Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Most ghosts, in my experience before becoming an idol, are quiet, peaceful people. They go out of their way to make sure your experience with them is… well, comfortable. As comfortable as sharing space with the dead can be. That is, until they realise you can see them.

And when they do, it changes.

Suddenly, I'm not a person anymore—I'm a window. A diary. A confessional. A medium, both literally and figuratively. For them, I’m the chance to be heard one last time. And I don’t mind. Really, I don’t. Most days.

For me, ghosts are clients—and I am their unpaid therapist, their reluctant errand boy, their unwilling friend. The arrangement is unspoken, but consistent. As soon as one of them realises I can see them, they go on and on about their lives and their regrets and desires. As if I had the power to rewrite the past, or move the heavens to forgive them.

Statistically, most of the ghosts I’ve encountered were between the ages of 20 to 40. It’s strange, maybe, but also… not. The older ones, the elderly, had lived long enough that even the supernatural world knew where to place them—up or down, heaven or hell. And the very young, the children and teenagers, were often too innocent to have committed sins terrible enough for damnation. Dying young was punishment enough, in most cosmic scales. So they didn’t linger. Not often.

Only once did I meet a child ghost. He was 12, a boy in a grey hoodie with bird bones in his pocket. I found him crouched under the slide in the park I used to cut through on my way to the studio. He had this sly smile, always coaxing animals with snacks, only to twist their necks behind the bushes. Rabbits. Squirrels. Even a stray cat once. That was the first and last time I ever ran from a ghost. I never went to that park again.

I’ve kept a diary—quiet, hidden—of most of the ghosts I’ve met. I wrote about how they died, what they remembered, what they didn’t, and whether they wanted to move on or just… exist. Changho was the first ghost I saw ascending. Or descending. I don’t know. 

Most don’t leave. Most stay. Some are tied to places they loved, or hated, or died in. Over time, I got used to meeting the same ghosts day after day. Their routines were oddly human—pacing, mumbling, watching. Some just liked the quiet company.

The ghost in our practice room was real. Everyone knew it, even if no one said it directly. ILLIT, BOYNEXTDOOR, TWS, even Le Sserafim had met him—or them, depending on the day. There were at least three spirits in the building. One of them was obsessed with BTS sunbaenim. She mostly stayed near the mirrors, watching their rehearsals silently, like a starstruck trainee who never made it. She never bothered them, though. She was respectful—quiet, observant. Polite, even.

But Jintae hyung was ours. Enhypen's practice room ghost.

–—-------------------------------------------------👻

I remember the first time I met him. I was seventeen. It was late, long after the others had gone. The room smelled like sweat and damp socks. My limbs were trembling from overwork. I was staring at my reflection, willing my shoulders not to slump even though every part of me wanted to collapse. The choreographer has asked me to wait and practice more. She had sent the others home forcefully, it was only a few months later that she was removed. 

I hadn’t debuted yet, but I wanted it more than anything. I was desperate.

“Your shoulders are too stiff,” someone said.

I nearly screamed.

I turned around. The room was empty.

“You’re straining your right side too much. The energy should travel down your arm naturally.”

The voice was soft, older, like someone in his early twenties.

“Who’s there?” I asked.

No answer. I looked in the mirror. And then, for the first time, I saw him.

He didn’t look dead. He looked tired. And handsome. 

Black hair, sweatpants, white tank top clinging to his frame like he’d just danced. His eyes met mine in the mirror. There was something knowing about his expression, like he'd been waiting for me to see him.

“You can see me?” he asked, tilting his head.

I nodded slowly.

He gave me a small smile. “Finally.”

He started showing up more after that. Quietly, without drama. Sometimes I’d be practicing and feel a presence behind me—watching, correcting, guiding. He never raised his voice. He was patient in a way real dance trainers rarely are.

“Breathe through the movement,” he’d whisper. “You’re not a robot.”

“Too soft,” “Cleaner” “Angle your body”

“You’re sharper when you don’t think too hard.”

“Feel the beat, don’t count it.”

At first I thought I was losing my mind. But I improved. Dramatically. The trainers noticed. I didn’t tell them why. Who would believe me?

When I debuted, he congratulated me with a soft grin. “I knew you’d make it.”

“Why don't you talk about yourself?” he looked at me slowly.

“Most others do, talk about their life, their experiences, why don't you?”

He just scoffed.

“Because my life isn't worth talking about.”

I didn't know what to say to that.

He started helping me more. He was one of the sweetest people I had met.

I told him that. He just smiled at me as if I didn't know what I was talking about. 

It was 2 years after my debut that he told me. He was a child prodigy in dancing. He’s always wanted to be an idol. But as he started getting older the pressure got too much. He left his parents behind because they wanted him to take a break. He left a lot of friends behind and hurt a lot of people. He almost debuted too, but then it got too much, so he ended it.

He liked the Hybe practice rooms and Jhope sunbaenim a lot so hung out here. Heaven doesn't look too kindly on people who took their own life. 

We never talked about it after that. But I started showing him videos, I started leaving dramas playing so he could pass time like that.  

He became the elder brother I never had. 

After he told me about his past—about how it ended—I couldn’t look at him the same way. Not because I pitied him, or thought less of him. But because I finally understood the way he carried himself. Like someone who had loved too hard, burned too bright, and simply couldn’t take the silence that followed.

He never said it out loud, but I think he liked that I didn’t cry when he told me.

I didn’t tell him how long I sat in the bathroom afterward, forehead pressed against the cold tiles, fists clenched, trying to make sense of it all. I didn’t tell him how it made the hate comments feel lighter, how it made the constant pressure feel like something I could survive. Because he hadn’t. And I would. For both of us.

From that day on, I made it a habit to stay behind after practice. Even when I was bone-tired and the managers said I should go home and sleep, I’d linger. Sometimes I'd pretend I was just reviewing steps. Sometimes I wasn’t pretending at all. But I always made sure to spend a little time with him.

I started leaving my phone propped up against a water bottle, playing drama episodes or dance videos. He’d lean over my shoulder, commenting in that dry, quietly amused way of his.

“She’s clearly in love with him,” he’d mutter during a particularly slow scene.

“He’s out of rhythm,” he’d grumble when watching a rookie group's dance practice. “Too much focus on facial expressions, not enough grounding.”

It made me laugh sometimes. Not because he was wrong—but because he always sounded so serious. So… alive.

One evening, I left a little Bluetooth speaker behind. Started playing music for him. I’d load up playlists of our own songs, BTS’s classics, even old-school tracks from before either of us were born. Once, I caught him humming along to Michael Jackson. His voice was soft, wistful.

“You were born in the wrong era,” I teased.

“Nah,” he said. “I just didn’t make it far enough into mine.”

He started talking more after that.

Not about how he died. That was never brought up again. But about the things he missed.

“I miss having cramps,” he said once, completely out of the blue.

“Cramps?” I blinked, halfway through my stretching.

“Yeah. After a long dance session. The kind where your legs feel like jelly and you wonder if you’ll ever walk normally again.”

I laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Maybe,” he smiled. “But I’d kill to feel pain again. To know I’m real.”

He had these strange confessions sometimes—ones that caught me off guard. Like how he missed rain, or the sting of sweat in his eyes, or the taste of instant noodles after a late-night rehearsal. He even missed getting scolded by trainers.

“I miss being corrected,” he told me. “It meant someone believed I could be better.”

His words stayed with me. And whenever I felt overwhelmed, when the weight of the stage lights and the gaze of thousands became too much, I’d remember: Jintae would have killed to feel this again. And here I was, alive. Breathing. Dancing.

On the day we won our first major award, I rushed back to the practice room before going home.

Still in full makeup, trophy in hand, my heart pounding, I stood there and waited.

“Are you gonna say something?” I asked the empty room.

Nothing.

I waited longer.

“Jintae?”

Then I felt it—the sudden shift in the air. A faint coolness. The lightbulb above the mirrors flickered once.

And then I saw him.

He looked different that day. Proud. Like a brother watching from the crowd.

“You did it,” he said.

“You helped.”

He shrugged. “I just nudged you along.”

I set the trophy on the bench and looked at him. “This is yours too.”

“No.” He smiled. “This is what you get when you don’t give up.”

He helped me with my first intro dance and we won a daesang that day. The only person happier than me had to be jintae hyung. 

There were times he disappeared for days. Sometimes even weeks.

At first, it terrified me. I’d think he was gone for good. Moved on. Or worse—forgotten.

But then he’d show up again, quietly, like mist returning to a windowpane.

“Miss me?” he’d joke.

“Not at all,” I’d lie.

We had a rhythm. A friendship bound not by blood or time, but by understanding.

He teased me when I got too in my head. He corrected my posture during late-night rehearsals. He listened to me vent about things that felt too shameful to tell anyone else.

And he had a way of grounding me. Reminding me why I loved music in the first place. Why I danced. Why I kept going, even when it hurt.

“Hybe’s full of them,” he said, sitting on the floor with his legs stretched out like an exhausted trainee. “Most of them aren’t like me. They don’t talk. They just… linger.”

“Why here?”

“Dreams. Celebrities. Loneliness. Sometimes obsession.”

“Like the one who follows BTS sunbaenim?”

He laughed. “Yeah. She just wants to watch. She thinks they’re her sons.”

I paused. “Do you ever think about leaving? Do you know when you will leave?”

He looked at me for a long time before answering.

“Sometimes. But then I think… what if you need me?”

“I’ll be okay,” I said.

He smiled. “Not yet.”

‐—----------------------------🌸 

So when I said yes to the members, I didn't tell him at first. What if he thinks I don't need him anymore? Even though I started telling the members about other ghosts, I didn't tell them about Jintae hyung. 

I decided to tell him on my birthday, I had to stay back for the live. The members wanted to stay, but we were all very tired, so I forcefully sent them back to the dorms. Jintae hyung made a guest appearance on my birthday tiktok, it was very funny.

So as we sat down. I came clean.

Told him everything. Even about changho. The last time a ghost had bothered me, hyung had scared them off. 

He looked at me straight and went. “No”

I was taken aback. We fought for 2 days after that. As soon as a member came close to me, something would fall, a light would flicker, the energy in the room was baaad.

We talked it out though. 

“Sunoo, you are my little baby brother, and all my experience tells me this won't end up good. The amount of misunderstanding that I have seen among all of you, the jealousy. You already started out as competition, this could take a very horrible turn, and I don't want you to feel guilty for every fight and for every small thing. You are so sensitive and what if … this hurts. I know how strongly you feel for all of them, I have seen you go through all the phases, I have seen you cry over the intentional distance, over them not talking to you, over you not being enough, and all of that will be multiplied tenfold if you date all of them.”

“Hyung, …” I was crying now.

“See, my little crybaby.”

“That is why I haven't said yes yet hyung. I want to see if it works, and I want to learn how to communicate and…”

“Sunoo , promise me you won't say yes till I allow it.”

“What?”

“Promise me.” I looked at him. He was very serious. 

 I realised something at that moment. When he says yes for the last member, he was going to leave. And I didn't want that. But for him, I would do anything, he has lingered on for too long already. 

“I promise. You promise you will say goodbye?”

“I promise, my baby. Now stop crying.”

 I calmed down after a few minutes.

“So for niki, I already say yes. That boy is perfect, ditch everyone else, marry him. And for heeseung it's a big no. If only I could harm ….humans.” 

“ Hyung your bias is showing and hyung has gotten better,”

“Has he properly apologised?”

“What?”

“You heard me just right.” And then he floated away.

I reached the dorm that day, a little sad, a little happy and a whole lot of scared, because I am going to introduce jintae hyung to my members tomorrow.

—--------------------------------

“Guys, this is Jintae hyung. Hyung—guys,” I introduced, gesturing between them.

It would be absolutely hilarious if I didn’t see Jintae hyung already narrowing his eyes like he was sizing each of them up for a fight. From a third person’s perspective—or if there was a hidden camera—this scene would be absurd: six good-looking men, standing politely in a semi-circle, staring into the air like they’d all forgotten how sight worked. Meanwhile, Jintae hyung had already made two full, slow laps around them, arms crossed behind his back like a disappointed headmaster or like a suspicious cat meeting strangers in his territory. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. Arms crossed. Judgy. Ready to throw ghost-hands.

Before I could say anything—

“ONE, TWO, CONNECT! Hello, we are Enhypen!” they all bowed, voices echoing.

And I lost it.

All of them bowed. Deeply. To empty space.

I burst out laughing. Hysterically.

Oh god. This must be divine punishment for something I did in a past life. Somewhere in the heavens, my ancestors were probably crying from laughter, watching their descendant introduce his soon to be boyfriends to a ghost.

“All of you—hahaha—just… look at me, please.”

Even Jintae hyung cracked a smile.

“Sunoo, are you sure he’s here?” Jake whispered.

“He’s standing behind you hyung.”

“Ack” he came and stood behind me. All of them also started shifting.

This was going to be a long day.

Jintae hyung just smirked. “Told you.” 

“Hyung not now.”

“Okay,” I said, once I managed to wipe the tears from my eyes. “He can see you. You can’t see him. So whatever you want to say, just say it to me. Before the company decides we’ve all collectively lost it.”

Most of them visibly relaxed—except Jay hyung, who was still stiff like this was a job interview.

“Okay, so,” I said, trying to clear the air. “Technically, he’s seen all of you for years.”

“What?” Jungwon blinked.

“Oh yeah,” I nodded. “He’s been around since trainee days. He’s seen your worst rehearsals, your mental breakdowns, and how you behave when you think no one’s watching.”

“So he’s been here… all this time?” Heeseung asked slowly. “And he’s seen us?”

“Yes.”

“And heard us?” Sunghoon added.

“Yes.”

Heeseung blinked. “I… don’t know how to feel about that.”

“Creepy but hilarious,” said Niki.

Jintae nodded sagely.

“Hyung,” I sighed. “Be nice.”

“No,” he said flatly.

I just sighed.

“Guys, like I explained, I cannot say yes to you till he says yes and his yes means a lot to me. He has valid reasons which I am not going to disclose because it might actually break us before we even start. This might all seem like a teen drama or a fanfic but it is real. And let's take it seriously.”

“Okay,” I said, clapping once. “Introductions. One by one. Name, etc etc. Let’s go.”

They all blinked at me.

“You’re seriously making us—”

I could feel Jintae smirking beside me like this was a reality TV show.

“Yes. This is like meeting my family. Hyung is the gatekeeper. This is your one chance. Do not mess it up.”

Heeseung rubbed his temples. “This feels like speed-dating but with your elder brother sitting beside you.”

“Funny,” Jintae said, narrowing his eyes. “He’s the one I trust the least.”

“Not again” I whispered to him. But everyone probably saw me.

“He broke your heart once. Probably will break it again.”

I turned to the others. Who were staring at me waiting for me to relay what he said. They must have seen my face fall.

“Nothing, he’s ready for you to start.” they probably knew I was lying as the smile dropped from my face.

Jungwon was the first to step forward.

“Hi,” he said, awkwardly bowing to the air again. “I’m Jungwon. Leader. Met Sunoo day one. Talk to him Day 2,Probably been in love with him since day three. Following him since day 4.” he said all of it while staring right in my eyes and I practically melted.

“Um, I am responsible and reliable and I will always do what’s best.” Jungwon continued.

“Best for who Sunoo-yah, for the group or for you? Huh. Will he choose you over the group or his future if the company interferes?” 

I won't expect him to. I shot back.

“Hyung?” Jungwon asked.

I hesitated for a second.

“Nothing jungwonie, um.. He just said, you are the leader and um ..you.. Have responsibilities. Um, next Jay hyung.”

I should probably type instead of saying anything.

Jungwon looked confused and hurt, but he stepped back.

“Jay. Nice to meet you, hyung. Thanks for… helping Sunoo.” he bowed …to air… again.

I sighed again while jintae hyung shook his head.

“He is embarrassing Sunoo-yah. I literally saw him practising his aegyo in the mirror years ago. Hell no.”

Hyung, that’s cute and.. And he plays the guitar, like you.

I typed.

“Sunoo, i like him, i do, he is the perfect husband, but at the end of the day, I've never seen him show proper romantic interest in you.”

Jay hyung kept standing there as we talked.

I looked at Jay hyung. “He doesn't believe you like me romantically. But he also believes you are the perfect husband, that’s a good thing hyung.” I gave my best possible smile.

Hyung actually looked happy and went and sat on the sofa as Jake hyung stepped forward.

“Hi I am Jake.I know this is weird,” he began. “Talking to a ghost about feelings. But Sunoo is everything to me. He’s warm and weird and dramatic and loud and soft. He makes this insane life feel like home.”

He smiled. “I’ve never felt that before. And I won’t mess it up.” 

Aww. It's cute but I am not weird and dramatic, thank you very much...

“He’s the one who always smiles. Seems fake more often than not. Like someone trying too hard. He wanted to be liked. I saw I-land. He should have been there for you more.”

Hyung, he was. It was a competition.He’s close to perfect. Ideal boyfriend. 

I type

Jake hyung smiled at that. “What did he say sunoo-yah?”

I smiled tightly. “Nothing Important hyung.”

Jintae hyung frowned at that.

“Sunoo, he'll try to keep everyone happy instead of taking your side. He doesn't want to disappoint anybody.”

“That’s normal hyung,” everyone stared at me waiting for me to explain but I just gestured towards sunghoon hyung.

“Hello, I am Sunghoon. Sunoo’s favorite hyung and the one who makes him laugh the most.”

And before the others could argue, I just raised my palm to stop them from talking.

“He teased you a lot sunoo, it was hurtful sometimes and I won't forgive him for that.’

So did Niki.

I looked towards sunghoon hyung. “He didn't like the teasing.”

He made this expression then, like a complete blank face and sat down again.

Heeseung hyung was standing beside sunghoon hyung.

“Hyung he already knows you, leave it. and niki.”

“Hello hyung. My name is Nishimura riki. I am 20 years old and I have been in love with sunoo hyung since I was 15.”

“See sunoo-yah. Perfect. He’s tall, he’s younger and he loves you a lot. It’s a yes for me.”

“He likes your dance a lot, riki.. you are his bias.” niki grinned at that and looked at the others to show off

I took a deep breath. “This seemed to have gone worse than I imagined.”

They all looked as downcast as I felt.

“Hyung, I‘ll show him I love you. He will give us a chance right?”

“Of course jungwonie.” I looked right at Jintae hyung. “To everyone, fairly.”

“Anyway enough with this, we need to practise for the Tokyo concert, I'll just go to the washroom and be back.

Jintae hyung followed me as everyone scattered.

As I washed my hands, I started talking after checking that no one else was there.

“Niki teased me like sunghoon hyung and ignored me for a lot of time like heeseung hyung.”

“He was a kid sunoo.”

I stared at him after closing the tap.

“I am not against him hyung, i am just saying give everyone a chance and stop hating them for their past mistakes. That’s between them and me.”

“I love you hyung, but i cant see you insult people that love you just because.”

“Sunoo, I am scared for you. I have seen you crying when heeseung ignored you, when all of them seemed to make their own group and you felt alone. This is unrealistic sunoo-yah, this relationship just won't work.” he said as he floated out.

And I knew inside he was telling the truth. I don't think I am that good. And I ask myself everyday why do they love me? 

But I need it to work, because I can't choose, and just staying friends will be difficult after all of this. 

Most fans already think I stand out, I am not like the others and if this makes things awkward between us then it will break me, not to mention the fans and the company.

I was able to handle heeseung hyung and niki distancing me but if everyone does that it will break me. I don’t think that I will survive.

I returned to the practice room and everyone seemed to realise my mood as we practiced. They tried to cheer me up, tease me, make funny faces, tickle me but nothing seemed to work. 

We got busy practising.

But after a long while, I seemed to have gone back to the Sunoo who was scared of everything falling apart.

 —---------------------

For the next few days the rhythm echoed in my bones, but I wasn’t really dancing.

I was moving, yes. Stepping on the beats, hitting the angles—but my heart wasn’t in it. I could feel it slipping through my fingers like grains of salt. The energy, the connection, the joy. It wasn’t there.

I wasn’t there.

I knew it. So did they.

I could see it in the way Jake kept glancing at me through the mirror, in the extra softness in Jungwon’s corrections, in the way Niki hovered just behind me—like he wanted to touch my shoulder but didn’t know if he should.

Heeseung hyung missed two steps in a row.

Sunghoon stopped mid-turn.

Even Jay hyung—who never breaks focus—fumbled the beat.

We were falling apart.

Because I was.

“You still think it will work, they are dancing around the topic and are terrible in communicating.”

I flinched. Not at the lights, but at his tone. I’d only heard him speak like that once—when he was angry. Genuinely angry. When I had once overworked myself to the point of collapsing, and he’d waited in the hospital room, arms crossed, refusing to even look at me for hours.

“Hyung please not now.”

The lights flickered. Just once. Just enough for them to feel it.

He was angry now. But not at me.

“I know all of them care,” he said. “I’ve seen you. For years. But right now, every single one of them is treating you like glass. And you're not.”

I could hear them shift. Heeseung muttered, “Is he talking about us?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

Jintae hyung stepped closer. I could feel his energy beside me, humming like static.

Until Niki stepped forward.

His voice was steady. “Hyung... we know we’ve hurt him. We know we didn’t always show it right. But we’re here now. And we’re trying. I’m trying.”

He turned to me. “Hyung, I love you. And I don’t want to be the reason you ever cry like that again.”

I was crying. Again.

God, I hated crying in front of people. But maybe… maybe this time it was okay.

Because Jintae hyung was quiet now. Watching. And for the first time in hours, he wasn’t judging. He was… proud.

He hovered behind me, a warm pulse of familiarity.

“Told you so. It has always been a yes for him.” And he left.

But it didn't make me happy for some reason. Because Niki was the easy one.

—------------------------------------

JUNGWON

One Week After the Concert

Things should have felt lighter.

After Tokyo, something inside our group shifted again. Sunoo was brighter. Still soft in the mornings, still quiet when he got overwhelmed—but brighter. Niki hovered less. Heeseung finally smiled with his eyes again. Jake cracked jokes without watching Sunoo's face first.

Manager hyung informed us that sunoo was called by a senior manager, the same dude in charge of creating our camera personality.

I stood outside the door as the managers went on and on about bullshit, sunoo hyung distracting us, him not acting cute these days and trying to be hot. And I saw red.

"You’re standing out too much. It’s disrupting the group’s harmony.” The managers said as I walked in.

“Jungwon, what are you doing here? I specifically said just Sunoo.”

“You’re saying people noticing him is a problem?”

The director looked at me like I was a child. "We’re trying to maintain a balance—"

"He is part of the balance," I snapped. "You can’t ask someone to shine less just to make the rest of us look better."

"Jungwon," our manager warned. "Let’s stay respectful—"

"No, I’m done being respectful when it comes to this. You don’t get to break down our personalities to fit whatever the fans want. He’s too bright for your idea of uniformity."

Sunoo’s hand brushed mine under the table.

"It’s okay," he whispered.

"It’s not.”

The company didn’t take my outburst lightly.

They didn’t reprimand me directly. That would’ve looked bad.

Instead, they punished us quietly.

Our schedules were suddenly split.

Different rehearsals. Solo shoots. Separate radio appearances. The line distribution was adjusted, quietly. Different countries for fuck's sake.

At first, no one said anything. We assumed it was temporary.

Niki and I were the only ones in Korea right now. In the company, making dance challenge videos. "They’re punishing us," he said softly.

"I know," I replied.

We were all on call, even though it was probably the middle of the night for Jake, Sunghoon and Jay hyung.

After sunoo left because of another photo shoot.

We were very proud of hyung, but what could have taken 2 days was taking a week because the company kept making excuses even though hyung was in the Phillipines.

Heeseung finally snapped first.

"This is stupid.”

Jake nodded. "We should talk to the director."

I was already halfway to the elevator.

I sat on the chair opposite him as both of us stared at each other 

“I will go on live, installation, on the fucking street and tell this bullshit to the fans if you don't stop this no2. You have held back too many opportunities from sunoo hyung and you won't take this one away just because you want to punish us.the next time the 8seconds people call with another idea for a shoot, you are going to say yes or else every one of us is ready to tell the fans”

I said very calmly. He actually looked affected now, -right then the lights flickered as if to add effect.

Everything was back to normal in the next two days. My threat worked, I didn't tell that to the others. 

Sunoo hyung was back within 2 days, we were preparing for sbs dajeon and sunsun were the intro

We were in the practice room the next day, when sunoo hyung came running towards me and hugged. I loved it but also I was confused, as everyone turned to stare at us, equally confused.

“Thank you for whatever you did jungwonie, he said yes to you.” 

Oh thank God, the relief I felt can't be explained.

I’ll always be brave for him.

That’s the promise I make now. Every time we step on stage.

Together.

—------------------------

JAY

I knew something was wrong when Sunoo didn’t complain about the coffee in the practice room. He always complained —too bitter, too hot, not enough milk. But today, nothing. He sipped it without even blinking, then set it aside half-finished.

It sat there like a bad omen.

He was paler than usual too. Sweat dotted his forehead, but the studio was cool. He was swaying a little between movements—small shifts, like his body was fighting to stay upright.

I watched as he pushed through the second chorus of “no doubt.” His spins were sluggish, his transitions off. Jungwon noticed too, his brows twitching as he gave cues with tighter urgency.

We broke for water, and Sunoo all but collapsed into a corner, face hidden in his towel.

I sat beside him slowly. “Hey. You good?”

He nodded.

Lied.

I could hear it in the tremble of his breath.

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Sunoo.”

“I did,” he whispered. “A protein bar.”

I sighed. “That’s not food.”

He didn’t respond.

I glanced across the room. Jungwon was talking to the manager. Niki was tying his shoelaces. Jake and Heeseung were in a quiet conversation. Sunghoon was…doing nothing and staring off into space. No one seemed to have noticed yet, because everyone was equally tired after hours of practice.

I didn’t take Sunoo home right after practice. I took him to the cafeteria.

He resisted, of course. Said he just wanted to go lie down.

“No,” I told him. “You’re eating. Or I’m calling someone scarier than you.”

He tried to glare. It ended in a cough.

We sat on the bench outside with warm soup cups and triangle kimbap. I opened everything for him like he was five.

“I’m not dying,” he muttered.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He ate slowly. Forced every bite. But he ate.

I didn’t talk much. Just stayed beside him, shoulders brushing. The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It was grounding.

He finally sighed. “I just didn’t want to slow everyone down.”

“Then don’t collapse. That would slow us down more.”

He laughed—soft and hoarse. “You sound like Jintae hyung.”

I looked around. 

“Right now?” he understood my question. 

He glanced past my shoulder. “Yeah.”

I didn’t turn around. I didn’t want to break the spell. But I nodded, just slightly.

“Finish your soup.”

Sunoo came to practice again.

Still sick. Still pale. Still pretending.

But this time, I kept a close radius. I had water ready every break. I stood behind him during tough choreo segments to catch him if he slipped. I intercepted the manager once when it looked like they were going to scold him for yawning.

We were all sprawled in the living room watching a movie. Jungwon had insisted. “Bonding time,” he said.

Sunoo tried to sit on the floor. I pulled him up to the couch beside me.

“You’ll stiffen up down there,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Half an hour in, his head tilted onto my shoulder. By the time the credits rolled, he was asleep.

His fever burned against my arm.

I looked down at him, heart aching.

“You could’ve asked for help,” I whispered.

He didn’t wake.

I didn’t let Sunoo go back to his own bed. I helped him into mine and set a cold compress on his forehead. He mumbled thanks through the haze of sleep.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the quiet rise and fall of his chest.

Two Days Later

Sunoo had mostly recovered. The fever was gone, but the exhaustion still lingered in his movements.

After practice we sat side by side as he stared off into space with a cute expression and I closed my eyes leaning against him. 

The members have reached a quiet agreement to let me have this, let me be the mother hen, let me take care of him so openly.

I was scared, scared of pushing him too much, of making everything weird by acting like the others, I tried to be the one he can always depend on. 

But now I know that I can be both. His lover and the one he depends on.

He suddenly said 

“Really? So soon.” And after a few seconds “told you so.”

He was probably talking to jintae hyung. He still scares me. I was going to close my eyes again when he turned towards me 

“He said yes to you hyung” and he hugged me.

I couldn’t believe it, Jungwon and niki had already gotten the approval but that was like 2 weeks ago. 

I kissed him on the cheek, in front of everyone.

And as he giggled I knew everything was going to be alright.

3 down, 3 more to go.