Three meals a day and one snack. That's what the dietician recommended for Jisung. It was super easy, so easy he found it hard to actually intake that much. Sometimes he didn't have time for a snack, or just forgot that breakfast existed. But other times he watched Hyunjin on his intermittent fasting diet, or Changbin only eating protein shakes for breakfast and though the voice in his head was quiet, it became a constant during those times. Saying: you're fat, they're skinny. You know it, they know it. And while often he could bring the voice down to a near inaudible mumble, it never really went away.
The weekend and most of the week went by really quickly. They had a flight on Wednesday to the Philippines for the AAA (Asia Artist Awards), but he spent the flight listening to the demo he'd made with Changbin and Chan for the beat Chan had created last week, so even that day didn't feel super long.
When they landed on Wednesday, they had the entire rest of the day to do anything. So, of course, they elected to do nothing. The eight boys stayed in the hotel. Changbin went to the gym and Han decided to go with him. He'd eaten a little heavier on the airplane so burning a few calories since they didn't have a dance practice today wasn't a bad idea.
He found himself spotting Changbin on the bench, though his eyes wandered around the gym. It was pretty empty. There was one guy in the corner of the room on the treadmill and a girl in the other corner doing some weightlifting. Han found himself staring at her.
I wonder if she has a boyfriend.
"Jisung." Changbin's breathy huff pulled Han from his thoughts, and he quickly reached down, pulling the bar up and onto the supports. The elder sat up, head hung, sweat dripping off his black hair.
"Sorry, I wasn't focused."
"I don't want to die, Jisung, please stop staring at older girls and make sure your hyung doesn't kill himself with a 200lbs weight."
Han blushed. "Right. Yeah."
Changbin glanced up at Han through his wet hair, a half-smile on his lips. "Do you want to try benching?"
"Have you seen these arms?" Han laughed, flexing as best as he could - while some might say it was muscle, he knew what he was showing off was just fat. "I could probably bench a noodle and feel like I'd gotten in a full workout."
Changbin laughed brightly, running a hand through his hair to slick it back from his face. "What do you want to work on then?"
Han pinched his lips together and zoned out at the mirrors on the wall across from them. "I wish we could practice, but I don't think our managers would want us spoiling choreography in the middle of a random gym."
"Who's spoiling choreography in a random gym?" Han and Changbin glanced over to find Minho and Chan walking over to them. Both had black t-shirts on, and Chan was holding two water bottles and their keycards.
"Changbin hyung."
"Hannie."
They pointed at each other then started laughing. Han pretended to kick the older rapper and Changbin raised his fist like he'd punch him. Minho shook his head and muttered something about them being insane.
"Are you guys still benching?" Chan asked, nodding towards the equipment that Changbin was still sitting on.
Han shrugged. "Nah, I think Changbin hyung could bench the entire weight wrack already so there's really no point for him to stay. And I've determined that I have the strength of soggy slice of bread."
Minho made a face and started laughing.
Chan nodded, "Very descriptive. What were you going to work on then?"
"Don't know." Changbin answered, standing up from the equipment and grabbing his water bottle and keycard off the floor. "You guys have anything in mind?"
"Is there a dance room?" Minho asked hopefully. Of course, being the only member currently present from DanceRacha he had to represent his sub-unit. Han chuckled when Minho's quick scan of the gym left him with some things to be desired and a frown pulled at his lips. "Well, I guess we could do some weightlifting."
"Benching, or...?" Chan clarified.
"No, I hate benching. Like Hannie said, I feel like a slice of soggy bread compared to Binnie."
"I just feel like a piece of soggy bread in general." Han corrected.
"Let's leave the bread analogies to Jeongin." Chan chuckled as he wandered across the room to the weights. Han bent and grabbed his stuff and followed the older members.
The girl who'd been working out in this corner was just putting her weights back as the four boys approached. "Hello." She casually greeted Chan who made it to the corner first.
"G'day." He answered in English to match her.
"Oh, you're Australian?" She asked, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.
"Born and mostly raised." Chan chuckled, stroking the back of his neck.
"My husband is from Australia."
Dang it. Han snapped his fingers in disappointment. She does have a boyfriend.
"Oh, that's great! Tell him hello from a fellow aussie."
"I will." She grabbed her water bottle off the floor then moved to walk away but stopped and turned back around. "Oh, by the way, some the weights were being weird. I think some are old and broken. Just be careful."
"Thanks." Changbin managed in English, shooting her a thumbs up.
The girl nodded and left the four boys alone. Now it was just them and the random Gymbro across the room still running like a maniac on the treadmill. Han had to do everything not to get the song stuck in his head upon that thought.
He set his water bottle down and grabbed a couple lighter weights, starting with some bicep curls. Chan sat down and started stretching with Minho - both still sore from the plane ride. Han glanced over at Changbin who was curling 52lbs weights, huffing out breaths. He glanced down at the pitiful 25lbs in his hands. He moved to put the weights and grabbed 40lbs. He'd regret this later but burning a few extra calories would be worth it.
I'll lose weight faster this way anyways...
"I hate airplanes." Minho groaned, lying down on the ground, arms out as he bent one leg and rested it on the other knee, turning his hips to the side to stretch his lower back. "They smell funny, there's always so many people, the food tastes like Changbin's cooking..."
"Yah! Minho hyung!"
Minho cracked a smile.
"Hey, look on the bright side, at least after we fly back to Korea we're done with flights for the rest of December." Chan offered, rolling his shoulders in circles. "One more flight."
"That's one flight too many." Minho huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. Han could tell he was joking though. If Minho really wanted to complain, he'd go to Chan or him alone and then sit there waiting for the other to guess what was bothering him. It was the world's worst game. It always went the same way: "Hey, Minho hyung, you okay?"
"No."
"What's up?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do. Tell me."
He'd shrug and the game would commence.
"Did one of the members piss you off? Are you feeling sick? Are you stressed about a show? Did your voice crack at a concert? Did the shower water turn off again?" It happened once and Han didn't know someone could be so distraught over a shower. So, he always added it to his list of questions to ask.
Yeah, he knew when Minho was really upset with something. And he knew how to react. Although, there were the rare occasions that Minho wouldn't play his part in the game. He'd lock himself in his room, he'd bit his lip to hold back tears, he'd say he's fine. As much as Han hated the original game, he hated that version more.
"Hey Hannie." Changbin called. "Your form is a little off."
"Huh?" Han glanced down at his arms. "It is?"
"Yeah. Here." Changbin stepped halfway over the flopped-out dancer on the ground, his feet on either side of his torso.
"Nice view, Seo Changbin." Minho laughed reaching up and smacking the younger's butt.
"Hey! I'm holding 104lbs worth of weights right now!" Changbin snapped, though he smiled down at Minho all the same.
Chan rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at his members, standing up and stretching his legs out. He watched as Changbin showed Han the proper form.
It happened before he'd even realized anything changed. One second, the weight was in Changbin's hand, the next there was a cracking sound. Changbin stilled mid-lift but didn't have time to stop the weight from breaking the rest of the way. The girl had warned them that the weights were old and broken.
It's fine though. The weight thudded to the ground heavily, 52lbs worth of weight, but Changbin and Han jumped aside in time to spare their feet.
"Okay, maybe we're done lifting weights." Changbin said, his voice tense.
A sharp intake of breath, almost pained sounding, got Chan's heart racing. He glanced over at Han, who had set his weights quickly back on the rack. If not Han then... Oh. OH.
"Minho hyung?" Changbin asked first. Stepping back to get a full view of the elder.
Minho had rolled over onto his stomach, knees scrunched up under him and forehead pressed to the floor. Had Hyunjin been there, he would have said "that's gross, Minho hyung, do you know how many people have stepped there?" and the thought would normally make Chan laugh, but something was wrong. Seriously, wrong.
"Hyung?" Han asked, furrowing his brow at the elder.
"Fine." Minho choked out though his words were muffled by the floor. "Fine. I'm fine."
"Sounds convincing." Chan sighed, stepping over the younger to kneel in front of him. "Are you okay?"
"Give me space." Minho panted, pushing his forehead harder against the floor, his hair covering his face. Chan's heart hammered against his sternum. This was definitely wrong.
Han stepped forward, kneeling behind Chan and reaching out to pat Minho's leg. "I said space. I need space." Minho hissed, though there was zero venom behind his words. It more sounded like he was holding back tears. Han removed his hand quickly. It seemed that they were going to be playing the second version of "is Minho okay?". Han hated this version so much.
"Did I drop the weight on you, hyung?" Changbin asked, leaning over Minho and patting his hip.
Minho groaned, half frustration and half what broke Han's heart because it sounded like pain. "Not your fault." He managed to get out though. "You didn't mean to. It's fine."
"Where did it hit?" Changbin asked, rubbing Minho's hip.
"I'm fine. I want space." Minho panted then made a pitiful whine in the back of his throat.
Chan tapped his fingers on the ground beside Minho's head to get his attention. "You can have space after we make sure you're okay, mate."
"I said I'm..."
"I know what you said Lee Minho." Han stiffened. Uh oh, Minho's in trouble now, that's Chan's leader voice.
The dancer must have heard the change immediately because he blurted out, "Hand. Hit my hand."
"Okay." Chan sighed, his voice returned to being careful and tender. "Can I see?"
"No, I... I need space." Minho groaned, rocked back and forth on the ground.
"Lino." Chan began but Jisung put his hand on his shoulder. It had suddenly clicked for him. Head pressed against the ground, rocking back and forth, hissing through clenched teeth. Minho was going to cry.
"I think he means privacy, hyung." Han translated the nearly indecipherable Lee Know language. "We're still in public." He motioned to the gym around them. And while Gymbro on the treadmill was likely paying no attention since he was running like a cheetah was chasing him, Han knew that Minho would never allow himself to cry in public.
"Is that what you want, Lino?" Chan asked, setting his hand on the younger's head. If Minho had wanted real physical space, he likely would have flinched at the contact, but like with Changbin's hand still on his hip, he didn't react.
He groaned, nodding his head against the ground.
"Alright." Chan said. "Han, can you grab the water bottles?" He was already on it. "Let's head back to the rooms, Lino. Cmon, I'll help you up." He managed to pull Minho up, so he was sitting on his knees. From here he could see that Minho had his right hand pressed tightly against his chest, hiding it with his other hand.
What was more concerning though was his face. He was almost as pale as Jeongin had been last week when he nearly passed out. "You okay, mate?" Chan asked, raking his fingers through Minho's hair to pull it back from his face.
"You're really pale, hyung." Han added, standing in front of Minho, arms filled with water bottles.
"Not gonna pass out. Don't worry." Minho whispered then returned to biting his lip.
"Alright." Changbin nodded, standing behind Minho and hooking his hands under his armpits. "Up you go, hyung." He lifted Minho easily, having just benched nearly twice his weight.
As soon as he was on his feet, Minho speedwalked away from the group towards the gym's exit. 3Racha had to jog to catch up to him. As they entered the lobby where a few bellboys were standing, Minho's pace quickened like he was more desperate to hide and cry. Looking at his face, Han wasn't sure they'd make it to their room before he burst into tears. He was biting his lip so hard it had gone white, and his eyes were shining with the tears pooling in them.
But it turned out that Minho never intended to make it to their room. A handicap bathroom in the lobby served the purpose of privacy well enough for him. He ran to it, shoving his shoulder roughly against the door to push it open, and slipped inside. Han ran and held the door opened for Chan and Changbin to slip in before following himself and locking the door behind them. He could only imagine the weird looks those bellboys were giving them, having just watched four sweaty boys shove themselves into a tiny bathroom.
Han turned around, setting the water bottles on the floor and in the few seconds it took to do that action, a loud sob broke through the small room, echoing off the walls. His heart ached with the sound. No one - absolutely no one - sobbed quite as heartbreakingly as Minho. Maybe it was the rarity of his tears that made it sad, or perhaps it was just the look on his face - the fear and pain magnified in his eyes. Whatever it was though, Han would rather die than witness Minho cry.
Another sob broke out, though Minho was trying his hardest to hold it in. He curled up in the tight space between the toilet and the wall, and as disgusting as he would claim it was in his right mind, he seemed to be as content as currently possible in the little corner.
"Oh, Lino." Chan cooed, stepping closer to the younger.
"No!" Minho snapped. "Don't... don't look. I need space. Please."
Chan sighed, deflating, as he turned his back to Minho. Changbin wrapped and arm around Chan's shoulders. There was nothing they could do when Minho needed space. He'd told them multiple times that he didn't like people watching him when he cried, even his members... even his best friend. So, respectfully, Han turned his back, forced into the worst torture the world could produce for him - listening to Minho's sobs and knowing that the best thing he could do was keep his back turned.
Han really just hoped it was the shock of the incident and not pain that had Minho crying like that. Or maybe it was exhaustion from the airplane. If he was playing the proper version of "is Minho okay?" what questions would he ask?
Is it stress for the awards ceremony, hyung? Are you exhausted watching Jeongin to make sure he's eating every meal? Are you just scared you hurt yourself worse than you really did? Or did you actually hurt yourself badly and this was all just pain? - Han bit his lip as he felt his eyes brim with tears. - Don't cry, Han Jisung, this isn't about you. If you cry, you're just attention seeking. This is about Minho. So, he swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath to keep it down.
The sobbing suddenly went silent and that was almost worse. Chan was quick to ask, "You okay, Lino?"
"I think..." Minho's voice was flat, completely devoid of any emotion other than pure shock. "I think I need to go to a doctor." All of 3Racha immediately spun around.
Minho held his right hand out, eyes glued to it. Han saw why. He was glad they were in a bathroom because he felt like he might throw-up. The bone... He could see it in Minho's hand, it pressed outwards, creating a lump in the back of his hand.
Even Changbin gagged at the sight, but Minho's eyes were locked on the injury, his mouth parted slightly as if he couldn't believe it was his own hand. "Hyung, I think I need a hospital." He finally managed, lifting his eyes to meet Chan's.
Han admired Chan's stomach of steel and ability to stay calm under pressure. Aside from the tight clench of his jaw and the way his eyes flickered from Minho's face to the wound, he seemed completely calm. That's why he's the leader. He crossed the bathroom in two steps, kneeling in front of Minho in his hiding spot and took Minho's wrist, pulling his hand to rest it on his knee. It cupped it perfectly, creating the perfect shape to make for the least amount of pain. Though shock seemed to outweigh the pain currently. "Hyung." Minho said numbly, staring at Chan for an answer. The dancer had never looked so lost before; Han wanted to wrap him in the tightest hug and hide him away forever.
"Hyung, it..." He gulped, blinking rapidly as if trying to comprehend what was happening. "Hyung, it hurts. It really hurts." The shock shattered and in a matter of a millisecond the numb expression on the dancer's face broke into a look of absolute terror. And despite being mere inches from the leader, he cried, the tears unable to be contained anymore. "This can't be happening. How did this... Hyung we have to... the performance... I- I can't just... oh my god, it hurts. Hyung, please, this can't be happening." He squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth and hissing out a breath. Han almost preferred the shock, as terrifying as it was to see. This, though, this was the worst thing in the world.
Even Chan wasn't immune. His lower lip trembled as he reached a shaking hand out to lay it on the dancer's bowed head. "Don't think about the performance." His voice was so strained, he sounded seconds from sobbing himself.
"It hurts. What if I can't dance? It really hurts, hyung."
"I know, Lino. It's gonna hurt pretty bad, bud."
"Please, you've gotta make it stop. I have to dance. Please, hyung." Minho whimpered, his breath stuttering as he tried to suck air back in.
"We will. We will, bud. Just breathe." Chan assured him, massaging his scalp. He turned his head back towards Han and Changbin. Han could see the tears brimming in the leader's eyes and his heartrate spiked. If Chan was scared, then he should be terrified. But the leader took a deep breath and cleared his throat before saying, "Do either of you have your phones?"
Han patted his pockets, but he only found his keycard. Fortunately, though, Changbin pulled out his phone, and held it up from the leader to see. "Good... Okay, good." Chan adjusted the way his was squatting on the floor, one hand still in Lee Know's hair, playing with the knots and tangles as he thought through the course of action. "Binnie, can you call a manager to come down here? And text Hyunjin to keep the boys up in their rooms."
Changbin nodded, and quickly started typing his messages.
Han watched as tears silently streamed down the dancer's face. He was useless standing in the corner doing nothing, but he also didn't trust himself to step closer. Minho was already breaking down in front of their leader, and if Chan couldn't hold him together, what chance did Han have? None. I have no chance at all. I'm about as useless as a box of rocks right now.
"Done." Changbin blurted, pocketing his phone.
"No." Lee Know whimpered. "No, I don't need a manager."
Han understood immediately. Bringing a manager into this was almost a guarantee something about the performance was going to change tomorrow. But his hand... what else were they supposed to do?
"Lino, we need to get a manager involved. You need to go to the hospital; we can't fix this here." Chan explained, softly scratching the younger's scalp.
It must have gone completely over Minho's head. A sob broke through, and he gasped in a breath right after. "I don't want them to see. Please. I don't want them to see. It hurts."
Han's chest tightened. "Minho hyung, if you want to make it stop hurting, they need to see." He stepped back towards the door, waiting for their manager's arrival.
"No. I don't want to go to the hospital anymore. I want to go to bed." Minho sniffled, lifting his head to look pleadingly at his only hyung. The look in his eyes almost got Chan to say yes. Almost. But as much as it hurt to shake his head, he knew it was for Minho's own good. At the rejection, more tears escaped Minho's eyes and slid down his cheeks. With his uninjured hand, he roughly wiped them away, now resigned to making himself appear fine in front of people who weren't the members.
Chan kept rubbing his head as they waited for the manager to arrive. Changbin's message must have gotten their attention, because they didn't have to wait long before Han heard a knock on the door. He yanked it open, revealing their manager, his face hard as he stepped in.
"What the hell happened, Bang Chan?" The man asked, crossing his arms, though Han could see the concern in his eyes.
"We were in the gym." Chan began. "The weights were old and broken, and one broke and fell on Lino's hand. He needs to go to the hospital."
"Let me see." The manager said, leaning over the leader to peer down at Minho.
Chan angled his body out of the way, though he kept Minho's hand on his knee. It took .02 seconds for the manager's face to go white. "Yep. Hospital it is." He turned around, pulling his phone out, and texted someone, likely their driver. He nodded after a moment. "Alright, van's out front. Let's go."
Han grabbed the water bottles again and followed their manager out of the bathroom. Changbin grabbed some toilet paper as Minho and Chan stood up. Moving his hand off of Chan's knee brought a fresh wave of pain to the dancer, and he sucked in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut to stop any and all tears from falling. "Breathe through it, Lino." Chan instructed, guiding Minho's arm across his chest to rest on his left shoulder - the best angle for his hand. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."
"Here." Changbin offered, folding up the toilet paper he'd grabbed and dabbing at Minho's wet cheeks.
"Thanks." Lee Know whispered.
"It's the least I can do for a dropping a 52lbs weight on your hand while you were napping." Changbin chuckled, dropping the tissues in the garbage can before heading out of the bathroom.
"I wasn't napping, Bin, I was stretching."
"Really? Looked like napping to me."
"Because you weren't looking at me. You were busy admiring yourself in the mirror."
"How did you know I was doing that? Were you watching me?"
"I was trying to figure out who the weird guy with the sweat stains in his armpits was." Minho smirked at the huff Changbin gave at that response. They kept bickering all the way to the car where Changbin and Chan hoisted the dancer up into the van. They were about to follow and sit beside him, but Han had outsmarted them and gone to the other side to slip in. With Minho pressed against the window, Han got the middle and Changbin sat beside him. Chan rolled his eyes and climbed into the back while the driver and manager took the front.
"You don't have to come with me, you know." Minho spoke up when the engine started. "It's your day off."
"You kidding me?" Han raised his eyebrows. "No way am I leaving you behind. I'm sticking close to you, hyung. Who else will protect you from random sweat stained Gymbros and their 52lbs weights raining from the sky?"
"Okay, enough with the sweat stains?" Changbin huffed.
"No." Han smirked. "Never enough with the sweat stains."
"But seriously." Minho tried again when the car started moving. "You don't have to stay."
Chan was the one who spoke up this time, releasing a breathy laugh as he reached into their row and threaded his fingers through Minho's hair, resuming his massage. "I'm gonna stay, Lino. We're all gonna stay. In this group, no one gets left behind."
I wonder if the same goes for me. Han thought, as he grabbed the dancer's good hand and squeezed it. I wonder if they would cling so close to me when I need it.
Of course they would, you know that, Jisung.
But... do I?
Yes.
...Okay.