Chapter Text
Minho woke to the relentless buzzing of his phone, the sound drilling straight into his skull. He groaned, eyes burning from a night spent spiraling between fear and half-sleep. Every time he drifted off, the images came back – the panic in Jeongin’s voice as he searched for Felix, the fury and hurt blazing in Felix’s eyes when he rejected Minho’s offer to drive them home, and worst of all, the sound of Seungmin retching, the sight of him pale and shaking in Felix and Jeongin’s arms.
He looked like he was dying, Minho thought, a shiver tearing through him. Desperate for news, he grabbed his phone; but before he could read a single notification, his bedroom door slammed open.
Jisung stood there, wild-eyed and trembling.
“Jisungie, what did I say about entering my – ” Minho didn’t finish. Jisung threw himself at him, arms tight, sobs tearing out of him as he soaked Minho’s collar. Minho froze, stunned, letting the younger cry against him as dread lodged itself in his chest.
“Hyung,” Jisung choked out between sobs, “it isn’t true, right? Please… tell me it’s not true.”
Minho’s heart lurched. “What’s not true, Sungie?”
Jisung lifted his head, face streaked with tears. “Yongbok and Seungmin… they’re not leaving the group, right?”
Minho’s world lurched.
Leaving?
That couldn’t –
No.
“Leaving?” Minho whispered, the word barely forming.
“JYP released an official statement,” Jisung cried. “But why? Last night they were fine; we all were fine. How… how did this happen?”
Before Minho could process anything, hurried footsteps echoed in the hall. Changbin and Hyunjin burst into the room, both pale and frantic.
“Minho-hyung, Jisungie! Thank God you’re here,” Hyunjin said, his voice tight, eyes glossy.
“We can’t reach Jeongin,” Changbin said, phone still pressed to his ear as he dialed again and again. “Or Seungmin. Or Felix. No one’s answering.”
Hyunjin pulled Jisung gently into his arms, trying to steady him. “Channie-hyung went to the company to demand answers, but management shut him out. They said they’ll explain ‘when everyone is present.’ We’ve been trying to call you two and Jeonginnie for over an hour.”
Changbin’s phone buzzed. He snatched it up.
“Channie-hyung texted,” Changbin read aloud, hope and fear tangled in his voice. “He said to try going to Seungmin and Felix’s dorm. Jeongin stayed with them last night. He must still be there.”
Please, Minho thought, heart twisting.
Please let them all be there.
Minho was still in a daze. They had dragged him to the Happy House dorm in his pajamas, but he barely noticed; he didn’t care. All he wanted was to see them: to see Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin safe; to understand why JYP would release a statement like that; to have something – anything – to hold on to.
But when they arrived, Chan greeted them with hollow eyes.
“They’re not here,” Chan said flatly.
The words hit Minho like a blow. His lungs seized, breath evaporating.
“Only Jeongin’s here,” Chan continued, voice strained. “But he locked himself inside Seungmin and Felix’s room. He won’t come out. Won’t answer me.”
Minho saw the tremor in their leader’s hands, the barely-contained panic in his eyes. Chan looked moments away from breaking, holding himself together only for the sake of the others. Minho wished he could shoulder some of that weight, but he was just as lost, just as scared and grieving.
Changbin gently tugged Chan inside, taking the burden Minho usually carried.
The dorm felt wrong. The furniture, the appliances, the familiar clutter; it was all still there, but the life in the space was gone. The place felt hollow, abandoned, almost grieving on its own. And beneath the stillness, the faint, broken sound of someone crying seeped through the walls.
Minho felt the others tense, each flinch carving deeper into the heavy quiet.
“Innie,” Changbin called softly.
The sobbing faltered.
“Innie, can you come out, kid?” he tried again.
“Go away!” Jeongin’s voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked.
“Innie, please,” Hyunjin coaxed gently. “Come out, baby. We’re here.”
“No!” Jeongin cried, voice breaking. “Just leave me alone!”
Chan stepped forward, nerves snapping. “Jeongin, that’s enough. Come out. We’re all worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me?” Jeongin spat back, bitter and trembling. “I’m not the one you should be worried about.”
“Jeongin!” Chan barked, anger and fear bleeding together.
Hyunjin immediately wrapped his arms around Chan, pulling him back, holding him in place before their leader could break down or break the door.
“Innie… where’s Seungminnie?” Minho asked, his voice barely steady: thin, fragile, trembling with fear.
“Minho-hyung?” Jeongin sounded startled. But the surprise evaporated instantly, curdling into bitterness. “What are you doing here?”
“Innie, where’s Seungmin? Did Felix take him to a hospital? Which hospital? Tell me... please.” Minho’s questions tumbled out in panic, each word frayed and breathless.
“Why should I tell you?” Jeongin snapped. “You don’t care anyway.”
“Hospital? Why? What happened?” Jisung blurted out, voice pitching upward.
Chan exhaled shakily. Changbin answered for all of them. “Last night, Seungmin… Seungmin wasn’t well. We found him pale, vomiting in the restroom. Felix and Jeongin took him home.”
“Is that the health issue from the announcement?” Jisung whispered, horror creeping into his tone. “If it was that bad, why didn’t they tell us?”
“You don’t get to ask questions now,” Jeongin shot back, voice sharp as broken glass. “None of us do. It’s too late. We’re too late. It’s our fault for not noticing.”
“Innie,” Hyunjin tried gently. “What do you know?”
“Innie, please! Where are they?” Minho asked, desperation cracking through every syllable.
Their stomachs dropped when Jeongin suddenly laughed. Not joyfully – hysterically. Bitter. Broken. Something unhinged at the edges.
The door swung open.
Jeongin emerged, laughter spilling out of him like a cracked dam – wild, hollow, and painfully wrong. His eyes were red, swollen, and empty.
“Can you stop pretending, Minho-hyung?” he said through the laughter, voice shaking with something too raw to name. “Stop acting like you care. If you actually did, none of this would’ve happened!”
“What are you talking about?” Changbin asked, stunned. “Why would any of this be Minho-hyung’s fault?”
Suddenly, Jeongin stopped laughing. His jaw clenched, and the redness in his eyes hardened into something sharp. His gaze snapped to Minho.
“I get it, hyung. You’re not obliged to like – much less love – Seungminnie-hyung,” Jeongin began, voice trembling with control. “I get that Jisung-hyung is your soulmate or whatever. I really do. But why did you have to crush Seungmin-hyung’s feelings?”
“What are you talking about, Jeongin?” Minho stammered.
“Don’t act clueless now,” Jeongin scoffed. “I refuse to believe you never noticed Seungmin-hyung’s feelings for you.” Minho’s eyes widened, his lips parting wordlessly.
Jeongin let out a bitter laugh at Minho’s expression and clapped furiously. “Wow. That reaction is so convincing. You really are becoming a better actor. Did pretending to care about Seungmin-hyung all these years help improve those skills?”
“I never pretended,” Minho whispered.
“You know, hyung, I always thought there was something between you two. Back in pre-debut days, you clung to him constantly and he just let you do whatever bizarre rituals you wanted. Even with all your gagawanz nonsense, that ‘care’ you talk about showed every time in how you spoke to him, how you acted around him. And Seungmin-hyung? He couldn’t lie to save his life. He was honest to a fault. Always said you were his favorite. Always showed it. Always chose you.”
Jeongin scoffed again, shaking his head. “But I guess you were just pretending all this time.” His eyes flicked sharply to Jisung. “Jisung-hyung, right? Your soulmate. Your destiny and your choice. I should’ve seen it coming. Maybe then I could’ve stopped this. Maybe I wouldn’t be stuck here miserable with the rest of you.”
“What are you talking about?” Jisung said. “Minho-hyung never pretended; he never said any of that. Seungmin has been and has always been –”
“Then why does Seungmin-hyung have hanahaki?!” Jeongin shouted.
“What?!” Hyunjin gasped.
Jeongin pushed on, voice rising with anger. “For more than a year, Seungmin-hyung was vomiting petals, stems and blood. For more than a year, he fought to keep his voice despite a throat that must have been raw from retching, scratched open by stems forcing their way out. For more than a year, Seungmin-hyung fought for his place in this group and for his life. And where were we? How did none of us notice them drifting apart? How did we miss them suffering right in front of us?”
Tears finally spilled down Jeongin’s cheeks. “Only Felix-hyung noticed. Only he stayed by his side. But you know how stubborn Minnie-hyung is. He won’t choose to forget Minho-hyung. He loves with everything he has; and Minho-hyung was all of that. For him, losing the memories of you would be worse than dying.”
“No… no…” Minho breathed, shaking with panic.
“Felix-hyung couldn’t do anything,” Jeongin went on, voice breaking. “He watched for a year as Seungmin-hyung wilted while the plant inside him grew. But not anymore. I should probably thank you for finally making Seungmin-hyung accept that you would never choose him, and for pushing Felix-hyung to make a decision for the both of them.”
“That’s not true…” Minho whispered. “It’s not like that. I would never hurt my Seungminnie.”
Jeongin scoffed and turned away, storming toward the exit. “You already did. And you probably won’t get the chance to fix it, because Felix-hyung and Seungmin-hyung aren’t coming back.”
“Felix too?” Hyunjin murmured.
“I should’ve realized sooner,” Jeongin said bitterly. “Then maybe I could’ve left with them.”
That was the last thing Minho remembered. After that, everything became a haze; days bleeding into nights, each one emptier than the last. He felt like a hollow shell, watching the world fall apart around him while he could do nothing to stop it.
Stray Kids went on hiatus. Performing without the missing pieces felt unbearable; the spaces left behind were too wide to fill, and the bond between those who remained was shattered, fragile and jagged like broken glass. Every stage, every practice, reminded them of who wasn’t there, of what they had lost.
Jeongin became almost a ghost to them. The brands Felix had been tied to were transferred to him, whisking him abroad, leaving only glimpses of him on screens. He had even asked JYP to let him focus on modeling and acting, almost begging to escape the pain of the group; but Chan and the others clung to him stubbornly. He remained a member, but no longer truly present.
They only saw him in ads, in shows, in fleeting moments that reminded them of the laughter and warmth that used to fill the dorms. And Minho… he could only watch, helpless, as the people he loved most drifted farther away, their absence a wound that throbbed every single day.
“Hyung,” Minho called softly one day. Chan had insisted that the five of them live together again. He never explained why, but Minho understood: their leader was drowning in regret. Chan blamed himself for not seeing Seungmin and Felix’s suffering, for not stopping them from slipping away – and now, with Jeongin distancing himself too, he was clinging desperately to what remained, pulling the others close so he could watch over them, protect them… before he lost anyone else.
Ever since they agreed to go on hiatus until all eight of them were together again, Chan had been unraveling quietly. He barely ate, yet threw himself into any work offered – producing for other groups, directing, composing anything but Stray Kids songs. Still, he checked on each member daily, as if making sure they hadn’t disappeared too.
Chan looked up at Minho now, the deep frown on his face smoothing into a small, tired smile.
“Minho-ya,” he said gently, “are you hungry?”
Minho shook his head. He wasn’t doing any better. The dark crescents under his eyes never faded; his face had grown thin and colorless. He hardly left his room. He barely ate. He felt weaker every day, like guilt was hollowing him out from the inside. “I deserve this. I wish I’d been the one with hanahaki. If it meant taking away even a fraction of what my Seungmo suffered…”
Chan’s eyes softened in a way that nearly broke Minho. “You need to eat, Min.”
“I’ll eat if you eat too,” Chan nodded and got up to prepare something simple for them both. They ate quietly – comfortably, even – but the air hung heavy with something unspoken.
When Minho set his spoon down, he finally said it, “Hyung… I think I should enlist.”
Chan froze. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, emotions swirling: surprise, fear, worry, and reluctant understanding.
“It’s not to punish yourself, right, Min?”
Minho shook his head.
Chan inhaled shakily. “I get it. As long as you’re not doing it to run from us. As long as you’re not trying to disappear like they did.” His voice wavered, even though he tried to sound strong. “If it’s something you need to do… then okay. Maybe some time apart will help us heal too. Maybe when we’re ready – when all of us are ready – we can come back as eight.”
But Minho could see it: Chan wasn’t just saying those words for Minho’s sake, but his own as well. Stray Kids was his life’s work, his purpose, his pride. He had built it with his own hands and carried it on his shoulders since they were trainees – too young to lead, but leading anyway. Watching it fall apart was killing him piece by piece.
And Minho hated that he couldn’t help him. He loved his leader, but he was drowning in his own grief, trapped with only Seungmin’s fading smile in his mind. If only… if only I –
A warm hand settled on his shoulder.
“It’s not your fault, okay?” Chan murmured.
Minho’s eyes stung instantly, tears blurring his vision.
Chan continued, voice rough, “I know we all wish we made different choices. I know we should have noticed sooner, should have stopped it. But it wasn’t just you, Min. We all carry this. And blaming ourselves won’t change the past.” He exhaled shakily. “All we can do now is move forward… whatever that looks like.”
“Hyung…” Minho broke, choking on a sob as he folded into Chan’s arms. Chan hugged him tightly; just like he had years ago, when Minho was eliminated during their pre-debut show. A familiar embrace, protective and steady.
“I’ll tell the others about your decision,” Chan whispered against his hair. “And don’t worry. We’ll keep looking for them. Even while you’re away.”
Minho cried until exhaustion dragged him under. At some point, he felt Chan’s arms lift him – gentle, careful – as if he were something fragile that might shatter with a wrong touch. He barely remembered being carried to his room, or the soft tug of blankets being pulled over him. He only remembered the weight of guilt settling deeper in his chest.
When he finally woke, the dorm was silent. Too silent.
Sunlight was already spilling across his floor – it’s midday. He’d slept far longer than he meant to.
Somewhere in the dorm, he imagined the others gathered around the kitchen table, eating lunch in hushed tones, discussing his decision in voices they didn’t want him to hear.
When Minho stepped out of his room, he found the others gathered around the dining table, voices low and tense. They all turned to him at once.
“Eat with us, hyung,” Jisung said, his forced cheer wobbling at the edges. The others gave him small, encouraging smiles, silently asking him to sit, to share a meal, to not drift any further away. Minho complied, taking his seat between them.
They ate quietly for a moment before Hyunjin finally spoke.
“We heard about your decision, hyung,” he said carefully. “And… Changbin-hyung and I talked. We’re going to enlist too.”
Minho froze, his chopsticks slipping slightly in his hand, “What? No… if you’re doing this because of me – ”
“I think it’s the most logical thing to do,” Changbin cut in gently. “We all have to enlist soon anyway. If we go now… then when we find them, when all eight of us are together again, we won’t have to leave again for enlistment. We can stay.”
“But Chan-hyung…” Minho murmured, looking at their leader. Chan only smiled at him, soft and tired.
“Don’t worry, hyung. I’ll stay with Chan-hyung,” Jisung said quickly, squeezing Minho’s hand as if trying to anchor him. “And maybe I can enlist with the rest of the maknae line later.”
The small, awkward smile that followed hit Minho like a punch. The rest of the maknae line. Jeongin. Seungmin.
Jisung was talking about them – as if they were only temporarily absent, not ripped from the group by heartbreak and silence. As if they were still reachable. As if, just like Minho, they were still hoping. Still believing forgiveness was possible. Still believing Seungmin was somewhere in the world, breathing.
Minho’s chest ached painfully.
“We’ll be fine, Min,” Chan said, his voice steady but eyes unbearably sad. “Somehow… we’ll make things right.”
JYP Entertainment approved their plans without protest. Everything moved quickly after that.
Minho was assigned to the military police. Changbin and Hyunjin were placed in the ROK Navy. There was no grand farewell, no fan event; just a quiet departure announced through a same-day official statement, as if slipping out of the world unnoticed might hurt less.
“We’ll do our best here, hyung,” Jisung whispered, wrapping Minho in a tight hug. “We’ll see each other again before you even realize it.”
When Jisung moved on to cling to Changbin and Hyunjin, Chan stepped forward and pulled Minho into his arms.
“Don’t worry about us, Min,” he murmured, voice steady but eyes tired. “Just take care of yourself, okay?”
Before Minho could respond, Changbin stiffened. “Is that – ?”
They all turned.
At a distance stood Jeongin – hesitating, half-hidden, shoulders tense. Minho’s breath caught. Despite everything, despite the anger and grief that tore them apart, Jeongin had come.
But the moment their eyes met, Jeongin hurried away.
It still meant everything.
A small spark in the ashes.
A tiny reminder that maybe not all bridges were burned beyond repair.
But even with that flicker of hope, the emptiness inside Minho stayed vast. Seungmin and Felix were still gone, their absence leaving cracks no amount of time could smooth over. And beneath it all, Minho carried the weight of the love he should have shown, the love he realized too late.
Ten months passed in a blur of routine and silence.
No news of Seungmin.
No sign of Felix.
And Jeongin remained distant, cold as winter glass.
By the eleventh month, Minho was reassigned to a quiet town in Jeju Island: small, still, and far away from everything he knew.
“Lee Minho, reporting for duty,” Minho said as he saluted his new supervisor.
“Welcome to our little town, Minho-ya,” the superintendent replied warmly. “As you probably noticed from the briefing, we’re a quiet community. They don’t usually assign enlisted personnel here. Mostly because nothing ever really happens. Not many tourists either. Peaceful, safe; almost too safe.”
“Safe enough that they only hired three officers,” one of the men added with a grin. His name tag read Yoon Do Hyun. “You’re our fourth and the youngest! Welcome aboard.” He let out a loud howl and elbowed another officer. “Too bad, you’re not the maknae anymore, Seo-joonie!”
Seo-joon laughed. “It’s fine. We could use a fresh young face around here, even if it’s only for eight months.”
Then he turned to the superintendent. “Sir, why don’t we celebrate his arrival? Drinks at Secret Sessions tonight?”
“Hey! I’m on night rounds,” Do Hyun complained. Seo-joon only laughed harder.
“Exactly!”
“Hey!”
“Alright, alright,” the superintendent chuckled, hands raised in surrender. “We’ll move night rounds earlier so Do Hyunnie can join us.” He looked at Minho. “That work for you?”
Minho offered a small smile and nodded.
Despite its mysterious name, Secret Sessions turned out to be a cozy local pub. Minho found himself sitting with his new colleagues, a glass in hand.
“Most of the townspeople come here,” Do Hyun said. “Sometimes it feels like night duty is basically monitoring this place.”
“Maybe,” Superintendent Jung replied, “but keep your eyes open anyway.”
“They do live music here,” Do Hyun added. “Really good stuff.”
“Yeah, ever since Seungmin arrived with Yongbok about more than a year ago,” Seo-joon said casually.
Minho almost choked on his drink.
Seungmin?
Yongbok?
No. No, it can’t be…
“Oh! There he is!” Seo-joon cheered, and the room erupted with shouts of “Seungmin!”
Minho went still. Completely frozen.
But if… if there was even the slightest chance –
He had to look.
A familiar, warm, honey-sweet voice drifted through the dim light before Minho could even focus his eyes. His breath hitched. Tears gathered instantly – raw, unrestrained, unstoppable.
And then the spotlight hit the stage.
There he was.
Kim Seungmin.
Alive.
Singing.
Minho’s heart clenched, breaking open and healing all at once.
Kim Seungmin… my Seungminnie… I found you again.