Chapter Text
Jisung’s day was normal until it wasn’t. He hadn’t noticed it yesterday but the storm rolled in with its loud gray long before he smelled rain.
It was pouring.
Jeongin had joked yesterday about his volume, his neediness, his personality. Jisung laughed at the time.
But it was pouring.
“Jisung, do you ever shut up?”
His mouth was closed now. How does one reply to such a non-question? Except, well, shutting up. To answer Chan, Jisung let all sound die in his throat. Smiling wordlessly, he could be quiet— would be, starting now!
The other’s were obviously tired, a 6 a.m. wake up call did that to you, and obviously Jisung’s forced cheer was not adding any nuance but irritation.
Stray Kids was set to appear on music bank in a few hours and Jisung hadn’t accounted for rain.
But he could be mute if that’s what his members wanted from him, it’s not like annoying was a fun descriptor to be stuck with.
The biggest problem with silence was the noise. It never bothered the others when Jisung’s brain screamed, but he’d really rather not listen. And it’s hard to listen while talking, he found.
Jisung’s resolution lasted right up until their last schedule of the day. It wasn’t that he forgot, or even that the storm dwindled. Jisung just wanted to make Seungmin smile. Mission abandoned in the face of a frown.
Seungmin was much more important than the idea of breaking his resolution. Except he forgot said resolution was put in place for the others to begin with. As it was, the moment he opened his mouth his members zeroed him out as the problem. Seungmin wasn’t smiling. Jisung was annoying and his group was tired of it.
Rain must be coming down, he couldn’t hear it against the panes, the van drove on without a hitch, but surely it must be cascading down around him.
It was ok. Being berated made him more sleepy than anything and it was a glad thing that his resolve had at least lasted to the end of their work day. Now nearing midnight, the drive home was back to soundless and Jisung tried to reach for Minho’s hand, curled into the older boy’s lap, for comfort. The scolding had passed and Jisung’s mind was louder than even his big mouth. But Minho shook off his badgering. Jisung couldn’t even lift his head to see what kind of look he received for that stint. Surely it wouldn’t be filled with the usual warmth.
Stumbling into the apartment, the darkness they had left was comfort for Jisung’s stinging eyes. The others called dibs on the shower, figuring out an order and, with Jisung’s silence leaving him for last. It was ok. It was what he deserved. Hopefully there would be some hot water by then, the scalding was merited.
In the meantime his brother had called, and with the thought of not forcing his group through his voice anymore than strictly necessary for the moment, he went to the emergency exit staircase. Jiwon was still in Malaysia with their parents, it was 11 there now, Jisung had to hope that he wasn’t too late as he heard the dial ring. The cement had even his low-volume, non-speakered tone echoing and Jisung was sure to whisper when his Hyung finally picked up.
“Hey! You’ve been busy,” it was a silly greeting but the comfort of hearing home in the timbre outweighed any urge to laugh.
“I know. It’s my business that I’ve had.”
His brother hesitated, Jisung rubbed at his temples, he screwed up his words again. “what.”
The chuckle on the other side of the line was pounds off his shoulders, so glad that even when he missed, the target was still in sight. Growing up his brother was the first person he had ever painted himself a clown for.
Jisung sighed again, lighter now, breathing now.
“I’ve missed you,” that was unlike Jisung to admit, “I mean miss home in general, but you’re there too I guess.”
Saved it.
His brother hummed, not convinced, probably seeing the billboards on this road that spelled out anxiety. Jiwoo wouldn’t know how to deal with it if he was right, “yeah thanks for calling me back.”
That sounded a little too hushed, too close and genuine to make a joke of. Jisung was out of his element.
“You know now that I’m a big superstar, it’s harder to make time for the little people.”
Jiwoo, used to the clownery staying both for the moments he didn’t want to cry as much as the ones he did, laughed. A garbled sound that let Jisung know that even his stupid panicked jokes were allowed here.
It was comfortable after that. No longer pouring, though still damp.
They were all grouchy, talking to someone outside of it, someone not pushing their absolute limits and boundaries to perform, made every argument and grievance seem petty. Everything would be better once they all got some sleep and a proper meal that wasn’t salad and a five ounce breast of boiled chicken –as a treat.
Jisung let himself melt into his brother’s recount of an incident with their mom, something about the grocery store and Malay. Something he needed to hear, Jisung should call her too. Maybe when it wasn’t nearing 1am.
The shower was probably ready. Everyone would want to be asleep by now. There were more schedules starting in a few hours, so Jisung imagined he should hang up this slice of comfort and be ready for idol life to return.
Jiwoo seemed to think much the same as he bid the younger a good night and promised he was loved.
“Really. Call me anytime bro.”
Jisung loved him too.
And then it was back to the dorm, out of the caverness staircase, he came upon their door quickly but dawdled to get there. Letting his feet stumble and stutter. Only to miss that one piece of carpet frayed from the floor, a fault of his own boys he was sure. It all happened like he could see it from outside, like he couldn’t stop it, couldn’t help himself.
Jisung of course distracted, tired, maybe also overthinking, dug his toe into the knit and went down hard. Felled into their very front door with no time to catch himself. Head first and crumpling as his crown contacted their handle.
For a minute all he knew was the ringing singed and screeching in his ears, no not even in, that too felt beyond and far away. The hallway lights were automatically dimmed on account of the time, still too bright for Jisung to see much more than spots when he cracked his eye open.
He dropped his head between his knees and gagged. Gagging again as the very motion set nausea stirring from his ears to his throat. He broiled with wrong as he tried to understand what had happened -still curled in front of their apartment door.
He wasn’t expecting the mass to move, disappearing behind his back as someone pulled. Jisung tumbled along with it, splattered on his back heaving.
“Jisung what the fuck.”
It was too loud and his brain could barely compute English on a good day. At the moment he could hardly recognize that it was a language at all.
Pain flicked around his skull so hard he considered throwing up right there.
“What was that noise?” Now that was words.
“Is he drunk?” Jisung groaned, knowing the words existed (likely about him) and deciphering them were separate circumstances.
There were so many now, voices and questions, anger simmered coolly behind sentences that meant nothing but more shocks of pain.
“I can’t believe he went out drinking right before early schedules! We’re promoting Jisung. Is this a joke to you?”
Said ‘drunk’ was just starting to orient himself as his leader pulled him up. Sudden movement sent his insides in a tizzy all over again, but the pounding at his cranium overwhelmed any snappy tones or harsh skinships. Jisung stumbled where he stood. Chan pulled away, sneering about problems and annoyances. The rest cleared out, Jisung too dizzy to see in what order, until Jeongin was the only one left.
“I’m really disappointed, Hyung.” the maknae said more, Jisung was sure, he felt the rumbles of words. But Jisung was also listing to the side all over again.
Shower forgotten and room an impossible endeavor, Jisung settled to cowp against the couch. Closing his eyes and riding waves of nausea. Doing his best to swallow thickly at any signs of too much saliva, too much bile, too much something crawling up his throat. The something that would only serve to piss off the rest more than ever if it were to come out on the sofa he currently occupied.
Sleep was fitful.
By morning Jisung was sure his head was a bomb past due on exploding. The pressure behind his eyes mounted and sparking.
The others seemed to be doing their best to cause mayhem. Pots clinking in the kitchen, music full blast in the shower, and yelling up and down the halls. Someone had even found the time to tie up the makeshift curtain that nearly never left its screened position. All of this screamed revenge, but not as much as Jisung’s head screamed overstimulated.
He couldn’t even crack an eye open as he approached the kitchen. Instead choosing to cling to the walls and counters.
“How’s our little drunkard doing this morning?” The tone was cold but the words were loud, alarming. Changbin meant to alarm, that was clear.
Jisung knew it was for him, but the phrasing was weird. He’d never known himself to have an alcohol problem before, they’d certainly never had inside jokes about anything like this. He’d know. Jester that he was.
Everything felt too much. The rich smell of grease popping in the pan had him clenching his hands and scrambling. He hadn’t had the time to knock, bursting through the bathroom door and emptying whatever was left of the diet his company had enforced on him, someone guffawed as they left their place at the sink. Slamming the door shut, for some point or another. Jisung didn’t stop throwing up until their manager came to collect him, sparing a look of pity and not one word more as the boys piled into a van and made conversation come easy. Jisung, silent as they did. The day was coming and going in flashes. An unfortunate start with a photoshoot that of course involved strobing cameras and noisy staff, found Jisung with his head once again tucked between his knees. Swelling stress joining in with the nausea and headache now.
Jisung was fucked.
How was he supposed to do this, something was very wrong. His anxiety closed in and the wheezing breaths he took only served to make death feel faster approaching. This was it. This day would simply kill him. There was no way through. He would just have to die.
With panic grasping his neck and cradling his lungs, Jisung made the executive decision to tell their manager. He had yet to say much around the group since the obvious upset yesterday, but he could not keep his silence about this any longer.
“Hyung-nim,” he had gasped out, “Hyung-nim, feel bad.”
His manager fished out some pain pills and Jisung couldn’t express the extent of that ‘bad’ enough to prove that he shouldn’t be on set right this very moment. He took the pills.
Somehow by the end, he had made it.
Ignoring his surroundings helped. The aspirin his manager slipped him helped more.
And without even knowing what they did that day, Jisung finished. Muscle memory sure is something Jisung would have mused if he could think. As he followed the rest through the dorm and fell to his bed. The batter in his head hitting his skull all day was so damning he couldn’t even pretend a shower would help. He would just have to be stinky. There was no other way. Hyunjin had some gripe or other about this. Whining that he was gross, dirty and needed to get over it. Felix stopped the taller with a soothing hand on his shoulder, citing more hot water for them and it was left at that. Jisung had used that to slip into his room leaving them to squabble.
The next day wasn’t better, per say, just more manageable. His group still giving him the cold shoulder, Jisung thought about killing himself to get the constant pain to vacate. Not seriously –obviously– just in passing when the music show they were on let off confetti cannons, and he swore some of his brain leaked out of his ears. Once again it was his manager’s aspirin (this time more than the recommended dose) that stopped that odd display otherwise bound to happen.
By the fifth day Jisung was sure this was permanent. The others had gotten used to his new ‘attitude’ and were leaving him be. It was a grace that Jisung didn’t know he needed so badly. Everything was still overwhelming. Sensing something, anything, had a fifty fifty chance of sending him spiraling. He hadn’t eaten much since that night, management praised his commitment and fans mourned his cheeks but Stray Kids didn’t comment. Even just smelling the previously cardboard-cosplay dinner menu would send him into a fit of retching.
And by the beginning of the second week since he had talked to his brother, Jisung received another call. Though the thought of picking it up, having to compute the tinny little voice made him convulse. No. He would get better. And he would speak to his brother then. Not when he was in this limbo of pain and confusion.
That day, Jisung tried to convey his pain to Chan. Maybe he would be more understanding once he knew there was something physically wrong with the youngest rapper. But words stalled and fettered. Jisung was still struggling to talk. Voices whispering how annoying, how embarrassing and weird he was, in his ears, softly. These thoughts seemed to account for the ache louder opinions brought on his head. They were nice like that. Besides, this new condition of his made his own tone ring too loud for his ears, further delegating his silence. He fully understood the other’s offense at his volume now.
And it was painful to realize that not talking at all for over a week hadn’t caused any worry among his brothers. If anything they were making jokes about the peace his change had brought with it, praising his lips only when they were shut.
For once Jisung could do that for them, could keep in mind that what they wanted most out of him was silence.
So Chan’s annoyance at being motioned over and then faced with Jisung gaping like a fish was understandable. Dance practice had run long. Jisung barely hung on as loud music and powerful movement left him reeling through most of it. And now the day was over, the others spoke amongst themselves like it was a given for Jisung to practice more on his own as they gathered their things. He couldn’t take more though. Doing the same and packing up his bag, plodding after them till Hyunjin noticed.
“What are you doing?” Jisung drew his brows. Obviously following the other members.
“You were a mess at practice. This isn’t a joke Jisung, you should consider staying back,” Changbin added.
Seungmin considered him too, “we don’t have much time before that choreo has to be polished for award season. I thought you were the most nervous out of all of us…”
Jisung’s skin stung and stretched, too tight and wrong around him. He was nervous for a lot of things. They knew it too, that anxiety was a struggle and he hadn’t any ability to pick the battles. But this wasn’t one of them, he loved award shows. The energy, excitement and audience. He got a free front row show from some of his favorite acts. Anxiety had yet to ever ebb into that euphoria. Anxiety would be trying to follow his members, his family, and them turning on him.
Making to step back, Jisung thought about running, but the idea sent tendrils of pounding hot from his head to his feet. It hurt. Jisung hurt.
And much like a ragdoll, as the pain and fear reached some new peak, he felt his body give way. Still, through it all, Jisung was most upset that his consciousness hung around, even as his body fell to pieces. The others belittled his grab for attention. Jisung choked on his urge to cry, terror profound. Unable to call for help. No longer in control of his limbs. Jisung just laid until Jeongin nudged his shoulder with a sneaker.
“Come on Hyung. We get it, no more tantrums, we’ll take you home.”
Jisung couldn’t even shake his head. It hurt. It hurt. He couldn’t breathe. His chest caved. Eyes glazed, so so scared. He was in his head. But he couldn’t get anything out. Like he was watching from afar.
And thank god and glory that those glassy eyes caught Jeongin unaware. The youngest dropped to his knees as he tried to get the blown pupils to dance around his finger. Only when no response showed did he alert the rest, the members quieted by his sudden display.
“Hyungs?” fright clung clear in his voice, “Something is really wrong.”
Jisung, caught in his mind, buried in a haze of scared scared scared, was thankful as he finally started to slip back into his body. The one now surrounded on all sides. His right arm limp as Hyunjin picked it up, dropping it to the floor in some kind of test.
Chan somewhere behind them, on the phone and angry. For some reason. Probably cause of Jisung as was usual nowadays.
Finally fully feeling his hands, feet, and head. Jisung felt his head. The reprieve only served to worsen the force of pain that pushed through, wracking his brain until he was throwing up again and again. Someone forced his face to the side and sweat gathered where his temples met the vinyl floor of their practice room.
Their manager was next to him. Somehow. He had joined the fray while Jisung fought waves of gross, gross pain. Dying. Jisung was sure. If he hadn’t died those days before this was what would do it. He was shocked that the thought sounded almost calming. Please no more. Please less.
Changbin gathered Jisung’s body acrost wide shoulders. Body taut but not harsh against his as they all rushed towards the parking garage. The car apparently not starting fast enough for Felix, who for the first time in a long time yelled. Anger and frustration bleeding together, manager skidding out of their space. Car now buzzing, it all felt too much for Jisung who had no more to vomit but plenty of incentive to try.
Changbin rocked him in his lap, shushing him though it was the older’s own whimpers and sobs that were louder.
Moments blurred and passed like shapes outside the window and Jisung let them slip away. Not grasping the importance of this event even as the others seemed to struggle for calm. Jisung wasn’t sure when but at some point he was handed off to some professional something or other. Ivory blinding, burning eyes making him think of that first day. He was lying down. But moving. Lights passed at lightning speed and a spell of dizziness eked a groan from his lips. Chewed and raw, though he wasn’t sure when he did that to them.
Bright lights shone at his pupil, commands fell from the sky. Jisung was being asked for a lot but he couldn’t understand any of it as exhaustion replaced anything else he may have felt otherwise. And once all of the rush of strangers and voices and movement was gone not even the harsh shaking of his frame could keep him awake.
Jisung woke to just as much pain as expected, though in a new setting entirely. Not the practice room, nor his own bedroom. Not even the group’s dorm. This place felt like nothing he was overly familiar with. Except maybe the JYP inhouse clinic. But it was far too big for that. Murmurs and stark white and antiseptic assaulted him but what put him over the edge was the collection of colorful boys in front of his plastic-y bed and the adult standing next to them. Talking about Jisung. In front of Jisung.
There was no containing the mewl that came so naturally. Assembling all those bloodshot eyes on one Han Jisung.
“Sungie!” Felix was by his side in an instant. Minho filling in on his other side. More bouts of off-balance came but this no longer felt like a side effect of the aching head he still felt clearly pounding away. Out of his depth he looked to the nurse that stood before them. Jisung needed some updates on what the hell was going on.
“Mr. Han?” he nodded, “would you prefer your colleagues to leave?”
And despite it all, hearing enough upset to echo, Jisung wanted them to stay.
Jisung needed them to help. Mind already amok with reasons he was impuissant without them. Annoying when he didn’t have his brain divorcing his skull, and inadequate when it did.
The nurse, seeing his refusal, made sure that sharing the briefing of his condition with the group as is, was ok with him too. He didn’t really understand it, but as always Stray Kids stuck together. Jisung wouldn’t single anyone out to leave him behind. And though the nurse asked for clarification, requested verbal assent, Jisung remained quiet and looked pained. Probably so much so that the nurse gave up as his members grasped at his hands, reddened eyes boring into each reaction and interaction he gave.
Still surrounding him closely, Jisung shook off their touch. Skin crawling compact from the alien feeling.
“We believe you experienced a type of seizure,” the nurse seemed to be surveilling him though he had no clue why, “do you have a history of those?”
“No! He’s never had anything like that before.” Chan spoke alleviating Jisung’s own responsibility, luckily.
“I asked the patient.”
Jisung mouthed ‘no’ and the nurse continued.
“It’s not in your file either,” she confessed, “we’re still trying to find the exact cause.”
Her eyes seemed to soften at Jeongin’s sob, “he’s ok now. We’ll monitor him closely.”
Jisung didn’t feel very ok but he also didn’t want to upset the usually stoney faced youngest any more than he already had. So when she asked for permission to pose some routine follow-up questions, Jisung nodded as best he could. Only to grimace as his head ached with the action. With the apparent pain, the nurse, who introduced herself as Yoo Yeonghee, set a system. She would only ask yes or no questions, all Jisung had to do was hold up one finger for yes and two for no. Jisung was thankful for the workaround.
“Just to clarify: you have no history of seizures. Correct?”
Yes.
“Are you currently feeling any unusual pain?”
Yes.
“Alright I can work with that,” Jisung huffed a laugh, “In your stomach?”
No.
“Neck?”
Befuddled, Jisung held up three fingers.
“Would that be a maybe?”
It was a relief Nurse Yoo understood.
“Then head?”
Yes!
“Ok! Then, have you taken any medication lately?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Seungmin, ever the curious type piped up as Jisung maintained his one finger position.
“Some medications interact badly, could’ve caused a seizure,” Nurse Yoo spoke offhandedly as she assessed Jisung’s answer, “anything prescription?”
No.
“Yes you do?” Chan’s voice was softer than he’d heard it in days –maybe weeks.
Jisung asserted No.
“Your anxiety meds were prescribed through a psychiatrist, Sungie.”
It had been a while since Jisung started forgetting his anxiety meds. Certainly since before talking to his brother. Likely since before they even cameback. At some point he remembered forgetting, but it was too exhausting between schedules and pain to start again.
Jisung kept two fingers.
Nurse Yoo spoke again, “are you still prescribed this medication?”
Three fingers. “Have you been taking them?”
He dropped his finger again. And Chan looked serious, “Jisung, you know best out of anyone how much those helped you.”
It wasn’t shrill or loud, just disappointed, maybe almost discouraged. It hurt. Jisung hurt to hear Chan like that.
“Please stay on topic or go to the waiting room, Sir.” Chan latched his mouth at the most polite ‘shut up’ Jisung had ever seen performed. “Ok so not prescription then.”
Yes.
“And have you received any kind of physical trauma in the last week?”
Three. Then two.
His members bristled around him. Unaware of what led to a maybe.
“In the last month?”
Three.
Then a pause and two.
“Two weeks?”
Yes.
“So you received a physical injury in the last two weeks. Alright. Ok. Was it related to your head?”
Yes. Jeongin’s squeak meant he understood, though he seemed to be the only one.
“What is it?” Nurse Yoo pleaded at the maknae as the rest revolved to look at their youngest.
“Wouldn’t that be around the time Sungie Hyung came home… drunk?”
The rest recollected the scene those few weeks ago. Jisung held three fingers.
“Not drunk.” Yeonghee declared, “Hurt.”
One.
Jisung didn’t lift his gaze as gasps sounded around him and a sob he would be remiss to overlook as anyone but Felix’s bubbled up so organic he almost felt the wracking fit of it himself.
“Hyung… did you hit your head that day?” Jisung nodded jerkily, forgetting the finger system entirely in his haste to leave this suffocating atmosphere behind.
“Did you drink at all?” Changbin sounded sharp. Jisung shook. No! No, he just wanted to see how his brother was doing. He wanted to hear about his parents.
“But you had that awful hangover the next day?” Hyunjin’s confusion was thick in his voice, wetted with unshed tears and unease.
Nurse Yoo answered for him, “concussions sometimes leave similar symptoms: problems with balance, sensitivity to light and sound, extreme nausea, can all be expected from both.”
“You’re joking.” Chan didn’t sound like he was laughing though.
At least Yeonghee had a sense of humor as she lifted up two fingers.
Jisung, thoroughly worn out, leaned back against the frame of the bed. Head just as ablaze as it had been every other day, like the pain had no sense of urgency.
He wanted more aspirin. Maybe enough to knock a horse out.
Nurse Yoo’s eyes back on him, Jisung tried to communicate this. Miming taking pills with lagging movements and heavy hands. His brothers understood first.
“Are there any pain meds he can take?” Seungmin, his one true savior, asked.
The woman winced, “sorry this case is a bit tricky –wouldn’t want to cause another episode or anything. Some tylenol would be fine though?”
Jisung whimpered but he didn’t ever want to experience anything like that collapse again so he didn’t argue otherwise. The nurse left to sort out pain medication for him and Jisung was left with his group.
Something he hadn’t foreseen being so unbearably tense.
Minho’s eyes swam at him and Felix clung to the papery sheet now that skinship was an obvious irritant. Jeongin was the worst. So clearly in his own head, facing down depreciation and dread in a way Jisung had no way of helping him out from.
“Innie?” Voice hoarse, yet still so loud, set off more and more of that building apprehension at what the others would say. But Jisung disregarded it all because Jeongin was much more important than any fears or lingering anxiety.
“Innie,” He said again, firmer now. And watched as the boy’s face crinkled with emotion ricocheting off every feature, keen and kind all at once. So innocent in the eyes of his hurt Hyung. The Hyung he let hurt. No, he was the cause.
“Innie.” Jisung called. Again and again. It was all he knew how to say now. Every time sharp eyes came unfocused, the word would repeat, making a meter, keeping a beat. Until the rest surrounded the two. Jeongin’s head clutched to Changbin’s chest and Minho’s hands meddling with Jisung’s bed –as close as he dared to dart near the youngest rapper’s skin. His recoil still weighing on everyone's minds.
All at a head the moment the door opened again. Nurse Yoo and an older looking woman falling in. Tylenol was doled out (upsettingly sparingly) and the self-proclaimed doctor gave him “another” check-up now that he was more lucid. Jisung honestly didn’t remember the first one. He wouldn’t forget this one. Flashlight hitting what must have been every nerve ending in his eye, Jisung wretched more. A trash can never far away. He didn’t know how to say there was no more to empty into it.
The exam proceeded despite his quease. Over in time for more questions about medical history, about him. Ones that he could hardly register. Chan took over and Jisung was sure any answers were well in line with the truth. He left it to the leader and slipped into a doze that only broke as Nurse Yoo raised him out.
“No sleeping for now,” she sympathized but apparently not enough to let him have his peace, “we have to take you for a CT scan.”
Jisung was sat up and soon out of bed, supported mostly by Chan and Changbin on either side and directed past nothing halls and private rooms by the doctor. The scan itself was to little fanfare. Alone in the room, head stuck in the contraption, Jisung recognized that he wasn’t angry –not really. His members were worn thin, he himself was tired and temperamental. And perhaps most telling was that he hadn’t before connected the dots of skipping on medication and massive, unpredictable waves of emotions that led to resentment and ultimately silence.
He was weary. He was still miffed that his mute protest had met only with indifference. But Jisung was not angry.
Stray Kids were still his family. They would heal. He would talk and this would never happen again.
That realization alone made this whole hospital trip worth it. And so Jisung closed his eyes and waited for tomorrow. Which the news channel the doctor played promised to be a cloudless day.