Quickly, Korea had grabbed Hong Kong when he saw him falling to keep him from colliding with the ground. He was blinking, wide-eyed as he watched the Chinese closely, adjusting his hold on him. The personification of Hong Kong's face was unnaturally pale, and his breathing was slightly labored. Korea was beyond confused over what had happened to Xiang. He appeared fine, then suddenly, collapsed.

"Y-Yo! Xiang! Wake up!" the Korean gently shook his shoulder, wanting to get a response from him. Yet was awarded with none, though he didn't really expect one at the moment. Sighing, Korea scooped up the fallen Xiang in his arms and carried him into the living room, trying to not trip on the panda laying in the middle of the doorway as he did so.

Im Yong carefully laid Xiang on the couch, propping his feet up on the armrest, slipping a pillow underneath his head. Watching him, he wondered what had happened to him. Was he sick? Seriously injured? Poisoned? Or maybe…!

Im Yong mentally smacked himself. He'd been watching too many K-Dramas…

"Jeez…Xiang, what's wrong with ya?" Im Yong mumbled, placing a hand to his forehead, feeling his skin burning hot to the touch. He bit his lip, pulling his hand away, glancing down at the miserable looking Xiang. "What do I do…?"

Suddenly Im Yong snapped his fingers, reaching for the phone on the end table nearby. "That's it! I'll call China! He'll know what to do!" pleased with himself, he dialed Yao's number, waiting impatiently for the answer.

"Nihao, You've reached Wang Yao! Leave a message after the-"

"Dammit!" Korea yelled, slamming the phone down on the receiver, crossing his arms angrily. Now what would he do…? Immediately he started pacing back and forth, nervously starting to nibble on his fingernails. A disgusting habit, yes, but a stress reliever when he was so upset. "Gah! What do I do? What do I doooo?"

Korea looked back at Hong Kong, then realized that just feeling his forehead wasn't an accurate way of checking a fever, so he quickly ran to go find a thermometer. Of course, it had taken him longer than he would have liked to find the instrument in the first place, not used to closets and such in Xiang's home. Yet he had found it eventually, though he was thoroughly cranky and his patience was wearing thin at the time.

"…alright…" Korea mumbled, opening the see-through plastic case the thermometer was in. Jeez. This guy was fancy… he blinked when he saw a folded up piece of paper fall out. Raising an eyebrow, he quickly skimmed it, just to double check to see what he was doing. He had a tendency to do simple things wrong under pressure.

"Ok, I can do this…" he took a deep breath, looking it over one more time. " 'Place thermometer either under the tongue, under the armpit, or…' " the Korean paled as he read the rest of what it said. "No…I am NOT putting it down there!"

Korea shut his eyes tightly, focusing on his breathing to calm down. "Ok…it said 'either'…meaning I don't have to put it down THERE…" he swallowed hard, gently parting Xiang's lips and slipping the thermometer under his tongue.

Waiting for that beep was the most stressful time Korea had ever remembered. When it finally beeped he yanked it out a bit too roughly from Xiang's mouth, checking the reading real quick. He felt his heart sink when he saw the numbers.

"Holy sh*t…" Korea mumbled, looking at Xiang. "Idiot! Look what happened when you don't take care of yourself! Now you have a temperature of 103.8! That's way too high!" his fist clenched, glaring at the unconscious man on the bed. Sighing again, he ran his fingers through his hair, his ahoge bouncing from the movement.

"Xiang…what do I do?" Im Yong whispered to Hong Kong, kneeling down next to him, sweeping his bangs out of his face. "I-I don't…is something going on with your country? Is that it? You're never sick…"

Korea had begun to pace, running his fingers through his dark brown straight hair.