Chapter Text
It was nearly three in the morning when Hoseok heard the door quietly open, and saw Taehyung attempt to slip in without being noticed. He made it halfway to the stairs before the dancer cleared his throat, and seeing how violently Taehyung flinched, he almost felt bad.
He stood up from his perch on the couch and padded over, gently pulling the younger into the light. Hoseok’s breath caught in his throat, and Taehyung jerked out of his grip, turning away. The elder carefully grabbed his chin and turned him back to face him, though he had clenched his eyes shut.
“Tae...what happened?” He ghosted a hand over the mottled bruise going from his cheekbone to just under his chin. Taehyung winced, grabbing his hands and pulling them away.
“Nothing, Hyung. I just fell. You know how clumsy I am.” His voice was hoarse and quiet.
He frowned. “Then where were you? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I was practicing,” he mumbled. “The manager wanted to see the solo and I guess I lost track of time. Please don’t tell the others.”
Hoseok bit his lip. “They’d want to know. You know you’re not allowed to stay out this late, what if something had happened?”
He looked up at him, and the tears in his eyes made him regret threatening to tell the others—not to mention caught him completely off guard. Taehyung blinked, and he just looked so young and small that he couldn’t resist his whisper of, “Please, just...don’t.”
Hobi sighed, eyes falling shut. “Go to bed, Tae. It’s late and we’ve got a schedule tomorrow.”
He nodded, tears spilling down his cheeks, and skittered up the stairs. When Hoseok reopened his eyes, he was gone.
He collapsed back onto the couch, rubbing his forehead. He wouldn’t tell this time. But Taehyung wasn’t acting like himself...something was going on.
And it scared him.
——————
“Taehyung. What are you doing?”
The music cut, and everyone froze at their manager’s sharp voice. Taehyung was wide eyed as he stammered, “I-I don’t—“
“Don’t know much of anything, clearly,” he scoffs. “If you’re only going to be lazy and hold the group back, then leave. Don’t think for a second that they can’t do without you.”
All of their mouths dropped open at the harsh words, and they waited for Taehyung to bite back a response. But none came. Finally, Namjoon cautiously glanced over at him—
Holy frick, was he crying?
“I apologize, sunbae-nim. It—I’ll try harder.” He stuttered, blinking rapidly. His eyes looked glassy and scared, but he couldn’t imagine why. The manager had been a bit hard, but it wasn’t as though he would hit him.
“Everyone, you’re free to go. Taehyung, stay.”
The kid just nods, as though already resigned to his fate. He’s staring resolutely at the floor, but his face is crumbled and his eyes are clearly shiny, even though he refuses to look at them.
Everyone is reluctant to pack up; no one is truly willing to leave Taehyung in this state of obvious distress. But as the Hyung and leader, it’s Joon’s job to make sure he’s okay. He clears his throat, “I was having a bit of trouble on the bridge too, so I probably need to stay.”
For whatever reason, that only seems to make Taehyung more upset. He barely looks up at him when he whispers, “Just go, Hyung. You’re not doing nearly as badly as me.”
His brow furrows, and he’s about to protest that for his information none of them had even been able to notice his “mistakes”, but the manager cuts him off. “That won’t be needed. Taehyung is the only one who needs additional practice; the rest of you are doing well and working perfectly on time. Go back to the dorms. I’ll handle this one.”
Leader he may be, going against the manager would be rough. Namjoon tries to catch Tae’s eye as they file out, but he seems set on avoiding his gaze. Maybe he would’ve been able to pass it off as a rough day, but he hadn’t returned to the dorm until four in the morning.
Something was very, very wrong.
——————
It only got worse from there, until they were rehearsing for a concert and Yoongi happened to glance over at him. “F*ck, Tae, you’re pale.”
He moves to place a hand on his forehead, but he flinches away. Yoongi pauses and stares at him in bewilderment, but Taehyung only stares at the floor and tucks his hair behind his ear. His voice is soft but unrelenting as he mumbles, “I’m fine, Hyung. Just leave it.”
Well, okay then. Yoongi knows when he isn’t wanted, and he only huffs before stomping off.
Throughout the whole concert, Yoongi gives him the cold shoulder. Which is probably why he didn’t notice just how bad he looked, until “DNA” ended with them all in a line and he saw Jin grab him by the waist and heard him whisper, “Sh*t, babe, you’re shaking.”
Taehyung didn’t respond, but from his spot right behind them it was clear that Jin was the only thing keeping him upright. And he was, indeed, shaking. Violently.
The second the lights went out Jin scooped him up and dashed backstage, but not fast enough for the other members to miss his little desperate gasps. They were quick to follow, only to find Jin looking panicked as he clutched him in a death grip, and said, “He’s burning up. Like, dangerously.”
Taehyung was clutching to him weakly, gasping for air and trying to hold back tears. His eyes were glassy and the color was seeped from his face, save for the violent flush on his cheeks. All in all, he looked absolutely terrified and absolutely sick.
Staff members appeared then, tugging him from Jin’s arms despite his scared whine and moving him around like a doll. Within minutes, they’d stripped him down to his undershirt and boxers and had him lying on the floor, with someone’s jacket rolled up under his head. The poor kid was overwhelmed to the point of tears by the time someone was rolling a thermometer over his forehead and countless other people were bustling around with fans and wet washcloths.
Jin caught sight of his temperature and cursed, then shoved his way through the crowd of staff. By this point, Taehyung could barely seem to breathe, and was crying weakly.
“Someone get the medics, now!” Jin barked. Seconds later, even more people were there, pressing an oxygen mask to his face and setting up an IV. He seemed much too out of it to register what was going on, but whimpered until Jin grabbed his hand.
Everyone was yelling, and from what Yoongi could gather, they were going to try and extend the break. Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat, and a surge of anger rushed over him. He grabbed the closet staff and hissed, “They’re making him go back out with a hospital-grade fever?!”
The worker only shrugged with wide eyes, before scurrying off on his way. Yoongi growled, but it was then that the manager appeared.
“He can’t go back out there,” Yoongi growled, grabbing their manager by the wrist. “This is dangerous.”
The man nods, looking understanding. “I’ll go speak to him and the staff. We can go from there. No worries, son, the show will go on.”
He disappears down the hall where Yoongi distantly realizes they’d taken Taehyung. They don’t see the manager, but—
He glares at Tae as he stumbles over to the group. “What are you doing?”
He shudders, body still unable to stop trembling. “We can’t stop the c-concert. I’m fine.”
They gape at him. He’s very clearly not fine and all of them are fairly certain that if he goes back onstage his body will give out. They’ve removed some of the layers in an attempt to keep his temperature from rising and attempted to fix his makeup, but nothing can hide the deathly paleness of his face and the unhealthy flush to his cheeks. He’s swaying and shaking where he stands and there is no way he can finish the concert, not when he’s still having problems breathing.
“Absolutely not. I’m putting my foot down on this one Taehyung, you aren’t finishing the concert,” Namjoon says, face letting them all know that there would be no argument. Not that that stops Taehyung.
The singer’s face screws up in frustration. “I’m finishing the concert, Namjoon. It isn’t fair to the fans for me to just quit halfway through when they—“
“Don’t give us that crap,” Yoongi snarls. He’s just about reached the end of his rope, and even though a voice in the back of his head is telling him not to take it out on Tae, he’s had enough. “You don’t get a choice. It’s not up for discussion. We can and will get by just fine without you so you can sit backstage and wait for us to finish it ourselves.”
“But—“
Hobi interjects before Yoongi can blow up on their second-youngest. “Tae, it’s okay, ARMY won’t even miss you.”
Jin notices Taehyung wince, but Jungkook nods in agreement. “Yeah, they probably won’t even notice you’re gone! You should really sit this one out, Hyung. The concert’s mostly over anyway.”
Taehyung still looks like he wants to argue, but one look at Yoongi, has him pressing his lips tightly together. The singer seems to wilt, and his next words are quiet. “I—I guess you’re right.”
“Of course I am!” Jungkook grins. “I’m always right!”
Taehyung doesn’t smile.
Once they’ve left Taehyung behind and are seconds away from reentering the stage, it occurs to Yoongi how strange it was that Taehyung was so insistent on finishing the concert. He’d looked borderline desperate.
Then it occurs to Yoongi that the things he’s said to his dongsaeng weren’t exactly kind, and that he should probably apologize.
But once they were onstage, his mind only cared for the music, and he quickly forgot about it.
Soon enough, he’d realize what a big mistake that had been.