the physical evidence of the toll from the last months. A thin face, eyes sunken even through colorful make-up and lines drawn too early for a young man such as Hakyeon. His fingers seem bony and pale, only flushed by recent extortion at the stage. They don’t need to look in the mirror to know that they probably look very similar themselves.

Taekwoon hopes it’s not just a matter of time.

He removes the water bottle and puts it down on the floor next to the couch, and bends forward a little to lean on the purplish seat. The other members watch him silently, and he brings a hand up to cup Hakyeon’s still warm, still damp cheek softly.

“Hakyeon,” he tries again, just like the immediate moments after the catalytic fall only a few minutes earlier. His voice is quiet and soft, like always, but with an slight tug of urgency that penetrates an otherwise silent room. Hakyeon twitches a little – once more, and it’s still not a motion Taekwoon has grown entirely comfortable with – but still doesn’t open his eyes. Taekwoon uses his hand to tap the side of the older’s face a little, because he really want a response now. Taekwoon isn’t used to communicate verbally with Hakyeon, not really, and it unsettles him more than a little to keep reaching out with words in such an uncomfortable predicament.

“Come on, Hakyeon.”

 There is a small groan, and Taekwoon’s spirits soar a little, even if he wasn’t ever scared. It’s just a small relief for a conflict pacified, not resolved.

“Taekwonnie…” Hakyeon sounds rightly groggy and his eyes are bleary, more than a little unfocused. Taekwoon smiles slightly at him as he works out his focus, but the slight tug of lips could just as well have been a grin. Hakyeon smiles back when he is able to make out Taekwoon’s expression, and the other members soon gather around the small sofa.

“Hyung! We were worried!”

“Don’t do that again, okay?”

“How do you feel?”

“Not the best,” Hakyeon admits almost jokingly, if it wasn’t true. He doesn’t try to sit up, which is an indicator enough for Taekwoon if there should ever be one. Hakyeon is not okay, that much is true – wasn’t, isn’t, won’t be for – well, that is hard to say.

He braces himself on both elbows now and leans forward to rest his forehead in Hakyeon’s chest. It rises and falls comfortingly, and he can soon feel Hakyeon’s fingers thread through his hair in idle fondness. He registers the exchange started above his head, but Taekwoon doesn’t want to speak anymore, he doesn’t even care much for listening. The other members can deal with that as they wish, but Taekwoon is perfectly fine here, kneeling at the floor and resting on Hakyeon’s warmth.

For now, at least. It seems okay. He can trick himself into thinking it is okay for a little while longer, a few more minutes.

That’s all he – they have by now.

He doesn’t like it, but if it’s what he’s got, then Taekwoon will take it.