Chapter Text
The roar of the crowd pulsed through the venue like a living heartbeat, waves of cheers crashing against the walls, shaking the stage. Hyunjin could feel it thrumming in his veins — the intoxicating blend of adrenaline, exhaustion, and the electrifying energy of thousands of voices calling his name.
He wiped his sweat-drenched hair from his eyes, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The concert was nearly over. Just the encore left. The final burst of pure, unfiltered joy that would leave them all breathless and spent.
“Good job, guys,” Bang Chan panted, a grin spreading across his face. His eyes gleamed with pride, reflecting the stage lights like twin stars. “One more round, and we’re done.”
Hyunjin nodded, a smile pulling at his lips. His body was screaming — his legs felt like lead, his lungs burned, and his heart pounded painfully against his ribs. But the thought of going out there one last time, of seeing their fans’ radiant faces, made it all worth it.
The members gathered backstage, forming a loose circle. They were all soaked in sweat, their makeup smudged, chests heaving, but their eyes shone with a shared determination, a silent promise to give their all.
Hyunjin glanced around at them — his brothers, his family — and felt warmth swell in his chest. Felix caught his gaze and shot him a grin, dimples flashing even through his exhaustion.
“You ready to kill it out there?” Felix asked, his voice light but his eyes earnest.
“Always,” Hyunjin replied, his smile widening.
“Alright,” Bang Chan clapped his hands, the sound sharp and decisive. “Let’s go out there and make it unforgettable.”
As they turned to head back to the stage, Hyunjin moved to follow, his limbs heavy but his spirit light. He took a deep breath, letting the anticipation fill his lungs, the air tinged with sweat, metal, and the faint scent of stage pyrotechnics.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic groan sliced through the noise.
Before he could register what was happening, a shadow loomed above him. There was a screech of metal grinding against metal, then a deafening crash .
Pain exploded through his body — a blinding, searing agony that stole the breath from his lungs. The world tilted violently, then everything went black.
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When Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered open, the world swam in and out of focus. Bright overhead lights stabbed at his vision, each glare a blade of pain. Sounds came to him like echoes underwater — urgent voices, footsteps, the faint, distant roar of the crowd still unaware of the chaos unfolding backstage.
He tried to move, but agony lanced through his leg and shoulder, sharp and hot, like molten glass searing his nerves. His vision blurred, a low, involuntary whimper escaping his lips.
“Hyunjin!” A voice cracked with fear — Felix.
He felt hands on his forehead, cool and trembling. The touch grounded him, even as his body screamed in protest.
“Hyunjin, can you hear me?” Felix’s voice trembled, but he was trying so hard to stay calm. “Please, say something.”
Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered. He tried to speak, but his throat was dry, the words lodged somewhere deep inside. He forced his lips to move.
“Hurts…”
“I know,” Felix whispered, his thumb brushing Hyunjin’s damp hair back. His hand shook. “I know it does.”
More faces swam into view, their features twisted in fear and worry. Bang Chan’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked painful. Han’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Lee Know hovered nearby, his hands flexing restlessly, like he wanted to punch something, anything, to make this nightmare go away.
“Don’t try to move, okay?” Bang Chan’s voice was firm, but the cracks were showing, his usual composure fraying at the edges. “The doctor’s coming. Just hang in there.”
Hyunjin’s leg throbbed relentlessly, a cruel, steady rhythm of pain. His shoulder felt like it was on fire, each shallow breath stoking the flames. Panic twisted in his gut, cold and sharp.
“I messed up…” he croaked, tears spilling over his lashes. The shame was almost as unbearable as the pain. “I ruined it…”
“No.” Lee Know’s voice was sharp, cutting through Hyunjin’s spiral of guilt. He knelt beside him, his eyes fierce. “You didn’t ruin anything. This wasn’t your fault.”
“The fans—”
“They care about you ,” Han said, his voice shaking. He wiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, his movements jerky. “The concert doesn’t matter. You matter.”
Hyunjin tried to focus on their words, but the pain was relentless, dragging him under. He felt like he was drowning, each wave pulling him deeper into darkness.
A hand wrapped around his, firm and steady. Felix. His warmth bled through the cold fog seeping into Hyunjin’s bones.
“You’re not alone,” Felix whispered, his voice choked. “We’ve got you.”
Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut, a tear sliding down his cheek. His body hurt so much, every inch of him screaming for relief. But the hands holding his — Felix’s, Chan’s, Seungmin’s — kept him anchored, kept him from slipping away completely.
“I’m scared…” he admitted, his voice barely a breath.
Felix leaned in, his forehead resting gently against Hyunjin’s temple. “Me too. But we’re going to get through this.”
Hyunjin’s fingers curled tighter around his hand, desperate for the comfort, the promise it held. The pain didn’t lessen, but knowing they were there — knowing he wasn’t facing it alone — made it just a little easier to bear.
In the distance, the crowd’s cheers continued, oblivious.
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The world around Hyunjin blurred at the edges, a haze of indistinct shapes and muffled sounds. His breaths came in shallow gasps, each one igniting a new flare of pain in his shoulder and leg. The cold sweat on his skin made him shiver, but the burning heat beneath his bruises and scrapes raged like an unquenchable fire.
Felix’s hand stayed firmly in his, a lifeline holding him tethered to reality.
“Hang on, Hyunjin,” Felix whispered. His voice was tight, strained, but steady. “They’re coming. Help is coming.”
The sharp clatter of hurried footsteps broke through the fog, followed by the clipped voices of the paramedics. The air seemed to shift, the urgency in the atmosphere palpable.
“Make room!” a firm voice called, and the members reluctantly stepped aside. The brief moment of separation felt like a chasm opening between them and Hyunjin, the sudden lack of their warmth a physical ache.
The paramedics knelt beside Hyunjin, their hands cool and professional as they assessed him.
“Can you tell me where it hurts?” one of them asked, her voice gentle but efficient.
“Leg… shoulder…” Hyunjin’s voice was weak, barely more than a breath. His eyelids fluttered, darkness tugging at the edges of his vision.
“Possible fracture in the leg, potential dislocation of the shoulder,” the paramedic murmured to her partner. “Let’s stabilize him for transport.”
He felt the cold press of scissors against his leg as they cut through the fabric of his stage pants, the hiss of the material splitting barely registering. The sudden exposure of his injured limb made him shudder, the ache deepening as they carefully wrapped it in a temporary brace. The pain spiked, and he bit back a cry, his body trembling.
“It’s okay, you’re doing great,” Felix whispered, his hand never leaving Hyunjin’s.
A soft groan escaped Hyunjin’s lips as they eased a support around his shoulder, securing it tightly to minimize movement. He squeezed his eyes shut, the world spinning. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much .
The paramedics moved swiftly, their voices sharp yet calm as they coordinated around Hyunjin’s fragile form. The stretcher’s metal bars gleamed coldly under the backstage lights, a stark contrast to the warmth and energy that had filled the venue just minutes ago.
Felix stayed kneeling beside Hyunjin, his grip on his hand tightening with each second that ticked by. The chaos of equipment being packed up, staff moving frantically, and distant cheers from the fans beyond the curtain felt surreal — a distorted echo of the world they’d left behind when Hyunjin crumpled to the ground.
“On three,” one of the paramedics instructed. “One… two… three.”
They lifted Hyunjin onto the stretcher with practiced precision, but even the gentlest motion sent fresh waves of pain through his body. His leg throbbed in time with his heartbeat, a hot, pulsing ache that spread upward with each jolt. His shoulder screamed in protest, the sharp agony flaring brighter than the stage lights had just moments before.
A pained whimper escaped his lips, barely audible but enough to shatter something inside Felix.
“It’s okay, Hyunnie,” Felix whispered, his voice shaking. “It’s okay, you’re going to be fine.”
Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered, the effort of keeping them open proving too much. His lips parted, his breath shallow and shaky. “Don’t… worry…” The words were slurred, barely there, but they carved into Felix’s heart like glass.
Chan’s knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the stretcher, his face a mask of barely contained panic. He glanced at the paramedics. “Will he be okay?”
“We’re stabilizing him now, but he needs further imaging and treatment,” the lead paramedic said, her voice steady but urgent. “We suspect a fracture in his leg and a dislocated shoulder. He’s in shock, but his vitals are holding. The sooner we get him to the hospital, the better.”
Felix’s chest constricted. The logical part of him knew Hyunjin was in good hands, but it didn’t stop the primal fear clawing up his throat. He felt Lee Know’s hand on his shoulder, grounding him.
“Felix,” Lee Know said softly, his voice barely audible over the storm in Felix’s mind. “We have to go back out there.”
The words were like a slap. Felix’s head snapped up, disbelief and anger flashing in his tear-filled eyes. “What? Now ? We can’t just leave him—”
“Do you think I want to?” Lee Know’s voice cracked. His jaw clenched, his eyes glistening. “But we have a thousand fans out there waiting. We can’t just disappear. And you know Hyunjin — he’d want us to finish.”
Felix turned to Hyunjin, his heart shattering at the sight of his pale face, the sweat-damp hair sticking to his forehead, the tension etched into his features even in unconsciousness.
“Please…” Hyunjin’s whisper was so faint, it was almost lost in the hum of the equipment. His fingers twitched in Felix’s grasp. “For them…”
Felix’s shoulders slumped, tears finally spilling down his cheeks. He bent down, pressing his forehead against Hyunjin’s temple. “I promise we’ll be right behind you. We’ll finish this… for you.”
Chan swallowed hard, the weight of leadership pressing down on him like an iron chain. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Just hold on.”
The stretcher began to roll toward the exit, each squeak of the wheels feeling like a knife twist. The absence of Hyunjin left a void so deep it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Felix stood there, staring at the space where the stretcher disappeared, his chest heaving with suppressed sobs. His hands shook at his sides, phantom warmth lingering where Hyunjin’s hand had been.
“Felix,” Han’s voice was a threadbare whisper. “We have to go.”
Felix wiped his face roughly, nodding. The pain in his heart felt unbearable, but he pushed it down, shoving his grief into the cracks of his resolve. They couldn’t break. Not now.
They stepped toward the stage entrance, the roar of the fans beyond the curtain a deafening reminder of the show that hadn’t stopped, even though their world had just crumbled.
Bang Chan took a breath, his voice hoarse. “We finish this. For Hyunjin.”
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As the final note faded, they bowed, the stage lights dimming. The roar of the crowd was deafening, but in their hearts, there was only the silence of loss. They exited the stage, exhaustion crashing over them like a tidal wave.
Felix’s knees buckled the moment they were out of sight. Seungmin caught him, steady hands gripping his arms. “We did it,” Seungmin whispered, his voice shaking. “He’s going to be okay.”
Felix nodded, tears streaming down his face unchecked. “Let’s go to him.”
The hospital doors slid open with a mechanical hiss, cold air rushing to greet them. The fluorescent lights in the lobby buzzed softly, casting an unforgiving glare over the stark white walls. Felix barely registered any of it. His legs felt like lead, and his chest ached from holding back tears. Every heartbeat echoed with a question he was too terrified to ask: Is Hyunjin okay?
Bang Chan led the way, his eyes scanning the waiting area until he spotted their manager standing near the front desk. Mr. Kang looked as exhausted as they felt — dark circles under his eyes, his phone clutched tightly in one hand. The moment he saw them, his expression softened, a mix of relief and worry.
“Kids,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “Come here.”
They didn’t need to be told twice. The group closed the distance, and Chan was the first to ask the question that burned in all of their minds.
“Hyunjin… Is he okay?”
Mr. Kang exhaled slowly, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. “They’re still running tests. He has a broken tibia in his right leg and a dislocated shoulder. They’re going to need to set the leg in a cast and relocate the shoulder soon. He’s still out of it — they’re monitoring him closely.”
The words slammed into them like a hammer. Felix’s breath caught in his throat. A broken leg. The reality of what that meant for Hyunjin — the pain, the recovery, the disruption to everything — was suffocating.
“But he’s stable,” Mr. Kang continued quickly as if to stem the rising panic in their eyes. “The doctors are optimistic about his recovery, but it’s going to take time. We’ll need to make some adjustments.”
The group was silent for a moment, absorbing the news. The weight of the night settled heavily on their shoulders.
Seungmin, ever the pragmatist, cleared his throat. “What about the flight back to Korea tomorrow? Can he travel?”
Mr. Kang shook his head. “No. He needs to stay here for at least a few days so they can make sure there are no complications. You’re all scheduled to return tomorrow, but I can stay with him until he’s cleared to fly.”
The suggestion sent a ripple of discomfort through them. The idea of leaving Hyunjin behind in a foreign hospital, injured and vulnerable, was unbearable.
“I’m not leaving,” Felix said, his voice barely above a whisper but firm with resolve.
Chan placed a steady hand on Felix’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out,” he promised, his own voice strained. “We can’t leave him alone.”
Mr. Kang nodded, his gaze softening. “We’ll adjust the plans. If some of you want to stay, we can work it out. The company will understand.”
Changbin’s jaw tightened. “We’re supposed to be promoting the comeback. How are we supposed to do that when Hyunjin’s like this?”
The bitter reality of the situation hung in the air. They had responsibilities, commitments, a carefully planned schedule. But none of that seemed to matter when one of their own was hurting.
Chan took a deep breath, the weight of leadership pressing down on him. “We’ll talk to the company. Hyunjin comes first. We can delay the comeback if we need to.”
Lee Know nodded, his eyes glinting with determination. “We’ll figure it out.”
The hours crawled by in excruciating slowness. They sat in stiff plastic chairs, the quiet hum of the hospital a constant backdrop to their frayed nerves. Felix refused to sit, pacing the waiting room floor until his legs ached.
Every so often, a nurse would pass by, their footsteps sending jolts of hope through the group, only to leave them disappointed when they continued past.
Finally, just when the tension felt like it would snap, a doctor in pale blue scrubs appeared in the doorway. “Hwang Hyunjin’s family?”
They all jumped up as one, their exhaustion momentarily forgotten.
“Yes, we’re here,” Chan said quickly. “How is he?”
The doctor smiled reassuringly. “He’s awake. We’ve set his leg in a cast and relocated his shoulder. He’s still drowsy from the medication, but you can see him now.”
Relief crashed over them like a tidal wave. Felix’s knees nearly buckled, and Han had to steady him. They exchanged tearful glances before following the doctor down the hall.
Hyunjin’s room was small and dimly lit, the beeping of the heart monitor a steady, grounding rhythm. He lay on the bed, his face pale, dark hair fanned out over the pillow. His right leg was elevated, encased in a thick cast, and his arm rested in a sling.
His eyes fluttered open at the sound of the door, and he managed a weak smile. “Hey…”
Felix was at his side in an instant, tears spilling freely. He took Hyunjin’s hand gently, afraid to hurt him. “Hyunnie…”
Hyunjin’s lips twitched. “Sorry… ruined the encore…”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” Chan said, his voice rough with emotion. “We’re just glad you’re okay.”
Hyunjin’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I was scared,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I thought… I thought I messed everything up.”
“You didn’t,” Lee Know said firmly. “You didn’t mess up anything. The only thing that matters is that you’re safe.”
Hyunjin’s gaze flickered to each of them, searching for reassurance. “What happens now? The comeback…”
“We’ll deal with it,” Changbin said. “You just focus on getting better.”
Tears finally spilled down Hyunjin’s cheeks, and Felix leaned down to press a trembling kiss to his forehead. “We’re not going anywhere, Hyunjin. We’re with you — always.”
Hyunjin squeezed his hand weakly. “Thank you.”
The room fell into a fragile silence, broken only by the quiet beeping of the machines. They stayed like that, crowded around his bed, offering their presence as a lifeline. The world outside could wait.
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The next morning arrived with a muted gray sky, clouds hanging low as if reflecting the collective heaviness in their hearts. The sterile smell of the hospital clung to their clothes as they waited for updates on Hyunjin's condition.
Hyunjin was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. His face, despite the bruises blooming along his cheekbone and the dark circles beneath his eyes, looked peaceful. Felix refused to leave his side, his thumb gently tracing the back of Hyunjin's hand. He hadn’t slept, and the weight of exhaustion pulled at his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
Bang Chan leaned against the wall near the window, eyes fixed on the overcast horizon. His mind buzzed with unfinished plans, postponed schedules, and phone calls he still had to make. The company had agreed to delay the comeback, but the guilt gnawed at him. It shouldn’t have come to this, he thought bitterly. We should’ve protected him better.
The soft creak of the door interrupted his thoughts. Their manager, Mr. Kang, entered with a stack of papers and a weary expression.
“They’re clearing us to make arrangements,” he said, his voice low. “Hyunjin will need to stay here for at least a few more days for observation. I’ve arranged for a local team to help us out with logistics.”
Chan nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Thanks, hyung.”
Mr. Kang’s gaze softened. “You’re all handling this well. I know it’s not easy.”
Seungmin, who had been standing quietly near the bed, finally spoke. “We’re staying until he’s ready to go home.”
Mr. Kang hesitated, but one look at their faces — resolute, stubborn, unwavering — made him sigh. “I figured as much. I’ll adjust the flights.”
When Hyunjin finally woke, the room was cloaked in soft morning light. The first thing he registered was the dull, throbbing ache in his leg and shoulder. The second was the presence of his members around him, their faces etched with concern.
He blinked slowly, his vision clearing. “Hey…”
Felix was at his side immediately. “Hey, you’re awake,” he whispered, relief flooding his voice.
Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment before opening again. “How long… was I out?”
“Just overnight,” Chan said, stepping closer. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a truck,” Hyunjin muttered, attempting a weak smile.
Han let out a strained chuckle. “You kinda did. But you’re gonna be okay.”
Hyunjin’s smile faltered, and his gaze drifted to his cast and the sling immobilizing his shoulder. Reality settled in like a weight on his chest. “The comeback… the tour…”
“Don’t worry about that right now,” Chan said firmly. “We’re taking a break until you’re better.”
Hyunjin’s jaw clenched, his eyes shimmering with frustration. “I’m holding everyone back.”
“Stop,” Lee Know said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not holding anyone back. We’re a team. If one of us is down, we all stay down until we’re ready to move forward together .”
Hyunjin looked away, his lips trembling. “I just feel… useless.”
Felix squeezed his hand, his own eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not useless, Hyunjin. You’re our brother. You’re more important than any schedule.”
Hyunjin’s eyes finally met Felix’s, and the tears spilled over. He didn’t sob, but silent tears tracked down his bruised cheeks, a reflection of the storm inside him.
Seungmin grabbed a tissue and wiped Hyunjin’s face gently. “We’ll get through this,” he said softly. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”
Later that afternoon, Mr. Kang returned with their revised plans.
“We’ve arranged for three of you to fly back to Korea tomorrow to handle some press and rescheduling. The rest can stay here with Hyunjin.”
Bang Chan nodded, the strain evident in his eyes. “I’ll go back,” he said. “We need someone to reassure the fans and the media.”
“I’ll go too,” Han volunteered. “I can help with interviews.”
Lee Know sighed. “I’ll go with them. You guys stay with Hyunjin and make sure he’s okay.”
Felix’s grip on Hyunjin’s hand tightened. The thought of splitting up gnawed at him, but he knew it made sense. “Okay. We’ll take care of him here.”
Hyunjin watched the exchange quietly, guilt flickering in his eyes. “You don’t have to —”
“Stop,” Chan interrupted gently. “We’re doing this because we care about you. Let us.”
Hyunjin bit his lip and nodded, too overwhelmed to speak.
As evening settled, the room was filled with quiet conversation. Hyunjin, propped up against his pillows, listened to his members’ voices with a weary but grateful heart.
Felix curled up in the chair beside him, half-asleep but refusing to leave. Seungmin sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone, occasionally reading out supportive messages from fans. Changbin leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze distant but protective.
Hyunjin let the warmth of their presence wash over him, the ache in his body dulling slightly. Despite the pain, despite the fear of what lay ahead, he felt a fragile sense of peace. He wasn’t alone. They would face whatever came next — together.
And that, for now, was enough.