Chapter Text
Kim Seungmin has always been good at holding himself together.
Too good.
That's what people say when they praise him—dependable, steady, the one you don't have to worry about. The one who shows up on time, remembers the details, keeps things running smoothly when everyone else is spiraling.
So when something starts to crack, it doesn't do it loudly.
It does it quietly.
Like today.
It starts during vocal practice. Nothing intense—just warm-ups, a few runs, refining harmonies for an upcoming recording. Seungmin stands at the mic, posture straight, headphones settled comfortably over his ears.
The first note comes out fine.
The second one does too.
By the third, his throat feels tight. Not strained—just... wrong. Like his breath isn't reaching where it's supposed to. He swallows and tries again.
Air goes in.
Sound barely comes out.
He blinks, surprised, then clears his throat softly. The room is quiet, the others waiting patiently. No pressure. No rush.
You're okay, he tells himself. Just dry throat.
He takes another breath.
The room tilts.
It's subtle at first—just a slight sway, like he's standing on something unstable. He grips the mic stand without thinking, fingers tightening around the metal.
"Seungmin?" Chan's voice comes through the headphones. "You good?"
"Yeah," Seungmin answers immediately. Too quickly. "Just—give me a second."
He lowers his head, pretending to adjust his stance, hoping no one notices how his vision blurs at the edges. The dizziness rolls in slow and heavy, paired with a dull pressure building behind his eyes.
Not again.
He waits it out like he always does. Counts his breaths. Focuses on the floor.
When he looks up, Felix is watching him.
Not casually. Not distracted.
Watching.
Seungmin forces a small smile and lifts his thumb in a quick thumbs-up gesture.
Felix doesn't smile back.
They resume practice, but Seungmin's timing is off. Just enough to be noticeable. His voice cracks once—barely audible—but it makes his chest tighten with frustration. He hates this. Hates feeling unreliable.
After the session ends, the others start filing out, talking among themselves. Seungmin moves slower, taking his time unplugging his headphones, hoping Felix will leave first.
He doesn't.
Felix waits until the room empties before speaking.
"Seungmin," he says gently, "you weren't okay just now."
Seungmin keeps his eyes on the cables. "I was fine."
"You almost lost your balance."
"I didn't."
Felix steps closer. "You grabbed the mic stand."
Silence.
Seungmin exhales through his nose, shoulders tense. "It's nothing. I just stood up too fast."
"You were already standing."
That makes him flinch.
Felix's voice softens. "How long has this been happening?"
Seungmin straightens, finally looking at him. His expression is calm—too calm. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Felix's jaw tightens, worry flashing openly now. "You've been spacing out. You skip meals. You get headaches. And today—"
"Stop," Seungmin says, sharper than he means to. He rubs his temples and sighs. "Please. I'm just tired. That's all."
Felix hesitates. "Then tell Chan-hyung."
"No."
The answer is immediate.
Felix blinks. "Why not?"
Because if he does, it becomes real. Because once it's said out loud, he can't pretend anymore. Because being the one who needs help feels... wrong.
Seungmin swallows. "He already worries enough."
Felix studies him, eyes searching his face. "And who worries about you?"
The question lands harder than anything else today.
Seungmin looks away.
"I can handle it," he says quietly.
Felix doesn't argue this time. He just nods, slowly, even though the concern never leaves his eyes.
"Okay," he says. "But if you feel dizzy again, you tell me. Even if you won't tell anyone else."
Seungmin gives a small, tired smile. "I will."
It's another lie.
But Felix stays beside him anyway as they leave the room, matching his pace, close enough to catch him—
Just in case.
The next day, Seungmin dragged himself onto the practice floor, every movement heavier than the last.
Even the simplest step made his head throb, a constant pressure he couldn't shake. His body felt like it might collapse at any moment. How many times have I messed up already? he thought, glancing at the others.
He hoped no one had noticed his struggle. But Minho's eyes seemed to linger on him longer than usual.
By the short break, Seungmin leaned against the wall, gulping water like it could wash the weariness from him.
"Seungmin, you okay?" Minho's voice cut through the haze.
Seungmin blinked, startled, and tried to focus. "Yeah... I'm fine," he said, his voice a bit too quiet.
Minho stepped closer, concern etched on his face. "You don't look fine. Your footwork's off, and you keep spacing out. What's going on?"
Seungmin forced a small laugh. "Really... it's nothing, Hyung. Just tired, that's all."
Minho didn't look convinced. "Come on, you can tell me. You don't have to hide it."
Seungmin shook his head, managing a faint smile. "I said I'm fine. Don't make a fuss about me, okay?"
Minho studied him for a moment, brows furrowed, before finally sighing. "Alright... but I'll be watching. Don't push yourself too hard."
Changbin returned, water in hand, and raised an eyebrow at the two. "What's happening here?"
"Nothing," Seungmin replied quickly, hiding the ache behind a calm tone. "Minho's just worrying too much, as always."
Inside, Seungmin knew the truth: he was the one acting strange, not Minho. But even with Changbin, he couldn't bring himself to admit it. Being the one who needed care... felt impossible. So he lied, just like he always did, and pushed the fatigue and pain aside, alone.