K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Heesung enhypen - fainting

@strawberriehees here's your request. Hope you like it.
900 words.

Enhypen had barely touched the ground before the next wave of obligations came crashing over them. The Tokyo leg of their world tour was a big one—two nights, sold out, back-to-back. It was exciting. Monumental. Exactly the kind of dream they'd worked years for.

But when Heeseung opened his eyes that morning, it didn't feel like a dream.

His head throbbed the moment he sat up. Not just a dull ache—sharp, like something pressing into his skull from the inside. The hotel room felt colder than usual, and the air tasted stale in his mouth. He blinked, but the blur didn't clear right away.

He rubbed his face and shook it off.
Jet lag. That's all.
They'd just flown in from Jakarta, after all. Four hours of sleep. A 7 a.m. wake-up call. His body had a right to protest a little.

He forced himself up, brushing away the nagging fog that settled behind his eyes. The others were already gathered for breakfast in the dining room downstairs. Laughter echoed as he stepped in, and he smiled, trying to match their energy.

"Morning, hyung," Sunghoon greeted with a bright grin. "Sleep okay?"

Heeseung nodded, grabbing a piece of toast he didn't feel like eating. "Yeah, just tired."

He meant it to sound casual, like everyone else probably felt. But his voice was too flat, too quiet. Jay gave him a second glance but didn't press.

The day went on. Interviews. Soundcheck. More rehearsals. Everything blurring together in a tight, mechanical rhythm. Heeseung moved through it all like he was underwater—aware of what he had to do, trying to stay focused, but every movement felt just a beat too slow.

He forgot simple lyrics during a vocal run-through and laughed it off.
"My brain's still on the plane," he joked.

The staff chuckled. So did the members. But Jake gave him a look—quick, concerned, like he was trying to read something behind Heeseung's forced smile.

Backstage before the concert, the stylists were helping him change when he finally paused. He'd just sat down to get his shoes on when the room spun again, harder this time. A wave of heat flushed over him, followed by a bone-deep chill. His hands trembled slightly as he gripped the chair.

"You okay, Heeseung?" one of the stylists asked gently.

He blinked, swallowed dryly, then nodded. "Yeah. Just nerves."

That lie was getting easier to tell.
Because the truth was worse.
He wasn't just tired. He felt sick. Really sick.

But the thought of disappointing the fans, delaying the show, dragging the team down—it all felt heavier than whatever was happening inside his body.

So he got up. Drenched his face with cold water. Took deep breaths.

And he walked onto that stage.

The first few songs went smoothly. The lights, the sound of the crowd, the beat pulsing in his chest—it distracted him, lifted him. But by the time they hit the halfway mark, the illusion started to crack.

He couldn't catch his breath after each song. His chest was tight, his throat dry. He missed a few steps during a dance break, recovering just fast enough that no one but the members would notice. Sunoo shot him a worried glance.

During "Polaroid Love," he could barely hold his mic steady. His legs felt like rubber, arms numb at the joints. The dizziness came in waves now—like his body was floating, then crashing all at once.

When they reached the third act, it felt like a countdown. Each second ticking louder in his head.

Then it happened.

In the middle of a transition, Heeseung turned too fast. The world tilted—and this time, it didn't stop. His vision went white, and his knees gave out.

He collapsed.

Not slowly. Not gracefully. Just—gone. Crumpled to the stage floor in front of tens of thousands of fans.

The music kept going for half a second before the track cut. Screams echoed across the arena. The audience didn't know what was part of the performance and what wasn't—until the members rushed to his side.

"Heeseung!" Sunghoon was the first to reach him, dropping to his knees.

"Get help!" Jungwon barked at the nearest staff through his mic.

Jake hovered, eyes wide, trembling. "He's burning up," he whispered.

The medic team stormed the stage. The members were ushered away as Heeseung was surrounded. Oxygen mask. Emergency calls. Fans watched in stunned silence as the boy who never let them see him falter was carried offstage, unconscious.

Backstage, chaos unfolded.

No one could sit still. The members waited outside the medical room, some pacing, others still in costume, tears brimming. The staff moved quickly, contacting hospitals, rescheduling everything.

The diagnosis came within the hour:
Severe physical exhaustion. Dehydration. Underlying viral infection.

"He's been pushing through it for days," the doctor said, shaking her head. "He should've been in bed, not on stage."

Heeseung woke in the hospital that night, IV in his arm, throat raw. The first face he saw was Sunghoon's, sitting at his bedside, his expression caught between relief and anger.

"You scared the hell out of us."

Heeseung managed a faint, apologetic smile. "Sorry."

"You always say you're fine. You never are when it matters."

"I didn't want to let you guys down."

"We'd rather lose a show than lose you."

The tour was paused. Announcements were made. Fans trended hashtags sending love and concern. And for the first time in a long time, Heeseung rested—not because he had to—but because he finally understood it wasn't weakness to stop.

Sometimes, being strong meant knowing when to sit down.
Even when the lights are calling your name.

Thanks for reading