Chapter Text
Hospitals—a place where life and death meet at one point. Joohyun remembers overhearing the cheers of a married couple celebrating their newborn or the cries of a family mourning a loved one who had passed away. The sterile smell mixed with heavy silence around her and the members. This was a silent Christmas, and Joohyun had never felt more restless.
As she stands quietly by Seungwan’s bedside, her heart racing in her chest, but her expression gives nothing away. Joohyun watches as Seungwan lay there, bandaged, still recovering from the accident. Her body is fragile, but the smile on her face carries a warmth that made Joohyun believe, if only for a moment, that everything would be okay. And then, something inside Joohyun aches. Seeing Seungwan in a hospital and wearing a patient’s gown, instead of wearing the beautiful dress and going up on stage to sing her heart out, was unbearable. Joohyun clenches her grip on the microphone. This isn’t where Seungwan was supposed to be. If only someone checked the stage again before letting her walk onto it.
This should not have happened.
The other members were in the room, watching their pre-recorded performance. Joohyun could see the weariness on their faces, though they tried their best to act strong, making sure Seungwan didn't see their eyes. Joohyun couldn’t afford to break down–not yet. Seungwan’s parents arrived a few days ago and did their best to approach their daughter with a smile, but Joohyun could sense the weight of anxiety whenever they left the room. Someone needed to be the one who held it together. Joohyun had to be a pillar for everyone else right now.
The door creaks as the other members decide to take a quick break from watching the TV. Seulgi made excuses about buying snacks from a nearby bakery, but Joohyun knew they needed some air—something to escape the sight of Seungwan being on the hospital bed. Seungwan’s parents also left for a moment to call her sister. It was only then after the door clicks shut behind them, that Joohyun realizes she and Seungwan are alone.
Joohyun’s gaze lingers on Seungwan’s smile, her heart tightening in her chest. For so long, she had bottled everything up, not allowing herself to fully feel the weight of what happened. The anxiety, the worry, the helplessness—it had all been pushed down, as the oldest and the leader, she had to stand tall with the remaining strength she gathered.
But for the first time that day, Joohyun allowed herself to feel the weight of her fear. The familiar constricting feeling in her throat, and it felt hard to swallow, and she fidgets with the microphone, finding some small comfort in it.
“Unnie,” Seungwan calls softly, patting the space beside her on the bed. Joohyun hesitates but sits down next to her. “You’ve been more quiet than usual.”
“I thought I could be strong for them,” Joohyun whispers, her voice trembling as she grips the mic tightly. “Everyone is on edge right now, I couldn’t think of anything to say.” Her thoughts wander off, unintentionally bringing up the “what ifs” that haunts her every night. “But now…now I can’t stop thinking about it.” The tears came before she could stop them, slowly at first, and then all at once, like a dam breaking. Her sobs echo in the quiet room, looking away from Seungwan’s eyes.
“Sorry.” Joohyun wipes her tears quickly, regaining her composure. “You shouldn’t have seen me like this.” She whispers, her voice cracking slightly. The walls she built for herself from a young age were starting to crack.
“Joohyun unnie.” A hand reaches out and brushes against Joohyun’s wrist. “It’s okay to cry, you know,” Seungwan’s words were gentle but firm. “You don’t always have to be a leader.” Their eyes met and…
Seungwan’s eyes glimmer with something Joohyun hasn’t seen before. For a moment, the air between them feels different. Like there was something that had always been there but was only now surfacing. Joohyun didn’t say anything, but the silence hung heavy in the air. Joohyun bites her lip, looking away again. Her walls were already rising again and thickening itself to hide her vulnerability.
“I just… I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.” she confesses.
Seungwan squeezes her wrist, “I want to see you,” she said, her words laced with something deeper, Joohyun couldn’t describe it.
They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, and then Seungwan, despite her weakness, opens her arms slightly, inviting Joohyun into a hug. Without hesitation, Joohyun leans closer, wrapping her arms gently around Seungwan, mindful of her injuries. The remaining tears were flowing freely now along with the soft sobs. It was a quiet, tender embrace, filled with emotions they couldn’t yet name.
After a few long moments, Joohyun pulls away, hastily wiping her face. She couldn’t let the others see her like this. The walls had come down for just a moment, but they had to go back up.
“I’ll be back,” she said softly, glancing at the door. “I need to… freshen up.”
Seungwan’s knowing smile tugs her heart, but Joohyun forces a small smile in return. She hurries out of the room, heading to the restroom for a quick touch-up on her makeup and to get rid of the traces of her tears.
As she stands in front of the mirror, dabbing her eyes and reapplying her makeup, she takes a deep breath. The fear wasn’t gone, but maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry it alone anymore.