They're all enjoying a minute of downtime around the campfire when Dwight begins coughing. It starts as a tickle in the back of his throat that quickly escalates into a full-body wrecking fit. He does his best to stave it off — has been put into this position many times to know what's happening and how to help himself — but it's persistent, and he knows if he doesn't do something about it soon, everyone will notice.

Don't let them notice.

"Dwight, are you okay?"

The conversation crashes to a halt. They're all openly staring at him now, expressions ranging between concern and confusion, and all of this attention is too much, it's unbearable — he can barely get out the words "I'm fine" before he excuses himself from the campground and stumbles off to somewhere quiet and isolated.

Calm down, he tells himself, but it's hard with the seizing in his lungs and the rapid beating of his heart. The tightening of his throat is relentless; tucked away behind foliage, bent over and with his hands on his knees, his attempts for air are desperate and bordering on useless.

Oh God, he thinks. Oh God, I'm going to die —

There's a gentle pressure on his back.

"Breathe."

He's being guided to sit down. The pressure never releases, instead begins to rub circles into his skin; it gives Dwight something to focus on, and he makes the effort to reflect the motion in his breathing pattern.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out…

Something warm is shoved into his hands and it takes him a moment to realize it's water. Hands trembling, he brings the cup to his lips and takes a long sip. What he'd kill right now for his inhaler…

When most of the wheezing subsides, he looks over to find none other than Jake Park resting on his haunches beside him. His face is neutral, bordering on passive, but not even a curtain of choppy hair could hide the whispers of concern behind his eyes. Embarrassment surges within Dwight at the thought.

"Thank you," Dwight says slowly. Jake inclines his head. Taking another sip, Dwight squeezes his eyes together and, after a moment, lets out a dry laugh. "I must look pretty stupid, huh?"

Jake's eyes narrow. "Why?"

"Just, you know…" he gestures vaguely, frustrated. "I'm supposed to be setting an example but here I am hyperventilating."

He pinches the bridge of his nose, lifting his glasses, and sighs. "Some leader I am."

The hand on his back stills. He'd nearly forgotten Jake was still touching him.

"Dwight," Jake says. The solemnity in which he says his name startles Dwight into looking at him. "We didn't ask you to be our leader — you don't have to set an example."

Dwight averts his gaze to the cup in his hands. Oh. Try as he might, he's still messing things up, and it's not a revelation that sits well with him. He feels his throat tightening once more and he swallows.

Jake removes his hand, places it on his shoulder. Dwight blinks.

"If it makes you feel better…" he begins. He appears to be having an exceptionally hard time trying to say what he wants to say. "No one's judging you. We're all in this together — we have to look after our own."

Dwight looks at him — really looks at him — and feels he's seeing him for the first time. Jake arrived around the same time Dwight did, but has remained aloof all of this time; it feels like somehow, a weight has been lifted, and Dwight manages a watery smile.

"You're right," Dwight replies. "Thank you."

Jake removes his hand, nodding. There's a moment of silence between them before Dwight asks, rather awkwardly, "How did you… know…?"

"My brother," Jake explains, and that's the end of that.

"Oh."

The same hand curls around his elbow. "Let's get you back at the campfire."

"Okay."