Dongho lay in his hospital bed, staring at the white ceiling as his thoughts chased one another around in his mind. This was his fourth time in a hospital room in just four months, and honestly, he was sick of it. He was sick of being sick, in truth, sick of the stress that he felt piled up on his shoulders day after day, that kept causing his body to rebel and shut down. It had been six years since he'd debuted in the entertainment industry, and despite being practically everyone's senior, he had only just graduated high school.

Sometimes he felt as if his entire life had been given over to the industry; the dances, the songs, the filming, the fans. While it was something he had wanted to do when he was twelve, now he was completely unsure.

His wandering thoughts drifted to his two hyungs, the ones whom his company had forced out of the group due to their 'lack of talent'. They had been the ones he relied on the most, in truth. He loved them all, of course, but his current bandmates were all more like friends to him; Alexander and Kibum had been the ones he would go to when he was stressed, when the idol life had come too much.

Letting out a sigh, his eyes drifted back down to the blanket covering his legs. He had slept most of the afternoon, and yet he still felt as if he would never feel rested again. He new his schedule, knew that even right now his bandmates were having to do a performance, having to get ready for an album, all without him, and he couldn't help but to feel guilty over leaving them more stress with his absence. He was tired of being the weak one, being the one who was falling apart at the seams, and as he sat there he felt the same stress begin to build inside of his chest once again.

‘No no no,’ he thought to himself, pressing his fingers to his temples in an attempt to calm himself down. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, his breath coming short despite his actions, and soon tears slipped down his cheeks to drop off of his chin, the stress winning once again. He couldn’t do this anymore, honestly. He loved the industry, loved music and dancing, but the pressure was just becoming too much.

“Hey,” a soft voice called from the doorway, and he yanked his head up and wiped his eyes quickly, forcing a smile for his favorite hyung onto his face. A tall, dark skinned young man stood in the doorway, his dark hazel eyes concerned even as he offered a smile to the boy in the hospital bed; Dongho motioned for him to come in.

“Xander,” he greeted, irritated and embarrassed when his voice cracked in emotion; the older man acted like he didn’t hear it and grabbed one of the plush brown chairs, pulling it next to the bed to plop down and cross his knees over one another. “They let you in here?” He was a bit surprised, knowing how rude his company could be to the two ex-members, but Alexander gave a shrug and a lopsided smile.

“Ah, you know,” he said softly, his odd accent thick even as he let out the quiet laugh. Dongho probably did know; the half-Korean man was so loved by anyone who met him, he could probably charm the spots off of a Dalmatian. Alexander’s eyes turned worried, though, sweeping down to the pale blue blanket before looking up to meet the young man’s eyes. “Kevin told me you were here.”

The concern lacing his words were almost too much for the boy in the bed, and so he looked out the window of the hospital room in an effort to gain control over his emotions. He admired Alexander; his compassion, his determination, his loyalty… how would the other react if he knew the thoughts that Dongho was considering? If he knew that Dongho was mere words from walking away from this industry that Alexander had nearly been forced out of?

“Hey, talk to me,” a light grip on his chin pulled his face back toward the older man, and finally he hesitantly looked up to meet Alexander’s hazel eyes.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said softly, and the older man frowned before reaching out to envelope him in a tight hug. Dongho could feel his walls of resolve breaking and he fought hard to keep the tears inside so as not to worry the other, but he lost; wetness fell from his eyes to dampen the shoulder of Alexander’s polo shirt, a sniffle cluing the other in to his tears.

“Don’t cry, little one,” the American said softly, giving an extra squeeze as he held the younger th