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Changbin POV
Ever since those three made it official—yeah, Chan, Jisung, and Lee Know acting like they invented love—I’ve somehow ended up living with a dramatic ferret and a hyperactive gamer chicken. Not complaining, really. I love Hyunjin and Felix. They’re my favorite humans. But sometimes… sometimes they’re a bit much. One minute Hyunjin’s monologuing like he’s in a historical drama, and the next Felix is yelling at a pixelated dragon like his life depends on it. Peace? Never met her. Today was the last straw. Hyunjin was twirling in the hallway to some emotional piano track like we live in a music video, and Felix was screaming at his monitor because someone stole his kill in a game with… blocks. BLOCKS. I paused my protein shake mid-sip, slammed it on the counter (gently, because I’m not trying to clean that up), and shouted: "CAN WE ACT LIKE NORMAL HUMANS FOR FIVE MINUTES?! JUST FIVE! I’M LOSING BRAIN CELLS AT A DANGEROUS RATE!" Dead silence. Then both of them just… flopped. On the floor. Like synchronized chaos goblins. Laughing. Wheezing.
Hyunjin: “He’s mad cute when he yells.”
Felix: “He’s always like this before leg day.”
I stared. I blinked. I questioned my life choices. Anyway, I closed the door to my room and searched for apartments online. They’ll never know I cried laughing too. The next morning, I woke up to suspicious silence. And if you live with those two, silence is never a good sign. Then came the smell. Something burning. Something… wrong. I rushed out of my room like a dad catching teenagers sneaking in past curfew. And there they were. Hyunjin, in Felix’s oversized hoodie, holding a frying pan with what I think used to be eggs. Felix, wearing a ridiculous apron that said “Kiss the Chef,” holding a Bluetooth speaker blasting ABBA’s “Take a Chance on Me.” They were dancing. Badly. Eggs were dying.
Hyunjin: “Morning, Binnie! We made you breakfast!”
Felix: “We’re sorry we laughed when you snapped. We processed it through the healing powers of disco and protein.”
I stared at the crime scene on my plate. One egg was definitely raw. The other had been through war. Hyunjin wrapped his arms around my shoulders like he hadn’t set off the smoke alarm five minutes ago.Felix added, “We’ll clean everything. Just say you love us.”I sighed. Deeply. Dramatically. Then took a bite. Crunch. Eggshells. “…I hate both of you,” I muttered. They both beamed like I’d just proposed.
Some days, going to the studio with Chan and Jisung feels like peace. Productive energy, coffee in hand, music flowing—until you remember that Jisung is the resident princess, and Chan and Lee Know are his devoted royal guards.
We got there early, and I was feeling optimistic. Jisung was curled up on the studio couch, a blanket around his shoulders, sipping his iced latte like he was holding court. Chan was hunched over his laptop mixing, and I was deep into some new lyrics, enjoying the rare moment of focus. Then Jisung whined, “Binnnnnie, my shoulders hurt. Write lyrics closer to me.” And boom—productivity? Gone. Chan immediately got up and brought him a pillow. I was halfway through a verse and now forced to witness cuddling during work hours. “Are you serious?” I mumbled, glaring at Chan like this was somehow his fault. “Let the princess rest,” Chan said, completely shameless. I was just about to flee to a quieter corner of the studio when my phone lit up.
Felix 🐥: “We’re bringing lunch 🥰”
I froze. “We?” Fifteen minutes later, the door swung open and the second wave of chaos hit: Felix, Hyunjin, and Minho—each one louder than the last. Felix marched in holding three bags of takeout and a bubble tea tray like he was delivering treasure. Hyunjin came twirling in behind him, a silk scarf flying like he was on a Paris runway. And Lee Know just walked straight to Jisung, kissed the top of his head, and said, “Missed you, Princess.” Jisung giggled. GIGGLED. I, Changbin, was now stuck in the middle of a very affectionate six-person circus, watching Hyunjin try to feed Felix dumplings while Felix narrated his own chewing noises, Lee Know braiding Jisung’s hair with terrifying precision, and Chan just vibing like this was normal. “Does no one want to work?” I asked no one in particular, holding a chopstick like it was a mic I could drop and walk away from this entire day. Hyunjin looked at me with a mischievous grin. “Work on what, your temper?” I considered eating my lunch under the desk. Instead, I took a bite and sighed. “I need a raise. Or a sedative.”
Later that night, after the studio was finally quiet and Jisung had been safely whisked home by his two boyfriends like the royal carriage came early, it was just me, Felix, and Hyunjin back at our dorm. We were on the floor in the kitchen, legs stretched out under the table, eating ramyeon straight from the pot and passing a tub of convenience store ice cream like it was contraband. The lights were dim, the AC hummed in the background, and for once, neither of them was performing. It was just… us. Felix let out a soft laugh as he leaned back against the wall. “Did you see the way Minho tucked Jisung’s hair behind his ear like they were filming a drama?” Hyunjin snorted into his spoon. “The audacity of Lee Know acting like he’s cold and heartless when he literally carried Jisung’s backpack for him. His Hello Kitty backpack.” I slurped some noodles and grunted. “You mean the one he pretends is ‘just practical’? I saw him unzip it and pull out a glittery fan with Jisung’s face on it.” We all cackled. Felix grinned, licking a bit of ice cream off his lip. “And Chan—he doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. He looked at Jisung like he built the entire studio with his bare hands just so Jisung could sit in it and look cute.” Hyunjin made a dreamy face. “Honestly… I get it.” I rolled my eyes, but my chest was warm in that weird, soft way it gets when you’re full—not from food, but from them. There was a beat of silence before Hyunjin asked, “Do you think they ever talk about us like this?” Felix laughed. “What, like—‘Changbin cooked us chicken again, what a hero,’ or ‘Felix didn’t burn the rice today, true king’?” I snorted. “More like, ‘Hyunjin changed outfits five times before leaving the house—again.’” Hyunjin threw a noodle at me. “You’re just jealous I have taste.” Felix wiped his eyes, still giggling. “No, but really. If they do talk about us, I hope it’s during one of those weird 2AM chats where everyone’s too tired to lie.” I leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “You think Chan’s out there going, ‘Man, I don’t know what I’d do without Binnie’s chicken thighs…’” Hyunjin, without missing a beat: “The food or your legs?” I choked on my noodles. Felix nearly dropped the ice cream. “BOTH,” Hyunjin declared, dead serious, as if it was some sacred truth. Then he picked up his phone and grinned. “Should I ask him?” Felix’s eyes lit up. “You won’t.” Hyunjin’s fingers were already flying. “Oh, I will.” And just like that, the kitchen descended into soft panic as we watched Hyunjin type into the group chat:
Hyunjin 🖤: “hey if we all got kidnapped which one of us would chan save first be honest”
Felix 🐥: “this feels targeted”
Changbin 💪: “i vote jisung gets left behind he’d talk too much and blow our cover”
Jisung 👑: “EXCUSE ME???”
Chan 🐺: “are you guys drunk”
Lee Know 😒: “drunk on stupidity maybe”
Hyunjin cackled. “There it is. He’s mad.”
Felix grinned down at his screen, fingers moving again.
Felix 🐥: “you’d save jisung first wouldn’t you 😔 it’s okay i’d leave me too”
Chan 🐺: “what is happening. I'd save all of you. stop being weird, it's 2:07am.”
Jisung 👑: “i knew it i’m first”
Lee Know 😒: “go to sleep, your majesty”
I set my phone down, smiling like an idiot. “We’re insufferable.” Felix passed me the ice cream again. “We’re lucky.” Hyunjin leaned against my shoulder, real quiet. “Yeah… we really are.” And for a few more minutes, we just sat there, finishing off melted ice cream and cold noodles, surrounded by quiet and low light and a group chat full of chaos. Nothing dramatic. No big declarations. Just three idiots on a kitchen floor, safe in the little universe we’d built with each other.The group chat fizzled out after a while, Chan typing something about needing to sleep before his brain leaked out of his ears. Jisung, of course, signed off with a tiara emoji and something unnecessarily sparkly. Lee Know didn’t even say goodbye—just sent a gif of a cat knocking over a glass and vanished. Back in our little kitchen cocoon, the three of us were quiet again. Not awkward, just… the kind of silence that only happens when you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be. Hyunjin finally broke it, his voice low and thoughtful. “You know… life would be really boring if those three weren’t a thing.” Felix hummed. “Like, imagine if Jisung wasn’t constantly showing up with some new drama. Or if Chan wasn’t planning his whole week around Jisung’s sleep schedule.” I chuckled. “Or if Minho didn’t somehow become emotionally fluent in Jisungese. It’s terrifying how well he reads him now.”
Hyunjin POV
We’d been at it for almost two hours, sweat dripping, music looping, the mirrors fogging up. New choreography always has that frustrating middle stage—when it looks more like chaos than art. Felix and I were sharp, in sync, pushing through the rhythm… but Minho kept missing counts. Not sloppy, just… distracted. His eyes flickered to the door every so often, or his phone on the bench, or just nowhere at all. I caught him zoning out mid-spin, which was so unlike him it threw me off too. “Minho-hyung,” I said, panting as I paused the track. “Your brain’s not in the room. What’s going on?” Felix bent over, hands on his knees, smiling between breaths. “Yeah, you’ve never been the one to mess up steps. That’s my job.” Minho’s ears went pink. He stretched unnecessarily, like he was buying time. “I’m fine. Just tired.” I tilted my head, watching him in the mirror. He wasn’t tired. He had that look. The one he gets when Jisung’s in the building. Felix caught it too. His grin widened, voice sing-song. “He’s thinking about our princess again.” Minho shot him a glare sharp enough to kill, but the blush crawling up his neck ruined the effect. I couldn’t help laughing. “Oh my god. You are. He’s probably just lying in Chan’s studio eating snacks and you’re here missing beats because you want to hold his backpack.” “Shut up,” Minho muttered, grabbing his water bottle a little too fast.Felix leaned his chin on Minho’s shoulder, grinning like the menace he is. “What flavor chips do you think he’s eating right now? Sour cream? Barbecue?” Minho shoved him off, muttering, “You two are insufferable.” But his ears were redder now, which only confirmed everything. I crouched down to tie my laces, smirking at him through the mirror. “You know, if Jisung knew how much you space out thinking about him, he’d never let you live it down. He’d write a whole song about it.” That made Felix giggle so hard he almost lost his balance. “And Chan would produce it in like, an hour, just to make Minho suffer.” Minho rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched like he was fighting a smile. He tried to play it off, stretching again. “I’m focused. Let’s go from the top.” I raised an eyebrow. “Focused on the choreo? Or focused on Jisung’s glittery Hello Kitty backpack?” Felix nearly collapsed onto the floor laughing. “He’s doomed.”Minho finally cracked, pressing his towel to his face to hide the smile that betrayed him. “You guys are idiots,” he mumbled, voice muffled. I was about to tease him again when the door creaked open. “Minhooo~” All three of us turned. And there he was. Jisung, in a hoodie way too big for him, a bag of chips in one hand and bubble tea in the other. Like he’d been summoned. Felix’s jaw dropped. “No way.” Minho froze mid-stretch, towel still half over his face. For a second he didn’t move at all—like a deer in headlights—then he lowered the towel just enough to show his blush creeping up his cheeks. Jisung bounded in, plopping himself right down on the studio floor like it was his living room. “I brought snacks! Thought you guys might be starving.” He looked up at Minho, grinning like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Don’t tell me you were practicing without me?” Felix whispered loudly, “He was practicing his longing stares.” I snorted so hard I nearly fell over. Minho glared at me, then at Felix, but didn’t even try to deny it. Instead, he walked over, grabbed a chip straight from Jisung’s hand, and muttered, “You’re late.” And Jisung just laughed, leaning back against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Felix nudged me with his elbow, whispering, “We were right. Doomed.” Just as Jisung was tearing open his bag of chips and Minho was settling down suspiciously close beside him, the studio door creaked again. “Jisung?” It was Chan’s voice. And right behind him—Changbin. Both of them peeking in like dads looking for their runaway child. Felix and I instantly looked at each other, then at Minho. He went rigid, like he’d been caught stealing. Jisung, on the other hand, just lit up like a firework. “Hyuuung!” he chirped, launching himself straight into Chan’s arms. Chips forgotten, bubble tea rolling across the floor. Chan laughed, steadying him easily, and Minho… Well, Minho moved before I could blink. He wrapped himself around Jisung from behind, chin dropping onto his shoulder like it was his rightful spot. And just like that, there it was. The three of them, tangled up in a messy little cuddle pile right in the middle of our practice room. Jisung giggling, Chan holding him steady, Minho glaring at anyone who dared to look too long—but also refusing to let go. I felt Felix nudge me, his grin stretched so wide it nearly split his face. Changbin, meanwhile, just stood there in the doorway, blinking like his brain was buffering., “…We’re witnessing something we shouldn’t, right?” he muttered. Chan didn’t even look embarrassed. He pressed a kiss to the side of Jisung’s hair like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Found him,” he said, like that explained everything. Felix snorted. “Yeah, and lost Minho in the process.” Minho shot us the death glare of the century—but didn’t move an inch away from his spot at Jisung’s side. I leaned over to Changbin, whispering just loud enough for Minho to hear. “Told you he was doomed.” And judging by the way Jisung looked up at them both like they’d hung the stars, I realized—maybe doomed never looked so happy.
As comeback season got closer, I started noticing little things. The kind of things no one else might catch, but the kind you feel in your bones when you’ve lived alongside someone for years. For Changbin, it was Chan. He’d mutter about it sometimes when we walked back from practice. How Chan was still there when he left the studio late, head bent over his laptop, eyes glazed from staring at waveforms too long. How he was so locked in on mixing, producing, arranging—that he’d forget meals, forget rest, even forget conversations they’d had just a day ago. “Sometimes I say something, and he nods,” Changbin told me once, shaking his head, “but I can tell he didn’t hear a word. Like… he’s here, but not with me.” And I got it. I’d seen that look in Chan’s eyes too. That relentless, tunnel-vision focus that made him brilliant—and broke him at the same time. For me, it was Minho. Minho, who was usually the sharp edge in any room, the one with the biting remarks, the secret jokes, the quiet smirk that kept us on our toes. He was still there, physically. He showed up to practice, nailed the choreography, and handled everything he was supposed to. But outside of that? He drifted. He didn’t linger for meals, didn’t join in when we joked around, didn’t even roll his eyes at Felix’s bad puns anymore. Just quieter. Pulled back. Like a shadow of himself. And maybe no one else noticed, because Minho was good at wearing masks. But I knew him. I knew when he wasn’t laughing because he didn’t feel like it, not because he didn’t find it funny. It felt like watching cracks spread across glass—you couldn’t always see them until the light hit just right. But once you did, you couldn’t unsee it. One night, Changbin and I sat in the practice room long after the others had gone, the speakers humming faintly in the silence. “You feel it too, right?” he asked, not looking at me, just staring at the floor. “Yeah,” I admitted quietly. “Chan’s burning himself out. And Minho’s… disappearing.”At first, Changbin and I agreed—don’t drag Felix into this. No point in worrying him if it was just the usual pre-comeback stress. Chan always drowned himself in work before a release, and Minho always shut down under pressure. We told ourselves it was normal. Manageable.
Changbin’s POV
At lunch, Chan had opted to stay in the studio again. Same as he’d done the past couple of days. I didn’t even bother asking him twice. He was glued to that damn chair. So I dragged Jisung out with me instead, thinking maybe some fresh air, a walk, just a little break would do us both good. We didn’t make it far. I felt his steps falter beside me before I heard him. A soft gasp, the shuffle of shoes that weren’t keeping up. I turned, and my stomach dropped—he was trembling, pale, eyes glassy. “Fuck,” I swore, grabbing him under the arm before his legs gave completely. I half-carried him to the closest resting room, lowering him onto the bed. His breathing was shallow, too quick, tears slipping down his cheeks without a sound. “Hannie—hey, I’ve got you.” I wrapped my arms around him tight, trying to ground him with the weight of me there. He clutched at me like he was hanging on for life. I fumbled for my phone, calling Chan first. No answer. Tried Minho next. Same thing. A curse burned my throat. “Isn’t Minho with you guys?” I barked into the line when Hyunjin finally picked up. Felix answered in the background—“No, he’s not here either.” I shoved the phone away, heart pounding, and focused back on the boy shaking in my arms. “Hannie… look at me.” My voice came out firm, steady, even though I was anything but inside. His eyes darted to mine, wet and terrified. “B… Binnie…” His voice broke—and so did he, collapsing into sobs and panicked breaths. “I know, I know,” I whispered, pressing his head against my chest. “I’m here. Just stay with me.” I pulled back enough to cup his face. “Five things you can see, Hannie. Just point. Anything.” Shaking, he lifted a hand, pointing—my cap, the bed under him, the wall, the clock on the table, and finally… me. “Good. That’s good.” I kept my voice calm, quiet. “Now four things you can touch.” His fingers brushed the brim of my cap, the sheets, the cool wall, then squeezed my arm “You’re doing so well,” I murmured. “Don’t forget to breathe.” “Three things you can hear.” He closed his eyes, listening hard. “People… in the hallway. Your breathing. And… soft music.” I nodded, brushing his hair back. “Perfect. Two things you can smell.” “…Cinnamon. Clean sheets.” A small laugh escaped me, shaky but real. “You’re smelling my apple-cinnamon bar in my pocket.” His lips twitched, barely, and I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Okay, Hannie. One thing you can taste.” “Salty Americano,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Teary Americano,” I corrected softly. His breathing was steadier now, though his hands still clutched at my hoodie. I tightened my hold around him. “How do you feel?” I asked gently. “Better… but Binnie…” his voice cracked again. “Channie and Min… I can’t feel them anymore. It’s like… a wall. Min is barely home, and Channie—he just works and works. I can’t reach them. I try, but I can’t do anything.” He broke down again, sobs shaking through him, and all I could do was hold him tighter, my jaw clenched so hard it hurt. Because if Chan and Minho could see him like this and still keep disappearing behind their walls—then maybe the next time I saw them, I wouldn’t be able to keep my temper. Not when my brother was breaking in my arms. “Hannie… you have to try,” I told him, keeping my voice steady even though my chest felt like it was caving in. “I mean, of course I could talk to Chan, but what difference would that make?” His red, tear-streaked eyes met mine. “I can’t reach them, so how will I talk to them?” His voice broke, and he curled in on himself like a wounded kid. “What if they don’t love me anymore?” I swear, I could hear something inside me snap. My heart, maybe. Or my patience with the people making him feel like this. “Hannie, don’t think like that,” I said quickly, firmly, even though my throat was tight. “You talk to them, and you’ll see. They love you. They’re just… lost in their own heads right now.” He only sobbed harder. I fumbled in my hoodie pocket, pulled out the apple and cinnamon bar I’d been saving. “Here.” He blinked at it. “But—” “Take it and eat it, Hannie. You need it more than I do.” I shoved it gently into his hands. He hesitated, then nodded, unwrapping it with trembling fingers. I sat with him while he chewed, every bite slow like it took all his strength. My chest ached, but I didn’t say a word, just stayed close. When he was done, I brushed the crumbs from his hoodie and smoothed his hair. “Go home. Get some rest.” His eyes flicked up to mine, small and scared. “Can you take me?” I didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.” By the time we got to the dorm, he was dead on his feet. I tucked him in myself, pulling the blankets tight around him the way Minho usually did. Then I sat on the edge of the bed, pulling up some random videos on my phone. Something normal. Something quiet. “Try to rest, Hannie,” I murmured. He hummed softly, curling against my thigh. His breathing evening out until sleep claimed him. Exhausted. Completely wrung out from the panic attack.I stayed. Just stayed. My leg went numb under his head, but I wasn’t moving. When he finally stirred awake, I was mid-call with Hyunjin and Felix. “Yeah, I’ll come back once I get him some food,” I whispered into the phone. “I want to make sure he eats properly and goes back to bed.” “Binnie…” Jisung’s voice was soft, barely a whisper. “You can go. I’m fine.” I glanced down at him, shook my head. “I’ll at least get you food, Hannie. And I’ll stay until you finish it.” He nodded slowly, eyes glassy again, and I ordered his favorite. But then, in the smallest voice, he whispered, “I don’t want food. I want Min and Channie.” That broke me all over again. I sighed, running a hand over my face, trying to swallow the burn in my throat. “Hannie, please…” “I’ll eat,” he promised weakly. And I just sat there, staring at him, my chest tight with a fury I didn’t know how to let out yet. Because if Chan and Minho didn’t wake up and see how badly they were hurting him… I wasn’t sure I’d be able to hold my tongue. Or my fists. I left Hannie tucked back in bed, soft snores muffled under his blanket, and quietly shut the door. My chest still hadn't been unclenched since the moment he broke down in my arms. The second I stepped into the hall, I dialed Hyunjin. He picked up fast. “Binnie? How is he?” “He’s sleeping,” I whispered, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Completely drained. Panic attack wore him out.” I heard Hyunjin exhale hard on the other end. “Shit…” “Yeah. Shit.” I leaned against the wall, staring at nothing. “Hyunjin, I swear—if you’d seen him… he couldn’t even breathe, he thought Chan and Minho didn’t love him anymore.” My voice cracked without permission, and I hated it. Hyunjin went quiet. Too quiet. “They’re shutting him out, Jinnie,” I said, low and rough. “Chan’s buried in the studio, Minho’s a ghost at the dorm. And Hannie’s stuck in between, blaming himself.” Hyunjin muttered, almost to himself, “I noticed Minho… he’s been so quiet lately. Like he’s not even with us.” “Exactly.” I pushed off the wall, pacing. “And Chan—god, I know he’s under pressure, but he hasn’t looked Hannie in the eyes in weeks. You can’t do that to him. Not him.” Hyunjin sighed, frustrated. “So what do we do? Tell Felix? Call them out?” I clenched my fist. “No. Not yet. If Felix knew, he’d panic, and Hannie doesn’t need that. But if Chan and Minho don’t fix this soon, I will say something. And I don’t care if it turns into a fight.”
The next day I was already at the studio because I needed to clear my mind a bit. The door cracked open and That’s when I saw them both with han. I locked eyes with them—Chan, Minho. The two people who should’ve been protecting Hannie. Instead, all I could see was the image of him breaking down in my arms, gasping for air like he was drowning. I stood up before I could think. My glare found them both, and for once, they actually looked small under it. “Tell me exactly why I shouldn’t punch you both in the gut,” I said. My voice came out low, steady, but there was no mistaking the fury underneath. Minho spoke first, quiet but firm. “We would if we could… but no explanation can make what we did right.” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “You’re damn right about that. And you’re incredibly lucky I actually listened when they taught us how to calm Hannie down. Otherwise…” I flexed my hands, realizing my fists were balled so tight my nails were cutting into my palms. Chan tried, in that careful leader tone, “Let’s not get violent—” “Shut it, Chan.” My voice snapped sharper than I meant, but I didn’t regret it. He flinched, and good. “You’re not without fault here, so you don’t get to play peacemaker.” The air was thick, heavy, the kind of tension that sparks before something explodes. Then Felix’s voice cut through, bright and clueless. “Lino hyung, thank god you’re back!” I closed my eyes for half a second, forcing the fire in me to dim. “Lix,” I said, quieter this time. But Felix wasn’t an idiot. His gaze flicked to my fists. “Binnie… your hands. They’re turning white.” His voice wavered just a little, finally catching on to the current running through the room. “Did I… interrupt something?” “You came right on time, thank you, Lix,” Hannie spoke up, relief in his voice as he pulled Felix into a hug. I could see how much he needed the safety Felix radiated.
Hyunjin POV
At first, I didn’t think much of it. Minho had always been the type to disappear for a bit, recharge in his own world, then come back like nothing happened. But this time… it was different. Rehearsals started without him more often. He’d text once in a while—“running late” or “busy with something”—but the late stretches turned into full absences. One day he missed practice. Then a meeting. Then two in a row. I told myself not to overthink it. He was just tired. We were all tired.But I noticed the little things too. His water bottle left on the corner of the table, untouched. His music always playing faintly from his headphones, even when he wasn’t there. The way his desk stayed perfectly organized, like he’d never even sat at it. Even Felix started to frown, checking his phone more often than usual. “He hasn’t replied to my messages… or Binnie’s either,” he muttered one morning, voice tight. I shrugged it off, forcing a laugh. “You know Minho. He’ll come back when he wants to.” But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He wasn’t just taking breaks anymore—he was slowly disappearing. And every time I saw the empty chair where he should have been, it hit harder than the last.He was still responsive when it came to work—texts from the manager or production team, emails about schedules, confirmations about rehearsals. Professional. Polished. Efficient. But that was it. Nothing personal. No jokes, no small check-ins, nothing that reminded me of the Minho who used to laugh at Felix’s terrible puns or roll his eyes at me when I overanalyzed choreography. It made the emptiness hit even harder. He was there… technically. But the warmth, the connection, the presence that had always anchored us—it was gone. I caught Felix watching the empty chair again, frown deepening. “He’s… really disappearing,” he said quietly, like saying it out loud made it more real. I tried to nod, forcing another laugh. “You know him. He’s probably just stressed, focusing on the comeback.” But my chest tightened anyway. Stressed or not, there was a distance growing that neither reassurance nor logic could erase. Every time Minho replied to a manager instead of us, it felt like another brick in a wall rising between us. And I had no idea how to tear it down.
That day, Changbin called in the middle class with the choreographer to see where Minho was, with the only explanation being Han needed him. I sat after waiting for changbin to call me back again after taking care of Hannie. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and the caller ID made my stomach drop: Changbin. I picked up fast. “Binnie? How is he?” “He’s sleeping,” Changbin’s voice was tight, almost breaking. “Completely drained. Panic attack wore him out.” I exhaled hard, feeling my chest tighten. “Shit…” “Yeah. Shit,” he muttered again, and I could hear him pinching the bridge of his nose. Silence hung for a second, heavy and raw. “Hyunjin, I swear—if you’d seen him…” His voice cracked. “He couldn’t even breathe. He thought Chan and Minho didn’t love him anymore.” My throat tightened at that. I’d been sensing the distance Minho had been putting between us, the way Chan buried himself in work, but hearing it from Binnie like this—seeing the panic had already happened—it made it real in a way I couldn’t ignore. “They’re shutting him out, Jinnie,” he continued, low and rough. “Chan’s buried in the studio, Minho’s a ghost at the dorm. And Hannie… he’s stuck in between, blaming himself.” I muttered under my breath, almost to myself, “I noticed Minho… he’s been so quiet lately. Like he’s not even with us.” “Exactly,” Changbin said sharply. “And Chan—god, I know he’s under pressure, but he hasn’t looked Hannie in the eyes in weeks. You can’t do that to him. Not him.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “So what do we do? Tell Felix? Call them out?” Changbin’s grip on the situation was clear even through the phone. “No. Not yet. If Felix knew, he’d panic, and Hannie doesn’t need that. But if Chan and Minho don’t fix this soon, I will say something. And I don’t care if it turns into a fight.” I ran a hand over my face, heart thudding. He wasn’t bluffing.
I was already at the studio, stretching idly and trying not to think too much about yesterday, when I heard the familiar click of the door. I looked up and saw Minho walk in… and with him, Felix. “Well, good to see you, hyung,” I said, relief and questions mixing in my voice, though I tried to keep it casual. “I’m sorry for the trouble,” Minho said, bowing slightly to both Felix and me. “There was… just something in the relationship…” His words were clipped, careful. I swallowed and nodded. “Hannie looked distraught when we asked about you yesterday,” I said softly, glancing at Felix, who was watching us both, still a little clueless but sensing the tension. “And then he left so fast, we couldn’t ask more.” Minho’s shoulders stiffened. I gave him a slow, steady nod, letting him know we weren’t angry—just concerned. “It’ll be fine now. Let’s dance,” he said, trying to inject some energy back into the room. “I need to get rid of the tension.”We nodded, and as the music started, we fell into the rhythm. Movement after movement, the worry in the room eased slightly. Step by step, beat by beat, we began to let the tension melt.
The weekend had finally arrived, and for once, the three of us had some space. The dorm was quiet, music muted in the background, and we settled on the floor of the living room with snacks scattered around like a small, chaotic picnic. I looked at Felix, then Changbin, and felt the familiar mix of amusement and exasperation. “You know,” I began, stirring my drink absentmindedly, “it’s kind of insane. Trying to get three people into a steady relationship… it’s like juggling three fireballs at once.” Changbin snorted, plopping back against the couch. “I’ve been thinking that all week. And I don’t even have to date them. Just… watch them.” His eyes flicked to the ceiling like he was still replaying Hannie’s panic attack in his mind. “It’s exhausting sometimes.” Felix chuckled, leaning back on his hands. “Exhausting, yes. But also… kind of amazing? Like, the way they somehow fit together… even when they drive everyone else insane.” I nodded slowly. “Yeah. But it’s not easy for anyone. Minho disappearing, Chan buried in work… and Hannie in the middle, trying to hold on to both sides. I can’t imagine what it’s like for them to balance all three.” Changbin’s jaw tightened slightly. “That’s what scares me. Because Hannie… he loves them. He’d do anything for them. But they—sometimes they don’t even notice how much he gives.” Felix leaned forward, earnest now. “And that’s why we’re here. To make sure someone notices. Someone sees him. Because if anyone’s going to lose him, I’m not letting it be because of… whatever chaos those three call a relationship.” I smiled faintly, feeling the weight lift a little. “Yeah. And it’s kind of beautiful, too, in a messy, impossible sort of way.” We all laughed quietly, the sound softer than usual, like it was just for us. Three people, three hearts, watching three others trying to make love work in a way nobody else could fully understand. And somehow, it felt enough. Felix tossed a chip into his mouth, grinning mischievously. “Okay, serious question—if we were in a three-person relationship, how do you think it would go?” I raised an eyebrow, already imagining the chaos. “Do you really want to know?” “Absolutely,” Changbin said, rolling onto his side, smirking. “Because I feel like I’d be the one constantly yelling at you two.” Felix laughed. “Oh, please. You’d be the one falling asleep on the couch while I’m stuck negotiating who gets the blanket.” “Negotiating?” I snorted. “You’d probably end up crying because you didn’t get your way with the snacks, Felix. And then I’d be the one mediating while Bin gets loud and dramatic over… literally anything.” Changbin narrowed his eyes on me. “Dramatic? Me?” “Yes, you. You’d throw your fists in the air every time someone disagrees about what movie to watch or which side of the bed to sleep on.” Felix clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he almost toppled over. “I can see it now. Bin pacing, Hyunjin overanalyzing every word I say, and me… just trying to keep snacks safe while surviving the chaos.” I chuckled, shaking my head. “Honestly, it’d probably work… but it would be exhausting. Three stubborn idiots trying to love each other at the same time.” Changbin leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “Yeah, yeah… we’d survive, I guess. Somehow. But Hannie’s lucky he doesn’t have to deal with us being a trio.” Felix nudged me. “Speak for yourself. I kind of like imagining it.” We all laughed again, softer this time, the kind of laughter that comes from imagining chaos we’ll never have to survive. Felix munched on another chip, glancing at his phone. “Hey… have you heard anything from the two maknaes? Seungmin or Jeongin?” I shook my head. “Not a word today. Probably off doing whatever they do when we’re not around.” Changbin groaned, leaning back against the couch. “Figures. They’ve probably gone full ghost mode after seeing how dramatic our trio would be.” Felix snorted. “Yeah, they’d survive maybe five minutes of this before hiding under their blankets for a week.” We laughed, the sound light but easy, and then the conversation drifted back to our own little hypotheticals. “Okay,” I said, nudging Felix with my elbow, “back to the real question. If we were somehow in a relationship, who do you think would make the first move?” Felix tapped his chin dramatically. “Hmm… Bin, for sure. Can’t hide that protective streak of yours forever.” Changbin snorted, mock-offended. “Excuse me? I’d only go first if one of you begged nicely—or made me laugh so hard I couldn’t resist.” I grinned. “So basically, Felix would have to beg, and I’d have to charm you both?” “Exactly,” Changbin said, leaning back with a grin, “which is why Hannie’s lucky. Otherwise, we’d be chaos incarnate in a love triangle of our own making.” Felix laughed, leaning back as he munched another chip. “And who’d be next? Me? Hyunjin?” “I’d go last,” I admitted, smiling. “Want to make sure you two weren’t completely insane first.” We all laughed again, and for a moment, the two maknaes’ absence faded. The three of us sat there, imagining messy, impossible, ridiculous love triangles that would never exist—but were fun to picture anyway.
We settled into a comfortable silence after that, the kind that comes from laughing, imagining, and knowing we’d survived each other’s teasing. Felix munched the last of his chips, Changbin sprawled lazily on the couch, and I just leaned back, letting the quiet settle over us. “Messy, impossible… but kind of fun,” I said softly, almost to myself. “Exactly,” Felix said, nodding with a grin. “Better to imagine it than actually live it.” Changbin let out a low chuckle. “Yeah. Hannie’s lucky he doesn’t have to deal with us in a trio. The poor kid would be terrified.” I laughed, feeling the tension from the week fade, if only a little. Somehow, just sitting here with these two—watching, talking, imagining—it felt like a little safe space. No drama, no panic attacks, just us and the ridiculous scenarios we could dream up. For now, that was enough.