Chapter Text
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Sometimes I wonder if people can really see me past the smile, past the stage lights. Writing this feels a little scary, like letting someone peek behind the mask I’ve been holding up for too long. But maybe it’s okay if you see the cracks this time. Maybe it’s okay if I’m not fine. (Sunoo)
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The city lights buzzed faintly as Heeseung and Sunoo walked down the quiet street, the convenience store glowing like a small lighthouse at the corner. Their jackets rustled in the cool night air, plastic tote bags swinging lightly in Heeseung’s hands. “You sure you don’t want chips too?” Heeseung teased, nudging Sunoo’s shoulder. “Last time you said you didn’t, and then half the bag was gone before I even blinked.” Sunoo managed a small smile, tugging his hoodie strings tighter. “That’s because you buy the good ones.” The exchange felt normal, easy, almost enough to make Sunoo believe he could pass as fine. But his eyes still darted across the shadows, scanning every corner as though something waited there.
Inside the convenience store, they loaded their basket: instant ramen cups, soda, a few chocolate bars. Heeseung hummed softly under his breath, that absent, comforting tune that always seemed to follow him. Sunoo tried to match his calm, but his pulse never quite slowed. And then, as they stepped out of the fluorescent glow and into the dimly lit street, he froze. The voice slid through the night like a blade. “There you are.” Sunoo’s breath caught. His stomach dropped.
The man stood only a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall. The same face, the same eyes that had haunted Sunoo for months. “You look smaller than on stage, more smaller than you did when I last saw you,” the stalker murmured, his tone almost amused. “It’s pathetic, really. All that makeup, all those lights, they trick people into thinking you matter. But here? You’re nothing.” Sunoo’s knees trembled. He gripped the handles of the bag so tightly they dug into his palms. The man’s smile twisted. “Do you know how easy it would be to erase you? One little slip-up, one missed note, and they’ll replace you. Fans will move on. Your members will move on. You’re… disposable.” The words slammed into him like a physical hit. His throat tightened, breath shallow. He could hear blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to run, but his feet refused to move. “What’s wrong?” the stalker sneered, stepping closer. “Cat got your tongue? Or maybe you’re finally realizing I’m right. Without them, you’re nothing. Just a weak little boy who should’ve stayed invisible.”
“Hey.”
The voice was sharp, cutting. Heeseung.
He had turned just in time, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene. In two strides, he was at Sunoo’s side, stepping in front of him, broad shoulders blocking the stalker’s line of sight.
“You need to leave,” Heeseung said, his voice low and dangerous. Not the easygoing Hyung Sunoo knew, but something darker, protective. The man smirked, unfazed. “Oh, the big brother act. Cute. But even you know he’s—”
“Shut up.” Heeseung’s tone snapped like a whip. “You don’t get to talk to him. You don’t get to look at him. Not ever again.” For the first time, the stalker faltered, the venom in his expression flickering under Heeseung’s glare. But before Heeseung could step forward, the man slipped into the shadows, disappearing like smoke.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Sunoo’s chest heaved, his whole-body trembling. Heeseung turned immediately, dropping the bags carelessly to the ground, hands going to Sunoo’s shoulders. “Hey, hey—look at me.” His voice was softer now, coaxing. “Breathe, Sunoo. In, out. That’s it.” Sunoo’s lips parted, shaky breaths spilling out, tears pricking his eyes. He shook his head weakly. “H-he… he’s right. I—”
“No.” Heeseung cut him off firmly, pulling him into his chest. His arms wrapped tight, grounding him, holding him together when he felt like he was falling apart. “Don’t you dare believe a word he said. Not one.” Sunoo’s fists clutched at Heeseung’s jacket. The dam he’d tried to hold back cracked again, sobs breaking through. “He-he keeps finding me. I can’t escape him. And I… I thought I could handle it. I thought if I just stayed quiet—” Heeseung’s chest tightened. He pressed a hand to the back of Sunoo’s head, rocking him gently. “You don’t have to handle this alone. Not anymore. I saw him. I heard him. And I swear, Sunoo, I will never let him near you again.”
The conviction in his voice was unshakable, fierce. Sunoo let himself sink into it, into the warmth of Heeseung’s embrace, into the safety he hadn’t felt in so long.
For once, he didn’t try to smile. He just let himself cry, knowing Heeseung wouldn’t let go.
Heeseung, silently fuming, knew one thing for certain: the company could dismiss it all they wanted but this was real. And he wouldn’t stay quiet.
Sunoo’s sobs quieted into small, broken hiccups, his face pressed against the soft fabric of Heeseung’s jacket. The older boy just held him, arms firm and steady, like he could shield him from the whole world if he tried hard enough. After a long silence, Heeseung tilted his head, speaking low against Sunoo’s hair.
“Sunoo… how long?” Sunoo stiffened in his arms, fingers clutching tighter at the jacket. Heeseung softened his tone, coaxing now. “How long has this been happening?” The younger swallowed hard, his voice small and hoarse. “…Months.”
“Months?” Heeseung’s heart dropped, a surge of anger sparking hot in his chest. He pulled back just enough to look at Sunoo’s face, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’ve been dealing with this for months? By yourself?” Sunoo’s gaze fell, shame painting his features. His voice trembled. “I-I tried to pretend it wasn’t real. I thought if I ignored it, it would stop. And when it didn’t… the company told me not to make it a big deal. To… just smile. Like nothing happened.” Heeseung’s hands tightened on his shoulders, but he forced his voice to stay gentle, steady. “So you stayed quiet because they told you to?” Tears spilled over again as Sunoo nodded. “I didn’t want to burden anyone. I thought you’d all see me as weak. And every time he comes back, the things he says…” His voice broke. “They stay in my head. I can’t… make them go away.”
Heeseung’s chest ached at the confession. He cupped Sunoo’s face carefully, thumbs brushing at the wetness on his cheeks.
“Listen to me, Sunoo. You are not weak. You are not replaceable. And you’re not alone, not anymore. I don’t care what the company says. This is serious, and it ends now. Do you hear me?” Sunoo blinked up at him, eyes shimmering with fear and exhaustion. “But what if—”
“No ‘what if.’” Heeseung’s voice was firm, almost fierce. “If you fall, I’ll catch you. Every single time. That guy doesn’t get to win. Not while I’m here. Not while we’re here.”
For a moment, Sunoo just stared at him, trembling. And then he collapsed into Heeseung’s arms again, clutching him desperately like a lifeline. Heeseung held him just as tightly, heart breaking at how small he felt in his arms. They stayed like that under the streetlight, bags of ramen forgotten at their feet. And in the quiet, Heeseung made a silent promise to himself: he would protect Sunoo, no matter what it cost.
Eventually, Sunoo’s sobs slowed, leaving him drained and quiet in Heeseung’s arms. The street had grown colder, the buzz of neon signs fading into the background. Heeseung pressed one last reassuring squeeze to his shoulder before reluctantly pulling back. “We should head back,” Heeseung said softly, crouching to pick up the bags they’d dropped. His hands were still trembling faintly with anger, but he forced himself to steady them. “The others are waiting.” Sunoo blinked, confused. “The… others?” Heeseung nodded, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I messaged Jungwon. Told him we need everyone together. Now.”
Panic flickered across Sunoo’s face, his voice breaking into a whisper. “H-Heeseung, no… I don’t—please, don’t—” Heeseung placed a firm hand on his shoulder, gaze locking with his. His expression was unwavering. “They deserve to know, Sunoo. We deserve to protect you. You shouldn’t have to carry this anymore.” Sunoo’s lips trembled, his throat working soundlessly, but in the end, he couldn’t find the words to fight back. His chest tightened with shame and fear, but beneath it all… maybe there was the tiniest spark of relief. The walk back to the dorm was silent except for their footsteps. Sunoo kept close to Heeseung’s side, shoulders hunched, hands curled into the sleeves of his hoodie. Heeseung carried the bags in one hand and kept his other hand gently hovering near Sunoo, a quiet reminder: I’m here.
When they finally stepped inside the dorm, the atmosphere was heavy, tense. All six of the others were already gathered in the living room, some perched on the couch, others leaning against the wall. The TV was off, the usual background chatter gone. Every pair of eyes turned toward Sunoo and Heeseung. Jungwon, sitting forward on the couch, spoke first, his tone calm but serious. “We’re here because this can’t be ignored anymore.” Jay’s gaze immediately landed on Sunoo, his chest tightening at the sight of his tear-streaked face. He started to rise, but Heeseung raised a hand slightly, as if to say: Let me do this first.
Heeseung set the bags down on the table with a dull thud. His jaw was tight, his voice controlled but seething underneath.
“I saw him. Tonight. The guy who’s been following Sunoo. I heard what he said.” Gasps rippled around the room. Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, Ni-ki’s eyes went wide, Sunghoon leaned forward, fists clenching at his knees. “He told him he’s worthless. Replaceable. That he’d be forgotten if he disappeared.” Heeseung’s hands tightened into fists. “And the worst part? Sunoo’s been hearing that garbage for months. Alone. Because the company told him to shut up and smile.”
The room fell into stunned silence, the weight of his words settling heavy over them all. Sunoo stood frozen just behind Heeseung, feeling every gaze on him, his chest burning with shame and fear. Heeseung turned, softening instantly when his eyes met Sunoo’s. “But no more. We’re not ignoring this. Not anymore." The silence stretched so thick it felt suffocating. Then Jay stood, his voice shaking with a mix of fury and grief. “Are you kidding me?” His eyes flashed, turning toward Sunoo, then back to Heeseung. “You’re saying this has been going on for months? And the company knew? And they told him to—” His voice cracked, fury dissolving into disbelief. “—to just smile through it?”
Sunghoon leaned forward, his knuckles white against his knees. “Who the hell says that to a kid? Who looks at someone they’re supposed to protect and says, ‘Smile and pretend’? What is wrong with them?” Ni-ki’s brows furrowed, his usual playful expression gone, replaced by something sharper. “I knew something was off… You weren’t laughing the same way, Hyung.” His voice softened at the end, his throat thick. “I thought you just… needed space.” Jake exhaled shakily, pushing his hair back with trembling fingers. “All those times you said you were fine…” He trailed off, looking at Sunoo with wide, wounded eyes. “You weren’t. And I didn’t push because I didn’t want to pry. God, Sunoo, I’m so sorry.”
Jungwon stood then, the leader’s calm demeanor visibly cracking. He looked at Sunoo, his eyes wet, voice low but heavy with conviction. “You should never have had to carry this alone. Not for a day, not for a week, and definitely not for months. Me and Jay Hyung only knew since you told us a little yesterday. That’s on us.” He swallowed hard. “That’s on me.”
Sunoo’s lips trembled, tears spilling again as he shook his head frantically. “No-no, it’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourselves. I… I didn’t tell you how long because I was scared. I thought if I said it out loud, it would get worse. And when the company told me to hide it, I…” His voice broke, small and desperate. “I thought you’d see me as weak.”
Heeseung turned immediately, gripping Sunoo’s shoulders. “Never. Don’t you ever think that. You’re not weak. Not for one second.” Jay stepped closer then, his expression fierce, protective. “You’re the strongest out of all of us, Sunoo. Do you understand? You kept performing, kept smiling, even with someone tearing you down in the dark. That’s not weakness. That’s survival.” Sunghoon nodded firmly, his voice low but sure. “And now you don’t have to survive alone anymore.” Ni-ki scooted closer on the couch, his usual bluntness softened. “If I ever see that guy, he’s not walking away. Just saying.”
That broke the tension slightly, a small, choked laugh slipping out of Sunoo despite his tears. He quickly buried his face in his hands, overwhelmed by the weight of their words, their love. Jake leaned forward, his tone gentle. “Sunoo, look at us. Please. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.” Slowly, Sunoo lowered his hands, his tear-streaked face raw and open. The sight shattered every one of them, but in that pain, there was something new. Relief.
Jungwon placed a steady hand over Sunoo’s. “From now on, this is our fight. Not yours alone.”
The words hung in the air, powerful, final.
For a long moment, Sunoo just stared at him, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Then he whispered, voice trembling, “But… what if the company stops us? What if they say it’s not serious again? They’ll be angry. They’ll say I’m making problems.” Jay’s jaw tightened. “Let them be angry. I don’t care anymore.” He leaned forward, eyes burning with conviction. “You are not a problem, Sunoo. You’re our everything. If they can’t see the danger in this, then we’ll force them to.” Heeseung nodded sharply, his hand still protective on Sunoo’s shoulder. “They can try to brush it off all they want, but I saw him. I heard him. There’s no denying it now.”
Sunghoon’s voice was steady, almost icy with determination. “Then tomorrow, we go together. All of us. We don’t let them pull you into some private meeting and silence you again. They’ll have to look at every one of us and hear it.” Ni-ki crossed his arms, his youthful face twisted with uncharacteristic anger. “And if they still don’t do anything, then we tell people ourselves. Fans, reporters, I don’t care. Someone will listen. They can’t protect their image while letting this happen.” Jake glanced around the group, his voice softer but filled with conviction. “We’ll protect you no matter what, Sunoo. If the company won’t step up, then we’ll make sure you’re never alone again. Not in practice, not in the dorm, not outside. One of us will always be there.”
Sunoo’s eyes filled with fresh tears, but this time it wasn’t only fear. It was the overwhelming weight of being seen. Of being believed. His voice shook as he whispered, “Why are you all… why are you all so good to me? Even after I hid it?” Heeseung pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to the side of his head, murmuring into his hair. “Because you’re Sunoo. That’s all the reason we need.” The others nodded in agreement, murmurs of we love you and you’re family filling the quiet room. Jungwon sat back finally, exhaling a long breath, his leader’s mask slipping into something more raw but no less firm. “Alright. Then it’s decided. Tomorrow, we face them. Together.”
A hush fell over the room again, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with fear. It was heavy with resolve.
From the first time since the nightmare began, Sunoo felt like he wasn’t standing in the dark alone anymore.
The dorm had grown silent, the hum of late-night city life faint against the windows. Sunoo lay curled beneath his blankets, eyes tracing the shifting shadows on the ceiling.
For so long, nights had been the worst, his mind replaying every insult, every poisoned word that stranger had thrown at him, twisting until they became truths he couldn’t escape.
But tonight felt… different. He could still feel Heeseung’s arms around him, still hear Jungwon’s voice steady and sure, still see the fierce protectiveness in every one of his members’ eyes. His chest tightened, but this time, it wasn’t with fear. It was with something achingly warm, something that made tears spill quietly down his cheeks. “Not alone,” he whispered into the dark, as if repeating their promise would make it real. “Not anymore.”
And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, Sunoo drifted into sleep without the weight of silence crushing him because the silence was no longer empty. It was filled with the strength of six voices, all vowing to carry the fight with him. Tomorrow would be terrifying. Tomorrow they would stand together against the company, against denial, against everything. But tonight, Sunoo allowed himself to believe.
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The air in the meeting room was tense, thick with the sterile scent of office furniture and polished floors. The members sat along one side of the long, gleaming table, Sunoo wedged safely between Heeseung and Jungwon. Across from them, the manager and two higher-ups shuffled papers, avoiding direct eye contact with the boys. Sunoo’s hands were clenched in his lap, his knuckles white, but the presence of his members on either side gave him a small measure of courage. Heeseung’s hand rested lightly on his shoulder, Jungwon’s on top of his, a silent reassurance: we’re here, together.
The manager finally cleared his throat, leaning forward slightly. “Thank you all for coming. Let’s get started.” Heeseung cut him off immediately, voice calm but firm, the faint edge of anger threading through. “We’re not here to listen to excuses. We’re here because Sunoo has been harassed by a fan and the company has failed to act appropriately.” The higher-up stiffened, eyes narrowing. “We’ve addressed this before. Sunoo was told to remain calm and not escalate the situation. There’s no evidence of real danger beyond what’s normal in fan interactions.” Jay’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding. “No. That’s not ‘normal.’ This person has stalked him, insulted him, and made him feel unsafe repeatedly. And you told him to stay silent about it.”
Ni-ki leaned forward, hands gripping the table. “You don’t get to dismiss it just because it’s inconvenient for you. He’s our member, and he’s terrified. You should have protected him, not told him to smile and move on.” Sunghoon’s jaw clenched. “Do you understand what that does to someone? To a person’s mind? You treated his trauma like a footnote.” The manager opened his mouth, but Jungwon raised a hand, stopping him before he could speak. His voice was low but commanding. “We’re not here to debate semantics. We’re here to make it clear: Sunoo will not be silenced. Not by fans, and not by you.” Heeseung nodded in agreement. “If he wants protection, you provide it. If he wants security, you arrange it. And you make sure this stalker is kept far away from him at all times. No excuses. No delays.”
A tense silence fell over the room. The company reps exchanged glances, clearly taken aback by the united front of seven young men who refused to back down. Sunoo, still quiet, lifted his eyes to meet the manager’s. For the first time, he spoke, his voice small but steady. “I… I’m not safe when you tell me to ignore it. I can’t just smile and pretend. Please… I just want to be protected.” It wasn’t much, but it carried weight. Heeseung’s hand squeezed his shoulder. Jungwon’s thumb brushed against his fingers.
The room shifted slightly, the company representatives suddenly aware that this wasn’t a request, they were being held accountable. The manager cleared his throat again, attempting a controlled tone. “We understand your concern, but you have to see this from our perspective. We can’t treat every fan comment as a threat. Sunoo is a public figure, this is part of the job.” Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, jaw tight. “Part of the job? Harassment and stalking are not part of the job. This is a person’s safety we’re talking about, not ratings or PR.” One of the higher-ups leaned forward, fingers steepled. “We have protocols in place. We’ve monitored the situation. Sunoo has been advised on safety measures, and no physical incident has occurred. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Jay’s voice rang out, sharp and unflinching. “No physical incident? Are you serious? Have you been listening to him? The fear, the constant anxiety, the way he trembles at shadows, do you call that nothing? He can’t perform, he can’t rest. And you—” Jay slammed a hand on the table, startling everyone in the room "—you dismissed it. Told him to keep quiet. Told him it wasn’t serious. That’s not management. That’s negligence!” Ni-ki’s usually calm demeanor had dissolved into anger. “You talk about protocols, but what protocols stop someone from stalking him at his own home? Or waiting outside for him after practice? You think rules on paper protect him from the terror he’s been living through?”
The manager swallowed hard, his lips pressed into a thin line. “We… we did what we thought was best to avoid escalating the situation. Sunoo was advised to keep calm, to maintain composure—” Sunghoon cut in, voice low but icy. “Maintain composure? You mean you told him to pretend everything’s fine while someone’s destroying him inside? That’s insane.”
Jungwon leaned forward, locking eyes with the manager. “Do not speak for him. You do not get to decide what he feels is acceptable. You do not get to dismiss him because it’s inconvenient.” Heeseung’s hand still rested on Sunoo’s shoulder, fingers curling protectively. “I saw the man yesterday night. I heard what he said. Sunoo cannot be left to face this alone, and we will not allow your inaction to put him at risk again.”
A higher-up cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “We understand you’re all passionate, but the company has legal and procedural boundaries. We can’t just—” Heeseung’s voice cut across the room like a knife. “Don’t ‘can’t.’ You will. You will provide protection. You will ensure Sunoo’s safety. And if that’s too difficult, then maybe you need to reconsider what your job is.” For a tense moment, the room was silent. Sunoo looked around at the faces of his members, their fury, their determination, the absolute refusal to let him be dismissed. He felt a flicker of hope he hadn’t dared to feel before.
Jungwon finally spoke, calm but firm. “We are not leaving this room without a plan. That plan must guarantee Sunoo’s safety. No excuses, no delays. Is that understood?” The manager’s face paled slightly, and the other executives exchanged uneasy glances. “…Yes. Understood,” one of them muttered reluctantly. Jay leaned forward, gaze unwavering. “Good. Because we are watching. And if anything happens to him while he’s under your responsibility again, there will be consequences. Make it clear, Sunoo is not alone. Ever again.”
Sunoo’s hands, which had been clenched tightly in his lap, relaxed slightly. He didn’t speak, but the weight of their united front gave him a sense of security he hadn’t felt in months.
Heeseung squeezed his shoulder gently. “See? They heard us. They know now. You’re safe… at least as safe as we can make it.”
Sunoo blinked, tears pricking again, but this time they weren’t only from fear. They were from relief, from the overwhelming knowledge that for the first time in a long time, he was truly seen and truly protected.
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To Be Continued...