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The argument didn’t begin with shouting. It started quietly, like a shadow creeping in unnoticed.
Sion had been watching Yushi for weeks—ever since he noticed the subtle way Yushi winced after practice, the way he lingered behind to rub his knees when he thought no one was looking. But Sion always noticed. Especially when it came to Yushi.
The first time he asked, Yushi just shrugged, that same careless smirk on his face.
"I'm fine, hyung. Just forgot to stretch," he had said, brushing it off like it was nothing.
But it wasn’t nothing. Not when the same wince returned after every session, and not when Yushi couldn’t even meet his eyes the second time Sion brought it up.
Yushi had always hated being the center of attention for the wrong reasons. He’d rather suffer quietly than be seen as weak. Sion knew that. Maybe that’s why he thought he could handle it gently. Thought he could ease him into rest, make him feel seen without being exposed.
But that third time—Sion made a mistake.
It was during group practice. The room was filled with their teammates, laughter echoing, sneakers squeaking on the floor. Sion noticed Yushi falling behind again, struggling through the choreography, his jaw clenched tight.
“Ushi,” Sion called softly, but everyone turned. “You should sit out. I’ll call the manager. Just let someone check your knees.”
Yushi froze, clearly caught off guard. “I said I’m fine, hyung.”
“You’re not fine,” Sion pressed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Please, just take a break. You’ve been in pain for almost a month now. If you keep pushing yourself—”
“I said I’m fine!” Yushi snapped, louder this time. The room went quiet. Eyes turned away.
Sion stepped closer, his voice low. “Ushi-ya, I’m not trying to be pushy. I just… I’m worried. You’re clearly hurting, and earlier you could barely keep up—”
Yushi laughed. But it wasn’t a laugh. It was dry, bitter, and sharp enough to sting.
“You could’ve just said it, you know?”
Sion blinked. “Said what?”
“That you're scared I’m going to mess up your perfect little choreography. That I’ll ruin your image as the flawless leader.” Yushi’s voice cracked slightly, but he pushed through. “Isn’t that what this is about?”
“That’s not—”
“I don’t need you on my back all the time, hyung!” Yushi shouted. “I can take care of myself. When I say I’m fine, I mean it. Stop pretending you care just because you’re the leader. I’m not your responsibility!”
The silence that followed was louder than the yelling.
Sion stood there, stunned. Words stuck in his throat, heart sinking.Too afraid to say, “I’m scared because I care, not because I’m your leader.”
But by the time Sion found the words, Yushi had already walked away.
–
Yushi thought he was doing a decent job hiding it.
He knew Sion noticed. Of course he did. Sion noticed everything—especially when it came to him. That was the problem. That’s why when Sion called his name in the practice room, Yushi knew— knew —by the tone of his voice what was coming. This was not going to end well.
He was right. Yushi’s breath caught in his chest. His shame, his frustration, his pride—they all crashed at once. And before he could stop himself, the words came out like poison. He knew he was being unfair. Knew the words were cruel. But something in him had already snapped.
Sion didn’t say anything.
For a second, Yushi wished he would yell back. Fight him. Prove him right.
But he just stood there, stunned. Hurt.
Yushi’s chest tightened. He couldn’t stay in that room, not with all those eyes, not with that look on Sion’s face. So he turned and walked out before the weight of what he’d said could catch up to him.
–
After that argument, silence had settled like fog between them.
Not a word exchanged—not at the dorm, not during meals, and especially not in the practice room. The others noticed it too, though they pretended not to. The air felt different—thicker, heavier.
Sion wasn’t used to this. Call him a saint if you want, but he’d never been someone who made people angry. Not his parents. Not his teachers. Not even the company staff, who usually praised him for being respectful, bright, and easy to work with. He wasn’t perfect, but he always tried. He tried to be kind, tried to be fair. Even when he gave members direction, he made jokes, softened his tone, and looked for compromise. It had become second nature—keeping the peace, keeping the team together.
But maybe that was the problem.
Because caring—caring too much—was messy. It wasn’t always peaceful. It wasn't always the right thing to do.
And right now, caring had left him in this awkward, painful stillness. Yushi hadn’t looked him in the eye once today. The rest of the group was tense. Mistakes piled up during choreography. Laughter was missing from the room.
Sion blamed himself.
Was I too pushy? Should I have kept quiet yesterday?
If I had just let it go, maybe today would’ve been normal. Maybe we’d be okay.
But how could he pretend everything was fine… when it so obviously wasn’t?
He glanced across the room—his eyes finding Yushi like they always did. Yushi was rehearsing the same section over and over, sweat soaking through his shirt, jaw clenched, eyes glued to the mirror.
Then it happened.
A flinch. Barely noticeable—but Sion saw it. Of course he did. Yushi stopped mid-step, face tightening for just a second. A wince that wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic, but to Sion, it felt like a shout.
His instinct was to run across the room, to grab his arm, to say “Please stop hurting yourself.”
But he didn’t.
Instead, he raised his voice, trying to sound casual.
“Alright, guys—let’s take a 30-minute break!”
The room froze.
Sakuya blinked. “Eh? 30 minutes? Really? Then I’m grabbing ice cream and bread!!!” he said with a grin, already halfway out the door, tailed by Ryo.
Riku looked confused. “Hyung, it’s not even an hour yet. Why are we taking a break?”
Sion forced a calm smile. “I just… feel like we’re all tired and not being productive anyway. This practice isn’t going anywhere, so I thought we could all catch our breath, you know?”
He said it lightly, carefully. He didn’t want to make it obvious. He didn’t want Yushi to feel seen—in the wrong way.
But Yushi just sighed and rolled his eyes, grabbing his water bottle. No words. Just turned and walked out of the room.
Sion watched him leave, heart sinking into his chest.
I’m trying, he wanted to say. But I keep getting it wrong.
–
Yushi was so sick of this.
Did Sion really think he wouldn’t notice?
He had felt him watching—those eyes always too sharp, too knowing. He wasn’t stupid. The timing was too perfect. Right when the pain struck again—right when his knee protested the fourth jump in a row—Sion had suddenly called for a break. Thirty minutes.
Thirty minutes, when they hadn’t even been practicing for an hour.
What was he trying to do? Be subtle? Protect him? Baby him?
It didn’t feel kind. It felt humiliating.
Yushi knew he should be grateful. Knew Sion meant well. But knowing that didn’t stop the twist in his stomach. The guilt. The shame. The feeling of being exposed when he had tried so hard to hide.
He didn’t want this kind of attention. He didn’t want to be the reason the team had to stop. Didn’t want people adjusting things around his pain. He just wanted to be okay. To look okay.
But the harder he worked to keep it together, the more Sion tried to protect him. And the more Sion tried to protect him, the more it felt like everyone could see through the cracks.
Yushi left the room without looking back. He couldn’t stand the way Sion looked at him now—like he was glass. Like he was someone to worry about. Someone fragile.
He hated it.
And he hated even more that part of him wished Sion would follow him anyway.
–
One week has passed.
A week of silence stretched out like an invisible wall between them. Sion and Yushi still hadn’t said a word to each other. Not directly. Not sincerely. Not where it counted.
Yushi kept his distance—icy glances, sharp silences, eyes that never quite met his. And Sion… Sion couldn’t bring himself to push. Every time he thought about saying something, a thousand doubts clogged his throat. What if I say the wrong thing again? What if he pushes me away even harder?
So instead of talking, Sion tiptoed.
When Yushi stumbled slightly during choreography, Sion’s voice would echo across the room, “Guys, please be careful on the jumping move, okay?”
And when Yushi hesitated or missed a beat, Sion would quickly cover, “Let’s start over. I think my timing was off.”
None of the members questioned it. But Sion could feel their eyes sometimes—confused, cautious. The tension in the group was palpable. It wasn’t just about the fight anymore. It was about how everything felt off without Yushi’s usual sharp energy… and Sion’s usual light.
Sion didn’t know how much longer he could do this. How long he was supposed to give Yushi space when all he really wanted was to close the distance. To put a hand on his shoulder. To say, “Please, just let me take care of you. Let me be there.”
But how do you reach someone who doesn’t want to be reached?
–
The breaking point came one evening, during a team meeting.
Their manager entered the room with a smile that carried weight. “We’ve got a festival stage. Big one. Top university. A very influential crowd—students are exactly the kind of audience we want to win over. Don’t take this lightly. We can’t afford to mess this one up.”
The room filled with murmurs and half-hearted cheers.
But Sion didn’t hear much after that. His eyes were already on Yushi.
Because he knew what those words meant to him. Pressure. Perfection. No room for error. And Yushi—stubborn, proud, injured Yushi—would hear that and immediately think: I need to work harder. I need to prove myself. I can’t be the weak link.
That night, after pacing the dorm hallway for what felt like hours, Sion found himself outside Yushi’s room. His hand trembled as he knocked gently.
“Ushi-ya… are you asleep?”
The door opened a few seconds later, revealing Yushi—eyes tired, hair messy, oversized shirt wrinkled like he’d been curled up in bed. Sion must’ve woken him.
Yushi didn’t say anything at first.
So Sion took a breath. “Ushi-ya… can we talk?”
A pause. Then a flat, unimpressed voice. “What do you want, hyung?”
“I just… about our fight. I’m sorry,” Sion said softly, voice fragile. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you in front of the members. I just saw you in pain, and I… I panicked. I couldn’t keep it in.”
Yushi remained silent, expression unreadable.
Sion tried again. “You know about the university stage, right? It’s a big deal, and I know you’ll want to give your best… but please, can we get your knees checked before that? Just to be safe.”
And just like that, something shifted.
Yushi’s face twisted—not in understanding, but in disbelief. A bitter, humorless laugh escaped his lips.
“Wow. You really are an amazing leader, aren’t you?”
“What?” Sion blinked. “Ushi-ya, listen—”
“I told you to stop pretending to care, didn’t I?” Yushi’s voice rose, laced with venom. “I told you I’ve got this. You don’t have to baby me. But here you are—suddenly sorry, but only because you’re scared I’ll ruin your precious stage.”
“That’s not— It’s not like that—!”
“Oh, come on!” Yushi snapped, voice sharp and cracking with frustration. “You didn’t come here to check on me . You came here to check on your performance. You came to make sure I wouldn’t be a liability on stage. You think I don’t see that?”
“Ushi, please—”
“You know what?” Yushi stepped back, eyes flashing. “Just go. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll make sure I perform perfectly, just like you want. So you can keep being the perfect leader everyone thinks you are.”
And then— slam .
The door shut.
Hard.
–
The sound echoed in the quiet hallway.
Sion stood there for a long time, hand still half-raised like he might knock again. But he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
His chest ached, breath caught somewhere between guilt and heartbreak. He’d done everything wrong. Again. And this time, it felt worse—because he hadn’t come to scold or control. He’d come with nothing but worry. Nothing but care.
But Yushi didn’t see that. Wouldn’t let himself see it.
Sion walked back to his room slowly, quietly. The dorm was still and dim, shadows stretching across the floor. When he finally shut his door, he leaned against it, eyes stinging.
He hadn’t cried in a long time.
But that night, curled up under a blanket that felt too heavy, in a room that suddenly felt too big, Sion buried his face in his hands and cried.
Not because Yushi hated him.
But because he still cared so much—and didn’t know how to stop.
The air was thick with excitement, nerves, and the scent of rain.
The downpour had stopped just minutes before soundcheck, leaving the open stage slick and dangerous beneath the artificial lights. Staff ran around with towels and blowers, trying to make it as safe as possible. But Sion could still see the sheen of moisture clinging to the edges of the stage.
–
Backstage, the members were scattered in quiet preparation. Jaehee and Ryo were humming scales, pacing back and forth with earbuds in. Riku practiced breath control while lying on the floor. Others stretched, bounced lightly on their feet to stay loose.
Sion stood near the edge of the curtain, eyes fixed on Yushi.
He hadn’t said much to him that day—just small nods, neutral glances—but his heart had been thudding the entire time. Yushi had looked calm, but Sion knew better. He knew Yushi’s version of calm: eyes a little too focused, movements a little too controlled.
He’s going to push himself. Especially today.
“Okay, guys,” Sion called gently, gathering the members into a loose circle. “Let’s be careful out there. It’s still slippery, so don’t force anything. Safety comes first, alright? Don’t risk the choreography if it feels off.”
Everyone nodded.
But when Sion glanced at Yushi again, he could still feel the tension—the quiet weight in his eyes. He wanted to say more. Please, take it easy.
But the words stuck in his throat.
They did their group chant, hands in the middle. “One, two, three— NCT Wish fighting !”
And then they stepped onto the stage.
–
The crowd was massive—thousands of students cheering beneath umbrellas and glowing phones. The first song flew by in a blur of lights and thunderous applause. Energy surged through the group like lightning. They nailed the transitions, the harmonies, the flow.
Then came the second song—the fan favorite. The last chorus built to its final crescendo. The choreography was bold, with a high-jump finish. They’d done it a hundred times.
But not on a stage still slick with rain.
Sion’s heart pounded as they moved in sync toward the final formation. He could feel the pressure building, the beat counting down to the leap.
Then it happened.
Yushi jumped—and his foot slid.
It was barely a second. A breath.
But in that second, Sion’s body moved before his mind could.
He lunged—an arm shooting out, catching the side of Yushi’s waist mid-air just as he tilted dangerously. The collision was hard, awkward. There was a sickening crack as Sion’s body twisted on impact, his arm taking the full force of the fall.
They crashed to the stage floor.
The music ended in a dissonant blur, lights still flashing.
And Sion didn’t get up.
Yushi, stunned, turned—and froze.
Sion’s face was contorted in pain, eyes squeezed shut, his right arm cradled awkwardly against his chest. There were murmurs from the audience, confusion.
Yushi couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.
Then the staff rushed in. The medics appeared. The stage lights dimmed.
–
Yushi sat in the back of the ambulance with tears streaking his cheeks. He couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop shaking.He didn’t understand.
Why?
Why did Sion still try to protect him, even now? After everything he’d said? After the door slam, the accusations, the cruel words?
Sion had taken the fall for him. Literally.
The guilt was suffocating. Twisting deep inside his chest.
He reached out, fingers brushing Sion’s pale, sweat-drenched forehead as he lay semi-conscious. “I’m sorry,” Yushi whispered, voice cracking. “I’m so sorry…”
–
Hours passed. The members came. The managers whispered updates. But Yushi didn’t leave Sion’s side. It has been thirty minutes since Sion laid on the hospital bed, but to Yushi, it felt like a lifetime. He sat beside the hospital bed, elbows on his knees, hands clenched, eyes fixed on Sion’s face. His chest was tight—not just with worry, but with the leftover weight of every word he hadn’t said. Every wall he’d built between them.
Sion lay there still, pale under the fluorescent lights, his arm wrapped tightly in a cast. His face looked calm now, no longer twisted in pain—but Yushi could still see traces of what he’d felt on that stage. The way Sion had looked at him before everything went black.
Yushi sighed quietly, shoulders finally slumping.
“Why would you do that, you idiot,” he whispered, voice barely above breath. “You scared the hell out of me…”
And then—just like that—Sion’s eyes fluttered open.
Dazed at first. Then clearer. He blinked, tried to sit up slightly, then gave up and let his head rest back against the pillow.
His gaze found Yushi almost instantly. Yushi’s head snapped up. “Hyung..” he said in disbelief.
A weak smile curled on his lips. “You’re okay,” he murmured.
Yushi blinked, surprised. “You broke your arm, and the first thing you say is that you’re glad I’m okay?”
“Of course,” Sion whispered. “I care about you, Ushi-ya.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Yushi let out a laugh—sharp but wet with unshed tears.
“God,” he said, sniffling. “You always have to make it dramatic, don’t you hyung? Perfect leader Sionie-hyung, trying to make sure he looks heroic.”
Sion chuckled hoarsely and then his expression changed to something more serious. “Ushi-ya, Hyung’s not perfect, you know? If I were, you wouldn’t be mad at me”
“I know,” Yushi whispered, smiling through the sting in his eyes.
–
“I’m sorry,” he said, voice shaking. “I’m so sorry. For everything I said. For not listening. For… for hurting you. I said awful things, hyung. I didn’t believe you when you were just trying to care. I was scared, and I was proud, and I took it out on you.”
Sion’s eyes softened. He reached up with his uninjured arm and gently cupped Yushi’s cheek.
“You know I wasn’t pretending, right?” he said quietly. “Not for a second.”
Yushi’s lips trembled. “I know that now. And I— I was scared. Of looking weak. Of depending on you. I want to hyung, but I just didn’t know how to let you”
Sion pulled him in slowly, eyes never leaving him.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing his thumb across Yushi’s cheek. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. Not with me.”
Yushi looked at Sion—really looked at him. And in that moment, he finally saw it clearly: how Sion’s heart was always overflowing with love, how every glance, every word, every quiet gesture had always been for him. He saw the way Sion looked at him—not out of duty, not out of responsibility, but with a kind of love that was patient, unshakable, and real. And Yushi couldn’t understand how he had ever denied it. How he had ever doubted that this love was meant for him.
Yushi then leaned forward. Slowly. Carefully.
Their foreheads touched. Then their noses.
Sion tensed slightly, heat rising to his cheeks.
“Ushi-ya…” he murmured, barely above a whisper. “The manager might be watching…”
His voice was shy. Uncertain. But the truth was written all over his face—he wanted this. Had wanted it for so long.
Yushi only stared at Sion’s lips, eyes lidded. “I don’t care.”
And then, without hesitation, he tilted forward and kissed him.
It was slow. Gentle. Full of things unsaid, of hurts healed and love that had been sitting quietly in both their chests all along. Sion’s eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into it, heart skipping in his chest. His good hand reached up to rest lightly against Yushi’s neck, pulling him just a little closer.
It wasn’t a kiss of apology.
It was a kiss of forgiveness.
Of understanding.
When they finally pulled apart, breathless and close, Yushi rested his forehead against Sion’s again.
Sion smiled with their forehead still touching “So… you’re going to let me take care of you now?”
Yushi nodded against him.
“Only if you let me take care of you too, hyung.”
And for the first time in weeks, Sion didn’t feel like he was carrying too much care in his heart.
Because this time, Yushi was finally holding some of it with him.
-