Attention Seeker✔️

8

Minho continued his additional practice for almost a week, though after a few days, he allowed himself to get at least some sleep in between schedule and working on his dancing as he had to admit, he was getting sloppy. He knew, he'd probably hurt himself if he kept dancing without sleep and if he injured himself, he'd not only hold his group back, he'd also miss out on precious time that could be spend practicing, so he'd rather sacrifice two hours of potential practice time to sleep if it meant he'd be able to keep practicing regularly. Hyunjin and Felix were the first to realize how far their hyung was pushing himself. The dance-racha had some schedule together, so they knew just how taxing their practice had been and Minho had already been there hours before the trio started their practice session. Hyunjin and Felix were completely spent when they concluded their practice. Minho was too but he wouldn't show it. If his dongsaengs could tell how run-down he felt, they wouldn't let him stay behind to dance on his own for another few hours.

To be entirely honest, Minho himself didn't know how he did it. His muscles were constantly on fire and he didn't feel like he could move in the slightest, yet his body did. He kept moving and getting through the day as if on autopilot. His dancing was on point, though Minho didn't feel like he was actively dancing, more like executing the moves from muscle-memory. One of the nights when he refused to go home, he got into an argument with Felix. Too out of it to really have a conversation with anyone, it had seemed like Minho was ignoring the younger. The Aussie was upset because all he had wanted to do was convince his friend to allow himself a break. Not really wanting to drop the topic, Felix kept urging his hyung to go home but the older had entirely tuned him out, till Felix eventually shoved his water bottle into his bag and headed back to the dorm. He didn't call for a driver, needing the walk and cold night air to clear his mind. Felix understood that his hyung felt pressured but he had just wanted to help, so no need to ignore him.

Hyunjin too soon left the practice room and followed Felix back to their dorm. Before leaving though he tried to talk some sense into his hyung. "You know we just want you to be okay and get enough rest, hyung. It's not like we're bossing you around or telling you what to do but you can't tell me you aren't tired and you aren't sore because I surely am, and I haven't been practicing half as long as you, so please... Come home, take a shower, eat some dinner with us and go to bed early. We can go back to practicing first thing in the morning", Hyunjin tried but didn't get much of a response, only Minho shooting him an angry glare. Packing up his bag, before huffing: "Sorry for caring, just go ahead, keep destroying yourself but don't expect any sympathy from us if you end up hurting yourself because that is exactly what I see coming if you keep practicing without enough rest and you know that too. If you willingly risk that, whatever happens is your responsibility and I will not bother trying to take care of you because you make it so obvious that you don't want help."

A lone tear spilled down Minho's cheek when he heard the door slam behind his dongsaeng. He knew Hyunjin was right and Felix too had just wanted to help, so he understood why they'd feel hurt, but he couldn't go home yet. Not when his dancing was still lacking so much. Going home to rest meant being lazy and his work attitude had been criticized enough. He wouldn't be lazy again. His friends did have a point though. Minho barely had any energy left and he'd surely hurt himself if he kept going like this. He couldn't take a nap but he could eat something to restore his energy.

Digging through his backpack, Minho found two energy bars and a granola bar. Weird, he never bought granola bars but that one seemed to be the same brand Felix usually got. His heart ached, figuring the younger had slipped it into his bag. He had been so harsh towards his dongsaeng but the Aussie still tried to take care of him. Opening the granola bar, Minho made his way down the hallway towards a small vending machine. He didn't even notice how he kept dragging his feet as he tiredly chewed the sticky granola. Once in front of the vending machine, the dancer was faced with a very tricky decision. He really wanted to buy a box of juice but was afraid he'd slip if he suckled on the straw, so he bought a sports drink before shuffling back to the practice room. It seemed to take an eternity for him to finish the three bars but he thought three servings of snacks could be considered a meal, so he technically wouldn't skip dinner if he finished them all.

Minho went right back to dancing after he rinsed the last bite of his energy bar down with half a bottle of sports drink. He did dim the lights a bit because they made his headache worse but it only helped a little. A shiver ran down his spine as goosebumps spread over his skin. Rubbing his arms, the dancer cursed himself for taking such a long break in his sweaty practice clothes with the aircon running. No wonder he felt chilled to the bone. Had he not been so out of it, Minho might have realized that the chills and headache were the telltale signs of a fever but even if he had, it probably wouldn't have stopped him. He had to practice. If he didn't, he'd be holding back his group and he wouldn't hold his group back anymore. His so-called dinner, sloshed around nauseatingly as the dancer executed jumps and turns.

Only making it halfway through the song, Minho doubled over panting. A weak gag pulled at his throat and he hurriedly clamped his hands over his lips, speedwalking to the closest restroom. He could taste the artificial flavor of the sports drink on his tongue and winced when his stomach squeezed. Minho's legs shook and he barely made it to the restroom in time, weakly leaning over the sink as he burped up a tiny wave of his sports drink. Ugh, why did those things have to contain so much artificial dye? Watching the blue trickle run down the drain simply looked wrong. He wasn't supposed to have something that weirdly colored in his stomach. Before Minho could dwell on his mistake for too long, he pitched forward with a harsh retch, more blue spilling from his cracked lips, almost knocking the dancer off his feet. No, he definitely wasn't steady enough for this.

As soon as Minho got a break, he rinsed out the sink and stumbled into one of the stalls. He knew it wasn't over yet but he didn't have the energy to stand any longer. Before he knew it, he was gagging again but his stomach's weak contractions didn't send anything up, making him feel even more nauseous. Desperate for relief, Minho pressed his fist into his middle, instantly choking up a large wave. Bracing himself against the walls of the stall, the dancer coughed and struggled to catch his breath before getting sick again. His throat and nose burned and he couldn't help but break down crying. He was too tired for this. Despite his perception of time being all messed up, Minho could tell that it had only been a few minutes before he was reduced to dry heaves. No wonder he was empty this quickly with how little he had eaten that day but the granola bar certainly had been a similarly bad choice as the sports drink. The tiny oat chunks had scratched his throat on the way up, making it ache even more as he kept retching unproductively.

Drained, Minho rested his pounding head on the toilet seat. Had he been in his right mind the thought alone would've made him gag from how disgusting it was but all he knew right now was that his head was far too heavy for him to hold and he needed to put it down somewhere. Tears kept spilling down the dancer's flushed cheeks but be was too tired to care. Everything was hurting and he knew he had brought this onto himself, so it was probably what he deserved. Minho closed his eyes, praying for the ground to stop moving, so he could go to sleep without feeling seconds away from having his stomach leave his body. The upset organ rumbled angrily, but the dancer didn't have the strength to lift his arm off the ground to rub over his sore middle. He just wanted the darkness to take him under and eventually it did.