Chapter Text
November 26th.
Hyunjin has never made a habit of lying.
Not to Chan, not to Minho, not to Changbin, Han, Felix, or Seungmin.
And especially not to Jeongin.
But today, every word out of his mouth feels like betrayal.
“Listen…” he starts, the word tasting like rust on his tongue. Jeongin’s already watching him, already tense. His eyes, warm as always, search Hyunjin’s face like he’s looking for the punchline of a cruel joke. “I just think… we’re not great together.”
Jeongin’s brows knit together. Confusion floods his face, then panic. He blinks a few times, lips parting soundlessly as if he might ask for clarification, only he already knows what Hyunjin’s about to say. And he doesn’t want to hear it.
“We should break up.”
The words land like a blade to the gut. Jeongin recoils like he’s been physically hit. It hurts. Of course, it hurts. Jeongin doesn’t want this. Hell, Hyunjin doesn’t want this. But some things… some things are necessary. This is the only way he can forgive himself. The only way he can protect Jeongin from what’s coming. From the things he can’t say aloud.
“I don’t understand,” Jeongin whimpers, voice cracking under the weight of betrayal. Tears begin to fall freely now, trailing down his cheeks like they’re racing each other. His hands shake as he tries to reach out, pleading, desperate, like touching Hyunjin might anchor him to the truth. “You… you’re playing a sick joke right now. You… you don’t mean that.”
Hyunjin gently pushes his hands away. The touch is feather-light, but Jeongin jerks back like he’s been burned. He wishes it was a joke. He wishes he could laugh and tell Jeongin this was all some stupid, fleeting moment of weakness. But it isn’t.
“It’s not a joke, Jeongin.” Hyunjin’s voice is steady, even as his chest tightens with the effort of pretending. “It’s over, okay? I don’t want this anymore.” It’s a lie. Every syllable of it. But if he stays any longer, he’ll take it back. He’ll beg Jeongin not to hate him. He’ll give in, and then Jeongin will suffer the consequences with him. And that’s something he cannot allow.
“Hyune…” Jeongin’s lip trembles, and Hyunjin’s resolve wavers. God, there's nothing he wants more than to kiss him. To hold him. To apologize for even pretending to let go. But if he does… he won’t be able to let go at all. Jeongin’s voice cracks again, raw and broken, “You said you loved me…”
He still does. More than anything, more than he will ever know how to explain. But love isn’t always enough. Not when it threatens everything they’ve worked for, what Jeongin has worked for.
“I don’t want you anymore.” He says it with his eyes closed. He says it like he's slicing open his own chest. The lie echoes between them, louder than a scream. It’s cruel, but it works. Jeongin flinches like he’s been stabbed. His eyes widen in disbelief before narrowing in grief. His body curls inward, arms wrapping around himself like he’s trying to physically shield his heart. A wounded animal, backed into a corner. He looks smaller all of a sudden. Fragile. Like someone Hyunjin never should have touched in the first place.
“Just forget everything,” Hyunjin forces out, barely able to breathe. “Us. Please.”
“Three years of us,” Jeongin spits, his voice jagged. “You want me to forget three years worth of memories and…” His voice breaks, then crumbles entirely. “You said you loved me…”
“Jeongin,” Hyunjin can’t even defend himself. Because the truth would only make things worse. If Jeongin knew the threats, the pressure, the consequences… he’d fight back. He’d cling tighter. And Hyunjin needs him to let go. “Please,” he tries again, weaker this time. “We have a responsibility. To the group. To the fans. We can still be friends and…”
Like a switch being flipped, Jeongin straightens. The tears don’t stop, but the warmth in his eyes dies. Something inside him hardens. He wipes his face with the back of his sleeve, sets his jaw, and walks to the door.
“Innie…” Hyunjin moves to stop him, but freezes.
“No.” Jeongin’s hand is already on the knob. His voice is colder than Hyunjin has ever heard it. “There’s nothing more to talk about. You don’t want me anymore. I get it.” He turns his head just enough to add, “And like you said. We have responsibilities. I won’t waste more of your time.” And then he’s gone. The door clicks open, followed by the echo of his footsteps.
Hyunjin hears Chan in the living room ask, “Jeongin? Where are you..?”
Jeongin doesn’t answer, just slams the door shut, and then all that's left is silence. Hyunjin stands there in the hollow of it. Each second stretches like a lifetime. He finally steps out, moving like a ghost into the living room. Chan is still staring at the door, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. When he turns around and sees Hyunjin, concern floods his face.
“Jinnie?” he asks softly, carefully, like speaking too loud might make Hyunjin crumble.
Hyunjin swallows hard, trying to hold it together. “You can tell them I did it,” he mumbles.
“What?” Chan steps forward quickly, rounding the couch to get to him. “Wait, Hyunjin, tell me you didn’t actually go through with it.”
“I had to.” He can’t look at him. He can’t look at anything. The floor blurs beneath his feet as tears sting his eyes, his shoulders beginning to shake.
“Hyunjin, I told you I would handle it,” Chan says, voice rising slightly. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“You wouldn’t have had time,” Hyunjin chokes. “There were deadlines. Emails. Threats. You don’t know everything, hyung.” Chan opens his mouth to argue, but then he sees the tears spilling freely, the way Hyunjin is trembling, and he softens instantly. He pulls him in without hesitation, arms wrapping around him.
“I had to,” Hyunjin sobs into his chest, voice barely coherent. “I had to do it, it was the only way.”
“No,” Chan whispers fiercely, “No, you didn’t.”
Hyunjin grips Chan’s shirt like a lifeline, shoulders heaving. “I told him I don’t want him anymore,” he cries, “I told him to forget everything.” Chan holds him tighter, like he can somehow hold all Hyunjin's broken pieces together.
“It might feel like there wasn’t enough time, Hyune, but I’ve been working on our out for a while. We won’t stay with this company forever.”
“They’ll black list us.” Hyunjin sighs, “and they threatened to out him to the public. I’m scared, and I don’t want that for him. He’s still… You know how it is, with us it’s fine, but broadcasting it to the public before he’s ready… It’s cruel. It’s not fair.”
“What else did they threaten?”
“Promotions. Schedules. They’ve already been keeping me away from a lot. And, they haven’t done much to his schedules yet, but they said they would.”
“Do you still have the emails?”
“Yeah, but most of it was during meetings. Chan, they know not to have that in writing. All the emails are, are deadlines and reminders that I ‘have a job to do’.” Hyunjin sobs, “Why did I sign up for this company. Why did I think joining a group would be good? Why did I fall for him, Channie? Why did it have to be him?”
“Shh…” Chan soothes, “Soon, we won’t be under this company. We’ll make it on our own. I promise this won’t last much longer. But you should tell Jeongin. He’ll understand, you know?” Hyunjin nods shakily. He didn't want this, he wants Jeongin.
Jeongin doesn’t answer Hyunjin’s calls.
He doesn’t answer Chan’s either.
Hyunjin should have expected this. The phone ringing into nothing feels like a punishment he’s earned. He hurt Jeongin a disgusting amount, and the silence on the other end is only a fraction of what he deserves. Still, it coils in his stomach. Every missed call feels like a nail sealing the coffin shut.
Of course, Jeongin won’t answer.
He’s hurt, he’s furious, and if Hyunjin knows him at all, he’s probably wandering somewhere with his hood pulled low, hands buried deep in his pockets to hide their trembling. Or maybe he’s already at Felix and Seungmin’s apartment, folded up on their couch with a blanket around his shoulders while they try to coax him into drinking tea.
Chan tries calling them, too.
Felix picks up on the first ring, but the hesitation in his voice says everything before Chan even asks.
“No, he’s not here,” Felix says, and there’s the faint sound of Seungmin asking something in the background. “We haven’t seen him since practice.”
Chan hangs up slowly, his thumb lingering over the screen as though one more call might make the universe change its mind. Hyunjin stares at his own phone, Jeongin’s contact photo glowing against the black screen like a dare. He hits dial again. And again.
Voicemail. Every time.
Hyunjin waits.
It’s all he can do. Chan says, that at some point, he has to come home. Chan’s right, Jeongin won’t stay gone forever. Still, Hyunjin’s unsure if Jeongin will even understand his reasoning. Hyunjin tells himself he will. He tries to imagine how it could go. Jeongin walking through the door, hearing the entire truth, his emotions calming as he begins to process everything Hyunjin’s been hiding away from him.
Hyunjin knows forgiveness won’t come easily. Not after everything he said to him, how he said it. He knows those words will linger, stuck to Jeongin’s mind like tar. Hyunjin will do anything to make it right. If Jeongin wants space, he’ll give him as much as he needs; if he wants answers, he’ll give him the truth no matter how hard. Hyunjin would crawl over broken glass if it meant Jeongin would look at him without that scared, wounded, betrayed stare.
He should have told him from the start. He should have explained the threats, the pressure, everything their god forsaken company has done to him, before taking the most extreme route. But at the time, there wasn’t any other option. The other path, the one where they stay together despite the fallout, is just as extreme. Hyunjin didn’t have the heart to risk Jeongin’s safety, his happiness, for the sake of being together. But he should have done it anyway.
So he sits, and he waits. He waits for Jeongin to walk through the door. He waits to see if there’s even a sliver of hope at salvaging what Hyunjin fears he broke.
Hyunjin falls asleep on the couch, phone clutched loosely in his hand, waiting. The cushions smell faintly of Jeongin’s cologne, just faint enough to make his chest ache.
When he wakes, the apartment is still silent.
Jeongin hasn’t come home.
The realization sinks in slowly, like ice creeping into his bones. Jeongin has never not come home. No matter how angry, how hurt, no matter how deep he’s sunk into his thoughts, he’s always returned. Sometimes late, sometimes without a word, but he’s always come back.
Hyunjin sits up, rubbing his face with trembling hands. His first thought is that maybe Jeongin needed space. His second is that something’s wrong. He calls Seungmin first. The line picks up after a few rings, Seungmin’s voice groggy from sleep.
“Have you seen Jeongin?” Hyunjin blurts before Seungmin can say anything else.
“No,” Seungmin says slowly. There’s a rustle, like he’s sitting up in bed. “I haven’t heard from him either. Why? What happened?” Hyunjin mumbles something about a fight, but he’s already scrolling to the next number.
Minho.
Jeongin has a habit of going to Minho and Jisung when he needs to be somewhere safe without questions. Surely he’s with them.
“Is Jeongin there?” Hyunjin asks the moment Minho answers.
Minho sighs. “No. He’s not here, Jinnie.” And that’s when the dread truly begins to settle, crawling up Hyunjin’s spine and wrapping around his ribs like ice.
He isn’t with Seungmin and Felix; Hyunjin had hoped maybe he was curled up on their couch, being quietly fussed over with tea and snacks, but no.
He definitely isn’t with Changbin; if he were, Changbin would’ve called immediately, probably with a whiny, “You better come get your boy.”
He’s not with Minho and Jisung either, and he didn’t go back to his own apartment with Chan.
That leaves nowhere.
Hyunjin’s chest feels too tight. He gets up from the couch so fast that the blanket he’d been under falls to the floor. His legs move before he can think about what he’s doing, carrying him down the hall in quick, uneven strides. He doesn’t bother knocking when he reaches Chan’s room; he just bursts in, heart pounding in his throat.
“He didn’t come home,” Hyunjin says, breathless. The words tumble out like they’ve been waiting all night. Panic sharpens his voice, makes it higher than usual.
Chan sits up slowly, still groggy, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Well, what about…”
“I called Seungmin and Minho,” Hyunjin cuts in, pacing at the foot of the bed. “Neither of them have seen him. And Changbin would’ve told me if he went to my place. He’s nowhere, hyung.”
Chan’s expression shifts from sleepy confusion to something far more awake, brows knitting, jaw tightening. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his phone.
“Who are you calling?” Hyunjin demands, trying to keep his voice steady and failing.
“Our manager,” Chan says, already scrolling through his contacts.
Hyunjin throws his hands up. “Jeongin wouldn’t go to the company; he hates them as much as the rest of us.”
“I don’t think he did,” Chan admits, pressing the phone to his ear. “But I have three missed calls from them.”
Hyunjin blinks at him, disbelief warring with frustration. “Who cares if they called you, Chan? Jeongin didn’t come home and…” Chan’s head snaps forward, his attention fully on the voice coming through the other end.
“What?” His tone is sharp, urgent.
Hyunjin freezes.
Chan’s shoulders stiffen, his hand tightening around the phone. “Where? How?” His voice rises with every word, and Hyunjin can hear the faint sound of someone talking rapidly in the background. Chan’s breathing begins to come faster, and that’s when Hyunjin’s heart starts to sink.
The conversation feels like it lasts forever, but it’s barely seconds before Chan barks, “We’re going there now.” His expression twists into something raw and furious. “I don’t give a fuck,” he yells into the phone, the sound slicing through the room. “Cancel our fucking schedules, we’re going now!” Hyunjin’s stomach twists painfully.
When Chan hangs up the phone, the silence in the room presses down like a weight. Hyunjin’s throat feels dry, his chest too tight, but he forces the words out anyway.
“What happened?” His voice is weak, barely above a whisper. Chan doesn’t look at him right away. He swallows, his jaw clenching before he finally says it.
“Jeongin got into an accident.” The words hit like a blow to the ribs. It feels as if the world drops out from beneath Hyunjin’s feet, like the ground has crumbled beneath him. His legs wobble, his stomach twists painfully, and the air in the room thins until it feels impossible to breathe.
Jeongin got into an accident.
The sentence echoes in his head over and over, louder each time, drowning out every other thought. His vision blurs at the edges.
“Is…” The question doesn’t even make it out. His knees buckle, and he stumbles, the room spinning violently around him. Chan is already moving, catching him before he can hit the floor.
“No,” Chan says, voice firm but trembling just slightly. He pulls Hyunjin against him, one arm braced around his back, holding him steady. “He’s not okay.” Hyunjin’s whole body shakes, his fingers clutching desperately at Chan’s shirt. “But we’re gonna go there now and check on him, okay?” Chan says, voice soft.
All Hyunjin can do is nod, his throat closing around anything else he might try to say. The only thing keeping him upright is Chan’s grip and the desperate need to get to Jeongin as fast as possible.
They’re rushing out the door in seconds. Chan throws on the first hoodie he can find, and a pair of sweats off the floor; and drags Hyunjin by the wrist. His grip is tight on him, like he’s scared Hyunjin will disappear if he lets go. The air outside is sharp and cold, but Hyunjin barely feels it, his skin is hot, his pulse races through his veins as his heart hammers in his chest.
Chan drives faster than Hyunjin has ever seen him drive. The streetlights blur, Hyunjin only sees the flash of greens and reds through the window. He can’t focus on where he is, he can’t focus on anything but the pounding in his chest, his mind racing with every worst case scenario it can come up with.
“What kind of accident?” he finally asks, his voice cracking half way through as the lump within his throat grows.
Chan grips the wheel tighter, “They didn’t say.” he says, looking towards Hyunjin for half a second before refocusing on the road in front of him. “Just that it was bad enough that he’s in the hospital.”
Hyunjin’s stomach churns. He clenches the bottoms of his shirt tightly until his knuckles turn white, every breath comes shallow and uneven. The car feels like its closing in on him, like it’s soon to implode.
“What if he-” He starts, but Chan is quick to cut him off.
“Don’t,” Chan says sharply, “Don’t go there. Hyunjin don’t even think of going there right now. We don't know what happened.”
Hyunjin nods, but it doesn’t stop the onslaught of thoughts and gruesome images in his mind from forming. Jeongin, lying still, hurt and alone, calling out for someone who isn’t coming, calling out for someone he thought didn’t love him anymore. Calling out for him.
The ride to the hospital takes twenty-five minutes, yet it feels like a lifetime has passed for Hyunjin. Every red light sparks anger in him; it's torture. By the time they pull into the hospital's drop-off zone, Hyunjin’s hands are shaking so badly he can’t undo his seatbelt. He struggles for a minute before Chan reaches over and does it for him.
“Come on.” He says, no hesitation in his voice, only panic. Hyunjin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chan panic like this. Chan, who is always composed in every situation, Chan who can figure his way out of things, Chan who is the stable friend who always knows the right thing to say. Chan, who is brave even when the world is cruel. He’s never seen Chan this scared, and it only makes his heart beat faster. If Chan is this worried, how should he be feeling in this moment?
Hyunjin follows him, his legs still unsteady and shaking as they rush through the sliding doors and into the blindingly bright lobby. The smell of sterilizers hits instantly, sharp and bitter, he swallows hard. Dread and fear only rising within him.
The nurse at the reception desk recognizes them instantly. She waves them through with quiet instructions that Hyunjin barely hears. Her words blur together, overcome by the rush of blood he can hear in his ears. He follows Chan blindly down a long, desolate hallway.
They stop outside a partially open door. Chan looks back at him; his expression is unreadable. He’s trying to mask the fear, but Hyunjin already knows. Chan nods to the door, and Hyunjin steps inside.
The first thing he sees is Jeongin’s hair. Messy, flattened in some areas against his pillow. His chest rises and falls in slow, even breaths. Hyunjin’s lungs feel like they're filled with water. Then he finally sees the rest of what's visible of Jeongin.
Bruises bloom across Jeongin’s arms, dark purples and sickeningly bright yellows forming across his beautiful skin. Bandages wrap around his forehead and the side of his face. There’s a long, thin cut trailing from the corner of his mouth to his chin, and another that peeks out from his hospital gown along his collarbone. His hand is wrapped in gauze, fingers curling slightly in his sleep.
Hyunjin leans against the wall, his knees threatening to give out again. Tears form in his eyes as Jeongin lies still on his bed. I did this.
“The nurse said a car hit him. He’s lucky to be alive.”
Lucky.
Hyunjin swallows hard; his eyes don’t move from Jeongin. Nothing about this is lucky. Not when Jeongin is the one lying there covered in bruises, his frame seems so much smaller than he ever has. He wants to reach out, he wants to hold his hand and whisper something to him, anything, that could make up for everything he said before. He wants to tell him how much he loves him, how sorry he is. He wants to scream at the sky and ask how the universe could punish Jeongin for Hyunjin’s mistakes.
His fingers hover uselessly in the air before he pulls them back. Instead, he sits in the chair next to the bed, and watches Jeongin breathe. He whispers a promise that he won’t leave his side, not again. Chan steps back into the hallway and pulls out his phone. Hyunjin hears him whispering into a call.
“Minho?” He says, “Innie’s in the hospital.” Minho’s response is muffled, but Chan continues on, “He’s alive. Asleep right now but alive. Can you gather the others? Bring them here.” There's another pause, “I don’t care what they’re doing, this is more important. Schedules can fucking wait.”
When the call ends, Chan steps back inside. He drags a chair next to Hyunjin and places a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll be here soon,” is all he says. Hyunjin nods, his eyes never leaving Jeongin. The heart monitor's steady beep feels like the only thing keeping him grounded and in the moment. A horrid reminder that Jeongin is still here, still breathing, still in reach.
It isn’t long before hurried footsteps echo down the hallway. The door flies open, and Minho steps in first. His eyes scan the room , falling on Jeongin instantly. Behind him, Changbin, Jisung, Felix and Seungmin file in silently. No one speaks.
Changbin’s jaw clenches, like he’s biting back a thousand questions. His eyes scanning over the bruises on Jeongin's arms, the bandage on his head, and the cut on his mouth. “Fuck.” He mutters.
Jisung stands still near the door. One hand gripping the frame like it's the only thing keeping him from collapsing. His eyes are wide, darting between Hyunjin and Jeongin, like he’s waiting for someone to tell him it isn’t as bad as it looks.
Felix moves forward slowly, until he’s beside Hyunjin. “He looks… so small…” His voice barely above a whisper.
Seungmin stands at the foot of the bed, his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie, eyes fixed on Jeongin’s face. He looks calm, but the twitch in his jaw gives him away. Minho steps closer to the bed, his eyes softening as he takes in everything around him.
“He’s… Okay right?” He asks quietly,
“He’s lucky.” Chan sighs, “They said it could've been a lot worse.”
“Lucky,” Seungmin mutters, Hyunjin knows he doesn't believe it. Hyunjin doesn’t look at any of them, he can’t. His eyes stay glued on Jeongin. Having everyone around is comforting but it doesn’t take away from the knot in his stomach.
“Lucky.” Hyunjin says bitterly, “None of this is lucky.” he spits,
“Hyune-” Felix starts,
“No!” Hyunjin jumps from his chair, his breath ragged as tears stream from his eyes, “this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t- It shouldn’t be him! It should have been me here, it should- it’s-” he stutters, “I did this to him- I did it! It’s my fault! I almost killed him and you’re standing here calling him lucky when he’s-”
“Hyunjin.” Chan says firmly, “This isn’t on you.”
“It is-” Hyunjin’s voice cracks, “I hurt him- he left because of me- he- I almost killed him- I did this-” his tears fall heavily down his face, a waterfall crashing to the floor as he crumbles. Chan rushes to hold him, to comfort him.
“Shh,” Chan soothes, “This isn’t your fault. It’s not Hyunnie, it’s not.” But it is. That’s all Hyunjin can think, until he eventually falls asleep in Chan’s arms.
Hours pass. Nurses come and go, checking on Jeongin’s vitals diligently. They don’t have the heart to kick them all out, so they allow for them all to stay.
It happens quietly, at first. A shift in Jeongin’s breathing, then his fingers twitch against his blanket. Felix taps Hyunjin awake, his eyes immediately seeking out Jeongin. He notices it immediately, the way Jeongin begins to wake up. He sits up straighter, leans in and whispers, “Innie?”
Jeongin stirs, his eyelids fluttering open, and the room goes silent. It takes a moment for Jeongin to focus in on everything. It sharpens slightly, as he takes in the people around him.
Something's wrong.
His brows knit together in confusion, he looks from Hyunjin to Chan to Minho, his breathing picks up, scared and confused. “Where… where am I?” His voice is rough and dry from disuse.
“You’re in the hospital.” Chan says gently, as he steps closer to the bed, “You got into an accident, but you’re safe, and we’re all here for you.”
Jeongin’s eyes narrow slightly as he looks around the room, “We?” Hyunjin’s heart stops as Jeongin shakes his head slowly, fear spreading across his face. “I don’t- I don't know any of you.”
Hyunjin feels as though he’s been shot. His stomach drops. He thinks he’s going to throw up.
“Innie…” Hyunjin reaches out instinctively; every part of him wants to hold him, protect him, but Jeongin flinches away from him, pressing back into his pillows.
“Don’t touch me!” He shrieks, “I don’t know you!” The panic in his eyes only rising.
Jisung steps forward, “Jeongin, it’s okay… You just went through something super traumatic, and sometimes memory takes time to come back but we’re all your-”
“Stop. Please.” Jeongin says, shaking his head harder.
Chan raises his hands, the way you would to show someone you mean them no harm. “It’s okay, Innie, you don’t have to remember everything right now. We’ll explain and be here for anything you need, but you just woke up, so I’ll get your nurse. Okay?” Jeongin nods slowly, still on the defensive.
Hyunjin can’t look away from him. The person in the bed in front of him has Jeongin’s voice, Jeongin’s face and body- but not a single ounce of recognition in his eyes.
The person in front of him is a stranger, wearing the look of someone he loves.
Hyunjin’s knees buckle under him as he stumbles out of the room without thinking. The door swings shut behind him, and once he’s alone in the hallway, he leans against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the cold tile floor.
Tears flow hot and fast, blurring his vision. He presses his face into his hands, unable to cope with everything around him. Jeongin, the boy he loves, the boy he’s hurt more than anyone, doesn’t remember him. Doesn’t remember anything about them.
His chest heaves, each breath shaking. Guilt claws at him, relentless and sharp. He should have told Jeongin everything before the breakup, before the accident, before any of this. Now, every decision feels like its pushed them both into a horrible nightmare that he has no way of waking up from.
From inside the room, Hyunjin can hear the quiet murmurs. Leave him be. He needs to process. Whispered.
More whispers and careful words occasionally are heard, Hyunjin imagines them all around the bed trying to explain everything to Jeongin, trying to soothe him, to make him understand.
A sob escapes him, despite his best effort to stay silent and composed. “I’m sorry Innie… I’m so sorry.”
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅
Jeongin spends a week and a half in the hospital. Every day, without fail, someone from their circle is there… Minho with Jisung in tow, Felix bright and steady, Seungmin with his quiet but grounding presence, Changbin with his previous favourite snacks, and Chan, always the last to leave.
Every day, everyone… except Hyunjin.
Hyunjin can’t bring himself to walk through those sterile doors. He can’t stand the thought of stepping into that room and seeing Jeongin lying there, bandages across his skin, eyes blank of any recognition when they meet his. He tells himself it’s for Jeongin’s sake, that it’s not fair to burden him with a stranger’s tears… but the truth is worse.
Hyunjin is terrified.
Jeongin, meanwhile, tries to piece himself back together, like flipping through an unfamiliar photo album and being told it’s his own life.
Felix is patient with him, sitting cross-legged on the hospital bed and pulling up videos on his phone. “You’re an idol,” he explains softly. “We’re under Gen Entertainment, remember?” And when Jeongin shakes his head, Felix just smiles and presses play. Fancams. Dance practices. Covers. The lighthearted chaos of variety content they’d filmed together. Jeongin watches with fascination, sometimes with a small, hesitant smile, like he’s seeing echoes of a self he’s not sure he likes but wants to understand.
Chan fills in the rest. The schedules, the contracts, the world behind the stage. He doesn’t push. “You don’t have to sing yet,” he tells him. “Heal first. Then we’ll see where you’re at.” There’s an unspoken fear in his voice, the same one all of them have. That maybe this new Jeongin won’t want to sing at all anymore.
His parents arrive one afternoon, pale with worry, hands gripping his as if they can keep him from slipping away again. They want to take him home. To heal in peace. To remove him from the world that put him here.
But by the second week, after countless conversations and cautious laughter, Jeongin shakes his head. “I want to try,” he tells them, voice soft, and a bit rough but sure in his decision. “I want to go back to my dorm. With Chan.” He’s still learning, still guessing, but there’s something in him that refuses to step away.
When Hyunjin hears about it secondhand, Chan’s voice low over the phone, his stomach twists. It’s a sickening churn that won’t go away, made worse every time someone says, Maybe he’ll remember at some point… or when they mention how well Jeongin’s doing with “getting to know everyone.”
Because Hyunjin isn’t part of that everyone.
And he wonders, with a hollow ache, if Jeongin is doing so well precisely because Hyunjin isn’t there.
Chan brings Jeongin home on Monday, December 1st. The city outside is blanketed in white, the kind of quiet snowfall that makes everything feel softer, but the cold still stings in the air. Hyunjin is already in the living room with the others, sitting rigidly on the couch, hands tucked under his thighs. Felix has gone all out. Welcome Home signs hang crooked but cheerful, balloons bob gently whenever someone passes.
Hyunjin wishes he were anywhere else. Preferably in his own bed, buried under blankets, away from this room and the moment he’s been dreading for two weeks.
The door opens with a soft creak. Jeongin steps in, Chan steady at his side. Felix is the first to move, nearly bouncing as he crosses the room. “Welcome back,” he murmurs, hugging Jeongin carefully, avoiding the brace on his left arm.
Jeongin smiles faintly, as if unsure how much emotion he’s allowed to show. “Thanks, Felix.” His voice is still quiet, still tentative, like he’s borrowing it from someone else.
“I’m glad you’re home,” Felix smiles.
Hyunjin’s eyes dart over him, drinking in every detail he wishes he didn’t have to see. The fading cut on his lip, the pale skin, the way bandages wrap his arms like fragile armour. The brace on his left arm is fastened tight. His limp is pronounced. It’s like each injury is its own accusation. Hyunjin’s throat burns, the threat of tears heavy behind his eyes.
Jeongin looks around the apartment slowly, his eyes flicking from the couch to the kitchen, to the little nick-knacks and framed photos on the shelves. He looks like someone walking through a dream, searching for something familiar but finding only faint echoes.
Then his eyes land on Hyunjin, and his smile falters.
It’s subtle, just the tiniest drop in expression, but Hyunjin feels it like a knife between his ribs. Every muscle in his body tenses; his jaw locks so tightly it aches. That look… Blank, assessing, almost guarded, isn’t new. It’s the way strangers look at each other when they’re deciding if they can trust one another.
It reminds him, he’s a stranger now.
He knows it’s his fault. He accepted that the day he turned away from Jeongin’s hospital door, too cowardly to walk inside. He told himself Jeongin had enough to deal with, learning everyone’s names again, relearning the world. But Hyunjin knows what really held him back. He couldn’t bear the thought of introducing himself like it was the first time all over again. Couldn’t bear the thought that Jeongin might look at him exactly like he’s looking at him now.
In the two weeks Jeongin was in the hospital, everyone else made the effort. Felix doted, Chan filled in the missing pieces, Changbin helped with physical therapy, Minho and Jisung treated him like family, and Seungmin, quiet, caring, attentive Seungmin, became his best friend all over again.
Jeongin didn’t need Hyunjin then. And he certainly doesn’t need him now.
Jeongin moves toward him. His limp is audible in the quiet room, the dull thud of his brace shifting with each step. He stops in front of Hyunjin and awkwardly extends his braced hand. His grip is weak. “Hyunjin? Right?”
Every voice in the room goes silent, the tension like glass about to shatter. Chan, ever the leader, clears his throat and tries to pull attention elsewhere, asking Felix about food, urging Minho to help unpack Jeongin’s bag. But no one is really listening. All eyes are on the two of them. Hyunjin swallows hard, trying to summon a smile that doesn’t look like it hurts.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin whispers, the word barely escaping him. His throat feels scraped raw, as if speaking at all costs him something vital.
Jeongin offers a small, polite smile, the kind you’d give to a stranger in passing. “It’s nice to meet you finally. The others said you had schedules you couldn’t get out of, so you couldn’t visit me.” His tone is light, almost cheerful, with no edge of accusation. That makes it worse. “I hope we’ll get to know one another and become good friends.”
Hyunjin feels it immediately. Jeongin has taken the knife already buried in his chest and twisted it until he can’t breathe. What's worse is that it’s not on purpose, and with no ill intent. Jeongin doesn’t even know it’s there. That makes it crueller. The words sink in, lodging deep, and all Hyunjin can hear is friends.
Friends.
The word tastes wrong, bitter. He doesn’t want to be Jeongin’s friend. He wants back every laugh, every late-night conversation, every kiss, every touch, every moan, every single piece of history they built that’s now gone. But Jeongin is looking at him like they’ve never shared a single one of those things. Like, Hyunjin is just a name in a list of people he needs to learn.
Hyunjin forces himself to nod, trying to shape his lips into something that could pass for a smile. “Sure, Yen…” He catches himself, swallows hard, and finishes, “Jeongin.”
Jeongin’s attention shifts almost immediately, his attention pulled toward Seungmin, who’s already motioning him over to the couch. The conversation around them picks back up with soft laughter and the rustle of gift bags, but none of it reaches Hyunjin in any real way.
The warmth of Jeongin’s brief presence lingers on his skin like frostbite. Sharp, painfully impossible to ignore. His chest feels tight, his stomach curling in on itself until he thinks he might be sick.
He doesn’t even realize he’s backing up until his calves hit the edge of the armchair in the corner. He sinks into it, out of the center of everyone’s attention, and drops his gaze to the floor. If anyone notices, they don’t say anything. Chan might have, but Chan’s too busy keeping the atmosphere light for Jeongin’s sake.
Hyunjin’s hands curl into fists against his knees, nails biting into his palms. He should’ve gone to the hospital. He should’ve fought for his place in Jeongin’s new world instead of cowering outside the door. Now all he has is this… Being a stranger in the eyes of the person who once knew him best. Who once loved him with every ounce of his being.
When Hyunjin looks up, Jeongin is laughing at something Felix said. His beautiful, dimpled smile is on full display as he leans just slightly into Seungmin’s side like he trusts him already. That’s what breaks him.
Hyunjin swallows against the lump rising in his throat; his eyes sting. He forces himself to stand, muttering something about needing air. No one stops him.
Out in the hallway, he presses his back to the wall and lets the first hot tear fall, hidden where Jeongin won’t see.
He won’t be a burden to Jeongin again.
“Get it together, Hwang.” The voice slices through the cold hallway like a blade, colder even than the December air drifting in from the stairwell. Hyunjin startles, jerking his head up. His manager is standing over him, hands in his coat pockets, eyes sharp and unreadable. “This is for the best,” the man adds, like it’s a fact carved in stone.
Hyunjin blinks at him, the words barely registering before the anger hits. “The best?” His voice cracks from the effort it takes to hold everything back. “Jeongin doesn’t remember shit, and you think it’s for the best?”
“Jeongin can relearn how to sing,” the manager says smoothly, as if reciting a business plan. “He can relearn the choreography. He can relearn his place in this industry. What he won’t relearn is how to make… careless mistakes. Like getting into a relationship that could damage his reputation. That’s over.”
Hyunjin’s blood turns molten. He pushes up from the wall, stepping into the man’s space until their faces are inches apart. “You care more about our relationship than the fact that he was hit by a car? What is wrong with you?”
The manager doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even blink. “Don’t cause a scene, Hyunjin. Not here.” His voice drops to something lower, more threatening. “Get yourself together. This is a clean slate for you, whether you like it or not. Control your emotions, unless you’d prefer an indefinite hiatus.”
Hyunjin’s chest heaves. His nails dig into his palms so hard he swears he feels skin break. Every muscle in his body is telling him to swing, to yell, to do anything but stay silent, but he knows exactly how far the threat will go if he pushes.
The apartment door creaks open behind him, breaking the standoff. Light spills out onto the dim hallway, and Chan steps into it, his brows knitting the instant he takes in Hyunjin’s expression. Without a word, he reaches for Hyunjin’s wrist and pulls, it’s not harsh, but it’s a warning. A warning not to make things worse for himself.
Hyunjin yanks his arm free, the movement sharper than he means it to be.
“Hyune,” Chan warns softly, “Go back inside.”
“I’m going home.” The words fall out flat, almost lifeless. He can’t meet Chan’s eyes. “Tell Jeongin I felt sick or something. I don’t know. I don’t care.”
“Jeongin wants-”
“Jeongin wants something that I can’t give him right now.” Hyunjin says bitterly, “Jeongin wants something that isn’t good for him.”
Chan’s mouth opens like he’s about to argue, but Hyunjin’s already stepping past him, shoulders rigid, gaze fixed on the floor. He doesn’t dare look back, not at Chan’s worried face, not at his prick of a manager, and especially not towards the faint sound of Jeongin’s voice spilling from the apartment, warm and unfamiliar all at once.
The stairwell door clicks shut behind him, muting everything but the thud of his own footsteps. The last thing Hyunjin hears before he makes his way down the stairwell is Chan’s faint, sharp whisper to their manager, low and dangerous enough to chill the air.“What did you fucking say to him.”
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅
December 1st.
Hyunjin lies on his back in the dark, the popcorn ceiling suddenly the most interesting thing he’s seen in the world. The shadows along his walls shift with every passing car, but it doesn’t register to him. He just stares at the ceiling, without blinking. He lets the weight of the world press down on his chest, pinning him helplessly to the mattress.
Guilt eats away at him slowly. He shouldn’t have left. Not without at least trying to stick around for Jeongin, but in all honesty. Hyunjin couldn’t breathe in that apartment. Jeongin was right there; he was so close. Smiling softly and politely at everyone but him. He barely looked his way. Why would he? When Seungmin was sitting by his side, they spoke so easily to one another. Seungmin was filling the space Hyunjin once filled. Breaking the silences Hyunjin had once been the one to break. Letting Jeongin use him as a support, the support Hyunjin used to be.
He almost walked back in. He almost forced himself to swallow down the lump in his throat, steel his expression and pretend like nothing was wrong, but then his manager just had to show up. His voice, his presence, a painful reminder that every movement Hyunjin makes is being watched, measured and judged. That the wrong look, the wrong word, can all be used against him. Against Jeongin.
The thought of trying to talk to Jeongin under that constant watch is suffocating. The best thing for him to do was leave, and now he regrets it. The silence in his room feels louder than the noise he ran from. He clenches his hands into fists around his blankets. His manager got exactly what he wanted. Gen Entertainment wins again.
The door slams open so hard Hyunjin nearly jumps out of his skin. He shoots upright, blinking against the sudden light. Chanbin waltzes in, a bit out of breath as though he’d stormed down the hallway until he reached their shared dorm. He flicks the light switch on without hesitation, the room flooding with a blinding white light.
“Why do you do this?” Changbin snaps, his voice tight as he stares at Hyunjin.
Hyunjin blinks at him, exhausted and a bit angry. “Do what?”
“You don’t say anything to him,” Changbin fires back, stepping into the room further, stopping at the foot of Hyunjin’s bed. “You don’t look at him, you don’t try to help him remember who you are. You just sit there like a ghost and then disappear without a word, no explanation, no goodbye, nothing.”
Hyunjin tries to speak, opening and closing his mouth. Nothing comes out. He grips his blanket tight in his lap, his knuckles whitening. Changbin’s voice cracks as he goes on,
“Do you know what it feels like to watch Jeongin look around the room for you? Wanting to ask you a question? To see him get up and check other rooms, and the hall, only to come back inside and shrink into himself because you won’t meet him half way?” Hyunjin feels tears pool in his eyes, “He lost everything, Hyunjin. You’re supposed to be the one person who wouldn’t let go. You promised him you wouldn’t! Instead, you’re the first to run!”
Hyunjin flinches. The words cut deeply into his skin.
Hyunjin’s jaw clenches, his nails dig into his skin, leaving red crescent moons along his palms. He wants to scream back, but nothing comes out.
“Fucking, say something!” Changbin barks, “For once in your life stop shutting down and just say something! Why are you doing this to him? Why are you doing this to us? Doing this to yourself?!”
“I’m not…” Hyunjin’s voice wavers; it comes out airy and thin, useless. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Exactly! You’re doing nothing!” Changbin slams his hands down against the soft mattress, “He asks about you every fucking day, Hyunjin! Every. Day. And I don’t know what else to tell him, none of us do! That you’re busy? That you’re sick? Or should I just be honest and tell him you don’t give a fuck about him?”
Hyunjin’s breathing quickens, his heart races in his chest, threatening to burst through the bone, through the skin, to lay itself bare, bloody and bruised in front of Changbin. “Don’t…” he pleads softly.
“Then WHAT?” Changbin yells, “I thought you loved him? Don’t you? Is that what this is about? You love him and he doesn’t remember you, and now you’re too much of a fucking coward to fight for him? Now, when he needs you the most?”
Hyunjin’s body shakes as Changbin’s accusations hit him one by one. His breath comes too fast, his chest tightens dangerously. He can feel the hastily constructed dam within him cracking, every word chipping away at its sloppy foundation.
“I can’t!” He screams, his voice both weak and much too strong. Hyunjin stands from his bed, needing to get up because sitting wasn’t helping. “I can’t fucking love him! Don’t you get that? If I do… If I let myself keep hoping for us, they’ll destroy me, they’ll destroy Him!”
He paces a bit, hands tearing through his hair, fingernails harshly scraping into his scalp until it burns. “They’ll target him again if I even look at him the wrong way! Do you understand that? One slip, one fucking mistake, and it’s all over, and he’ll be dragged down with me. You think I don’t care? That I don’t want to fight for him?!” His voice cracks; it’s an ugly sound that makes Changbin recoil.
Tears blur his vision; they streak hot down his face. His knees nearly give out, but he forces himself to stand straight. “They’ve already threatened his schedules, they cut mine to fucking shreds, they held me over the fucking fire! Do you get it yet, Changbin!?”
He slams his palm straight into his chest, like he could break through the skin and bone and rip the pain straight from his chest himself. “They said they’d put me on hiatus. That they’d out him, if I didn’t fall in line and get it together. Then what? The group goes on as six instead of eight? Tell me right now, look me in the fucking eye, Changbin and tell me that’s worth all of this.”
His voice breaks completely, his knees fully give out from beneath him as he collapses into a sobbing mess. “Is me loving him worth taking away the job he loves? The group he loves? Everything he’s worked so hard to achieve?” His chest heaves, and he feels like he’s choking. He can’t breathe through the tears; his words come smaller, more fragile than before. He’s been stripped bare, down to the bone, his heart on full display. “He loves it. He loves us. And now … he doesn’t even remember, and I can’t even hold-” His voice falters, “Loved. Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone…” Changbin’s voice is barely above a whisper. His anger somewhat diminishes as he lets the new information sink in. “Why would you carry all of that alone?”
Hyunjin swallows hard as he wipes at his puffy eyes with the back of his hand. “Chan knew,” he admits, “He just… he didn’t have time to save anyone before any of this happened.” Hyunjin lets out a hollow, bitter laugh. “I got an email with a deadline, Bin. A fucking deadline. Like.. Like ruining my relationship… Ruining my life was all on a schedule that had to be met. So, I broke up with him.” He chokes on the lump in his throat, “And he left… He left and then he...” The image of Jeongin’s bruised and cut body floods his mind, “He got hit by a car and now… now I'm being told I need to ‘get myself together’, like none of it matters.. Like the only thing that matters is the fact he can’t even remember that I love him.”
Hyunjin feels like every piece of him is shattering into tiny, small fractures that will never fit together as one again. His words spill out fast, each one leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “Jeongin lost everything. His memories, his life, but so did I.” Hyunjin bites his trembling lip in some sort of pathetic attempt to get it to stop. “I lost him… and it’s..” he chokes on his words, and clutches his chest. The words sitting at the tip of his tongue feel poisonous. “It’s my fault.. All of it, is my fault.”
Hyunjin crumples forward, his arms wrapping tight around his stomach as if he can somehow manage to weakly hold the pieces of himself together. The weight of the guilt presses down so heavily on him he can’t find the strength to sit up, he can’t breathe. Each desperate attempt to inhale rattles his chest, the air feels like it passes through him yet he can’t take in a full breath at all. His lungs on the verge of collapsing.
It feels like the ocean dragging him out, at first slow. Deceptively gentle, but then the current grabs at his ankles, pulling him under, deeper and deeper. Sea weed curling around his body, unable to move. The worst of it yet to come. He can feel the push and pull, as it gathers strength. An inevitable rising on the horizon. He gasps for air, but no matter how hard he tries to draw in breath the air won’t come. The calm before the wave is worse than the crash itself. A suffocating feeling, his body bracing for a catastrophic impact he can’t outrun.
The guilt slams into him, a tsunami of emotion, crashing down with an intense force. Crushing, merciless, swallowing him whole. It tears through him, salt water filling his lungs, burning in a way he’s never felt before. The force of it all throws him around, tumbling through darkness with no sure idea of which way is up. Debris of his choices and memories hitting him from every which way, bruising him, cutting him open, scraping his ribs raw as it carves its way through him leaving him in a broken mess of nothing. Even as he struggles to get his head above the water, the undertow only drags him further down into the murkiness of his thoughts, filling him with the sickening certainty that he deserves to sink.
His nails bite into his palms, red crescent moons forming over and over until he breaks skin. He doesn’t feel it much, the pain is nothing compared to the waves crashing over and over again and again inside of him. There’s no solid ground left to stand on, no broken branch of the relationship he and Jeongin once planted, and nurtured into what Hyunjin thought was the strongest, most beautiful tree, to reach out for. Only the endless pull of waves. By the time his forehead drops against the floor with a loud thud, he’s shaking, gasping for air, a shell emptied by the tide.
Changbin places a hesitant hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder. His grip is strong, and steady, like he’s trying to ground Hyunjin. His eyes, on the other hand, show the fear and uncertainty he holds. He’s watching Hyunjin drown and doesn’t know if he’ll be able to dive in and drag him from the water.
“What do you want though?” He asks quietly, his voice soft, the earlier anger gone with every shaky breath he lets out. “Forget what our manager says, forget the company, and it’s rules, and the threats. If it was just you, just Hyunjin, what would you want to do?”
Hyunjin shakes his head violently, his breath catching in his throat. “I can’t.” The words come out strangled, “I can’t let myself think about it.”
“Pretend you can,” Changbin urges. He leans forward, placing his free hand on Hyunjin’s other shoulder, anchoring him in place. “Just for a second, close your eyes, and ignore all of it. What would you do, Hyunjin?”
Hyunjin stays silent for a moment. He can’t stop crying, pathetic and weak on the floor of his room. His entire body shakes, his nails dig into his palms again. Everything he holds in, everything he’s tried so hard to contain. Finally breaks.
“I want to hold him…” The confession comes out fragile, and desperate. His voice cracks, but the second he starts, he can’t stop. “I want.. To love him. To tell him that I never stopped, I never will. I want him in my arms again, where he belongs… where he’s safe… I just…” His words dissolve into sobs, “I just want him, Changbin. Nothing else. Just him.”
The room goes still, as though the air itself is holding its breath. Changbin stares. He’s never heard Hyunjin so beaten down, so vulnerable. He’s never heard him say something like this… at least, not in this way. Not broken, and stripped of all his walls. He knew. Everyone knew. Yet hearing it now, in this way. Torn from Hyunjin’s throat like it’s suffocating him, threatening to kill him here and now, it feels like watching someone confess to their own execution.
Without thinking, Changbin’s hands tighten on Hyunjin’s shoulders, “Hyunjin,” he whispers. There’s no anger in his voice left, no more accusations, just grief, and understanding. “Fuck. The company.”
Hyunjin blinks. “What?”
“Fuck everything they want you to do.” Changbin says firmly, “Hyunjin, you love him, and I love you. I can’t watch you tear yourself apart like this. If you want to hold him, go fucking hold him. If you want to tell him you love him, do it. Fuck the company. Get your person back.”
Hyunjin’s lips tremble, his voice barely a whisper, broken and pathetic, “The group..”
“All of them will understand,” Changbin cuts in, “And God knows how hard Chan is working to find a way out of our contracts without fucking us all. But listen, if it comes to it, if it means you and Jeongin get kicked from the group, the rest of us will follow. Every, single, one of us because fuck the repercussions, Hyunjin. You don’t deserve this, none of us do. They’re literally abusing you, mentally, emotionally. They’re breaking you down until you can’t function and I won’t let them do this to you. Chan sure as hell won’t and neither will the others”
Changbin’s voice cracks, but still he pushes on, “So stop holding back from the only thing thats ever made you feel so alive. Go to him. Go introduce yourself to him again, and make that stupid fox fall in love with you all over again.” Changbin pleads, “I’ve seen love. Horrible, unforgiving love, and I’ve seen lasting, eternal, beautiful love Hyunjin. What you and Jeongin had was gorgeous. He’s YOUR person. Go get him back.”
“What if he doesnt want me…”
“He will.” Changbin says with no hesitation.
“But what if..”
“If he doesn’t,” Changbin interrupts, his thumb brushing unconsciously against Hyunjin's shoulder, “Then at least you tried Hyune. At least you gave him, and yourself the chance. That’s better than drowning in the what-ifs for the rest of your life. Better than letting go when you’re not ready to. He wasn’t ready to either Hyunjin.” Changbin's features soften, his voice lowers into a plea, “So try. Please.”
Hyunjin’s sob rips out of him violently. His body trembles under the weight of it all. For a moment, he looks like he might collapse again. Without giving him the chance to, Changbin pulls him forward, arms wrapping around him so tightly it nearly knocks the limited air from his lungs. Hyunjin stiffens, then breaks once more, burying his face into Changbin’s shoulder, tears soaking through the fabric of his hoodie instantly.
Changbin doesn’t flinch. His grip never loosens. He holds him like he’s the only think anchoring him to the earth, like if he lets go Hyunjin will be swept away into the tide of guilt that threatens to drown him. “I’ve got you,” Changbin mutters into his hair, “You don’t have to carry all of it alone anymore. Not with me, not with Chan, not with any of us. We’ll fight for you Hyune. I’ll fight for you… always.”
Hyunjin’s heart hammers against his rib cage. The sound of his sobs breaks the silence in the room. He clutches at Changbin’s hoodie desperately, terrified that is he doesn’t hold on tight enough, Changbin will vanish just as Jeongin did.
For the first time since the accident, Hyunjin lets himself be held.
⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰────⋅