Archive of Our Own

The photo hit the internet at 4:17 a.m.; a grainy shot, probably taken from behind a parked car, its edges blurred by rain and some faraway streetlight. A kiss. Tender. Unmistakable. A small peck on the lips, caught by an intruder with no sense of boundaries. Hyunjin’s side profile was clear as day. The other person’s was not.

By 6 a.m., his name was trending on every social media platform. Not for a comeback. Not for a new album. Not for his dance performances. But for that one intimate moment of desperation that was turned into ammunition by someone with a camera.

By 8 a.m., his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, vibrating endlessly with calls, texts and alerts. 

He lay still in bed, the sheets tangled around his legs, his body heavy with exhaustion from the night before - the award show, the performance at the tail end of the night, the emotionally raw confrontation, and the kiss that hadn’t meant to happen but had. He was still reeling from the events of the previous night when he begrudgingly opened his eyes.

He ignored the phone for as long as he could. But reality clawed at him, and eventually, he reached for it when he noticed a notification that shook him out of denial. A message from their manager, short and sharp.

Call me. Now.

His heart started pounding before he even unlocked up the phone. His hands shook as he scrolled past the flood of notifications from his friends, and parents until he found it… the photo. A photo of the kiss that had felt safe in the darkness of the alley behind the event arena. A private moment was stolen from him for the world to mock. A secret love exposed that now threatened to undo everything he had worked hard for.

And then, just like that, his world collapsed. He dropped the phone. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. Just air. Just panic.

His stomach flipped violently as adrenaline crashed through his system. He stumbled from bed, barely making it to the bathroom before he fell to his knees and vomited last night’s alcohol. This was the end of his life as he knew it. He gripped the edge of the sink as he stood up, chest heaving. He wasn’t just terrified. He was humiliated. Years of hiding unravelled in a single night, by a single frame.

He read the headlines on his phone again, the articles being written. The lies. He thought of his bandmates. His fans. His parents. The weight of all of it bore down on his spine until it felt like it might snap.

He stared at himself in the mirror, legs trembling, struggling to stand still. It took him a while to gather his bearings to brush his teeth, wash his face.

He wasn’t ready for what was to come. Not like this. He’d always imagined coming out on his terms… when he was ready. But now? Now he was thrust into a scandal. His identity was a mere headline. His secret was exposed unwittingly.

Once he stepped out of his bedroom today, there’d be no going back. That door would open into a world that would never see him the same again.

Facing his bandmates was a whole different terror. They were his brothers, but he’d kept this part of himself locked away for so long with carefully curated masks and innocent lies wrapped in silence and deception. He thought, foolishly, that he could get away with it. Like others had, quietly, in their rigid, unforgiving industry.

Would they still stand by him? Would his parents? The thoughts gnawed at him again as he dressed in silence.

Hyunjin was no longer just a member of one of the most famous bands in the industry. He was a homosexual who, according to the internet, made out with strangers after award shows.

Stranger.

That was the silver lining, he guessed. The other person’s face wasn’t visible… just the faint outline of someone shorter, facing away from the light. But that didn’t stop people from speculating. Dozens of names were already being thrown around, some he had never met and some he had never even heard. Too many boy bands had been at the award show last night.

He wished the earth would just open up and swallow him whole.

He was almost spiraling when a soft knock echoed through the dorm’s hallway and he hurried to unlock the door.

Bang Chan.

Of course it was Chan. The man barely slept… last to go to bed, first to rise. Their responsible and protective leader.

Hyunjin didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

But it was obvious Chan had seen the news.

Just as Chan opened his mouth to speak, Hyunjin cut in, voice flat, eyes locked on the floor.

“Manager hyung is on his way. I have to be at the company in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll come with you,” Chan said, firm but gentle.

“No.” The word slipped out too fast, too sharp. “I… I want to do this alone.”

Chan’s tone shifted, more insistent now. “Why would you face this alone? You’re not the only one in the photo, Jinnie.”

“Hyung, please.”

“I’m coming with you,” Chan said again, already walking toward the door.

Hyunjin peeked into the hallway. It was quiet. The others hadn’t woken up to the shit storm yet.

They reached the car in silence. The moment they climbed in, the manager turned in his seat, eyes dark and puffy.

“You were reckless. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” he snapped, not even waiting for the engine to start. “You should’ve been more careful. How the hell are we supposed to cover this up?”

Hyun didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. Reckless. Not even a “How are you holding up?”

He just stared out the window for the rest of the drive, jaw clenched, nails digging into his palms.

At 9 a.m., he was ushered into the CEO’s office. The room was already full with JYPE’s top executives, representatives from the PR and legal teams, and JYP himself.

Hyunjin’s throat felt dry, his heartbeat frantic and fingers twitching as he sank into the chair across them.

No one asked if the photo was real. No one asked if it was him in the photo. There was no need.

They only asked one thing: Who was the other person?

Hyunjin stayed silent.

They asked again. And again.

“Was it someone from another group?” one of the PR managers asked. “Someone from the staff?”

He didn’t lift his head. He could feel Chan’s eyes boring into him. But he didn’t look at Chan. He couldn’t. One glance and the walls he was holding up with trembling hands would fall. He had to stay composed, not just for himself, but for the one he loves. The one who still had a chance to stay hidden.

“It’s not up for discussion,” he said finally, voice steady but quiet. “I’m not revealing who it is.”

A beat of silence.

“Does it even matter at this point?” Hyunjin continued. “Everyone’s already made up their minds. All anyone cares about is that I’m gay. The rest is just gossip fuel.”

One of the lawyers leaned forward, calm, calculated. “It’s not about gossip. We need to know in case there are legal issues from the other party’s side.”

Chan stood up, visibly agitated, but Hyun’s hand shot out, dragging him back down.

“Please, hyung. Let me handle this.”

He took a deep breath, then stood, facing the room.

“It was a stranger,” he lied. “Someone I met that night. I don’t know his name. I’d never seen him before and I probably never will again. It was… a moment of weakness. Unfortunately, caught on camera. It won’t happen again.”

“Hyunjin-ah, don’t do this,” Chan whispered beside him, the heartbreak in his voice almost unbearable.

“Hyunjin.” This time it was the CEO himself. Voice low. Measured. “You need to be honest. Do you really want me to believe that you are going around kissing strangers? This isn’t a joke. If we can’t get ahead of this, we may have to consider more drastic consequences.”

“What does that mean?” Chan asked sharply.

The lawyer answered instead. “Disbandment. If this escalates, if the public backlash turns severe, we… we’ll be forced to cut losses.”

“Are you kidding me?” Chan snapped, pushing up from his seat again. “You’re going to disband us away over a stupid photo?”

“It’s not about the photo or the kiss,” JYP said coldly. “It’s about betrayal of public image. Of contracts. Of trust. This isn’t about private lives anymore, it’s a business risk.”

“You can’t do that. You can’t do that to them. If you need to punish someone, punish me. Rest of the guys did nothing wrong. I take full and sole responsibility.”

“Don’t do this,” Chan murmured beside him.

“I have to,” Hyunjin said, calmly.

There was another beat of silence before a PR rep spoke.

“We’ll frame it as a misunderstanding. No names. No confirmation. We can spin it. If we move fast, control the narrative, we can minimize the damage.”

The room erupted after that… statements, media timelines, fan backlash management. Threats of contract suspension. Brand deals pulled.

Hyunjin heard none of it.

No one asked how Hyunjin was feeling, how he was coping with the sudden exposure or how he wanted to handle the situation. No one even cared about the other person in the photo. They only cared about how to make it all go away… how to get the company and their most successful group out of this mess.

As time passed and the discussions went on, he had stopped caring too. He blocked out most of what was being said. It didn’t matter anymore. It was out of his hands. The only thing he knew for sure was that nothing would ever be the same. He just had to face the consequences… alone.

By the time Hyunjin left the meeting, a statement had already gone live.

It said very little. Just a generic line about the situation being “under internal review.” That it was a misunderstanding being blown out of proportion to damage the company's and the group’s reputation. No acknowledgment of him. Nothing about his privacy violation. Nothing that resembled protection. Just corporate damage control, carefully worded to confirm nothing at all.

When he returned to the dorm with Chan, the atmosphere was brittle.

The whole group gathered and sat huddled together, silently in the living room, faces drawn, eyes heavy with things unsaid. Hyunjin hovered in the entryway, unable to meet their eyes. He felt the shift in the air… he could see it in their eyes… concern, disappointment, confusion, maybe even quiet resentment for dragging them into something they never asked for. One of them didn’t look at him at all.

His breath caught in his throat.

What was he supposed to say? Sorry I’m gay ? Sorry I kissed someone ? Sorry I got caught ?

Would anything be enough?

Would they ever forgive him for a truth he didn’t choose to share?

Chan cleared his throat, stepping forward to explain what had happened at the company. What had been decided. What they were expected to say. How they were expected to behave.

Hyunjin didn’t hear a word of it. He slipped away, silently. He shut the door to his room, and leaned against it as if holding the world out with his weight alone. He was still shaking… still numb. The ache inside was growing louder now, unbearable.

His phone lay on the bed, untouched since the morning. He picked it up now, hands trembling.

Messages. Missed calls. He thought he should at least call his parents.

He didn’t want to call. He couldn’t bear to hear his mother’s voice crack or his father’s silence on the line. A conversation like that would need time, couldn’t be done over a phone call. He was sure he’d be kicked out from the group soon anyway. He could explain everything when he got home… if there was still a home to go back to.

He typed a short message to his mother. I’m okay. I’ll call you soon. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything when I can.

Then he made the mistake of checking social media again. There were fan accounts crying betrayal. Others defending him viciously while being attacked just as hard. Hateful DMs and death threats.

There were even edits of the photo now, filtered and zoomed, brightened to try and expose the other person. Like it was some kind of detective game. Like his heartbreak was entertainment.

He couldn’t breathe anymore.

He put the phone down and lay down, curled inward.

His sobs came in jagged gasps, pulled from somewhere so deep it surprised even him. They weren’t the quiet, controlled tears of regret or hurt. They were the kind of tears that emptied a soul.

He buried his face in the pillow, trying to muffle the sound. His body shook. His hands clawed at the sheets like they could anchor him to something real. Something safe.

But he didn’t feel safe. He felt betrayed, alone. 

He didn’t feel anything but shame. Not because of who he was but because of what the world was telling him he deserved for being that person. For loving someone he shouldn’t. 

He had risked everything… everything he had worked for… risked everything in that moment for love and now he would pay for it.

Then came the sound of the door opening.

He didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Hyunjin-ah,” came Lix’s soft voice as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Please don’t cry, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin’s body jolted at the nickname. It only made him cry harder. Hiccuping now, gasping for air, like he was drowning in the very comfort he’d been starved of.

Felix gently turned him over and pulled him into his arms. Hyunjin collapsed against him, trembling. 

“I can’t,” Hyunjin cried out. “I can’t do this. I ruined everything.”

“No, you didn’t,” Felix whispered, stroking the back of his head.

That’s when he saw the others… Jeongin, Seungmin, and Jisung standing just behind, quiet and careful, like they’d been holding their breath.

“You don’t have to be nice,” Hyunjin choked out. “You can be disgusted with me. I deserve it.”

Jeongin was beside him in a heartbeat, curling his arms around Hyunjin’s back from the other side.

“Don’t say that, hyung,” he whispered. “Why would we ever be disgusted with you? You are still you… you are still our Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin clung to Felix, body wracked with sobs. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry for all of it. For lying to you. For this stupid scandal. For putting the group through this. For… for being gay. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t,” Jisung said immediately, kneeling on the floor beside the bed. “Don’t apologize for who you are. You didn’t do anything wrong, baby.”

Hyunjin pulled away slightly, just enough to see their faces, all four of them, eyes wet or shining or steady.

“I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve told you. I hurt you all. Now, the group…”

“You didn’t hurt us,” Seungmin said, brushing back his hair. “The group will be fine. We will be fine.”

“But I put our future at risk,” Hyunjin whispered. “They might disband us. You don’t deserve that. I hope… I hope they just kick me out. I don’t even know what’s left for them to make that decision.”

“Hyunjin,” Felix said, voice low but certain, “nothing changes. We love you. We support you. We’re still your brothers. That doesn’t disappear because of one photo. We will always be there for you. We will always be 8.”

Outside the room, just beyond the partially open door, Chan stood frozen.

He sat beside him at the company, said nothing when they blamed him, did nothing when the silence turned into suffocation and then accompanied him home in silence. No words exchanged. No comfort provided.

And now?

He couldn’t even walk through that door and face him. He should’ve gone in with the others. Should’ve been the one holding Hyunjin. The one comforting him. The one standing in front of everyone saying, Hyunjin will always be part of the group and he will always protect him .

But he hadn’t. He couldn’t.

He leaned his head against the wall, a quiet ache blooming in his chest. He’d failed the person who needed him most, when he needed him the most. He failed as a leader, he failed as a friend. Not because he didn’t care, but because he was too afraid to cross the line with the company.

Hyunjin was in safe arms. But they weren’t his. And somehow, that hurt him more than anything.

When Hyunjin opened his eyes again, the room was dark, quiet and empty.

Hyunjin blinked against the heavy blur of sleep. He didn’t know how long he’d been out, and he didn’t want to know what transpired in that time either. He didn’t want to remember the dread that came with opening his eyes that morning. Didn’t want to retrace the events that had shattered his life in a single day.

His limbs felt heavy, his body drained from hours of crying, of pretending to be strong when he was barely holding it together. But the dryness in his throat pushed him out of bed. He just needed some water.

He padded quietly into the kitchen, hoping to make it back to his room unnoticed. But fate was rarely kind.

Changbin was there, leaning against the counter like he’d been waiting. His gaze was intense and Hyunjin couldn’t decipher if it was pity or disgust. He didn’t have the strength to find out either. 

“Hi,” Hyunjin mumbled, voice scratchy with sleep and disuse. He opened the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and turned to leave.

“Why are you doing this, Jinnie?” Changbin spoke up.

The question stopped him mid-step.

He turned slowly, confusion tightening in his chest. “What?”

“Why are you protecting him?” Changbin asked, stepping forward. “Why are you lying about who it was in the photo?”

Hyunjin’s shoulders tensed. “Hyung, I really don’t want to do this right now. I’m exhausted and,”

“Did he threaten you?”

“What? No!” Hyunjin blinked, stunned. “Hyung, I already told the company… he was a stranger. I don’t even know his name and I haven’t seen him since.”

“You can lie to them, Jinnie. But not to me. I know who he is.”

The words hit Hyunjin like a slap. His breath caught in his throat.

“You… y-you know?” he stammered.

Changbin gave him a sad smile. “Don’t act so surprised. You were not as sneaky as you think.”

“Hyung…” Hyunjin looked away, shame rising up again like a wave.

“I can’t let you carry this burden alone. If you won’t tell them the truth, I will.”

“No.” His voice cracked. “Please, hyung. Don’t. I can’t out him. I can’t let him go through what I’m facing right now. It would break him.”

“That’s not fair to you, Hyunjin.”

“I’m not doing this to be fair. I’m doing this because I love him.”

Changbin flinched at that, and Hyunjin stepped closer and took his hands.

“You know what this career means to him. What this life means to him. He struggled for years to get to where he is today. He… he won’t survive this, hyung. The scandal, the hate, the way people would tear him apart for being who we are. I’m begging you. Please. Let it go.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, Changbin whispered, “Do you even understand what you’re doing?”

“I’m protecting the one I love. This is the least I can do.”

With that, Hyunjin let go of his hands and walked away, leaving Changbin standing alone in the dim kitchen, torn between loyalty and helplessness.

Back in his room, just as he closed the door, his phone started ringing. The name on the screen made his stomach twist. He answered without a second thought. The second he heard the voice on the other end, his composure cracked.

“Hi.”

Hyunjin sank onto the bed, the tears already coming again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to cry.”

“I’m sorry too, baby.” the voice said, raw with guilt. “I’m sorry I’m not there by your side. Sorry I’m such a coward.”

“Don’t say that. This is all on me. Not you. Never you.”

Silence stretched again. not cold this time, but heavy.

“Do you regret it? Regret… us?”

“No,” Hyunjin said quickly. “Never.”

A quiet, broken chuckle escaped him. “It turned out well, didn’t it? You wanted to break up. I didn’t. And now… I guess fate made the decision for us.”

“Jinnie…”

“It’s okay,” he lied. “I’m okay. I should’ve let you go when you asked. I should’ve known. I wouldn’t be in this mess if I hadn’t followed you outside… if I just. I’m so pathetic, aren’t I?”

“Don’t say that…”

“I clung to you like a fool. A lovesick idiot who didn’t know when to stop. Maybe this is what I get. Maybe I deserve this.”

“No, baby,” the voice pleaded. “You don’t. You know I love you just as much. I pushed you away because I was scared… scared of the exact same thing that is happening right now… scared that love wouldn’t be enough… scared that I wouldn’t be able to protect you. I didn’t want to see you crushed by this world, baby. I wanted you to be happy.”

“It’s too late for that, huh!”

“I didn’t want this for us. We couldn’t,” He paused. Then, he quietly added “Hyunjin… I was thinking… maybe I should just tell them. Come forward.”

“No!” Hyunjin sat up, panicking. “Don’t you dare. I’ve been fighting the world for you since this morning. Don’t undo that now. Don’t do anything reckless.”

“I can’t keep hiding while you suffer. I can’t live with myself,”

“Promise me.”

“Hyunjin…”

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.” Hyunjin pressed.

Silence lingered. “I’m serious. Promise me!” He insisted.

“…Fine. I promise.” He agreed, reluctantly.

Hyunjin smiled through his tears as he took in a breath of relief.

“I love you,” he said softly. “No matter what happens. Even if I’m banned from the industry, even if we never see each other again, remember that always. I’ll only ever love you.” Hyunjin said, tearfully. 

And then he hung up.

Because if he didn’t, he knew he’d break completely.

In the days that followed, Hyunjin was removed from all schedules.

Not suspended, not officially kicked out,  just deliberately made absent. His name vanished from broadcasts. His face blurred in reruns. No explanations were given. No words spoken aloud.

He woke up each morning to the sound of the dorm door closing behind his members as they left for work. The laughter that used to fill the halls was gone, replaced by whispers, tension, half-closed doors.

He stayed in his room mostly. Curtains drawn. Phone off. Music low. He didn't paint. Didn't dance. Just barely existed. 

The distance among the members grew like mold in silence. No one said it aloud, but the weight of the impending disbandment pressed down on them all.

Minho hadn’t returned to their dorm since that first night. No explanation. No messages. Just absence. And a silence that hurt worse than shouting.

Changbin was still visibly upset with his decision. He couldn’t hide the disappointment… couldn't look Hyunjin in the eye… couldn't pretend nothing was broken among the group.

And Chan… Chan was unraveling.

He barely slept. Barely ate. Spent hours pacing the dorm or locked in his own room, phone pressed to his ear, arguing with management, pleading, negotiating, fighting battles that ended before they began.

Hyunjin heard him once, late at night, voice cracking behind the bathroom door.

“He’s not a liability. He’s not… He’s one of us. I can’t … I can’t do this without him.”

When Chan joined the rest of them for dinner later, he pretended everything was fine… hoped he could still set everything right. But Hyunjin knew… knew how much his presence was hurting each one of them.

Ten days passed. Three statements were released by their PR team, each colder than the last. They framed it as “an unfortunate private matter,” “a distraction,” “a deviation from the group’s values.” Never once did they name Hyunjin. Never once did they stand beside him. 

Sales were down. Brand sponsors quietly distanced themselves. Rumors swirled. Online, fans begged the company to support him. Others turned their backs entirely. International fandoms clashed with local ones. Some just disappeared, tired of the chaos. The group was crumbling publicly, painfully and Hyunjin watched it all from behind the walls of his bedroom, powerless.

So he made a decision.

If the company wouldn’t speak for him, he would speak for himself. He would apologize and take accountability. He would face it alone and spare the group the pain. He would do anything for his group. He posted a message later that night. 

I’m sorry I hid. I’m sorry for the hurt. I didn’t want to be a scandal. I just wanted to be myself.

The backlash was immediate. Not from fans but from the company. He was put on hiatus effective immediately, indefinitely. He was to leave the dorm. He was to leave his members. No press statement. No farewell. Just… vanish.

The members protested furiously.

Felix cried, Jisung threatened to walk out, Jeongin asked if they would all be next.

Chan… Chan begged. He went to the CEO’s office himself. Slammed the door behind him. Raised his voice in a place where raising voices was suicide.

“You can’t do this. This will destroy him. This will destroy us… destroy me.”

He was ignored.

That night, long after the dorm had gone quiet, Hyunjin packed a bag and left without any goodbyes.

He didn’t even go home. He couldn’t. He wasn’t ready to face his family yet.

Instead, he took a cab to a remote hotel on the outskirts of the city. Somewhere no one would recognize him. Checked in under a false name. He didn’t unpack. Didn’t open the blinds. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in years, he felt truly alone.

The next morning, Chan woke up early, instinctively heading to Hyunjin’s room to check on him.

The door was open. The bed was made. Hyunjin wasn’t there. Chan panicked as he looked around the house. He picked up the phone and called Hyunjin… there was no answer. He called Felix and Hyunjin wasn’t at the other dorm either. 

The closet was empty. His bag was gone. Chan stood there for a long time, staring at the absence. Then he sank to the floor.

Not because he hadn’t known this was coming, he had. They all had. But because he’d hoped, even until the last moment, that someone would stop it. That the company would wake up. That he could fix it.

He was their leader. And he had failed to protect them. Again.

And now Hyunjin, the person he should’ve stood beside from the beginning, was gone.

And the group, no matter how they smiled in public, was breaking. From the inside out.

The hyung dorm was quieter than ever. Hyunjin was gone. Vanished into the night like he never existed. It had been nearly a week since he left, since his apology, the punishment, and the midnight escape.

And Chan couldn’t breathe right. He couldn’t stop calling.

Every morning started with a message.

Let me know you're okay.

Please just text back.

I’m worried. We're all worried.

And then he'd call. Once. Twice. Sometimes five times a day. Each one went straight to voicemail. Every unanswered call cracked something deeper in his chest.

The rest of the team was shaken, too. The emptiness in the group gnawed at all of them. Some of them were angry, some confused, and all of them were grieving in their own, quiet ways. Meals were quieter than usual… practice was different without their best dancer… laughter was brief.

No one said it out loud, but they were all just waiting… waiting for Hyunjin to come home… waiting for something, someone to fix what had broken.

However, nothing changed. The company pushed forward, forcing them into schedules as seven members instead of eight.

But no one was struggling the way Chan was. He could feel himself unraveling by the hour as he pushed through the days. This shouldn’t have happened. Not under his watch. Yet, he let it happen… let Hyunjin be suspended… let him face everything alone.

Later that week, the group was called in for a mandatory team gathering, scheduled by their management. The air was already suffocating, when Chan entered the room followed by the rest of the members. They learnt soon enough that they weren’t called for a discussion but to make an announcement. They were told to “refocus on upcoming promotions,” “rebuild the brand,” and “let the past stay in the past.”

Felix gasped, Jisung was visibly shaken. 

Chan sat through it, stone-faced, biting the inside of his cheek so hard it bled. 

They wanted them to move on. Smile for cameras and be the perfect cash cow for the company… while a member of their group is left behind.

“This was supposed to be temporary, you cannot just throw him out of the group.” Changbin protested.

There was no room for argument though. A decision had been made.

Chan walked out before the meeting ended. Locked himself in the studio. And cried. Loudly. Ugly. It was just grief.

He thought of Hyunjin’s eyes, glassy with fear that morning in the company meeting, lips trembling when he lied to protect the one he loved. He thought of the way his shoulders shook in Felix’s arms that night. And how it should’ve been him holding him.

He should’ve told Hyunjin that it wasn’t shameful. That love was not something to apologize for. But it was too late now. Hyunjin was gone. And he might never get a chance to tell him.

And all Chan had left was a group on the brink of collapse and his broken heart.

The door to the studio opened not long after and Changbin burst in, followed by the rest of the members. “How could you just walk out like that? Did he mean nothing to you?”

Chan’s head snapped up.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Don’t talk to hyung like that.” Felix grumbled.

Changbin turned slowly towards Felix, jaw clenched.

“It means maybe things would have been different if he’d actually done something.”

The words landed like a slap. Chan stood, eyes wide. “I tried. I fought the company. I went to every meeting. I,”

“You followed the company line, hyung,” Changbin interrupted, voice rising. “You let them punish him. You let them shove him out. You let him think he was alone!”

Chan recoiled. “That’s not fair.”

“None of this is fair!” Changbin snapped, stepping closer. “He was hurting and we all knew it. But you? You were the one he trusted most. You were supposed to be with him in this. He needed you and you walked out on him just like you walked out of that damn meeting.”

The room fell silent.

Chan stood frozen, heart pounding so loud he was sure the others could hear it. 

Felix looked between them, uneasy. Seungmin’s lips were parted in shock. Jisung stared at the floor, fists clenched. Nobody moved.

Then Changbin, breath unsteady, turned his back on them. “You are selfish,” he muttered, and walked out. Minho and Seungmin glanced at each other and then followed him out.

The door shut hard behind him.

Chan sank back onto the couch like he could no longer hold the weight of himself on his two legs.

No one spoke for a long moment.

“Hyung…” Felix finally said, gently, “he didn’t mean it.”

But Chan just shook his head slowly, eyes glassy. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “He did. And I deserved it.”

Chan sat in his studio long after the others left, hands clenched tight in his lap. The studio had always been his sanctuary, a place to make sense of chaos, to turn pain into music, to escape reality. But now even the silence hurt.

Changbin’s words played over and over in his head. He needed you and you walked out on him.

Changbin was upset because he knew. He knew about them. About their relationship. About what Hyunjin meant to him. 

He didn’t have to say it outright, the rage, the disappointment, the accusation in his voice, spoke for themselves.

Chan’s blood ran cold. He suddenly felt exposed in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

He pulled his cap down low and curled into the studio couch, staring blankly at the floor, chest aching with a strange cocktail of guilt and fear.

If Changbin knew… did the others? Had they always known? A soft sob broke from his throat again. He had managed to disappoint his entire family in a span of weeks. The weight of it was unbearable. He hadn’t just failed Hyunjin. He had failed as a lover… failed as a friend and now even failed as a leader.

That night, Chan sat at his desk long into the morning hours, the blue glow of his phone lighting his face.

He scrolled to Hyunjin’s name again, thumb hovering over and over the call button. Instead, he typed a message:

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. But I’m sorry. For everything. I should’ve stood beside you. You aren’t alone in this. 

I miss you, my love. I need you. And I will do everything in my power to get you back to where you belong.  

Chan missed practice the next day. He ignored a group schedule the following day. Then, one day, he vanished for hours without a word to his manager or any of the members.

It was unlike him, he was the responsible one, the leader who never broke rules, never let his emotions override duty. But he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t care about his image as an idol anymore. He had finally reached his breaking point.

He needed to find Hyunjin. Not for the group. Not for the company. Not even for the fans. He needed to do this for himself.

A few days later, he showed up unannounced at Hyunjin’s family home. His hands were shaking when he rang the doorbell, but his heart sank when Hyunjin’s mother greeted him with only kindness though she looked like she had been crying. Without imposing for long, he left as soon as he found out that Hyunjin was staying away from the city at a hotel.

He had called his parents just once in the past few weeks to let them know that he was safe, that he was fine, but he wasn’t yet ready to come home.

Chan bowed deeply, twice, before leaving. “I just needed to know he was safe.”

Fifty minutes later, Chan was standing outside a familiar hotel door. It had hit him all at once. Of course, Hyunjin was at the same hotel, same suite. The room where they shot Red Lights. The room where everything changed.

The push and pull between them had snapped that day like an overstretched thread. Chan could still feel the residual heat in his veins, the tension, the temptation. He remembered the look in Hyunjin’s eyes when the cameras stopped rolling… and how he’d lost his mind and kissed him, the minute they were left alone, like he couldn’t breathe without it.

They hadn’t meant for things to get complicated. They had been good at hiding from fans, from the company, from each other. Until he had messed it all up with one kiss. One truth neither of them could forget or undo. It hadn’t taken long for that one kiss to turn into something deeper, something meaningful, something he had cherished and loved with every fibre in his body.

And now Hyunjin was back here. In the same place. Alone and paying the price for another such kiss with exile and silence.

Chan knocked and waited for a few mins before the door cracked open cautiously, and then fully, once Hyunjin saw who it was.

His hair was messy, his face paler than usual, skinner than normal. His eyes were glassy, sunken. But he still looked like Hyunjin. He was still beautiful. Only… dimmed.

“What are you doing here?” he asked flatly.

Chan didn’t answer. He stepped forward, brushing past him like he had every right to even though he didn’t. The room was a mess with Hyunjin’s sketches spread around, his clothes piled up on one of the chairs, candy stacked up on the table, and trash overflowing with half eaten ramen bowls.

“What are you doing here?” Chan countered, his voice low, almost tired.

Hyunjin shut the door behind him and crossed his arms. “Jesus, Bang Chan! How did you even find me?”

“I… should’ve realized sooner,” Chan murmured, glancing around the room. “Of course it’d be here.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why are you here, Hyunjin?”

Hyunjin scoffed. “You first.”

Chan sighed. “I’m here for you.” The words hung there, heavy, fragile. “I came to take you back.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Back where, hyung? I’m not part of the group anymore. Remember?”

Chan stiffened. He hadn’t told him that. None of his texts had said a word about the management’s decision.

“Y-you know?”

“I’ve been hiding, not dead. Of course I know,” Hyunjin muttered. “It was bound to happen sooner than later.”

“Did Jisung tell you?”

“Yeah. He tried to soften it. Said it wasn’t official. But we both know what indefinite hiatus really means.”

Chan stepped forward, uncertain. “Well, I’m not much part of the group these days either.”

Hyunjin’s gaze hardened. “What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chan said quickly. “What matters is how long are you planning to stay here. Like this.”

“Forever,” Hyunjin answered without a beat. “Or until I run out of money. This suite is expensive, you know.” He chuckled. “And I…I didn’t want any other room.”

There was something unbearably sad about that. That he had willingly returned to the scene of his undoing. Like a ghost haunting the place where his heart broke.

Chan moved closer again, but his feet slowed as he reached him. His hands ached to reach out to hold him, to pull him into his arms, to say he was sorry the way his voice never could but he didn’t touch him. He couldn’t. He didn’t know if he was allowed to. He had left Hyunjin alone when he needed him most. Had let fear and silence become his answer. Had chosen his career over his love. He had no right.

“At least let me take you home,” Chan said finally, voice slightly rough. “I can’t leave you here like this alone… not again.”

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you are here? Because you feel guilty?”

“Because I had to see you. Even if you hate me now after what I did… or didn’t do.” He swallowed. “I needed to tell you that I would never stop trying. That I’m still fighting. And that… that I’m not okay. Not without you.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a flicker of emotion breaking through. But he stayed still, didn’t move.

“You shouldn’t have to fight,” he whispered. “It was my mess.”

“No,” Chan said, stronger now. “It was ours.”

There it was. The beginning of a truth they hadn’t dared speak till now. Chan took another step closer. This time, he let his hand lift slightly and touch Hyunjin’s arm.

“I’m trying, Jinnie,” Chan said, voice barely above a whisper. “Trying to pretend I’m fine, that everything is fine. But I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m falling apart. I can’t live without you. I love you, baby.”

Hyunjin stared at him, unmoving. His gaze dropped to the hand Chan had extended toward him, shaking slightly, vulnerable. Then back to Chan’s face. There was something trembling in Hyunjin’s expression. It wasn’t anger and it wasn’t even heartbreak. It was disbelief. The kind that came from wanting to believe but being too scared to try again. Too scared to hope. Too scared to hurt all over again.

He turned away and walked toward the couch like he couldn’t stand being so close to Chan. He wasn’t prepared for this. Not when his chest was tight with everything he’d spent weeks trying to bury. Chan had been clear in the weeks leading upto the kiss, he wanted space from Hyunjin, he wanted to break up. Nothing should change now. Not when they were already forced apart.

Chan didn’t follow. He watched him move like someone watching a part of their soul slip further out of reach.

Hyunjin sat, arms crossed loosely over his chest, eyes distant. “You don’t get it,” he said quietly, “You think this is about love, about me, but it’s not. This,” he gestured vaguely around them, “this isn’t about us. You would’ve done this for anyone in the group, hyung. It’s who you are. You’re our leader. Our protector.” His voice cracked a little. “That’s what brought you here, not me.”

Chan flinched like he'd been slapped.

“No,” he said, softly but firmly. “No, Jinnie. I came because I can’t breathe without you. I’m here because it’s you. Not because I’m the leader. Not because it’s my duty. I need you back, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin shook his head, eyes burning. “I made the choice to leave, Chan. I did it to protect you. I did it because that’s what you wanted. Don’t undo all that now.”

“I never asked you to,” Chan replied, stepping closer now. “I never wanted you to protect me.”

He finally walked further and dropped to his knees in front of the couch, next to Hyunjin, hands resting on the edge of the cushion like he was holding himself back from touching him.

“Baby, please look at me.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw. “You have to go back, hyung.”

“Come with me.”

“And what?” Hyunjin scoffed bitterly. “Tell the world that we’re together?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Chan said, desperation climbing in his throat. “I’ll do it. With you. I don’t care anymore.”

Hyunjin let out a broken laugh, more tears than amusement. “Bang Chan,” he whispered, “you know it’s not that simple. The company won’t let me come back. And you…” he hesitated, biting down on the pain, “you already ended it. You ended us. So what is there for me to go back to?”

“No!” Chan reached forward instinctively but stopped himself just short of taking Hyunjin’s hand. “That’s not,”

“I’m not worth fighting for, Channie.” Hyunjin’s voice fractured. “I was never worth enough. You know it. No one needs me.”

“Jinnie, that’s not,” Chan’s voice cracked completely now, eyes flooding with guilt. Because deep down, he knew Hyunjin wasn’t talking about just the scandal. He was talking about the weeks before that night, the silence, the distance, the way Chan had made him feel, that he was not loved, that he was not enough.

“But you?” Hyunjin continued, his voice gentler now, full of determination. “You’re the leader of Stray Kids. You’re the backbone of the group, the one who keeps everything from falling apart. They need you more than they’ll ever need me.”

“That’s not true.” Chan’s voice came out fierce, raw. “I need you. More than you know. You mean everything to me. I was a fool to let you go.” He wiped his face roughly with his sleeve. “The pressure… the fear… it was eating me alive, Jinnie. Every time we were together, I was scared. Scared someone would find out. Scared that they’d force us apart. That I’d lose you and everything we worked for. I thought… I thought staying close as friends would be better than losing you completely.” He exhaled, shaking. “But I was wrong. So wrong. Because I lost you anyway. And it’s killing me.”

It was the first time Chan had truly said it. The why. Why he’d pulled away, why he’d chosen silence, why that night everything fell apart.

And for the first time, Hyunjin saw the truth. All of it.

He looked at Chan, really looked. The pain, the remorse, the sheer helplessness on his face. And it hurt. It hurt more than the break-up. Because this wasn’t easy to walk away from. Not when he knew the love hadn’t gone anywhere. It had just been buried under fear. 

Hyunjin’s voice trembled. “It was easier when I thought you stopped loving me. That I was just… something you got over. But now, knowing this, I don’t know if I can let you go.”

Chan reached for him, just enough to brush his fingertips.

“You don’t have to, baby.”

“Yes, I do,” Hyunjin whispered, his body already moving toward Chan against his better judgment. “Because if I don’t… I’ll never be able to forgive myself for dragging you into my mess. If the group falls apart… if they take you away too,”

“Jinnie…”

But Hyunjin didn’t let him finish. He pulled Chan into his arms. Crushed him to his chest, like he’d missed him every second of every day. His lips trembled against Chan’s neck. “I think this is the end of the road for us, my love,” he said, voice cracking like glass.

Chan buried his face in Hyunjin’s shoulder. “I don’t want any of it if I don’t have you. I know that now. I don’t care about the industry, the stage, the spotlight, not if it means living without you.”

“Don’t say that,” Hyunjin choked, pulling back to look into his eyes. “Please don’t say that. I can’t be the reason your dreams disappear. The guys worked too hard for years for all this to be taken away from them because of me.”

“You worked hard too, Jinnie.” Chan whispered. “I was selfish to let you go through this alone, but not any longer, baby. I will be by your side now.”

Hyunjin kissed him. Slow. Gentle. Like he needed to memorize the shape of Chan’s mouth, the feel of his hands, the breath they shared. Like it was the last time.

When they pulled slightly apart, foreheads still resting together, their cheeks were soaked with tears. “You have to let me go, Channie. Let this go.” Hyunjin declared.

“Jinnie,”

“Don’t say anything more,” Hyunjin murmured. “Let me just have this moment with you, hyung. Just… tonight. That’s all I ask, please.”

“I,”

“Please, hyung. Do this one last thing for me.” He pleaded.

So they didn’t speak. Not about the future. Not about the past.

They just held each other, wrapped up in limbs and longing, kissing sometimes, crying sometimes, breathing each other in until the sun started to rise and Chan had to return to the world without him.

It was close to noon when Chan finally emerged from his room. His footsteps were slow, cautious. His eyes were bloodshot, like he hadn’t slept the whole night. The weight he carried dragged behind him like a shadow.

The rest of the team had all gathered in the living room, pretending to scroll their phones, watching TV that no one was really watching. It was clear, they were waiting, waiting for answers that Chan didn’t have.

Chan stood just beyond the edge of the room, leaning against the wall as if holding himself up. His lips parted, but no words came.

Felix moved first, as he always did when no one else could. “Where were you?” he asked softly, stepping closer.

“I… I just needed some time,” Chan replied, voice hoarse.

Minho didn’t look up from his spot on the couch, but his voice cut through the silence. “Next time you need space, try not disappearing like you’re never coming back. We’ve already lost one of us.”

Chan gave a small, guilty nod, rubbing the back of his neck.

Felix tried again, more gently this time. “Did you find him? Did you find, Jinnie?”

Chan looked up, finally meeting their eyes. “Yeah. I did.”

Everyone tensed, holding their breath.

“Where was he? Is he okay?” Jisung practically leapt to his feet, his voice cracking in his rush.

“He’s… fine,” Chan answered slowly. “I dropped him off at his parents’ place this morning before I came back.”

“How did you even find him?” Seungmin asked. “He just disappeared.”

Chan gave a humorless smile. 

“Was he with someone? Was he staying with someone?” Jisung pressed again.

“He doesn’t have many friends outside us.” Seungmin corrected him.

“No. He was at a hotel.” Chan said.

“A hotel? Seriously? And you just guessed which hotel that was?” Seungmin asked, confused.

“I didn’t guess,” Chan murmured. “I knew. It was the hotel where we shot ‘Red Lights.’”

That earned a few confused glances.

Jeongin furrowed his brows. “Wait… why there?”

Chan looked away, jaw clenched. He didn’t want to do it like this. But he had to. He had enough of the hiding… enough of the silence. He stepped forward and said it quietly, clearly, leaving no more room for doubt. “It was me.”

The room stilled.

“What?” Jeongin asked, blinking as if he hadn’t heard right.

Chan inhaled deeply, his voice cracking just a little. “In the photo. With Hyunjin. It was me.”

Nobody moved.

Felix’s breath hitched. “You…?”

Chan sank onto the arm of the couch, his shoulders caving in. “It just happened. After the MV shoot, I kissed him. I lost control. I started all of this. We’d both been hiding how we felt for so long… and then we weren’t.”

Silence again.

“I thought the kiss didn’t mean anything, that we could move on from it… but we couldn’t. We didn’t want to. But then I got scared and pushed him away. Wanted to end things.”

“Is that why he was crying in the photo?” Jeongin asked and all eyes turned to him in shock. “I guess everyone was focused on the kiss and no one noticed that hyung was actually crying in the photo.” He clarified and everyone turned again to look at Chan, this time judging him.

“That is why he was upset that night. That is why we made a mistake.” He continued, eyes focused on the floor, not daring to meet anyone’s judging eyes.

Jisung’s eyes shimmered, his voice barely a whisper. “Hyung…”

“I let him take the fall,” Chan said bitterly, sinking into the edge of the couch. “When the scandal broke, I let the company blame him. I stayed silent. I kept telling myself I was doing what he wanted but I was just protecting myself… my career…my image… my future. Our future. In doing so, I hurt him. I betrayed him. That night, I told him to let go of us because I thought it would keep him safe… instead, I just broke him.”

He blinked, realizing only now that his cheeks were wet. “He was alone. All this time. He left because I made him feel like he had to. Like he wasn’t worth fighting for.”

The group stayed quiet, but it wasn’t a silence of judgment. It was grief. Recognition. Every word filled in the blanks they hadn’t been able or willing to name until now.

Minho finally spoke, voice low, more weary than angry. “Why didn’t you tell us sooner?”

Chan looked up, eyes glassy. “Because I was scared. Scared I’d lose even you guys. Scared you’d hate me. Scared that if I said it out loud, the whole thing would fall apart.”

Changbin stepped forward then, jaw clenched tight. “But it was fine for Hyunjin to take the fall?” His voice cracked. “Was it fine for him to be punished alone? He deserved the hate?”

Seungmin scowled. “Binnie, that’s not fair,”

“He broke up with him and then left him to deal with the aftermath of a scandal all alone. How is that fair, Minnie?” He yelled.

“No,” Felix cut in, gently putting a hand on Chan’s knee. “Binnie’s right. But so is Chan. He didn’t mean for this to happen. He just… froze. Like any of us might’ve.”

Chan’s breath shook. “I’ll never forgive myself for it. Ever.”

Jeongin, who had been staring at the floor, finally looked up. “So what happens now? Is he coming back?”

Chan swallowed hard. “No. Not yet. He’s not ready.”

The group deflated, the glimmer of hope snuffed out too quickly.

“Are you going to tell management?” Jisung asked cautiously.

“I want to,” Chan answered. “But I promised Hyunjin I wouldn’t do anything reckless.”

“So what? Are you still going to sit here and let him be erased from our lives while you wait for permission?” Changbin demanded, fists clenched.

“I will bring him back, Binnie.” Chan’s voice was firm now, steel behind the pain.

“How?” Changbin pushed.

Chan shook his head slowly. “I don’t know.”

“We are with you, hyung. Whatever you need. We will stand by you both.” Minho sincerely said. Chan looked around the room to see the rest of the members silently agreeing with Minho. Changbin looked skeptical but said nothing.

For the first time in weeks, he had something he didn’t have before; his group standing beside him. His brothers would support him and Hyunjin even if no one else did. And that was a start.

The boardroom was full. It wasn’t every day that an idol group would request a boardroom meeting on their own. All seven members of Stray Kids filed in behind Bang Chan, each of them quiet but determined. The executives sitting around the table- JYP, senior legal advisors, PR heads, and brand managers shifted uncomfortably in their seats as the boys bowed respectfully in their direction and took their seats across the table.

Chan placed a folder on the table. But this time, he didn’t speak first. Lee Know did. “We’re here for Hyunjin,” Minho said, voice sharp. “And we’re not leaving without a real answer.”

The execs exchanged glances.

“Is this a joke?” the PR rep scoffed. “This is an internal matter. Which has already been settled. We are already in talks with his lawyer to terminate his contract. There is no way he is coming back now.”

Chan’s breath hitched. Hyunjin had not told him about that. Though he barely kept in touch with anyone from the group anymore, he had at least replied to Chan’s texts once or twice to let him know that he was doing fine at his parent’s house.

“We will walk if he is not allowed to come back.” Changbin stated, calmly.

“You’re all under contract. You can’t collectively,” The lady sitting across from Changbin spoke but was cut off,

“We can,” Changbin interrupted. “And we are.”

JYP’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some kind of mutiny?”

“No,” Felix said softly. “It’s family. And families fight for each other.”

Seungmin leaned forward. “You said Hyunjin was a liability. That keeping him would hurt the group’s image. But here we are. All seven of us. Standing with him. If the image of this group doesn’t include Hyunjin, then you never understood what Stray Kids was.”

“And what’s this supposed to be?” one of the brand managers asked dryly. “A pity protest? You think we’re going to put the group’s future at risk over one member’s mistake?”

Jisung slammed his palm on the table. “ He didn’t make a mistake! He fell in love! And you punished him for it. You used him as a scapegoat to protect the label’s ‘purity’ narrative and dumped him like he was disposable. We’re done pretending that was okay.”

There was silence.

“You think we just pretend to be a family in front of the cameras? You think our lyrics, our songs about love and equality mean nothing? Well, we are here to prove you wrong.” Minho said, glaring directly at the same PR executive who had suggested disbandment in their previous meeting.

“Do you realize what you’re asking?” a legal rep said. “Reinstating him now would look like backpedaling. Fans are already divided. You’d be risking everything you’ve built.”

“That’s our risk to take,” Jeongin said. “Not yours.”

Chan finally spoke. Calm. Steady. “We’re prepared for what’s to come. Either the fans accept us for who we are or we lose them. It does not matter to us. We are who we are. We cannot hide our true selves anymore. What matters is the eight of us being together. So we will renegotiate. All of us.”

The room shifted.

“What?”

“You heard him,” Seungmin said. “We need the contracts renegotiated and you bring Hyunjin back.”

“You can’t be serious,” JYP muttered.

Chan opened the folder. “We’ve prepared a joint renegotiation draft. Revised clauses for identity protection, creative control, mental health prioritization, and a zero-tolerance policy for retaliation based on sexual orientation or personal relationships.”

“Is this coordinated?” one legal head demanded.

“We worked on it together,” Felix said. “For weeks. And this is our final decision.”

“You threaten to walk if we don’t agree?” a board member challenged.

“We promise to,” Minho replied. “We’ll leave together.”

“Are you sure you can bear the consequences of that?” Their manager asked.

The group looked at each other and then at Chan. “We are ready to face anything, the fans, media, the criticism.” He said, calmly.

“You wouldn’t walk away from all this,” the PR rep scoffed. “Everything you’ve built, all your fans, the tours, you would leave all that behind?”

“What good are those if we’re not whole? We are whole as 8 and 8 only.” Jisung snapped.

“Hyunjin didn’t leave the group,” Chan said. “You pushed him out. And now we’re demanding you undo it.”

JYP stared at the stack of renegotiation terms in front of him. “You think this will work? That this stunt, this rebellion, will bring him back? What happens when the public turns on you? Turns on him?”

“We face them,” Chan replied. “Together.”

“Even if the group collapses?”

“If it collapses for being honest ,” Jeongin said, “then it wasn’t worth saving. But at least we would have fought together and gone out together on our terms.”

There was silence.

Then Felix, ever the softest voice, offered the final blow, gentle, but devastating: “You told us once that Stray Kids was about staying together no matter what. If you don’t let Hyunjin come home, then Stray Kids doesn’t exist anymore. Not the way we meant it to.”

Something broke in the silence after that.

Finally, JYP sat back, rubbing his temples, defeated by the sheer will standing across from him.

“I can’t approve this alone,” he muttered. “This goes to the board.”

“Then take it to them,” Chan said. “We’ll wait.”

“How long?”

“Not long,” Minho said. “Because if we don’t have an answer by the end of the week, you’ll have a bigger scandal on your hands. Seven members quit together. One of Korea’s biggest groups - gone.”

“Do you really want to test what the fans will say then?” Jisung added.

Another long pause. Then JYP sighed. The execs paled slightly. No one moved as the group began filing out of the room heads high, shoulders squared, hearts burning.

It wasn’t a win yet. And it wasn’t just Chan anymore. They were together in this. All 8 of them. 

It was the first time they decided to go against their management and fight for themselves, the full force of eight voices refusing to be silenced. Because this time, they had a chance at winning. They get Hyunjin back or they leave the company. Either way they would all be together and that was a win.

The month that followed was a blur of contracts, negotiations, closed-door meetings, and suppressed emotions. The group’s daily routine of rehearsals, filming, and international promotions masked a private battle against a system attempting to eliminate one of their own. Yet, they never wavered. Not once.

Hyunjin’s name stayed on their lips, his absence hanging felt more than ever in the dorm. Every late-night meeting with legal, every clause fought for, every passive-aggressive email from management they endured all of it. For Hyunjin. 

But nothing prepared them for the moment they walked into the dorm after practice one day and found him standing in the hallway.

Hyunjin.

He was back in the dorm after nearly six months, wearing an oversized hoodie, face thinner, hair longer, eyes wide with disbelief but happy to see and hear his members after such a long time.

“Jinnie?” Felix blinked, breath catching, then launched into his arms like a slingshot.

“You idiot! Why didn’t you answer your phone? I missed you so much.” Felix half-scolded through tears, burying his face in Hyunjin’s neck.

And then they all surged forward, laughing, cheering, crying. Six members wrapped around one.

Everyone except Chan.

Chan stood frozen at the door, heart thudding so loudly it drowned out everything else. His fingers curled tightly at his side, as if even a step forward might shatter the illusion. Hyunjin was in their dorm, he was surrounded by all the members… the group was eight again.

“Hyung,” Jeongin sobbed into Hyunjin’s chest, “Are you back for real? Don’t leave again. Please.”

“I won’t,” Hyunjin whispered, arms tightening around them. “I promise.”

They stayed like that for a while as each of the members took their time hugging and scolding him for being a stranger all this while. Only when the room finally quieted did they let go enough for Hyunjin to speak. “They called me to the company,” Hyunjin said, his voice soft, raw. “I thought they were going to make the termination official. But… they gave me a new contract instead. With amended clauses.”

Seungmin pulled back from the huddle, eyes wide. “That was three weeks ago , Jinnie. Why are you only telling us now? Why didn’t you come back sooner?”

Hyunjin glanced down, fingers twisting at the hem of his sleeve. “I… didn’t know if I could do it. If I was strong enough to face it all again.”

His gaze shifted, met Chan’s and held it. Chan felt the weight of it hit his chest like a second heartbeat, guilty and exposed.

“Took me a while to decide, but I came back. Because I knew I wasn’t walking into this alone anymore.” Hyunjin thanked the group silently for the fight they put up.

“We’ll face everything together now,” Jisung said, voice unwavering. “This time, they fight all of us.”

Changbin added with a crooked smile, “You're stuck with us, Hyunjin-ah. Try leaving again and we’ll sue you .”

That got a weak laugh out of Hyunjin. The air lightened just slightly as they all took turns catching him up on last month's chaos and stubborn resilience. But Chan barely spoke. He smiled where he should, laughed when expected, and kept his eyes away from Hyunjin for the rest of the night. But a storm brewed just under the surface. He was falling apart again. 

And Hyunjin noticed.

Chan had wanted this for so long that it felt unreal when Hyunjin was allowed to come back. He still couldn’t believe that he is back in his life.

When the others finally retired to their rooms, exhausted from emotion, Hyunjin slipped away to find Chan in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped like he was having a hard time breathing.

“Jinnie?” Chan shot up as Hyunjin entered the room. Without hesitation, Hyunjin wrapped his arms around Chan the next instant. The moment Chan felt the familiar warmth, he collapsed into it like a man starved of emotions.

“I missed you,” Hyunjin whispered.

“I missed you more,” Chan said, voice trembling. “You have no idea, baby.”

Hyunjin pulled away gently, and Chan looked up to face him, eyes already glassy. “Are you really okay?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin admitted. “I don’t regret coming back, if that’s what you’re afraid of. I heard what the rest of the guys did. I can never thank you all enough.”

Chan nodded, lips pressed tightly together.

“But…” Hyunjin hesitated, eyes lowering. “I also heard what you did.”

Chan’s heart dropped.

“You weren’t supposed to know that,” he whispered.

Manager hyung had promised to keep it vague that the group had fought, that changes were made. Not that Chan had put everything on the line. Not that he had threatened to expose their relationship if they didn’t allow Hyunjin to come back. Not that Chan had done the very thing Hyunjin had begged him not to do.

“I’m glad it worked,” Hyunjin said quietly. “But what if it hadn’t? What if you lost everything?”

Chan swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. I broke my promise. I just… I didn’t know how else to convince them. And I also just couldn’t sit back and let them take you from me.”

“You didn’t need to save me, hyung.” Hyunjin took a step back.

“I had to,” Chan said, voice breaking. “It’s the only thing I could still do. I failed you and just couldn’t live with that.”

Heavy silence lingered in the air while Bang Chan drifted back to his thoughts avoiding Hyunjin’s eyes.

Hyunjin looked at him, really looked at him, and saw the cracks. The toll of carrying both the team and his grief for months. The man who had stayed strong for everyone else, but never once for himself, looked like he was on the edge.

“What are you thinking now?” Hyunjin asked, softer.

“About us.”

Hyunjin stiffened.

“Is there even an us anymore?” Chan asked, and his voice cracked on the word us , like he didn’t believe he deserved to say it.

Hyunjin closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Channie.”

Chan’s breath caught. He didn’t speak. Just waited for the blade to twist.

“I need time,” Hyunjin said, voice barely above a whisper. “And… space. To figure out how to come back to myself first.”

Chan nodded, even as his chest fractured.

“Of course,” he said hoarsely. “Take all the time you need.”

Hyunjin took a step back toward the door. “I’m not running away again. I just need to learn how to breathe without feeling like I’ll drown.”

Chan nodded again, his vision swimming.

“I’ll be here,” he whispered. “However long it takes.”

And as Hyunjin left the room, Chan curled into himself, the walls finally closing in.

Hyunjin was home. But Chan’s heart was still waiting for him to come back to him.

It was official. Hyunjin was back. But there was no apology, no clarification, no acknowledgement of the months of silence, and no statement from the company. Any official content released was measured and gauged for the public's reaction before he was allowed to participate in the rest of the group activities and confirmed for the upcoming tour. 

And the internet did what it always did. Some fans rejoiced. Some raged. Some simply moved on.

Hyunjin had deactivated his private accounts months ago, but snippets still found their way to him through staff murmurs, through headlines on shared screens in the practice room, through the look in people’s eyes when he walked through the JYPE building again.

“They just brought him back like nothing happened.”
“Isn’t he the one who got caught with…?”
“He’s not even that important anyway.”
“Bet he cried his way back in.”
“It should’ve been anyone else. Not him.”

He tried to remind himself that not all fans turned their backs. That some had written letters filled with hope and love. That some had cried when his name disappeared from lineups. That some had waited patiently believing he'd return. He told himself it was worth it. That coming back was the right decision.

For months, he’d learned how to disappear. Stripped of the spotlight, he became a ghost in his own life hiding from the world, questioning who he was without the music, the group, the fans. He wasn’t ready when the offer came. Not really. The new contract sat on his desk for days, untouched. But then he thought of the others- his brothers who had stood up to the very system they were bound to. He thought of how hard they had fought, how far they had gone just to bring him home. What they were willing to sacrifice for him, some more than others. Chan had put everything on line just so he could go back to his old life.

And he knew. He couldn't let their efforts be in vain. His family had stood by him. His found family had fought for him. If there was ever a time to stand tall, to be unapologetically himself - it was now. Not just for him, but for all of them. For Chan, who had risked everything.

So he signed the paper. He came back. But reality greeted him with a different face.

He thought he’d already been through the worst, thought the pain had weathered him, made him stronger, immune. But the moment he stepped through the company doors again, under those too-bright fluorescent lights, it hit him like a tidal wave. He felt the heat of every pair of eyes on him. It was like walking through fire. No one said anything to his face. But they didn’t have to. They stared. Not with admiration, or awe like before but with disdain and pity. They stared because he didn’t belong… because he was different.

He wasn’t the dazzling visual anymore. He wasn’t the golden boy. He was a scandal, a liability.

And Hyunjin who once lit up rooms with just a glance felt himself dim once again, shrinking under their eyes. He wilted, quietly, beneath the weight of their judgment.

The practice room was no better. He could barely look at the mirrors. His own reflection felt foreign. When they started warming up choreography, his limbs moved slower than they used to. He fumbled transitions he used to glide through. He couldn’t feel the beat, couldn’t feel anything, really.

Everyone noticed. But no one said anything. They just adjusted around him. Slowed down slightly. Repeated counts. Seungmin clapped him gently on the shoulder once. Felix kept trying to catch his eye with smiles. Jisung cracked jokes louder than usual.

And Chan?

Chan stood off to the side.

He didn’t push, didn’t lose patience, didn’t make him repeat. He just watched from a distance… waiting for him to get back to his old self.

At break time, Hyunjin slipped away to the corner of the practice room and sat with his back against the wall, sweat dampening his long hair and thin t-shirt. His hands trembled as he sipped from his water bottle.

“Hey,” came a voice beside him.

He looked up to see Jeongin, crouching.

“You okay?”

Hyunjin nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Jeongin didn’t buy it. But he didn’t push either.

“You know, hyung,” he said slowly, “when you were gone… it didn’t feel right. Like, the music was still playing, but we weren’t dancing to it. You know what I mean?”

Hyunjin blinked.

“I don’t know what they’re saying online or behind your back. And I don’t care. But this,” Jeongin pointed around the room “this isn’t the same without you. We’re not the same without you. You just need to remember that.”

Hyunjin’s throat closed up. He tried to speak but only nodded, eyes wet.

“And I think,” Jeongin added with a small smile, “neither is Chan-hyung.”

He knew that. Could see that for himself. Chan wasn’t his usual self even after his return. 

That night, after practice, when the others went to their dorms, Hyunjin stayed back in the studio. He stood in front of the mirror and replayed the day's routine slowly, hesitantly.

Then again. And again. And again.

Each time, he danced not to get it right, but to remember . Remember who he used to be. Remember what it felt like to belong here… to breathe here.

He didn’t hear the door open. But he saw the reflection of Chan entering. He stood by the door, saying nothing. Just watching as Hyunjin kept dancing, not meeting his eyes. When the track ended, he didn’t turn around. He stayed facing the mirror, panting.

“Still not perfect,” he muttered.

“It was never about perfection,” Chan replied softly. “It was always about the feeling. You’ve still got that.”

Hyunjin finally turned, face shining with sweat and eyes wet.

“I don’t know how to do this again.” He admitted. “I might never be the same.

“You don’t have to be and you don’t have to do this alone.”

A long silence followed as Hyunjin packed his things.

“I’m still scared,” Hyunjin confessed, meeting Chan at the door.

“I am too.”

And somehow, hearing that made it easier for him to breathe. They didn’t embrace or say anything more. But they started walking towards their dorm, together, hearts beating quietly. And that was enough for now. He wasn’t totally isolated and had the company of his group to steer him through this.

Hyunjin slowly realized how different everything felt after he came back.

The dorm was louder than he remembered. Laughter bounced off the walls, the kind that didn't need reasons but something about the energy had shifted. The others filled every space around him with comfort, with unconditional love, with a sense of normalcy he hadn’t felt in months. But there was one person who had gone quieter. Chan.

Not in an obvious way. He was still leading, still cracking jokes during rehearsals, still nagging Jeongin to fix his posture or reminding Felix to stretch. But his voice didn’t carry the same weight anymore. His eyes lingered too long on Hyunjin sometimes, then flinched away like he’d looked too closely at the sun. He respected Hyunjin’s wish of needing time and space.

It was the silences that told Hyunjin the most. The way Chan excused himself early. The way he spoke in half-sentences. The way he smiled too hard when Hyunjin laughed at something someone else said.

He was still leading Stray Kids. But he wasn’t living in it. Like he found something else more important and then lost it.

And Hyunjin could feel the guilt knot tighter in his chest every time their eyes met and neither of them said what they wanted to.

One night, Hyunjin found himself standing just outside Chan’s door, hand raised to knock, to let Chan know how much he was missing their old leader. But he was the one who requested space. He could not confuse Chan further when he wasn’t even sure of what he needed to do.

He turned away and almost bumped into Changbin.

“Can’t sleep?” Bin asked casually, not pushing.

Hyunjin shrugged. “Not really.”

Changbin didn’t respond for a moment, just looked at him the way only Changbin could, sharp but kind.

“You’re not the only one who came back different, you know.”

Hyunjin blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Chan-hyung,” Changbin said. “He didn’t sleep for weeks. Barely ate. He didn’t let us talk about you unless it was strategy, plans, legal stuff, media damage control. Anything personal, he shut down. Like it hurt too much to let it get close.”

Hyunjin swallowed, throat suddenly dry.

“He kept telling us you’d come back,” Changbin added. “But the way he said it? It was like he was trying to convince himself.”

Hyunjin lowered his gaze. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Bin gave a rare, soft sigh. “We all fought for you. But he bled for it.”

Hyunjin bit his lower lip. He realised then that he hadn’t properly thanked the group for what they did.

“I hate to admit but I was pretty mean to him in the beginning.” 

“Binnie,”

“I will ask for his forgiveness in my own time, Jinnie. Just know that, he needs you. More than we all need you. More than he admits.” Changbin patted Hyunjin’s shoulder and walked away, letting the guilt rise up in Hyunjin once again.

The next few days, Hyunjin started watching more closely. Chan hovered behind the others instead of sitting beside him. He didn’t challenge Minho’s decisions like they were used to. He spent most of his time in his studio, alone. And Chan always left the room before everyone else, like staying would tempt him to say something he couldn’t take back.

The others noticed too. They started to shift around them gently, almost unnoticeably. Felix began dragging Hyunjin into more conversations at dinner, subtly placing him beside Chan. Jeongin and Jisung clowned harder during practices, distracting the room whenever things got too heavy. Seungmin started taking over more of the day-to-day logistics so Chan didn’t have to bear it all. And Minho didn’t say much, but he watched, and when necessary, he nudged Chan. With a look. A word. A presence.

They were trying to stitch them back together. Not forcefully, not with pressure. Just with time. With kindness.

And Hyunjin was trying too. But even he didn’t know where to begin. He needed time and Chan was giving it. But watching Chan give it, hurting silently while doing so was tearing something inside him piece by piece.

One night, Hyunjin walked into the practice room to find Chan sitting on the floor alone, laptop open, headphones around his neck. The lights were dimmed, and his face was buried in his hands.

He didn’t hear Hyunjin enter.

Hyunjin froze.

He could walk away. He could give him space. Like they always did now, orbiting each other but never touching.

But he couldn’t.

“Hyung?” he called gently.

Chan flinched, looking up too fast. “Hey! Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

Hyunjin stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

Chan gave him that tired smile again, the one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Just working on the set transitions for the tour.”

Hyunjin sat beside him, careful not to sit too close. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’m fine.” Chan stated, picking back up from where he had stopped with his work earlier.

“No, you’re not,” Hyunjin said softly.

Chan stared at the screen like it might save him.

“You’re not fine,” Hyunjin repeated. “And you don’t have to be. Not with me.”

Chan’s jaw tightened. “I’m just trying to give you what you asked for. Space. Time.”

“I know,” Hyunjin whispered. “But hyung… are you giving yourself any?”

Chan let out a shaky breath. “Doesn’t really feel like I deserve it.”

Hyunjin’s chest twisted. He reached out, not to touch, not yet but just to place his hand near Chan’s on the floor. Close enough to be felt.

“You brought me back,” he said. “But don’t lose yourself in the process.”

Chan didn’t answer. But his shoulders sagged slightly, like someone had finally seen the weight he was carrying. “Sorry, I didn't intend to make you worry. I’ll do better.”

“I will always worry.” Hyunjin said, pulling his back back, slowly.

They sat like that for a long time side by side, not touching, not talking but simply being there for each other. The quiet between them ached but he wasn’t ready. Not yet.

The days blurred into weeks and weeks turned into months. Practice schedules returned to normal, music filled the walls again, and the studio slowly began to feel whole.

Hyunjin didn’t wake up confident. He didn’t suddenly forget the way people had looked at him that first day back, didn’t suddenly unlearn the months of self-doubt. But something began to shift.

He started speaking up more in meetings. His voice, once hesitant, found rhythm again in group discussions. He laughed a little louder when Seungmin teased him, rolled his eyes when Jisung acted out, and gave high-fives during dance breaks with a little more force each time. Bit by bit, he was coming back to life, not the version of him that had been shattered, but someone new, someone stronger, someone real.

Chan noticed it all.

At first, he watched from a distance, keeping his support quiet but as weeks passed, they had learnt to rely on each other more. They had moved on from simply co-existing and circling around each other to being the anchor for each other. They often found themselves alone at the dorm or after practice or after schedules, speaking in low voices about nothing and everything. They never talked about their relationship… or the future. Hyunjin was not ready for that yet. But the silence between them grew less painful and more familiar as Hyunjin found his way back into his old life.

Then came the tour rehearsals—and the concert.

The week before the show, tensions were high, energy raw. Chan was working himself into the ground, buried in production tweaks, setlist changes, and finalising schedules between concerts. Everyone could see the pressure building in him like a volcano.

Hyunjin noticed this time. Though he was the one who wanted space from Chan, he couldn’t ignore him while he was stressed.

Sometimes he’d bring Chan a drink without saying a word. Sometimes he’d just sit with him in his studio, sketchbook in hand, humming whatever song Felix was currently obsessing over.

It helped. Having Hyunjin alone with him was more than he could ever ask for. “Thank you.” 

Hyunjin didn’t respond, just looked at him. Chan’s eyes were tired, red-rimmed, but there was something else too. Something like hope. Hyunjin reached out, gently took his hand. It was the first time they touched since the night they spent at the hotel. Chan wanted to pull him into a hug. But knew he shouldn’t. So he held onto the hand in his and smiled back at Hyunjin.

Chan found himself leaning on his group too. The leader in him had always borne the weight of everyone else. But now, with the extended scrutiny from the company, and the upcoming tour, exhaustion pulled at him and the expectations clawed at his back, it was Hyunjin who’d glance at him across the room and mouth, “You okay, hyung?” and he would feel like he could breathe again.

For the first time in a long time, Chan allowed himself to not be okay.

And the others? They held them both. They looked after both.

Minho quietly began checking on Chan’s meals. Jisung always filled silent rooms with music. Felix never stopped hugging either of them. The group had been fractured, but now, it was molding itself into something stronger toughened by the storm they had walked through.

It was their first concert in Seoul after a long time. An almost sold-out stadium. Their fans, Stays who stayed, filled the stadium. It was their return as eight and Hyunjin’s first time facing the fans live since his return. The group was nervous as a whole. But Chan was the worst. And he could see Hyunjin wasn’t doing any better either. What if they fail? What if the fans didn’t accept them now?

Felix, as expected, was stuck to Hyunjin, hand in his, comforting and reassuring him. Chan was glad but he couldn’t stop worrying.

The energy on stage was electric when the concert started. Hyunjin moved like he had something to prove, and Chan could hardly take his eyes off him. The crowd screamed louder when Hyunjin smiled, and louder still when he rapped with fire in his eyes. With each song, each cheer, a piece of Hyunjin’s soul stitched itself back together.

In between songs, when Hyunjin looked like the tension might swallow him, Chan stayed close.

By the time they reached the final stage, Hyunjin wasn’t shaking anymore. He had his group around him, shielding him, supporting him. And then, it was time for the final segment. Time for the thank yous.

When it was his turn, Hyunjin stepped forward to the center of the stage. The cheers suddenly quieted. He tried to speak. He had practiced this but the words tangled in his throat. Felix took a step forward, but Hyunjin held up a hand. “I…” His voice cracked. “I didn’t think I’d be standing here again.” The arena went still. “I thought I had lost everything. Lost my family. I thought maybe I didn’t deserve to come back. But these seven people behind me… they didn’t let me go. They fought for me when I couldn’t fight for myself. And all of you, the ones who waited, the ones who believed… you saved me. I wouldn’t be here without each and everyone of you.”

His shoulders shook, the mic dropping slightly as he bowed his head. He couldn’t continue anymore and broke down, collapsing on the floor in a fit of uncontrollable sobbing, roughly wiping at his streaming eyes.

Chan was the first to move, wrapping an arm tightly around Hyunjin’s shoulders and pulling him close. The rest of the group followed without hesitation. Eight bodies in one massive, tear-streaked group hug on the floor at the center of the stage. The crowd roared, cries and cheers mixing in a wave of unity.

“Thank you. Thank you everyone. I,” He tried to speak into the mic but failed again. “Please… please always be by my side. I need you.” He sobbed as he was pulled into a group hug once more.

They didn’t need to say anything more. The world was watching, and the world saw: no matter what, Stray Kids would protect their own.

The lights dimmed in preparation for the encore, and the deafening cheers of the crowd shook the arena like thunder. Confetti rained down from above, and their final VCR rolled across the giant screens but Hyunjin couldn’t feel any of it. He was still trembling.

Even after all the love poured out from the fans, chants of his name, banners that read “Always with you, Hyunjin,” oceans of lightsticks waving like a heartbeat synced to his own, he couldn't quite let go of the fear. Of the disbelief. Of the months he had spent convinced he would never stand here again.

It didn’t feel real that he was back… that he was wanted… that he was loved.

He tried to soak it in, every scream, every smile from his members, every tear from the fans, but the numbness clung to him like static. He couldn’t breathe deeply. Couldn’t stop shaking.

Then came the hugs; one by one.

Seungmin pulled him in first, whispering “You did it,” so softly only Hyunjin could hear. Jeongin wrapped him up and cried again, his voice cracking as he said, “I’m so proud of you.” Han ruffled his hair like old times, saying, “You're stuck with us now, idiot.” Minho squeezed his shoulder, wordless but firm. Changbin kissed him gently on the forehead. Felix clung to him the longest, nearly sobbing into his neck as he said, “You came home.”

Their warmth helped. It softened the ache in his chest. But it didn’t quiet the storm. Not until Chan stepped forward.

Hyunjin’s eyes immediately found his. And in them, despite the sweat and exhaustion, the red-rimmed eyes and trembling lips was that same unwavering calm that had always tethered him when he was spiraling. Chan didn’t say anything at first. He just opened his arms. And Hyunjin folded into him like a wave crashing back into shore.

The roar of the crowd, the lights, the cameras, it all faded the moment Chan wrapped his arms around him. Strong, steady, grounding. Chan’s hand cradled the back of his head, holding him like he was something precious. Something worth fighting for. Something already forgiven.

“I’ve got you,” Chan whispered, so close his breath tickled Hyunjin’s skin. “You’re fine. You’re home.”

Hyunjin’s breath hitched.

“I love you,” Chan murmured next. “I love you, and I wanted you here. I always wanted you here.”

Hyunjin’s knees nearly buckled, and he clung tighter. The sob that escaped his lips wasn’t from pain, it was from relief. From finally letting himself believe this was real. That Chan was real. That this second chance wasn’t just a dream waiting to end.

And in that moment, everything clicked into place. The ache of the past, the weight of the silence, the distance they’d put between each other, it all melted under the simple truth: he missed Chan. He needed him. He wanted him.

More than the stage, more than the lights, more than the screaming crowd, Hyunjin needed him.

And as Chan held him a little tighter, the group huddled around them again in a warm, protective circle, and Hyunjin knew: he was not alone anymore.

The concert had ended hours ago, but the adrenaline hadn’t quite faded. The dorm felt like a haven, safe with all of them together in one place.

Chan was on the couch and Hyunjin was fidgeting next to him while the rest of the group was spread around the dorm, giving them privacy. Laughter echoed from the kitchen, Felix had started baking cookies he didn’t have energy to finish, and Jeongin had passed out on the floor in front of the TV with his phone still clutched in one hand. 

Hyunjin moved closer. Chan looked up immediately. “You okay?”

“Not yet. But I think I will be.” He smiled.

“Thank you for coming back,” Chan whispered, like he was holding himself like he didn’t know if he was allowed to hope.

Hyunjin leaned his head on his shoulder. “Thank you for not giving up.”

Silence settled between them, but it wasn’t heavy. It was warm. Like peace after a long, relentless storm. Chan couldn’t help but wrap his arm around Hyunjin’s waist as they sat there letting the voices and laughter in the background fade.

“I still can’t believe it happened,” Hyunjin murmured. “The fans. The show. The eight of us on stage again.”

“I know.” Chan’s voice was hoarse. “You were incredible. They love you. They missed you.”

Hyunjin gave a soft laugh, almost shy. “I kept waiting for it to feel fake. Kept waiting for the judgement, the hatred. But it didn’t come. Everything felt right. With you… by my side.”

Chan looked up. “You mean that?”

“I do.”

Another pause stretched between them.

Hyunjin lifted his head to look at Chan. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, slowly, like he was still figuring it out as the words formed. “Earlier, when you held me before the encore… it felt like everything made sense again. Like we made sense again.”

Chan’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

“I’ve been scared, hyung,” Hyunjin continued. “Not of the fans, not even the company anymore. Just… of opening my heart again. Of wanting something so badly and losing it. Of losing you. ”

“You never lost me,” Chan said instantly, standing now, closing the space between them. “Even when you left, I was still yours. I’ve always been yours.”

Hyunjin’s eyes glistened.

“I want to come back to you,” he whispered. “If you’ll have me. If you still want me.”

Chan lunged forward into Hyunjin’s arms like he’d been waiting a lifetime to hear those words.

“I’ve been waiting for you to say that,” he breathed. “And I’ll wait again if you need more time. But Jinnie, yes! A thousand times yes.”

They were so close now, breath to breath.

“Can I kiss you?” Chan asked, softly, reverently.

Hyunjin didn’t answer with words, he just closed the last inch between them and pressed his lips to Chan’s.

It wasn’t rushed or heated. It was slow, deep, a reconnection of something sacred. Months of longing, heartbreak, fear, and silence melted into that one kiss. And when they finally pulled apart, Chan rested their foreheads together and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“I love you,” he said again.

Hyunjin smiled, eyes glassy. “I love you too.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms. But just as Chan leaned in to kiss Hyunjin’s forehead again, a suspicious cough rang out from the hallway.

“…So are you two done being all dramatic and romantic now?” Jisung’s unmistakable voice teased, followed by the sounds of feet shuffling and barely muffled laughter.

Hyunjin startled and pulled back, eyes wide in horror. “Wait, how long have you,?!”

“Long enough,” Seungmin smirked, emerging from the kitchen doorway with a bowl of popcorn and zero shame. “You guys aren’t exactly quiet.”

Felix bounced in behind him, beaming. “We were trying so hard to give you privacy. Really. But then Changbin dropped a spoon and it kind of snowballed.”

Minho peeked from behind the fridge door. “I warned them to leave you guys alone, for the record.”

“And I was right here!” Jeongin suddenly rose from the floor.

Changbin just threw an arm over Hyunjin’s shoulder, grinning like a proud dad. “Took you both long enough.”

Chan hid his face behind his hand while Hyunjin blushed furiously, ducking his head into Chan’s shoulder to hide. “Oh my God,” he groaned.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” Chan laughed, finally recovering, his voice light for the first time in what felt like months. “Stop embarrassing us.”

“No can do,” Minho said with a lazy grin, flopping onto the couch. “You’re the main characters. This is what you signed up for.”

Felix clapped his hands. “Group cuddle!”

In no time, they were all squeezed together in the living room, wrapped in mismatched blankets, limbs draped over one another, the TV playing some random movie no one was really watching. Laughter echoed between bites of instant ramen and stolen snacks. Someone made hot chocolate. Jisung kept elbowing Hyunjin every time he leaned too close to Chan.

“You two gonna kiss again?” he whispered way too loudly during a quiet scene, making the whole room explode in fake gagging sounds.

“Leave them alone!” Felix scolded playfully while Chan just pulled Hyunjin closer and stuck his tongue out like a child.

Hyunjin laughed until he couldn’t breathe. And for the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel like he had to hold anything back. No fear. No weight. Just warmth. Family. Love.

As the night deepened and the lights dimmed, the group slowly quieted down, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, breaths evening out as exhaustion took over.

Chan kissed the top of Hyunjin’s head one last time and whispered, “Welcome back.”

Hyunjin closed his eyes and whispered back, “I’m home.”