Chapter Text
The emergency room waiting area was too bright.
Chan had been sitting there long enough for the fluorescent lights to start hurting his eyes, the faint electrical buzz overhead drilling into the quiet like a constant reminder that time was still moving even though everything inside him felt frozen.
Hospitals always smelled the same.
Sterile.
Sharp.
Scentless.
A mixture of antiseptic cleaner, scent dampers sprayed throughout and something faintly metallic that clung to the back of the throat and made breathing feel strange.
Chan sat hunched forward in one of the plastic chairs, his elbows resting on his knees and his hands clasped so tightly together that the knuckles had turned white.
He hadn’t realized he was doing it until the nurse at the desk had quietly slid a cup of water toward him.
He hadn’t touched it.
The ambulance ride had been a blur.
Monitors.
Numbers.
Short clipped exchanges between the paramedics that sounded calm but carried an urgency Chan could feel in his bones.
Seungmin’s breathing had steadied somewhat after they administered the medication meant to counteract the suppressant overload, but he still hadn’t woken up.
Not once.
Chan had tried speaking to him during the ride.
“Seungmin, hey… you’re okay.”
Nothing.
Just the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath the oxygen mask.
Chan scrubbed a tired hand over his face, almost as if trying to scrub away that image from his brain.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Fast.
Uneven.
The waiting room doors burst open.
“Channie hyung!” Jisung’s voice had called out, the others right behind him.
Chan stood immediately. Six anxious faces looked back at him.
Changbin stepped forward first. “Hyung. Where is he?”
“They took him straight back to emergency,” Chan said quietly.
Felix’s hands twisted together nervously.
“Is he awake?”
Chan shook his head.
“No.”
Jisung inhaled sharply.
“…Did they say what they’re doing?”
Chan exhaled slowly.
“They’re stabalising him.”
Hyunjin stepped closer.
“What does that mean exactly?”
“They gave him something in the ambulance to counteract the suppressant reaction,” Chan explained, his voice low and steady despite the exhaustion pressing into his shoulders. “A stimulant to support his breathing and slow down the systemic effects of the suppressants.”
Minho furrowed his brow, “Systemic?”
Chan nodded. “If the dose is too high it gets to the nervous system, breathing, heart rate, blood pressure all that stuff. Sort of all gets shot to hell.”
The room fell silent.
Changbin rubbed the back of his neck.
“So what are they doing now?”
Chan swallowed, like he was ery carefully choosing his next words.
“They inserted a gastric tube.”
Jeongin looked wide eyed and confused. “What?”
“They’re pumping his stomach,” Chan said softly, almost a whisper.
Jisung blinked rapidly.
“Pumping his stomach! It’s-It’s really that bad?”
Chan nodded solemnly, “They don’t know when he last took the pills. If there’s still suppressant in his stomach they want it out before it absorbs any further.”
Changbin ran both hands through his hair.
“Jesus.”
“They also started an IV line,” Chan added. “Fluids to dilute what’s already in his bloodstream and stabilize his electrolytes.”
Minho’s voice was quiet.
“And the injection?”
Chan’s jaw tightened.
“They’re trying to identify exactly what it was.”
Felix swallowed.
“Is he still unconscious?”
Chan nodded.
“Yes.”
The waiting room fell quiet again.
Jisung sank into one of the chairs, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.
Changbin paced a few steps away before turning back.
Minho leaned against the wall.
Felix hovered near Chan.
Hyunjin sat down heavily in one of the chairs, staring at his hands like he couldn’t quite recognize them.
Jeongin stood near the doorway, silent.
The quiet stretched.
Then Jeongin laughed.
It was sharp.
Wrong.
It sounded slightly maniacal.
Everyone turned toward him. He wasn’t smiling.
“Incredible,” he muttered.
Felix frowned. “Innie?”
Jeongin stepped forward slightly. “You know what’s actually incredible?”
No one answered.
His voice rose. “We yelled at him.” Silence fell instantly. Jisung shifted in his chair.
“Innie—” “No,” Jeongin cut him off sharply.
“He could barely stand.” His voice cracked slightly but he pushed through it.
“He looked like he was going to collapse and we stood there yelling at him about the nest like he’d committed some kind of crime.”
Felix’s eyes filled with tears again.
Jeongin looked around the room. “And the worst part?” His voice shook as he spoke.
“We thought we were justified.”
No one moved.
Jeongin continued. “We thought we were protecting the pack.” His gaze flicked between them.
“And then we find out he’s an omega.”
The word hung heavy in the air. Hyunjin’s shoulders tensed and Jeongin shook his head.
“And suddenly everyone feels guilty.”
His voice sharpened.
“But that shouldn’t matter.”
Felix blinked.
“Innie…”
“No,” Jeongin said firmly.
“It shouldn’t matter if he’s an omega.”
He gestured toward the hallway.
“It shouldn’t matter if he’s a beta.”
His voice rose.
“It shouldn’t even matter if he was an alpha.”
The words echoed slightly in the room.
“He’s part of this pack.”
No one spoke.
Jeongin’s eyes were bright now.
“Your pack is supposed to be the one place you can be vulnerable.”
His voice cracked.
“The one place you don’t have to hide when you’re struggling.”
He looked directly at Hyunjin.
“But instead we made him feel like he didn’t belong there.”
Hyunjin’s eyes lowered to the ground, not being able to look Jeongin in his eyes anymore.
Jeongin looked at the rest of them.
“He should have felt safest with us.”
His voice softened slightly.
“But instead we made him apologize for needing comfort.”
Felix wiped his eyes.
Jeongin swallowed hard.
“Do you realize how messed up that is?”
No one answered.
Jeongin shook his head slowly.
“I can’t sit here pretending the only problem is that he’s an omega.”
His voice hardened again.
“The problem is that we made one of our own feel like he had to leave the nest to deal with his pain alone.”
He gestured toward the emergency hallway.
“And now he’s in there.” His voice cracked again. “And we’re sitting out here wishing we had been nicer.”
Silence swallowed the room.
Jeongin stepped back.
“I need air.”
Felix blinked.
“Innie—”
But Jeongin was already walking toward the exit. The waiting room doors swung open. Then closed again behind him.
No one moved.
Hyunjin sat with his head bowed.
Changbin stared at the floor.
Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly.
Felix looked like he might start crying again.
Chan watched the closed door quietly.
Because Jeongin was right. So right.
The hospital doors slid shut behind Jeongin with a soft mechanical hiss.
The air outside was colder than he expected.
It hit his face sharply, clearing the sterile hospital smell from his lungs but doing nothing to calm the storm inside his chest.
The parking lot was mostly empty, the distant glow of streetlights casting long pale shadows across the asphalt. Somewhere nearby a car engine started, the low rumble echoing briefly before fading into the quiet night.
Jeongin walked a few steps away from the entrance before stopping near the curb.
He didn’t know where he was going.
He just knew he couldn’t sit in that waiting room anymore.
Not with the silence pressing down on him.
Not with the image of Seungmin lying unconscious on his bedroom floor repeating over and over in his mind.
His hands curled into the sleeves of his hoodie as he stared down at the pavement.
His chest felt tight.
Too tight.
He tried to take a slow breath.
It didn’t work.
“Stupid,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair.
The anger that had carried him out of the waiting room had burned off quickly, leaving behind something much heavier.
Fear.
And something else.
Something that made his throat ache.
He kicked lightly at a small pebble near his shoe, sending it skittering across the pavement.
Even squeezing his eyes shut didn’t wipe away the image of Seungmin, he had looked so small as they had loaded him into the ambulance.
What if–
The hospital doors opened again behind him.
Jeongin wiped quickly at his face with the back of his sleeve before turning slightly.
Chan had stepped out, his hands in his hoodie pockets, his shoulder bunched up to his ears, weather due to the wind or anxiety, Jeongin could not tell.
For a moment he didn’t say something, just walked up and stood next to Jeongin. The both of them standing in silence.
Their headlights flashed briefly across the pavement before disappearing again.
Chan spoke quietly.
“You okay?”
Jeongin let out a short breath that almost sounded like a laugh.
“No.”
Chan nodded once.
“Yeah.”
Another quiet stretch passed. Jeongin kicked at another pebble.
“I shouldn’t have left.”
Chan shook his head gently.
“You needed air.”
“I yelled at everyone,” Jeongin muttered.
“They probably deserved it.”
Jeongin huffed weakly.
“That’s not the point.”
Chan leaned back slightly against the railing beside the walkway.
His voice stayed calm.
“You were scared.”
Jeongin didn’t answer. Chan glanced at him.
“You’re allowed to be scared, Innie.”
The nickname made something twist painfully in Jeongin’s chest.
“I don’t…I don’t think I can afford to be scared right now.”
Chan shook his head. “No. That’s not how this works. Just because you see others being vulnerable down’t mean you don’t get to be. You don’t have to be this all strong person all the team.”
Chan’s hands came up to Jeongin’s shoulders, “You’re allowed to break down sometimes, you’re allowed to be scared.”
Jeongin felt his eyes well up.
“Why wasn’t he allowed to be scared then?”
He could almost feel the flinch from Chan, feel the way his hands tightened then promptly loosened around his shoulders.
He knew he was right, he hated that he was though.
“I know, we screwed up. But we’ll make it better.” Chan spoke in way that felt as if he was convincing himself more than the younger.
Jeongin’s shoulders sagged. “What if he wakes up and hates us?”
Chan looked toward the hospital building.
“He won’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” Chan admitted quietly. “I don’t.”
Jeongin’s chest tightened again.
Chan continued after a moment.
“But I do know Seungmin.”
Jeongin glanced at him.
Chan’s expression was tired but steady.
“He loves us.”
“Even when we’re idiots.”
That earned a weak huff from Jeongin.
Chan nudged his shoulder lightly.
“He’ll yell at us first.”
Jeongin sniffed slightly.
“He should. We’d deserve it.”
Chan huffed as well. The two of them stood there quietly again.
Then Chan straightened slightly.
“I actually came out here for another reason.”
Jeongin looked up.
“What?”
Chan rubbed the back of his neck. “The nurse said, that when Seungmin wakes up he might need some things from home.
Jeongin frowned faintly.
“Like what?”
“Clothes” Chan said. “His toothbrush, things like that.”
Jeongin’s gaze dropped again.
Chan continued gently.
“Maybe his hoodie.”
“A blanket.”
“Whatever makes him comfortable.”
Jeongin understood immediately.
Chan was giving him something to do.
Something useful.
Instead of just sitting and waiting.
Chan looked at him carefully.
“Do you think you could go grab that stuff?”
Jeongin nodded before he could second guess it.
“Yeah.”
Chan’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Good.”
Chan took out his car keys handing them off to the younger, Jeongin wiped at his face one more time.
“I’ll be quick.”
Chan reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly.
“Drive safe.”
Jeongin nodded.
Then he turned and headed toward the parking lot exit.
The dorm was quiet when Jeongin stepped in, too quiet.
There was a sense of plain wrong ness that hung in the air.
No music from someone’s room.
No laughter.
No voices arguing over snacks in the kitchen.
Just silence.
Jeongin slipped off his shoes slowly before walking down the hallway.
Seungmin’s room door was half open.
He pushed it gently.
The room looked exactly the same as it had just a few hours ago. Like it was frozen in some distorted picture of a horror scene.
The bed was still pristinely made but the floor was a mess.
Wet towels they had used in a vain attempt to dry away Seungmin. Spilled water and muddy footprints spread out.
Jeongin walked inside slowly.
His chest tightened again.
He opened the dresser first, pulling out a few comfortable things.
Sweatpants.
A hoodie.
A soft long sleeve shirt.
He folded them quickly and placed them in a small bag.
Just as he was thinking of what else could be useful, he made the mistake of turning around, his eyes falling onto the still open bathroom door. The bathtub was empty now, Minho had pulled out the drain stopper. But the floor was still a mess, the worst was the tiny corner of the countertop, the small streak of blood caught Jeongin’s eye.
And before he could stop himself he was walking in, grabbing one of the many handtowels on the ground, still wet, he scrubbed at the stain, uncaring of the edges of his sweatpants getting wet now.
The blood there had dried already so it took a bit of scrubbing to get it out, just enough that the wetness in his eyes had come back. It was only when the stain was fully and truly gone that he realised he was crying, sobbing in fact.
He tossed the towel before heading back into the room. Shaking, he took a seat at the bed, letting the tears flow down his cheeks.
He gave himself one minute, sixty seconds to wallow and curse at the universe before he wiped away at his face and got back up, going back into the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush, finding his charger, little things that Seungmin would definitely want.
When he turned back toward the bed his gaze landed on something sitting near the pillow.
Daengmo.
That silly little dog plushie that his hyung loved so much.
Jeongin walked over slowly and picked it up.
The fabric was soft from years of being handled.
He remembered teasing Seungmin about it once.
“Hyung, you’re too old to sleep with stuffed animals.”
Seungmin had just rolled his eyes.
“Mind your business.”
Jeongin swallowed hard.
His fingers tightened slightly around the toy.
“Hyung…” he whispered.
The word trembled.
Images flashed through his mind again.
Seungmin in the ambulance.
Pale.
Unmoving.
Breathing through an oxygen mask.
Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut.
“What if you don’t wake up?” he whispered hoarsely.
The thought made his chest seize painfully.
His shoulders started shaking before he could stop them.
A small broken sound escaped his throat.
Then another.
Jeongin lowered his head, clutching the plushie tightly against his chest as the tears came again.
“Please wake up,” he whispered through the sobs.
“Please… hyung.”
Jeongin had come back with a duffel bag in one hand and Daengmo clutched in the other. Everyone recognised it immediately, no one said anything about it.
Time dragged.
It felt like hours.
It was probably less than thirty minutes.
The doors to the emergency ward finally opened.
Everyone looked up at once.
A nurse stepped out, scanning the waiting area briefly before her eyes landed on them.
“Family of Kim Seungmin?”
All of them stood immediately.
Chan stepped forward first. “Yes.”
The nurse gave a small, reassuring nod.
“He’s stable.”
The words hit all at once.
Felix let out a shaky breath that turned into a quiet sob of relief. Jisung dropped his head forward, pressing his hands over his face. Changbin exhaled heavily, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Minho’s shoulders loosened slightly. Jeongin hugged the plushie like he was hugging Seungmin. Hyunjin didn’t move, but his head lifted just enough for his eyes to lock onto the nurse.
Chan spoke carefully. “Can you tell us what happened?”
The nurse nodded, gesturing for them to sit if they needed, but none of them did.
“He was brought in with signs of acute suppressant overload,” she explained, her tone professional but gentle. “From what we can tell, there was a combination of high-dose oral suppressants and an injectable compound in his system.”
Felix’s fingers tightened.
“So it was… too much? An overdose?” Jisung asked quietly.
“Yes,” the nurse said. “His body was essentially overwhelmed. His breathing was suppressed, his heart rate was unstable, and he was showing signs of neurological depression, which is why he lost consciousness.”
Changbin swallowed hard.
“Is he… is he okay now?”
“He’s out of immediate danger,” she reassured. “We were able to remove any remaining medication from his stomach, and he’s currently on IV fluids to help flush the rest out of his system. His breathing has stabilized, and his vitals are responding well.”
Chan nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
“And his head?” Minho asked. “He hit his head.”
The nurse nodded. “We’ve cleaned and dressed the wound. It’s a minor concussion, no signs of skull fracture or internal bleeding from what we can see so far, but we’ll continue to monitor him closely.”
Hyunjin’s voice came out hoarse. “So, we can go see him?”
The nurse’s expression softened slightly.
“He’s not conscious right now. His body has been through a lot,” she said. “Between the suppressant effects, the counteractive medication we administered, and general exhaustion, it’s not unusual for him to remain unconscious for a while.”
Felix’s eyes filled again.
“How long is a while?”
“It’s hard to say exactly,” she admitted. “A few hours, possibly longer. Right now, rest is the most important thing for him.”
A quiet silence settled over them.
Then she added gently, “You can see him, if you’d like. Just… keep it quiet. He needs as much rest as possible.”
No one hesitated.
“Yes,” Chan said immediately.
The nurse gave a small nod.
“Follow me.”
The walk down the hallway felt too long.
The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, each step echoing softly against the polished floors. The sounds of distant monitors and muffled voices drifted through the corridor, but everything felt muted, like the world had been turned down.
The nurse stopped in front of a door.
She pushed it open gently.
“He’s in here.”
They stepped inside.
And everything stopped.
Seungmin lay in the hospital bed, still and pale against the white sheets.
The harsh brightness of the hospital lights made his skin look almost too light, his dark hair pushed back away from his forehead where a clean bandage now covered the cut at his temple. A clear oxygen cannula rested beneath his nose, thin tubing looping around his ears. Wires trailed from beneath the blanket, leading to the monitor beside him, which beeped steadily in a quiet, rhythmic pattern.
IV lines ran into his arm, clear fluid dripping slowly through the tubing.
For a moment, no one moved.
Felix’s breath hitched softly.
“Oh my god.”
He stepped forward slowly, like he was afraid that moving too quickly might somehow disturb him.
Jisung followed, his eyes wide as he took everything in.
Changbin stood at the foot of the bed, his hands clenched at his sides. Jeongin at his side, needing the comfort of his steady hyung.
Minho’s gaze moved carefully over every detail, assessing, grounding himself in the fact that Seungmin was breathing.
Hyunjin didn’t step forward at first.
He stayed near the door.
Like he didn’t deserve to be closer.
Chan approached the bedside quietly, his movements slow and careful.
“Hey, Min,” he murmured softly.
No response.
Just the steady rise and fall of his chest.
Felix moved closer, his hand hovering for a moment before gently wrapping around Seungmin’s fingers.
They were warmer now.
Still not warm enough.
Felix let out a shaky breath.
“He’s… he’s breathing okay,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.
Jisung nodded quickly.
“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”
Changbin swallowed hard, his voice low.
“He looks so… small.”
Minho glanced at him briefly, then back at Seungmin.
“He always did when he slept,” he said quietly.
Hyunjin finally moved.
Slowly.
He stepped closer to the bed, each step hesitant, like he was crossing a line he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.
When he reached the side, he stopped.
His eyes locked onto Seungmin’s face.
The bandage.
The pale skin.
The stillness.
His chest tightened painfully.
“Hey,” he whispered.
His voice barely made a sound.
“I’m here.”
Seungmin didn’t move.
Hyunjin’s hand hovered uncertainly above the edge of the bed before slowly, carefully, he rested it near Seungmin’s arm.
Not quite touching.
Like he was afraid to.
“I didn’t mean what I said earlier,” he murmured, his voice trembling slightly despite how quiet it was. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
The monitor continued its steady rhythm.
Felix wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.
Chan reached out and adjusted the blanket slightly over Seungmin’s shoulder.
Changbin looked away for a moment, blinking hard.
Minho stayed quiet, his presence steady but heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Hyunjin swallowed, his gaze never leaving Seungmin.
“You have to wake up,” he whispered. “So we can fix this.”
“Please hyung.” Jeongin’s voice was barely a whisper but it still cut through everyone’s heart.
The room fell into a quiet, fragile silence.
The only sound was the soft, steady beeping of the monitor.
Proof that he was still there.
Still fighting.
Still theirs.
Waking up felt a little like coming up from under water, everything felt muddled.
His senses came to in stages. The first thing he recognised was the quiet.
Not the kind of quiet that felt peaceful.
The kind that pressed in on his ears, thick and unnatural, broken only by the soft, rhythmic beeping of a monitor somewhere to his left.
It took him a moment to realise he was awake.
His body felt… wrong.
Heavy, like his limbs didn’t quite belong to him, like someone had replaced his muscles with something slower, denser. There was a dull ache spreading through his chest, his arms, his head—especially his head. Something throbbed steadily at his temple, sharp enough to make his eyes squeeze shut again.
He inhaled slowly.
The air smelled sterile.
Hospital.
The thought landed without panic. Just… recognition.
He tried to move.
A mistake.
Pain flared immediately, not overwhelming, but enough to make his breath hitch slightly, his fingers twitching weakly against the sheets.
That tiny movement didn’t go unnoticed.
“—Min?”
The voice was soft. Careful.
Seungmin’s eyes fluttered open.
The world came into focus slowly, edges blurred at first before sharpening into something clearer.
Seven figures.
All of them there.
Chan sat closest to the bed, leaning forward in his chair like he hadn’t moved in hours, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped tightly together. His eyes were already on Seungmin, wide and searching.
Felix sat curled up on the couch near the window, blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, eyes red and puffy like he hadn’t stopped crying.
Jisung and Jeongin were on the floor beside the bed, backs against the wall, both of them looking like they hadn’t slept at all.
Changbin stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Minho leaned against the wall, expression unreadable but gaze sharp.
Hyunjin stood slightly apart from the others, closer to the window, like he didn’t trust himself to come any closer.
All of them broken out of a trance of some sort, eyes now focused on him.
Waiting.
For a long moment, no one moved.
No one spoke.
Seungmin blinked slowly, his gaze drifting from one face to another.
Taking them in.
There was something in all of their expressions.
Relief.
Fear.
Guilt.
It sat heavy in the room.
“Hey.”
His voice came out barely above a whisper, rough and dry like it hadn’t been used in hours.
Chan exhaled sharply, like he’d been holding that breath for too long.
“Hey,” he echoed, softer. “You’re awake.”
Seungmin nodded faintly.
Even that felt like too much effort.
Felix shifted on the couch, like he wanted to move closer but didn’t know if he should.
Jisung pushed himself up slightly from the floor.
“How do you feel?” he asked, voice quieter than usual, stripped of its usual brightness.
Seungmin thought about it.
There were too many answers.
None of them felt worth saying.
“Tired,” he settled on.
The same word again.
It hung in the air, heavier now.
No one smiled at it this time.
Changbin swallowed.
“That makes sense,” he said gently. “You’ve… been through a lot. I’ll call the doctor.”
He didn’t wait for an answer, just walked towards the door and peeked his upper body out, presumably wanting to call over a nurse or doctor but not wanting to leave the room.
His gaze had drifted to the ceiling.
The silence stretched again.
Uncomfortable.
Thick.
Like everyone was waiting for something else.
Anger.
Accusation.
Something.
But Seungmin didn’t give them anything.
No sharp words.
No frustration.
No reaction at all.
Just quiet.
Hyunjin shifted slightly where he stood, his fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve.
“You scared us.”
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Soft.
Unsteady.
Seungmin’s eyes flicked toward him for half a second.
Then away again.
“I’m sorry.” he said automatically.
The words hit harder this time.
Because they sounded… empty.
Like habit.
Not emotion.
Felix’s lip trembled slightly.
“No, Min that’s not—”
A knock at the door cut him off.
Everyone froze.
Then Chan straightened slightly. “Yeah?”
The door opened, and a nurse stepped inside, followed by a doctor.
They both paused briefly, taking in the number of people in the room, before their attention shifted to Seungmin.
“Oh, good,” the nurse said softly. “You’re awake.”
She moved closer to the bed, professional but gentle, already reaching for the monitor to check his vitals.
The doctor stood on the other side, flipping open a tablet.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Seungmin didn’t look at him.
“Fine.”
The nurse glanced at him briefly, like she didn’t believe that for a second, but didn’t push it.
“Let’s just check a few things, alright?”
She adjusted the cuff around his arm, the machine whirring quietly as it took his blood pressure.
The doctor shone a small light into his eyes.
“Follow the light for me.”
Seungmin did.
Slowly.
Obediently.
“Good,” the doctor murmured. “Pupil response is improving.”
He glanced at the tablet.
“Heart rate’s stabilised. That’s a good sign.”
Behind them, the others stayed completely still.
Watching.
Listening.
Trying to piece together everything they didn’t understand.
The nurse adjusted the IV line gently.
“You had a pretty severe reaction,” she said, voice calm but informative. “Your body was overwhelmed—combination of high-dose oral suppressants and what looks like an injectable stabiliser.”
His sluggish mind took a second to catch up to what was said, and then a moment of panic set in before he realised that someone must have told the others at this point, right?
No point in the whole charade anymore. No point in being the fucking balance.
The words landed like a weight.
No one interrupted.
“We had to clear your system,” the doctor added. “Administered a reversal agent, monitored your respiration, and yes—performed gastric decontamination to remove anything still in your stomach.”
Felix flinched slightly at that.
Seungmin didn’t react.
“Right now, your vitals are stable,” the nurse continued. “But your body’s still under a lot of stress. You need rest. A lot of it.”
Seungmin nodded faintly.
“…Okay.”
The doctor studied him for a moment longer.
“Any dizziness? Nausea? Pain?”
“…A bit.”
“Expected,” he said simply. “We’ll manage it.”
The nurse finished adjusting the monitors before stepping back slightly.
“Try not to move too much for now.”
There was a pause.
Then Seungmin reached for the nurse’s hand, getting her attention.
She leaned forward to hear him.
Then Seungmin spoke again.
So quietly they almost didn’t hear it.
“Can I… be alone?”
The room went completely still.
The nurse blinked slightly.
“Are you sure?” she asked gently.
“I just…” Seungmin swallowed. “I need quiet.”
That was all.
No accusation.
No explanation.
Just that.
Chan’s chest tightened.
But he nodded immediately.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “Of course.”
No one argued.
Even though it clearly hurt.
One by one, they began to move.
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Like leaving felt wrong, but staying felt worse.
Felix stood last from the couch, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.
Hyunjin didn’t look at Seungmin as he turned toward the door.
Jisung hovered for a second before following the others.
Changbin paused at the foot of the bed, then shook his head slightly and walked out.
Minho gave Seungmin one long look before leaving without a word.
Chan lingered.
Just for a second.
“We’re right outside,” he said quietly. “If you need anything.”
Seungmin didn’t look at him.
“Okay.”
Chan nodded once.
Then turned.
Jeongin was the last one left.
He stood near the side of the bed, clutching something in his hands.
For a moment, he didn’t say anything.
Then he stepped forward.
Slowly.
“Hyung.”
Seungmin’s eyes shifted toward him.
Jeongin placed the small plushie gently on the bed beside him.
The familiar dog plushie.
Daengmo.
“I brought this,” Jeongin said, voice thick despite how hard he tried to keep it steady. “From home. Thought it might help.”
Seungmin’s fingers twitched slightly against the sheets.
Jeongin swallowed.
“We’re really sorry.”
The words came out quiet.
But firm.
“We’ll… we’ll give you space,” he added. “Take as long as you need, okay?”
Seungmin looked at the plushie.
Then back at Jeongin.
For a second, something flickered in his eyes.
Something fragile.
“…Okay,” he whispered.
Jeongin nodded.
Then turned quickly before his expression could break, stepping out of the room and closing the door softly behind him.
The click echoed louder than it should have.
And just like that.
Seungmin was alone.
The machines continued their quiet, steady rhythm.
The room felt bigger.
Emptier.
Seungmin stared at the ceiling for a long time.
Then, slowly, carefully, he moved his hand.
Just enough.
His fingers brushed against the soft fabric of the plushie beside him.
And finally his hand curled around it.
The hallway outside Seungmin’s room felt heavier than before.
Not loud.
Not chaotic.
Just… dense.
Like everything that had happened in the last few hours was still sitting in the air, pressing down on their shoulders, making it harder to breathe, harder to think, harder to pretend any of this was normal.
No one spoke.
They had all settled into different corners of the hallway—some sitting, some standing, some pacing—but no one strayed too far from the door.
Like distance alone might somehow make things worse.
Hyunjin stood with his back against the wall, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor but not really seeing anything.
Felix sat hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together so tightly they trembled slightly.
Jisung leaned forward in his chair, fingers tangled in his hair, eyes red and unfocused.
Changbin paced.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
Minho stood still.
Watching.
Always watching.
Jeongin sat closest to the door.
Not touching it.
But close enough.
Like if something changed—if something happened—he’d be the first to know.
Chan stood a few steps away from all of them.
Silent.
Still.
But there was something different about him now.
The exhaustion was still there.
The fear was still there.
But underneath it—
Something sharper.
Something… simmering.
The elevator dinged softly down the hall.
No one reacted at first.
Until footsteps followed.
Quick.
Purposeful.
Familiar.
Chan’s head lifted first.
Then Minho’s.
Then the rest.
The manager rounded the corner a second later, slightly out of breath, his expression tight with something that tried—and failed—to look like concern.
“I came as soon as I heard—”
His voice cut off when he took in the group.
The silence.
The tension.
The way none of them moved to greet him.
“How is he?” he asked, slower this time.
Chan answered this time.
“He’s stable.”
A pause.
A nod.
“Good.”
The word felt wrong in the space.
Too light.
Too detached.
The manager stepped further into the room, already pulling out his phone, scrolling through something.
“Do we know what happened yet?”
Changbin’s jaw tightened slightly.
Chan spoke carefully.
“They said it was a suppressant overdose.”
The manager didn’t look surprised.
Not even a flicker.
“Right.”
That was it.
Just that.
Right.
The shift in the room was immediate.
Subtle.
But sharp.
Minho straightened slightly.
Hyunjin’s head lifted.
Jisung frowned.
Chan’s eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“…You knew?” he asked quietly.
The manager finally looked up.
His expression didn’t change.
“We had suspicions.”
Silence.
Heavy.
“What do you mean suspicions?” Jisung asked, his voice already tightening.
The manager sighed lightly, like he was being forced to explain something obvious.
“He’s been under more strain lately. Longer schedules. Increased public appearances. It’s not unusual for idols to… manage certain biological factors to maintain consistency.”
Felix blinked.
“…Manage?”
The word sounded foreign in his mouth.
Chan didn’t take his eyes off the manager.
“You knew he was on suppressants.”
It wasn’t a question.
The manager shrugged slightly.
“We were aware it was a possibility.”
“A possibility?” Changbin echoed, incredulous.
“He was taking high-dose suppressants,” Chan said, his voice dropping lower. “Injectables too, apparently.”
Still.
No reaction.
“If that’s the case,” the manager said, already moving on, “then we’ll need to be very careful about how this is handled publicly.”
That was it.
That was the moment.
Something snapped.
Hyunjin stood up abruptly.
“What?”
The manager continued like he hadn’t even spoken.
“We can’t have speculation about secondary dynamics getting out. Especially not unverified ones. It could damage the group’s image significantly.”
Jisung stared at him.
“Are you serious right now?”
Felix’s voice came out small but sharp.
“He almost died.”
“Yes,” the manager replied evenly. “Which is why we need to control the narrative before—”
Chan moved.
It was fast.
Too fast for anyone to react at first.
One second he was standing across the room.
The next–
His fist connected with the manager’s face.
A sharp crack echoed through the waiting room.
The manager stumbled back, caught completely off guard, his phone slipping from his hand and clattering onto the floor.
Everything froze.
For half a second.
Then.
“Hyung!”
Changbin moved immediately, grabbing Chan around the shoulders and pulling him back before he could step forward again.
Chan was shaking.
Actually shaking.
His chest rising and falling too fast.
His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
“You knew.”
His voice wasn’t loud.
That made it worse.
“You knew,” he repeated, staring at the manager like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “And you didn’t say anything.”
The manager touched his lip, wincing slightly, eyes flashing with something sharp now.
“You need to calm down.”
That was the wrong thing to say.
Chan surged forward again, but Changbin held him back firmly this time.
“Hyung—hyung, stop.”
“Calm down?” Chan laughed, the sound hollow and disbelieving. “He’s been poisoning himself and you’re talking about PR?”
“It was managed,” the manager snapped back, composure cracking slightly. “These things are monitored—”
“Wait.” Jeongin spoke finally. “Managed? You said you had suspensions.”
The room stilled again.
Minho pushed himself off the wall, stepping forward slowly.
Chan huffed out a humourless laugh, it sounded angry and hollow, enough to make Changin tighten his hold on the man.
“So they weren’t suspensions. You knew, you made him do it didn’t you?”
The manager’s jaw tightened.
“He didn’t report any adverse effects.”
This time the fist that connected with the manager’s face was Hyunjin.
“You orchestrated this whole thing. You were basically killing him you bastard!”
Minho pulled him back but the other’s kept their eyes on the manager, who now was holding up a handkerchief to his nose.
“You don’t understand, he is the balance, everything would fall apart if he was an omega, you really think a group with three omegas would have worked? Making him a beta was thing for stray kids.”
And that was enough.
The last straw.
Chan let out a slow, shaking breath.
“…Get out.”
The manager blinked.
“What?”
“I said get out,” Chan repeated, louder this time, his voice steadier but no less furious. “We’re done talking.”
“We don’t have time to delay—”
Chan shrugged out of Changin’s grip, his hands fisting in the manager’s suit.
“You are really lucky I havent ripped you apart limb from limb. So I suggest, take the chance I’m giving you to get out of my sight, before I actually kill you. My priority right now is Seungmin, only Seungmin.”
Not the company.
Not the image.
Not the damage control.
Seungmin.
Hyunjin finally looked back at the manager, his voice quiet but firm.
“Just… go.”
Felix didn’t say anything.
But the way he turned away said enough.
The manager looked between them.
Assessing.
Calculating.
Then finally, with a tight expression, he bent down, picked up his phone, and straightened.
“This isn’t over,” he said.
Chan didn’t even hesitate.
“I know.”
There was no fear in his voice.
Only anger.
And something far more dangerous.
Resolve.
The manager lingered for half a second longer.
Then turned.
And walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Silence filled the room again.
Changbin rested a hand on Chan’s shoulder.
“You good?”
Chan didn’t answer right away.
He just stared at the door for a long moment.
Then finally—
“No.”
Honest.
Raw.
But steadier than before.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“But I will be.”
His gaze shifted toward the hallway that led back to Seungmin’s room.
Where he was resting.
Alive.
Still here.
“We all will be,” Felix said quietly.
No one argued.
Because for the first time since all of this started—
They were finally on the same side of it.
And they weren’t going to let him go through it alone anymore.