The weight of the World (Jongho)

                                    

                                          
The night had settled over the city as ATEEZ returned to their dorm, the usual energy that crackled between them dimmed by exhaustion. The past few months had been relentless—rehearsals, performances, interviews, and fan meetings all blending into a blur of lights and sounds. But the adrenaline had carried them through, as it always did. Their passion for performing, for connecting with their fans, had kept them moving, even when their bodies screamed for rest.
Jongho was always the quiet one about it. He didn’t complain, didn’t show the cracks in his resolve like some of the others. To the rest of the world, he was the strong maknae, the powerhouse vocalist who could belt high notes while doing flips, the one with unshakeable determination. But his body had limits too. He just never said anything. He didn’t want to worry his hyungs.
That night, as they stepped through the door to their dorm, Jongho lagged behind the rest of the group. His vision swam, and the edges of the room seemed to blur. He felt his body growing heavier with each step, but he clenched his jaw and pressed on. Just a little further, he told himself. Just make it to your bed.
Seonghwa, always the first to notice when something was off, glanced over his shoulder as he kicked off his shoes. "Jongho, are you okay?"
Jongho nodded, or at least he thought he did. "Yeah, I’m fine, hyung," he muttered. But his voice sounded distant, even to himself.
Hongjoong was in the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water, when he noticed Jongho swaying slightly on his feet. “Jongho? You sure you're good?” His leader tone, that mix of concern and authority, cut through the exhaustion clouding Jongho’s mind.
Jongho opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, the room tilted violently. The ground rushed up to meet him, and everything went black.
Chaos erupted instantly.
“Jongho!” Seonghwa’s voice was sharp with panic as he rushed forward, catching Jongho just before he hit the floor. The others, startled by the sound of Seonghwa’s shout, dropped everything and ran into the living room, horror flashing in their eyes at the sight of Jongho collapsed, unconscious, in Seonghwa’s arms.
“He just… collapsed,” Seonghwa’s voice shook as he looked up at the others. “He said he was fine, but he just…”
“Move, let me check him,” Yunho said, his voice tight with worry as he knelt beside Seonghwa. He gently pressed his hand to Jongho’s neck, checking for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak, and his skin was clammy.
“He’s burning up,” Yunho murmured, his brow furrowed. “He must have been hiding it.”
“Of course he did,” Mingi muttered, his hands trembling as he watched Jongho, fear twisting in his gut. “He always does.”
Hongjoong was already on the phone, dialing their manager. His voice was calm, but the way his hands clenched the phone betrayed the fear beneath the surface. “We need a doctor,” he said quietly, glancing at Jongho’s pale face. “Now.”
The minutes ticked by in agonizing silence as they waited for the doctor to arrive. Jongho had been moved to the couch, where Seonghwa sat beside him, wiping his forehead with a damp cloth in an attempt to bring down his fever. Yeosang and San hovered nearby, too worried to speak, while Wooyoung paced restlessly, his eyes flickering back to Jongho every few seconds.
“I should have seen this,” Hongjoong muttered, pacing next to Wooyoung, guilt heavy in his voice. “I should have noticed he was struggling.”
“We all should have,” Yunho added quietly, his expression grim. “But he’s Jongho. He never lets us see it.”