Not Valid
Summary: Just pulling the phone closer to him hurts his muscles. And the bright light of the screen has him seeing stars. A new headache pulses behind his eyes. But all he has to do is pull up Mingi’s contact and press the phone button. He can manage for that long.
Pairing: Minsang - Platonic intentions but open interpretation.
Words: 3236
Warnings: Illness || Fever || Angst || Non-graphic Nightmares || Mingi Hiatus era
Inspiration: Loosely inspired by canon Minsang phone number incident. Modified events to fit into this story.
“He’s finally asleep,” Seonghwa sighs, shoulders slumped as though they may fall right out of their sockets. He exits the bedroom corridor, joining the members waiting in the living room.
Hongjoong hangs up the phone as he emerges from the kitchen entrance, sitting around the other 6 members. “Managers said anything above 38.5 is excused from schedules. Anything over 40 and it’s a trip to the hospital.”
“He’s still just over the 39 mark. His fever hasn’t gone lower than 38.8 all night,” Seonghwa admits, throwing himself on the couch despite the fact that it’s already occupied by the three youngest. He had volunteered to stay up with Yeosang through the night. He’s exhausted and not the least bit excited for their daily schedule, but he’s already resolved to nap on the drive to their filming location.
Hongjoong’s already texting the manager and alerting them of Yeosang’s most recent temperature. He’s also asking (demanding) that his schedule be cleared for at least two days. Seonghwa makes himself comfortable on Wooyoung’s lap, “Even if he wasn’t excused, there’s no way he could make it through the day. He can’t even sit up on his own.” Silence falls on the room, the other occupants looking between the two eldest, unasked questions like elephants in the room. Hesitation on the tip of their tongues.
Hongjoong feels the tension like cement blocks on his shoulders. It’s his job to anticipate these things. Though no one had expected their resident Doberman (read: Maltese) to get sick, especially as quickly as he did. Regardless, his job is to make sure the members are taken care of. And their physical condition comes first. “Mingi, what’s your schedule look like?”
“Just vocal recording.” the fellow rapper replies. Since he’s returned from hiatus, upper management has decided to ease him back into the idol lifestyle so as not to overwhelm him. He’s only had one or two simple schedules a day for two weeks now. And while he’s grateful for the accommodation, he can’t help but feel he’s not really pulling his weight for the group. But he’s talked about these feelings with his members and they’ve all reminded him that it’s best to go at this pace to avoid a relapse. And silver linings, he’s available when the members need help.
“Sangie should be fine on his own for an hour or so. Honestly, he’ll probably stay asleep most of the day since he didn’t get much last night.” Seonghwa supplies.
Mingi realizes quickly where the conversation is headed. “I’ll look after him once I’m done with recording,” he volunteers, like it’s not already the decided answer to unasked questions.
Wooyoung wraps his arms around Mingi’s broad shoulders, hugging him tightly, “Take care of my best friend, Minnie.”
Mingi pats Wooyoung’s back with a wide smile. “And here I thought I was your best friend,” He says sarcastically.
San scoffs and mutters “Get in line” to which Wooyoung’s jaw drops to the floor and the rest of the room bursts into laughter. Mingi has to admit, it’s good to be back.
Hongjoong takes one more trip down the bedroom corridor to check on Yeosang before their managers arrive. The leader smooths out the younger’s hair and sets a few things within reach should Yeosang wake up urgently. He then joins the other members as the vans pull up in front of their dorm. Mingi gets into one van while the other six pile into the other.
As expected, Mingi finishes his schedule quickly and he’s back to the dorm an hour later. The first thing he does after kicking off his shoes is make sure that Yeosang’s still alive. He peeks his head inside and finds the older vocalist curled up under the covers. Exactly how Hongjoong said he left him. He looks peaceful, contrary to how he’d seen Yeosang staggering through the dorm last night. After the night he knows Yeosang had, he doesn’t want to disturb him. So he softly closes the door and notifies the group chat that he’s back and Yeosang is officially in his “very capable hands.” It wouldn’t be the member’s LINE group chat if Wooyoung doesn’t make a dirty joke out of it.
He goes back to the living room and connects his switch to the TV. There’s a game he’s been meaning to play. And usually he feels guilty playing during the day. But he figures there’s nothing else he should be doing as long as Yeosang sleeps. He’s not due for another dose of medicine yet, and Yunho prepared food to heat up if Yeosang wakes up hungry. So he leans against the back of the couch, an excited smile on his face as he boots up the game. He even remembers to turn the volume down so he could hear Yeosang call for him.
Yeosang tosses and turns in the throes of yet another vivid fever dream. He always gets them when he’s feverish. When he was younger, they used to be filled with truly terrifying things, like clowns and cartoon monsters. And that one about bees that unsettles him to this day. But recently they are always the same plot. Now they always involve the members. Sometimes, the members are mad at him. Sometimes, he leaves the members. Sometimes there’s a tragic accident. No matter the preface, the ending always remains the same. Yeosang always ends up alone.
This one ends with a devastating plane crash and the sight of his member’s mangled bodies. It’s the visual of San’s severed head that shocks him to consciousness. The first thing he notices is his heart beating against the wall of his chest. With enough force, it might bust through his rib cage. He tries to take a deep breath, but quickly realizes that no matter how hard he tries, the air won’t come through. His breaths are short and ragged. Then he feels cold tracks running along his cheeks. Tears.
He reaches for where he usually keeps a water bottle next to the bed. Or, rather, he tries to. The simple action of extending his arm hurts. Every joint aches, sending signals of pain to his clouded mind. Just taking his hand from the warm encasing of the covers sends a sharp chill all the way to his spine. And suddenly his whole body feels 20 degrees below freezing. He’s still crying.
It takes more energy than it should for Yeosang to grab the water bottle, only to find it empty. Feeling the air light bottle shatters his heart. He’s already crying, and he won’t stop anytime soon. He feels betrayed for a moment, astounded that someone would drink his water. He doesn’t remember drinking it. But he doesn’t remember much of the last 12 hours, actually. Glimpses of the last 12 hours flash through his mind. There’s only bits and pieces of members’ faces after deciding that Jongho’s lap would be a good place to rest. He should apologize to their maknae.
Rather than launch a full scale investigation on the case of the missing water, he focuses on where he’s going to find more. He’s losing water faster than he can replenish. With the sweat and the tears, he’ll risk dehydration soon. And even his fevered foggy mind knows that is something he would like to avoid. He can hear Seonghwa’s soft voice in his head: “You need to drink, Sangie. We can’t have you getting dehydrated.” So that’s where his water had gone.
The dryness in his mouth battles the nausea swirling in his stomach. He’s somewhere between thirsty and nauseous. He needs to be hydrated, in case that swirling does result in vomiting. Has he done that yet? He can’t even remember. But the kitchen is so far away. He doesn’t think he could make it to the bedroom door. The kitchen may as well be on another continent. His lips start quivering, mustering up the reserves of his strength to venture into their suddenly too big dorm. How foolish he’s been to complain about the size of their dorm before.
When he sits up, he spots a note on the side table. There’s a chart logging the medications he’s taking and when he needs his next dose. This had been Jongho’s diligent work after he accidentally over-medicated San when he was sick. Since then, the med table has been an absolute must in the ATEEZ dorm. They don’t need any more scares like that. Aside the medication chart, there’s a sticky note written in Hongjoong’s scratchy handwriting. He wipes the tears from his eyes so he can read it:
I got you two days off. We’ll see how you’re feeling after that. Mingi is going to be at the dorm with you. Let him know if you need anything. Feel better. -Hyung.
A wave of relief washes over Yeosang’s weakened body. He smiles for the first time since he’d woken up, thrilled to find he’s not alone in the dorm. Not only will Mingi be able to help him, but he doesn’t like to be alone when he’s feeling so poorly. Not that he’s ever told anyone. He knows sometimes it’s unavoidable.
Relaxing back into the bed, Yeosang reaches for his phone to call Mingi. Just pulling the phone closer to him hurts his muscles. And the bright light of the screen has him seeing stars. A new headache pulses behind his eyes. But all he has to do is pull up Mingi’s contact and press the phone button. He can manage for that long.
“The number you have dialed is not valid.”
That’s not possible. He tries again.
“The number you have dialed is not valid.”
The relieved smile falls, and Yeosang’s eyes fill with tears again. Maybe one more time.
“The number you have dialed is not valid.”
And when he hears that dreaded message a third time, the tears spill again. Did Mingi block his number? Or did he turn off his phone? But Mingi’s supposed to be taking care of him. He hasn’t seen Mingi all night, if the fleeting flashbacks are anything to go by. Doesn’t Mingi care about him? Shouldn’t Mingi check in on him? He weeps at the cyclone of thoughts swirling through his clouded mind.
He’s never craved attention so desperately. All he wants is touch. Nothing too extreme. Delicate fingers running through his hair. Maybe a steady palm on his shoulder or cool knuckles against his forehead. He just doesn’t want to be alone. In all of his nightmares, he ends up alone. But those are just nightmares. He never thought they would translate to his reality. Hopelessly, he clutches the phone close to his chest and weeps. Maybe Mingi will hear him? Maybe Mingi won’t care.
Mingi has cleared through eight levels already. He’s hyperfocused on each mission, the game much more captivating than even the trailers made it seem. He’s so engrossed in the game, he’d nearly forgotten about Yeosang. That is, until his phone rings and he catches sight of Wooyoung’s silly selca on the screen. He instantly pauses the game and picks up the phone.
“Song Mingi! Where are our updates!” Wooyoung screams. Based on the voice’s distance from the receiver, he assumes Wooyoung is not alone. The others are probably crowding the phone.
Mingi startles at the question. How long has it been since he last checked on Yeosang? He’s been back for nearly three hours. He bites his lower lip. “There’s nothing to report, Woo.” He hesitates, “Sangie’s been asleep the whole time.”
“Did his fever break yet?”
“He didn’t even wake up for his medicine?”
“You should wake him up. He needs to eat.”
Mingi’s heart sinks. The members all trusted him to take care of Yeosang. He wants to contribute to the team. And he doesn’t even do that well. His mentality shifts to formulate an excuse. In his defense, he's used to having the place to himself these days. And Yeosang's been so quiet, he'd forgotten he was there. Mingi just hopes the quiet isn't a bad thing.
“I’m sorry,” Mingi states ambiguously, “I’m going to check on him now. I’ll update the group chat.” He hangs up the call before anyone can voice their disappointment.
When he approaches the bedroom corridor, he hears the sobbing. The sound gets louder as he rushes to Yeosang’s room. He throws the door open and finds Yeosang curled into a fetal position.
His eyes have dried up from dehydration, no more tears left to shed. But his voice still breaks with hiccuping whimpers and sobs. Mingi rushes to the bedside, falling to his knees to get as close to Yeosang without climbing into the bed with him.
"Sang-ah. Hey, are you okay?" He asks stupidly, already knowing the answer is a blaring no. "Are you still feeling sick" like the bright red feverish flush doesn't give it away.
Yeosang just curls tighter into himself, shaking his head. He convinces himself that there is no way Mingi is here with him now. Mingi doesn’t care about him. He must be having another fever dream. This Mingi will leave him eventually. And he’ll be alone again.
Mingi brushes his fingers underneath Yeosang’s sweaty fringe. Yeosang almost leans into the touch, but succumbing to the comfort would just be an evil trick. “You’re burning up!” Mingi exclaims, “Bre-Breathe with me, hyung, we-we need you to calm d-down.”
This nightmare Mingi even stutters like the real one. And now there’s a hand on his chest, and a face close to his telling him to breathe in. And hold. And breathe out. Because he’s so close, and so warm, Yeosang does. Until he his breaths even out and he can no longer hear the sound of his own heartbeat drumming in his ears. All he hears now are comforting nothings whispered in Mingi’s deep, soothing voice. And he starts to believe Mingi is more than an evil figment of his imagination. His touch is genuine. His presence is comforting. His concern is written on his features.
Nightmares make him cry. The nightmares never cry themselves.
“You scared me,” Mingi confesses. He presses his forehead against Yeosang’s burning skin. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you. What got you so upset?”
Yeosang sorts through his mind, trying to remember why he was so worked up in the first place. But he can’t focus on anything but the spots where Mingi’s skin is on him. It’s a welcome presence, a comfortable tingling reminding him that he’s not alone. Not in his room, and not in the world. He just makes a noncommittal sound, holding his arms out to initiate more contact.
Mingi notices Yeosang’s phone clenched tightly in his grip as he goes to hug the older. He tries to pry the phone away from Yeosang, “Silly hyung, you shouldn’t be using your phone when you’re sick.” he jokes, “You should have been resting.”
When Mingi pulls the phone away, the memory floods him again. He had tried to call Mingi. The number you have dialed is invalid. He remembers. Mingi doesn’t care about you. He reaches for the phone again, “You didn’t answer me.” He rasps, his mouth dry and voice hoarse from disuse.
“What was that?” Mingi hadn’t heard.
“I-I tried to call you.” Yeosang shows Mingi the phone screen, shows him the three attempted outbound calls, “I needed you.”
Mingi pulls out his own phone. He checks his call records. He has exactly zero missed calls from Yeosang. But when he looks back to Yeosang's phone, he immediately recognizes the issue. He pulls Yeosang into a tighter hug, "Oh, hyung." He sighs, "that is my old number. I had it changed while I was on leave."
Yeosang sniffles, suddenly feeling shy. And ashamed. His fault. He should have known better. Mingi would never shut him out. He's one of Mingi's top 5 favorite hyungs. "Oh." It's a small sentiment, but it clears up everything. If it comes up again, he'll blame it on the fever.
Mingi snatches the phone from Yeosang yet again, and this time the older relinquishes it without complaint. "Here hyung," Mingi taps at the screen, "I deleted my old number and added the new one. So it will go through the next time you call."
Yeosang nods, a lingering pout on his lips. He's grateful for Mingi's updated number. But he doesn't really want a reason to use it.
"Not that you'll be calling me anytime soon. Because I'm not going to leave your side until you're feeling better." The taller man climbs into the bed. Yeosang smiles, quickly wrapping himself around Mingi like he's a body pillow. "Seonghwa may try to kick me out, but he can fight me. I think I can take him." Mingi smiles, running fingers through the older's dark hair.
Yeosang just hums in reply, quickly falling asleep to the rapper's gentle scratching. "But don't tell him I said that." Mingi's laugh is music to his ears. "Hey, are you falling asleep?" And just like that, the soothing petting stops. Much to Yeosang's dissatisfaction. "No, you can't yet. I have to give you your medicine. And food. And you still have a fever. I haven't even taken care of you yet."
"Not hungry," Yeosang replies, muffled against Mingi's shoulder.
"Not negotiable. The others might actually kill me if I don't pamper you like the prince you are." Now it's Yeosang's turn to laugh. But it quickly digresses into coughing. And that reminds him, he's awfully thirsty.
"Water." The vocalist raspy once he's finished coughing, "Thirsty."
Mingi eyes the empty water bottle on the floor. He picks the bottle up with his left hand, and scoops Yeosang up into his right side. "Don't wanna move." Yeosang whines.
"You're not moving. I'm carrying you." Mingi rebuts.
"Still moving." He mumbles against Mingi's neck. Despite his protest, he quickly latches on, tired arms slung around Mingi's shoulders. "Where are you taking me?"
"The kitchen," Mingi replies like it's obvious. "You said you wanted water."
"I want you to bring me water."
"No. I just promised that I wouldn't leave your side. Not even for a second." Mingi's wide hand runs along his back.
Yeosang doesn’t have the energy to argue. So he succumbs and lets Mingi carry him to the kitchen. He gulps down the water while seated on Mingi's lap. He even eats a few pieces of fruit before he all but orders Mingi to take him back to bed. Mingi takes his temperature and records it on the log. He's still teetering at the 39 mark. Yeosang takes the meds he offered then resumes cuddling with the younger rapper. Mingi makes sure he sends a photo to the group chat.
He's nearly asleep, lulled by the rise and fall of Mingi's chest, when his eyes shoot open and he reaches for his phone.
"Sangie, what's wrong?" Mingi asks, but Yeosang doesn't reply. He keeps tapping at the screen. The room is silent for a few seconds until Mingi's ringtone echoes through the room. Mingi picks up his phone and shows Yeosang the Hehetmon drawing on the screen.
Yeosang ends the call, wide smile on his face as he sets the phone back and nuzzles himself into Mingi's chest again. "Just making sure."
Mingi smirks, presses a kiss to the crown of Yeosang's head. "Sweet dreams, hyung."
And they are.
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A/N: I've had this idea in my mind for a really long time. Mingi and Yeosang are my Ateez biases. I personally found the phone number incident really charming, especially the way they handled it. Also, no disrespect toward Mingi's hiatus. I have the most respect for him prioritizing himself and his health.
I feel like my writing has gone to shit. I'll keep working on it. Send me prompts to help me?
As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!
