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Hyunjin watches through the mirrors on the wall, his members buzzing around the practice room like a well-oiled machine. One half is on his side, discussing something Hyunjin isn’t paying attention to, and the other is gathered around Felix as they work on the choreography.
Hyunjin wants to practice too, but Felix is an integral part of his stunt, him and Changbin supporting Hyunjin while he does a flip. He can’t exactly make Changbin do it on his own, so instead he stands around idly, letting the sweat collect on his forehead while he waits for Felix to wrap up.
Jeongin must’ve noticed, because he offers to steps in— “Want me to catch you?”
They haven’t had much time to practice the flip yet, being a new addition to the choreography, but the feeling hasn’t left his bones. It’s thrilling, especially when he lands steadily on his feet, making it look like he’s done it hundreds of times even if it’s only been a handful.
So, eager to get moving, he gives Jeongin a nod. He doesn’t want to wait for Felix, and with the deadline they don’t have any time to waste either.
Following his nod, Jeongin gets into position next to Changbin. They haven’t practiced it with him before, but Changbin does most of the heavy lifting, so Hyunjin’s not too worried.
After he glances at both of them, Hyunjin starts counting down from where he’s standing, before closing the distance in a run.
His left hand reaches for Changbin’s shoulder, and his right for Jeongin’s— his feet are already off the ground by the time he feels Changbin’s hand on his back.
It’s hard to say who has the most control over the flip. Hyunjin is responsible for most of it— the timing, the positioning, the initial jump, but he can’t see much of what he’s doing. Changbin has to guide him in the right direction and keep him stable.
It’s kind of scary to leave it in someone else’s hands, but it’s also the most fun.
Especially now that he’s back on the ground, and the lingering adrenaline still tingles below his skin.
He stumbles a bit in the end, but overall it was a clean landing.
Minho is standing off to the side, observing them from an outsider’s perspective. “You put too much weight on Innie’s shoulder,” he says.
Hyunjin looks at him, and then back at Jeongin, who’s now standing a bit further back from the force of the flip.
“Ah, really?”
He’ll have to shift his weight more over to Changbin instead, next time around.
Changbin nods in response. “And I think you were coming in a bit too quick,” he adds. “You can run a little slower.”
Hyunjin pushes back some of the sweaty bangs from his eyes with a nod, going over all the changes in his head. A slower run and more weight on Changbin, got it.
He creates more distance between them again, standing near the wall of mirrors.
“Ready?” he asks the other two, Minho still watching from the sidelines. They nod in response.
Not wasting a second, he runs toward the duo, careful to slow his speed a little. As he closes in on them, he reaches his hands forward, already getting ready to throw his feet in the air. His left hand finds Changbin’s shoulder easily, and he makes sure to put most of his weight on it, while his right tries to grab at Jeongin’s shirt. But his grip is too unstable— his fingers grasp at nothing but air, there isn’t anything solid to latch onto, only whispy fabric.
He’s gonna fall.
Changbin’s hand is on his back again, and he can only hope he’ll correct the mistake Hyunjin made.
But it’s not long before his right shoulder dips, right as he’s suspended in the air, and instantly the entire balance is thrown off. His already shaky grip on Jeongin completely collapses, and there’s nothing keeping him from plumeting to the ground except for Changbin’s support.
But that lets up the moment his knee collides with Changbin’s face. He can feel Changbin try to hold on to break his fall, hands desperately grasping at his hoodie, but it’s already too late.
He’s on the floor before he can blink— pain explodes down his arm, spreading to his spine.
There’s a loud thud that follows, but his cry of pain overshadows it. He can feel Changbin stumble as he lets go of the hand still holding onto him, and Hyunjin desperately wants to see if he’s okay, but his eyes are squeezed shut in pain, and it’s impossible to open them.
Someone is talking, but he can’t listen. His body is on fire, each nerve ending in his skin screaming at to him stop moving, but he can’t help but writhe in agony.
“Which is better?” Felix asks, “Like this, or like this?”
Chan hums as he watches Felix run through both options again, switching up the position of his hands for this part of the choreography.
From the corner of his vision, Chan keeps an eye on the half of the group that’s getting ready for Hyunjin’s flip. It’s his leader instinct to keep track of all his kids at all times, especially for a stage like this, with so many stunts that Chan feels it necessary to supervise every step. But he already gave his input for the flip a moment ago, so he’s comfortable taking a step back to help Felix.
“I think the second one,” Chan says after a minute. “It feels more balanced.”
“And it transitions better into the flip,” Jisung adds from beside him.
Chan nods in agreement, and Felix seems happy with the feedback.
They move on to the next part of the performance, running through different variations to find the best fit.
But all the while, he can’t help the glances he keeps throwing at the other side of the room. When he sees Hyunjin start running, he tenses, a part of him waiting for something to go wrong. With this many stunts, it’s bound to happen. But a second later, he’s safely on the ground— of course, Chan is worrying for nothing.
Then Felix is talking again, asking for more feedback on a move, but Chan can’t pay attention.
Hyunjin is moving again, exactly the same as he has been for the entirety of practice, but something is different, something is telling Chan to keep an eye out. Everything looks normal, Hyunjin’s feet are in the air, but it looks normal, like how it’s supposed to.
Until it doesn’t.
Hyunjin’s legs don’t make it all the way around— everything had been moving quickly up until that point, just a flurry of grey teleporting from one point to another, but this part Chan can clearly see. Hyunjin is suspended in the air, for a split second that feels like an eternity, upside down with his shoes pointing at the ceiling; his head too close to the ground.
The moment doesn’t last long, soon gravity pulls him down, and Chan watches it all with a heavy heart— watches how he crashes to the ground, taking Changbin down with him.
The sound Hyunjin makes when his body hits the floor is something Chan hopes he’ll never hear again.
He moves on instinct, his feet taking him to the two before he can think about it. He might’ve slowed his pace if Hyunjin’s cry wasn’t still echoing in his mind, might have brushed it off if he thought it was just a minor fall, like the countless others this room has seen before. But something is wrong, he can feel it in his gut.
His kids are hurt.
He reaches Changbin first, whose eyes are shut, but Chan isn’t sure where he’s hurt. He puts a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes open instantly. “Are you okay?” he asks him. For a second they make eye contact, and it becomes clear that he’s in pain, but then Changbin’s eyes dart toward the ground.
Hyunjin is lying there, not getting up.
Normally, if there’s a minor slip up, Hyunjin is the first to pick himself up with a smile on his face and a giggle following soon after. Always checking on the members when he can, not allowing the tense atmosphere to linger for long. But, this time, his eyes remain squeezed shut, and it’s clear all his focus is on dealing with the pain.
That’s not a good sign.
Chan crouches down to his level, hoping that the moment Hyunjin realizes Chan is fretting over him, he’ll show them he’s okay, that it wasn’t as bad as it looks and he’ll be up and about in a few seconds.
But when he calls him —“Hyunjin-ah?”— all he gets in response is a louder cry of pain.
Hyunjin doesn’t open his eyes, only curling in on himself further, like there’s no comfortable position to take away his pain. Seeing him like this crushes him, but Chan needs to stay composed, figure out what’s wrong, just how hurt Hyunjin actually is.
He hesitantly reaches a hand forward to soothe the hunched up figure, hoping the touch will ground him to reality. The entire room has gone quiet, save for Hyunjin’s heavy breathing, and Chan can feel the presence of the members behind him.
He tries again— “Jinnie?”
Hyunjin nods quickly, eyes still shut and his jaw tensed when he lets out a whimper, but Chan is just glad he can hear him at all. He lets out a breath, hand rubbing against the fabric of Hyunjin’s hoodie to let him know he’s here.
He tries to make his voice as soft as possible.
“Can you tell where you’re hurt?”
Finally, his eyes open, and they dart around the room, blinking heavily in a way that does not put Chan at ease whatsoever. He didn’t get a concussion, did he? Chan can’t remember seeing him hit his head.
Hyunjin nods again, words barely audible through his clenched teeth. “My— my back. And my shoulder, I think.”
Chan swallows, breathing through the panic to try and focus on the immediate issues. Back injuries— they can cause serious, lasting damage, even having people lose the functionality in their limbs. But Hyunjin’s legs are moving, as far as he can tell, so he pushes that thought aside. Chan can’t see if there’s anything wrong with his shoulder, but he’s also still moving it. It shouldn’t be life threatening, he thinks. But a head injury? Chan doesn’t want to think about it.
“What about your head?” he asks softly. “Did you hit it?”
He can see Hyunjin process the question, blinking with his mouth agape as he recalls the fall. He slowly shakes his head. “I don’t— I don’t think so.”
Chan’s chest feels a whole lot lighter, then. He can’t be sure, but Hyunjin would’ve felt pain if there was a head injury, right? So it should be okay. He’s not gonna die, they don’t have to call for an ambulance. Now he can focus on fixing the situation.
He lets out a heavy breath. “That’s good.”
Hyunjin has his eyes squeezed shut again, and Chan can see his chest heaving. He squeezes his arm. “You’re gonna be okay, Jinnie. Just breathe.”
Hyunjin nods quickly, but it’s clear the pain hasn’t gotten any better.
Now that his head is slightly more clear, Chan can assess the rest of the members, his hand still touching Hyunjin to keep both of them calm. Looking around the room, the members are all as freaked out as he is, standing in a half circle around them with big eyes. He searches for Changbin next and quickly finds him next to Minho, who’s talking in a low voice. Changbin looks a little unsteady, his hand held up to his temple like it hurts, but he’s upright and he’s talking. Chan feels a little guilty for not focusing on him in favor of calming Hyunjin, but he’s glad Minho took his place.
Everyone else is looking at the two on the ground, a crease in their eyebrows and a nervous glint in their eyes.
Chan addresses them, “He’s gonna be fine, guys. Let’s not panic.” His eyes move to the end of the line. “Are you okay, Binnie?”
Changbin nods. “I’m just glad I slowed him on the way down.”
“Silver lining,” Minho mumbles from beside him.
Another voice pipes up— “Doesn’t hyung need to go to the hospital?”
Jeongin’s eyes are wide, and he looks so much younger like this, scared and uncertain.
Chan presses his lips together, looking back down at Hyunjin. Something reflects against the ceiling lights, and he realizes it’s a tear making its way down Hyunjin’s cheek— his heart breaks at the sight.
“Yeah,” Chan says with a sigh. “We need to call a manager to drive us.”
“I’ll do it,” Seungmin volunteers, and Chan agrees easily, glad to delegate any task so he can focus his attention on Hyunjin.
Seungmin’s voice fades into the background as he talks on the phone, and Chan looks back at the heap on the floor, still in the same curled up position that looks like it would only hurt his back more. He moves his thumb over Hyunjin’s forearm.
“Hey, you still with us?”
Brown eyes look back at him, disappearing briefly as he nods. Then they move across the room. “Is Binnie-hyung okay?”
Chan smiles, pride swelling in his chest at how much all the members care for each other. “He’s okay,” he assures. “Focus on yourself for now, alright?”
Hyunjin looks away, eyes on the floor. “Hyung, I— I don’t think I can dance today.”
Chan almost laughs, he shouldn’t be surprised that’s what Hyunjin is thinking about.
“Don’t worry about that. I think we could all use a break, right?”
Hyunjin rolls over onto his back with a hiss, Chan almost instinctively tries to catch him or do something to stop him from hurting himself, but it looks like this is the most comfortable position for him.
Hyunjin’s voice is small— “But we don’t have time.”
Chan frowns, he wants nothing more than to disagree, tell Hyunjin they have all the time in the world and they’ll wait for him as long as it takes, but that’s not true. The competition won’t wait for them, for any of them.
“We’ll figure something out,” he says instead.
It’s the only thing he’s certain of; Stray Kids can get through anything.
The pain doesn’t stop, not when Chan and Changbin half-carry him to the car, his left arm slung across Chan’s shoulder while Changbin holds him at his waist.
Hyunjin’s not sure which is worse, the throbbing in his lower back or the sharp needles whenever he moves his shoulder. The bumpy ride only makes it worse, he tries his best to keep himself from flinching whenever the car jolts, but it’s impossible. Chan squeezes his thigh when he notices, and it settles Hyunjin’s heart, even if the pain is unchanged.
The walk to the clinic isn’t much better, still needing to be supported by both members and wincing with every step, but he gets there nonetheless. The sterile, white walls don’t help the nerves clinging to his skin. He thinks if the injuries were severe, he wouldn’t be up and walking, even if it’s with help, but part of him still worries.
Hyunjin prays he’ll just be sent home with painkillers, and he’ll be back in the practice room in a day or two at most. He’s not sure how much longer he could handle.
The physician prods at his back painfully, once he’s seated on the examination table, telling him to let her know when it hurts. He wonders how he’s supposed to do that when it’s been hurting non-stop, but he finds out when the gloved fingers touch part of his spine and instantly his whole back is on fire.
She nods when he tells her, and then she moves on to his shoulder. Keeping it still has allowed him to ignore it for the most part, more concerned with his back, but now he’s scared for how it’ll feel when he moves.
He’s told to try to lift it, and immediately the stinging comes back with a vengeance. He can’t keep a straight face as he holds it up, and once it starts shaking it’s clear the arm won’t go any higher than shoulder level.
He sags in relief when he can finally lower it again.
The doctor takes her gloved hands off his arm with a slight furrow of her eyebrows, only hightening the anxiety in Hyunjin’s chest.
She presses her lips into a line. “I think it might be dislocated, but we’ll have to do more testing to be sure.”
Hyunjin’s breath hitches. The thought of it, his arm hanging limply, only connected to his body with muscles and tendons instead of bone, makes him nauseous.
His eyes search for his members, locking with Chan’s first. There’s a strained smile on his face, clearly trying to be reassuring, but it doesn’t hide the traces of panic in his eyes. Changbin looks slightly more composed, only because he’s not trying to hide his troubled expression, and it has Hyunjin wanting to put on a brave face himself, but he doesn’t even try.
The moment she allows him to, he gets up from the examination table to join his hyungs— Chan is by his side in an instant, helping him settle between both him and Changbin on the bench.
Having them there by his side keeps Hyunjin grounded all throughout the doctor’s explanation, even when she mentions an X-ray and his heart pounds at the thought of having to stand still in the loud machine. He can only hope he won’t have to keep his arms up, like he’s had to do once before.
It turns out, getting there is the worst part. The clinic graciously provides them with a weelchair, even though Hyunjin is sure he could have walked if he really wanted to, he’s at least glad he doesn’t have to make the other two carry him again.
At first, he’s left alone in the changing room, but when he tries to take his shirt off like he usually does, it’s hard to stifle the cry of pain when he lifts his arm again. A moment later, he’s peeking his head out the door to look for his knight in shining armor.
The only person in the waiting room is Chan, tapping his foot on the floor and looking down with a troubled expression. Changbin is gone for his own evaluation, having been knee-ed in the face by Hyunjin but not once complaining about it, only agreeing to get checked out once he was sure they didn’t need his help anymore.
Hyunjin clears his throat; it echoes much too loud in the small room and he almost shrinks in on himself, apprehensive to ask the question. But when Chan looks up, his eyes are reassuring, like no request is too ridiculous.
So, sheepishly, he asks, “Can you help me?”
Chan, of course, meets him with a warm smile.
Usually, in their dorm, Chan is the one more often shirtless than fully clothed, and both Jisung and Changbin can be fairly shameless themselves. Hyunjin isn’t like that, at least not when the others are around, but they’ve all known each other long enough to be used to seeing bare skin.
So, Hyunjin isn’t embarrassed when Chan helps him pull up his shirt, cold air hitting his exposed stomach. He’s more embarrassed by the pained yelp he lets out when his shoulder moves the slightest bit— it makes him dread what’s to come.
Chan seems to sense how tense he is. “Relax, Hyunnie. Breathe.”
It’s a lot harder than it sounds, but he tries his best to focus on the air filling his lungs. The shirt just needs to go over his head, and then his shoulder, but Chan waits patiently until he’s ready.
His head is the easy part, but it still hurts when the fabric pulls on his shoulder. The last step is by far the worst, but Chan goes slow. Even then, Hyunjin can’t suppress the hiss when his shirt grazes the inflamed skin— “Fuck,” he bites out.
Tears spring to his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall. He shouldn’t go out there with puffy eyes.
“You okay?” Chan asks, and Hyunjin is relieved to see the shirt in his hands, at least that part is over.
He nods, even if with each second he’s becoming more convinced that the joint really is dislocated, that this isn’t going to heal in a few days with some tylenol and an ice pack. That he might not ever be able to move his arm the same again.
His eyes fall to the grey, lifeless floor. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
He hears the sound of Chan shuffling closer, and then fingers wrap around his left hand.
“Hey, we don’t know that yet. But no matter what happens, we’re gonna get through this.”
‘We’— this isn’t just about Hyunjin, this affects the whole group. All of the stages they’re going to perform, all the work they’ve done to practice together as eight. It’s all for nothing. The thought only makes him feel guiltier.
He looks up with watery eyes. “What if it’s— What if I can’t dance?”
Chan squeezes his hand, but there’s a hint of fear in his eyes, Hyunjin can tell. Still, he smiles— “Like I said, we’ll get through it.”
Even with the uncertainty, the anxiousness Chan must also feel, he sounds so sure of it, like nothing in the world could ever knock them down. Hyunjin can’t push down his own anxiety, but something in him calms at the words.
Chan holds his gaze like nothing else matters. “I promise,” he says.
Hyunjin breathes a little easier with the reassurance. Now the door in front of them, where the X-ray machine waits on the other side, isn’t as daunting anymore.
The sky is dark outside, but he can’t see the stars, at least not through the black, matte windows of the car. It’s good for privacy, but Hyunjin wishes he could find patterns in the stars and look for constellations he won’t know the name of. Something to keep his mind off things.
It’s so quiet. He’s not used to this.
His eyes wander— the icepack Changbin was holding to his face now sits in his lap. He must’ve gotten tired of keeping it up. Hyunjin watches the condensation slowly seep into the fabric of his pants. It looks uncomfortable, but he’s too tired to do or say anything about it. Content with resting his head on Changbin’s shoulder, warm and comfortable even if the crink in his neck is going to ache later.
It’s hard to keep his eyes open, they keep drooping closed until a wave of pain hits him and he’s wide awake again. The pain medication has helped a little, allowing the throbbing of his spine to settle into a dull ache, and for his shoulder to stop stinging each time it hits the back of the car seat. The sling helps too, keeping his arm in place so he doesn’t have to worry about jossling it and hurting himself. But it’s uncomfortable and itchy, and he can’t get used to the feeling of it pulling on his skin.
He better get used to it; it’s not coming off anytime soon.
A heavy sigh leaves his nose. Everything is still so fresh, it’s hard to wrap his head around how one morning can change his fate so quickly. One wrong move, and his career is in jeopardy.
The picture of the X-ray is still clear in his mind. It looked so normal— no breaks, no cracks, just a little gap between the socket and the bone. Dislocated, she said. If Hyunjin couldn’t feel the pain in his shoulder himself, he would think the doctor was lying.
There’s still a lingering numbness from the injection for the procedure. He didn’t even dare look. Just closed his eyes as he felt the doctor’s hands on his arm, counting down before she rotated his shoulder back into place. He’d expected to have to crush Chan’s hand as he was holding it, but she was done before he noticed any pain. He wishes he could take one of those injections home, maybe they’d fix the pain in his back.
Even though his spine is fine, apparently. The muscles are the problem. There is no quick fix to get them to stop aching, only time and painkillers, but Hyunjin doesn’t have the patience for either one.
He just wants to sleep and not think, not think about the one thing that’s worse than the pain. His mind hasn’t settled since leaving the hospital, the mental and physical exhaustion pulling at his every nerve. He squeezes his eyes shut, already feeling the trembles in his chest.
It’s over, just like that. All of them know it, Chan and Changbin with him in the car, their manager behind the wheel. Even the members back home, they must know it. They were there when he fell, they saw the outcome. They must know they have to do this without him.
It’s impossible to stop the tears from falling, this time— Twelve weeks. He can’t dance for twelve weeks.
At the sound of his sobs, Changbin puts an arm around him, slightly awkward with the car seat and the injury he has to avoid, but Hyunjin finds comfort in the touch nonetheless. But his gaze remains glassy.
They’re going to Kingdom without him, and they’ll finish it before he can even show his face. Twelve weeks is too long, there’s no way he can make it in time. All his hard work, it’s for nothing. All their effort to practice together as eight. Now, they’ll have to scramble to adjust, to make the stage look like it was meant for seven. The first one will be the worst, with it being built from the ground up with all of them in mind. But the ones after, Hyunjin won’t even be a factor. It’ll be like he’s not even part of the group.
Somehow, that’s the most painful part.
“Hey,” Changbin’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. “You’re thinking too loud.”
Hyunjin breathes a small laugh. “Sorry,” he mumbles into Changbin’s shirt.
“Let’s order something good when we get home. I think we deserve that.”
Hyunjin nods, voice small— “I want chicken.”
Changbin laughs. “Then let’s get chicken.”
If anything, it’s just really boring.
There isn’t much to do with one hand— he can’t draw, and he’s certainly not allowed to dance. He can barely get dressed on his own, or take a shower without it feeling like torture. It’s getting annoying.
Watching dramas and anime is fun for the first few days, especially when 3racha comes home exhausted while he’s just lazing around on the couch. He can tease them for it and they can’t even retaliate. They’re not cruel enough to rub salt in the wound and point everything he can’t do because of his injury, so instead they just begrudgingly listen to him talk about not doing anything all day and how great it is to relax.
But by day three, his teasing turns into whining, asking Chan over and over why he can’t just participate in practice even though he knows damn well what the reason is. After five minutes of suffering through it, Chan offers a solution.
“You could come with us? Obviously, you won’t actually dance, but you can help us out. Y’know, let us know what we can do better.”
Hyunjin looks up at him, the back of his head leaning against the couch cushion. He blows a hair out of his face. “Mm, sounds like you guys need me a lot— I guess I can make a sacrifice…”
Chan smiles down at him, and Hyunjin giggles.
“I’m giving up anime for you guys, that’s a lot to ask!”
A hand pats his shoulder, the uninjured one. “You’re on your third rewatch, you’ll be fine.”
Chan’s face disappears from view before Hyunjin can retaliate, and the sound of his footsteps tells him Chan won’t be able to see his glare, either. Something clatters in the distance, and Hyunjin pulls himself up to look over the couch— Chan’s back is turned, and he’s reaching for something in one of the pantries.
“What are you making?” Hyunjin asks.
“Just ramyeon,” Chan replies. “From a packet, I don’t have time to cook.”
“Not even for me, hyung? I physically can’t cook, so..”
He sees Chan’s shoulders bounce in a laugh. “You know you can order takeout, right?”
Hyunjin groans as loudly and dramatically as he can— “But that’s gonna take so long…”
He can almost see the exasperated look on Chan’s face, mixed with a hint of fondness, because Hyunjin knows he secretly loves being needed.
“Alright, alright,” Chan says with a sigh, “I’ll chop up some vegetables and turn this into a proper meal.”
Hyunjin cheers, throwing his good arm in the air.
Normally, he would down the bowl of ramyeon on the couch, one hand used to shove the noodles in his mouth, and the other holding the bowl. But his right arm is in a sling, so he has to sit in front of the coffee table instead, holding the chopsticks with his left. He’s not very good at that.
At some point Chan even says —“I think you need a bib”— and this time Hyunjin can properly glare at him.
In the end, there’s probably more broth on the table than in his stomach, but he had a good meal, even if he couldn’t tie his hair back to keep it from his mouth, either.
Chan cleans up, and Hyunjin’s just glad he has an excuse not to do the dishes.
After that, it doesn’t take long before he has the room to himself again. Even if Chan does stay a little longer after dinner to keep Hyunjin company, he leaves quickly enough, probably working on a song or whatever it is that he does until 5 a.m.
Then the room is quiet again. Hyunjin might have enjoyed it more if he could take advantage of it by picking up a paint brush, or gliding his stylus across the tablet. But the silence just feels oppressive, now.
His mind drifts to the image of that red wine bottle they’ve had in the pantry for a little while now, but the idea is shut down once he realizes alcohol doesn’t mix with the pain meds he’s on.
There’s just nothing to do.
He’s sure he normally wouldn’t mind this as much, a bit of peace in the midst of a busy calendar. It’s not even the fact that he hasn’t had to work, if he really thinks about it. Days off are enjoyable, even if he gets bored.
No, it’s that he doesn’t have a choice. He can’t spontaneously decide to play a game of soccer with the members, or go bowling with Changbin, or strum the guitar with Jisung. Realistically, he wouldn’t have done any of those things anyway— none of them have the time or energy. But if they did, Hyunjin still physically couldn’t.
He hates being limited, to be stripped of his autonomy like this.
He blinks. His shoulder stings, leaning against the couch like this, it can’t be good for his back either. Every part of him aches to move; he can’t stand sitting here any longer.
His feet move on instinct.
It takes three knocks for Changbin to open the door. He doesn’t even know why he did it in the first place, normally he would’ve just barged in, but something about that felt out of place tonight.
Changbin stands below the doorframe, looking up at him questioningly— Hyunjin tries his best to ignore the darkening bruise on his temple.
Hyunjin opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again— “I’m bored.”
If Changbin is surprised, he doesn’t show it, only widening the gap of the door further, and Hyunjin invites himself in.
His back aches when he plops down onto Changbin’s bed, legs dangling over the edge and easily reaching the floor. He bets Changbin can’t put his feet flat like Hyunjin can, sitting like this, with that tall mattress of his— way too firm for Hyunjin’s liking.
“Have you eaten?” Hyunjin asks.
Changbin scoffs, all the way from the spinning chair behind his desk. “Of course. Who do you think I am?”
Hyunjin hums, his eyes drifting up to the ceiling. “Channie-hyung cooked for me. But he’s busy, now.”
“And you thought I wouldn’t be?”
Hyunjin smiles at him. “Not if I’m here.”
And he’s right, of course he’s right, because Changbin smiles even wider and shuts off his laptop a moment later. Soon the bed dips, and he’s sitting beside him.
The bruise next to his eye only stands out more like this, directly under the ceiling lights.
Hyunjin focuses on the checkered pattern of the bed sheets, crinkling below his hand as he leans on it— “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“That wasn’t your fault.”
He looks up to meet Changbin’s eyes, and they shine nothing but sincerity.
“It was, though. I made a mistake.”
Changbin shakes his head. “Mistakes happen. And I’m pretty sure you’ve bruised me worse by kicking in your sleep.”
A laugh bubbles in his chest, but it’s not enough to overshadow the guilt still taking shelter there. The bruise has become a dark purple, and the placement serves as a constant reminder of Hyunjin’s fuck-up.
“Does it hurt?” he wills himself to ask.
“Not worse than your shoulder.”
Hyunjin almost instinctively goes to grab it, to soothe the ache that persists there, but he knows touching it will make it worse. Only four more days, and then at least the sling will be gone.
Somethings grazes his neck, Changbin’s fingers massaging the muscles there. The physical touch makes it easier to try and pull himself from his thoughts, even if he doesn’t meet Changbin’s eye.
“Hey,” Changbin says, voice much softer than he’s used to. “It’ll heal.”
Something squeezes in his chest, uncomfortable and persistent, not ever having gone away since first hearing about the extent of his injury.
“But not in time,” Hyunjin whispers, barely even audible to his own ears.
The hand remains on his neck, right above his shoulder blades, squeezing comfortably.
“Other opportunities will come,” Changbin says, voice steady and unwavering like he means every word. “Kingdom isn’t everything.”
It’s a nice thing to say, but Hyunjin’s stomach still plummets at the words. It feels like a neat little bandaid, with pretty pictures to distract from the wound below.
“I don’t want other opportunities. This could be our peak, I want to be part of it.”
The touch is gone from his neck, before it’s replaced by something soft and fluffy. Changbin leans his head on Hyunjin’s shoulder, hair tickling against his skin.
“You will be.”
Hyunjin smiles when he realizes Changbin is on his tippy toes to reach the ground from where he’s sitting. When he speaks again, his voice is close to Hyunjin’s ear.
“You might not be on stage with us, but we’ll always be a team. You’ll always be a part of that, Hyunjin. The group isn’t the same without you.”
Hearing it out loud makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, especially coming from Changbin, who’s honest, but not that sentimental. A heart to heart like this is pretty rare, and it makes Hyunjin feel grateful.
He smiles, but he can’t help but mumble, “You make it sound like I’m dying.”
Changbin laughs, lightly shoving him. “Then don’t act like you are!”
Hyunjin giggles along with him, his shoulders feeling a lot lighter now, even if one of them is still stiff.
“You’ll be just fine, Jinnie. Don’t worry so much.”
He wants to tell him he’s exaggerating, that he doesn’t worry that much, but his feelings betray him and he finds himself deflating, his good shoulder dropping into a slouch. “It’s hard,” Hyunjin says.
Fingers comb through his hair, then, comforting and gentle, a much softer touch than you’d expect from someone with Changbin’s muscles.
“I know.”
His voice is quiet, vulnerable, and Hyunjin doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but it’s hard to let go of the load still weighing down on him. The timing of it all is so ridiculous; why couldn’t he have gotten injured at any other time?
He almost laughs, looking up uncertainly. “Am I just supposed to… watch you guys on TV?”
The corners of Changbin’s mouth go up— “You better.”
It gets a laugh out of him, some of the tension evaporating into the air. Even if Changbin is joking, he still watches Hyunjin with care, his hand moving back to rest on his shoulder.
“Time will fly. You’ll be back out there with us in no time.”
Sitting like this, it’s easy to let his worries fade into the background. Even if the pain hasn’t gone, and his heart is still heavy— for a second, it all washes away. This isn’t goodbye, he’s still surrounded by his favorite people, those with the same dream as him. Even if that dream will have to be put on hold, his members are still there. They always will be.
Changbin’s next words only make him more sure of that, and his eyes never leave Hyunjin’s as he says it.
“We won’t leave you behind.”
And Hyunjin believes him.