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Taehyung felt weird when he woke up that morning.
It wasn’t a huge, glaring kind of weird. In fact, he didn’t even notice it at first, not until he was already in the car on the way to work, Jungkook tapping on the steering wheel and humming along to the radio. He felt a little lightheaded, which was a dumb word, he thought, because his head felt heavy yet empty, if anything. Frowning to himself, he just closed his eyes and rested against the headrest.
“Are you alright, Tae?” Jungkook asked, his voice soft like it often was on quiet mornings.
“Lightheaded.”
“Did you eat?”
“Toast. Woke up a little late, didn’t wanna spend time on it.”
Jungkook hummed. A hand rubbed Taehyung’s thigh comfortingly. “We’ll grab some muffins, yeah? The shoot can wait just a bit for you. Do you even wanna go? You can call in if you think you need to.”
Taehyung thought for a moment. “I think I’ll be okay. The shoot ends at one anyways, it’s not too long.”
Another hum. “Well, call me if you start feeling bad. I’ll be right over.”
Taehyung reached and took the younger’s hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a kiss against his fingers. “I know, Love.”
So they got muffins and ate them in the parking lot, Taehyung sending a quick, ‘I might be a bit late, Hyungie!’ to Seokjin, who just replied telling him he still had an hour and not to worry about it.
When Taehyung finally went inside, it was with a bite taken out of his last muffin (“Jungkook, that’s mine”) and the sensation of the kiss to his cheek still faintly there.
He went to the third floor. Seokjin sat waiting for him, smiling when their eyes met and coming to his side, beginning to calmly explain the day’s agenda. Taehyung was the fifth model in line for the day, the first model already on set. Taehyung would get his hair done, then makeup, then clothes, be sent out on set, have his pictures taken. Be sent back into the dressing room. Undress, makeup removed and reapplied if and as needed, repeat.
Taehyung went through each step and had his pictures taken, the flow easy and familiar. The odd feeling in his head never really left, but it didn’t affect him too much, especially when he had the lighthearted chatter, camera shutters and lights to occupy his thoughts and keep his attention. By the time the shoot was done and Jungkook picked him up to take him home, Taehyung had nearly forgotten about it.
Nearly.
It’d been three hours. Taehyung felt weird again.
He stared at the book opened in his lap, seeing the words printed neatly on the page but not really seeing them. They swam together and twisted in swirls, and that didn’t seem right.
He carefully slid his bookmark into place with trembling fingers (when had he started to shake?) and raised his head.
Little dark dots danced along the edges of his vision. Those didn’t really matter though, because everything around him was blurry anyways. His eyes would focus a little, then every shape and color would meld together again in confusing blobs.
He could make out the red figure - Jungkook - on what he knew was the couch a couple of feet away. The popping of digital gunfire poured from the speaker connected to the TV and the clicking and tapping sounds of Jungkook rapidly pressing buttons on his controller echoed around them, yet all the noises sounded muffled as if underwater.
Taehyung frowned, confused.
He only realized what was happening when nausea started curling in the pit of his stomach and at the base of his throat, heavy like boulders, and he felt like he’d been doused in freezing water.
The feeling had been an aura.
“Kookie,” he called weakly.
He got no reply.
Taehyung whimpered.
“Kookie,” he tried again, trying to raise his voice. It broke a little, but mostly succeeded.
His eyes focused enough that he could clearly make out Jungkook’s head jerk up. Doe eyes blinked at him curiously. “What’s up, Hyung?”
Taehyung swayed. “Floor,” he breathed. “Kookie, floor—”
Jungkook’s brow furrowed, then his eyes widened, and Taehyung knew he was in good hands.
✾
Jungkook and Taehyung met online through a dating app.
At the first date, once they’d sat down and gotten settled, Taehyung had looked him straight in the eyes with a serious expression and told him, “I need you to know from the start that I have epilepsy.”
Jungkook had nodded slowly and, not breaking eye contact, replied with just as much caution, “And I need you to understand that I having a gaming YouTube channel, and because of that I play video games a little too much, but kisses are an acceptable bargaining tool for my attention.”
Taehyung’s expression had changed from serious to surprised to amused, a pretty giggle falling from his lips.
(Jungkook, later feeling guilty, had cleared up that he hadn’t meant to undermine how important Taehyung’s words had been. “I know that’s a big deal, and I wasn’t trying to brush it under the rug, you know. But I didn’t want you to think that was a deal breaker for me or something.”
Taehyung had just shook his head. “It was nice not having someone freak out or get worried as soon as I told them. Plus, you made me laugh, so...”)
Jungkook never experienced one of Taehyung’s seizures until they’d officially started dating about two months later after multiple dates and spending a lot of time together.
They’d been at Taehyung’s apartment hanging out with Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend, when it happened. Taehyung had been complaining of feeling off all morning, and had been in the bathroom for a couple of minutes when there’d been a thud, as well as the clatter of things falling. Neither of Jungkook’s two knocks had gotten any response, so he’d slowly pressed the door open, only to find his boyfriend on the floor with a bleeding lip and trembling body.
Jimin had come running at Jungkook’s scared shout. The older man had been the epitome of calm, gently nudging the younger to the side to get to Taehyung and going about the process with practiced ease: taking a folded towel from the cabinet to slide under the shaking boy’s head; setting a four minute timer on his phone, the time reduced because of the time it’d taken them to get to him; pushing as many of the fallen bottles and cans away and trying to block his flailing limbs from knocking into the edges of the sink.
The seizure had ended before the timer was up, and Jimin had shown Jungkook with quiet encouragement how to take care of a disoriented Taehyung after it had passed.
The next time they’d met up, it was without Taehyung - Jimin had bought the coffee, and Jungkook showed up with a notepad and pencil, ready to take the most thorough notes of his life.
But even with everything he’d learned from both Jimin and his own experience, Jungkook still hated Taehyung’s epilepsy. He hated that it made Taehyung cry. He hated that it reduced one of the most confident men Jungkook had ever met into anxiety and fear. He hated, hated how it limited him - when Taehyung got very tired, the chances of him having a seizure shot up, and by South Korean law, he wasn’t even allowed to drive. He hated the way the older, less sympathetic stylists at Taehyung’s work sometimes muttered under their breaths when the model showed up with scratches or cuts from falls caused by his seizures.
He hated the way that people on the internet often referred to Taehyung not as “GamerGuk’s Model Boyfriend,” but as “GamerGuk’s Epileptic Boyfriend,” as if epilepsy was what defined him, not his work or achievements.
Taehyung didn’t let it bother him too badly. He did what he wanted, went where he wanted, worked how he wanted, wore what he wanted. He found the good in what was unfortunate, and Jungkook loved him more for it.
But he still hated it, and he’d do anything to make it easier for him.
✾
Jungkook was on the move in seconds.
He leapt out of his seat, controller left on the couch cushion and the game abandoned, not even paused, as Jungkook crossed the room to Taehyung in a handful of strides. His right hand immediately came to take Taehyung’s left, his other dropping to rest on the elder’s waist. “Nice and easy,” he murmured soothingly, keeping eye contact. “Don’t panic, ‘Kay?”
He slowly helped Taehyung lower to the floor, keeping his voice as gentle and calm as possible. “There we go, Taetae. Easy does it. Lay on your side - yeah, just like that.” Jungkook repetitively ran his hand up and down from Taehyung’s hip to his ribs, listening to his boyfriend’s shaking exhale with an aching heart.
“Floor. Lay... lay down,” Taehyung repeated, voice spacey as if he wasn’t really aware of what was going on, and Jungkook knew he wasn’t. In the minutes closest to his seizures, Taehyung struggled to focus and tended to repeat things, especially whatever was said to him.
“You’re on the floor, Baby. You let me know, and we got you on the floor. You did so well,” Jungkook praised, brushing Taehyung’s bangs away from his face. The boy just whined.
“Okay, let’s get you set up, huh?” he murmured, patting his boyfriend’s side as he stood. Jungkook pushed the table and chair further away from Taehyung’s sprawled form to keep any stray limbs from smacking into them. Turning, he headed over to the couch, turning the TV off with the remote and stealing a throw pillow from atop the cushions.
Sitting down back by the elder’s side, he slid the pillow under Taehyung’s head with a soft kiss to the elder’s temple. He rested his hand to card his fingers through Taehyung’s hair and picked up his iPhone, opening it quickly and tapping on the phone app, dialing in the emergency number but not pressing the call button. Swiping up from the bottom of the screen, he found the timer button, pressing and holding it until it showed him the little vertical bar with the twelve notches. He slid his finger to bring it to the fifth notch - a timer for five minutes - before setting his phone down beside him to wait and settling his undivided attention back on Taehyung.
The calm before the storm never consistently lasted the same amount of time. Sometimes there was no warning period. Other times, Taehyung felt a seizure coming long before it ever came (an aura, Taehyung called it. He could just tell one was going to happen within a span of hours. He’d never been wrong).
This time it lasted about another minute. Taehyung laid with his eyes squeezed closed, small, uncomfortable noises slipping past tightly-pressed lips. And then he suddenly gasped, his eyes flying open, and the spasming began.
Jungkook winced. Watching Taehyung convulse and knowing he couldn’t do anything to help was always awful. Pressing the bright green button to start the timer, he let out a shaky breath, running his fingers feather-light over the skin of Taehyung’s arms. Jungkook knew better than to try to stop the jerking of his boyfriend’s limbs.
The only still part of Taehyung was his eyes, which stared forward unseeingly at Jungkook’s knee. Jungkook knew the boy’s mind was far from still - his thoughts were likely racing and muddled, without him being able to register any of the information it was throwing at him.
Jungkook checked the timer. Three minutes left.
Taehyung’s left side stopped its trembling.
Jungkook exhaled. His fingers continued their soft brushing. “You’re okay,” he murmured softly. He knew Taehyung could only half hear him - maybe even less than that - but he always felt better whispering encouragement during his seizures, being able to at least hopefully keep Taehyung from feeling like he was alone. “You’re doing good, Baby. It’s almost over, then we can cuddle, okay? Just a little longer.”
Taehyung let out something close to a cry, and Jungkook’s heart clenched painfully in his chest. “Just a little longer,” he repeated to himself. “Just a little longer.”
The seizure slowed and stopped with a minute and forty five seconds left on the timer. Taehyung sobbed, his body giving a final jerk, and Jungkook rushed to comfort, punching the stop button on the timer and sliding his hands under the older’s shoulders, hauling him up toward him.
Taehyung’s hands shook as they found their way to Jungkook’s chest and shoulder, clenching the fabric of his shirt in desperate fists. The younger cooed softly, pulling Taehyung more into his lap so that he could leave one hand against his back to support him and let the other run through the back of his hair, his head tucked under Jungkook’s chin.
It would be a couple of minutes before Taehyung was completely aware of what was happening around him, but for now, he had at least some focus, albeit a little scatterbrained. He let out a handful of unintelligible sounds until his tongue started to properly move with his words. “Nooo,” he whined, voice stuffy and thick, as he squirmed in the younger’s hold, though his hands didn’t seem to listen to the rest of his body and still clung tight to Jungkook’s shirt. “Wet.”
Jungkook hugged him closer with a soft kiss to his temple. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “Don’t worry about it, Baby. We’ll deal with it in a minute. You’re alright.”
Taehyung let out an unhappy whine but didn’t complain, nuzzling the underside of Jungkook’s jaw with a shuddering whimper.
Pressing another kiss to his head, Jungkook slid his hands down Taehyung’s back to under his thighs, ignoring the dampness there as he heaved the boy against him, carefully pushing himself to stand with his boyfriend held securely in his arms. He moved them down the hallway and into the bathroom, gently setting Taehyung down on the closed toilet seat.
Running his fingers through his lover’s hair again, he hummed softly, kneeling down before him and peeling off his socks one by one.
Taehyung sniffled. “Clean?” he asked hopefully, teary eyes peering at him.
“Clean,” Jungkook confirmed with a fond smile.
Giving a tiny nod, Taehyung reached to his collar and clumsily dragged his sweater over his head, a shiver working its way through him at the exposure of his warm skin to the cool air. When he dropped it to the ground, Jungkook pulled him up to stand, keeping a cautious hand on his hip while his other pushed Taehyung’s sweatpants waistband down. Taehyung’s cheeks flushed bright red, his head dipping to hide his face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck.
Jungkook cooed. “It’s alright, no need to be embarrassed,” he murmured sweetly, nosing at the older’s cheek. He pushed Taehyung’s pants down to his knees before helping him step out of the sleeves.
Taehyung didn’t seem convinced, avoiding making eye contact, but Jungkook didn’t push the topic. He knew the most embarrassing part of a seizure for Taehyung was wetting his pants. He couldn’t help it, it just happened, but there were times when some awful people laughed when they noticed, like it was funny for your body to lose control.
When they were at home it was alright because they were more than comfortable with each other, and while Taehyung still got embarrassed, Jungkook always reminded him that there was nothing shameful about it. But when they were in public and Taehyung’s epilepsy struck, there wasn’t much they could do to save his pride, not when it forced him into being the center of attention against his will. The first thing Jungkook always did, though, was cover his hips with the jacket he always carried. It was the least he could do.
Shoving the clothes to the side with his foot, Jungkook reached over to pull the shower curtain aside and turned the water on, pulling the tab up to set it to a shower and adjusting the temperature. It only took a moment for the water to reach the warm-bordering on hot temperature Taehyung liked. Touches gentle, Jungkook steadied Taehyung as he stepped over the bathtub rim into the spray, and he lathered the loofah hanging off of a hook with body wash, running it smoothly over his boyfriend’s skin. Taehyung let him with no complaint, standing quietly with his eyes closed.
When Jungkook got further down, he tapped Taehyung’s lower thigh, silently requesting that the boy open his eyes and look at him. “Can I wash here,” he tapped his thigh again, “or do you want to do it yourself?”
Taehyung’s eyes squinted before he took the loofah from Jungkook’s hand.
Humming, Jungkook stood up, starting to strip himself of his clothes, going about putting out two towels for them, and folding their discarded clothes just to waste time, glancing over his shoulder every once and awhile to reassure himself that Taehyung’s sometimes finicky post-seizure legs were holding him up fine.
By the time Jungkook was done, Taehyung was leaning back against the shower wall with hooded, sleepy eyes, the loofah hanging limply in his hand. Smiling fondly, Jungkook stepped forward, pushing the tab on the spout down to let water rush from it rather than the shower head. He plugged the drain, then gently took the loofah away from Taehyung, hanging it back up before helping his boyfriend to sit down in the tub and sliding in behind him.
Taehyung immediately leaned back against his chest, sighing softly as the water lapped at their legs. Shifting to get them more comfortable, Jungkook wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You doing okay?” he whispered.
“Mm’... better. Ish.”
The younger chuckled. “Ish?”
Taehyung just sighed again, melting against him.
Careful to disturb him as little as possibly, Jungkook stretched to turn off the water once it had risen to cover their laps. He leaned back, his hand falling to rest on Taehyung’s hip while he pressed soft kisses along the elder’s shoulder. Taehyung made a contented noise in response, tilting his head to the side in a silent request for more that Jungkook was too weak to even consider denying him.
They spent a good fifteen to twenty minutes like that, just quietly enjoying the warmth of the water, Taehyung dozing while Jungkook’s fingers brushed butterfly touches over his skin. When they both started to prune up, Jungkook quietly urged a pouty Taehyung awake and out of the tub, holding him by his waist as he unplugged the drain and wrapped him in a fuzzy towel, helping him to pat down before doing so himself.
Jungkook didn’t see any point in dressing them in clothes again (it’d just take extra work, and they’d slept naked together countless times before anyways), so he just pulled Taehyung into the bed once they reached the bedroom, pulling the cover up around them and tucking Taehyung’s head under his chin.
“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered, his words just a little slurred.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“I know.” A clumsy kiss pressed to his collarbone. “But thank you.”