Chapter Text
The dorm was filled with the familiar, chaotic soundtrack of a home with three Littles. The scent of strawberry milk and vanilla hung heavy in the air, punctuated by the squeals of Jeongin playing with a toy truck and the soft babbling of Felix, who was currently curled up against Chan's side.
Jisung sat on the far edge of the sofa, his hands tucked firmly into his oversized hoodie sleeves. He was physically there, but mentally, he was miles away, fighting a battle that had been raging inside him since he was a child. To the rest of Stray Kids, Jisung was the loud, witty producer who occasionally got "cranky" or "introverted" around the Littles. They assumed he just didn't have the patience for the headspace.
In reality, his skin felt too tight. Every time he heard the soft pop of a pacifier or saw Hyunjin being rocked by Minho, a desperate part of Jisung's brain screamed to join them. But then, the echoes of his parents' voices would ring in his ears "Stop acting like a baby, Jisung. It's annoying. You're a burden when you're like this."
He had carried those words like a lead weight for years. He had hidden his softest blankets, his favorite plushie, and his single, hidden pacifier in the bottom of a locked drawer. He couldn't be a "burden" to the group.
But tonight, the weight felt unbearable. He was exhausted from a long day at the studio, and his "Big" self was fraying at the edges. He needed a hug. He needed someone to tell him it was okay to be small.
"Jisung, can you move your legs? I need to get Felix his bottle" Changbin said, stepping over a pile of blocks. His voice wasn't mean but was the tired tone of a caregiver who had been on his feet for twelve hours.
Jisung pulled his legs in tighter. "Sorry" he whispered.
He looked around the room. Chan was rubbing Felix's back, his eyes half-closed with fatigue. Minho was on the floor, patiently trying to keep a fussy Hyunjin from throwing a tantrum over a coloring book. Seungmin was in the kitchen, washing sippy cups.
Now, Jisung thought. If I don't say it now, I'll break.
He stood up, his knees shaking slightly. He walked over to the kitchen island where the caregivers were briefly congregating as they swapped tasks. Chan had just stood up to stretch his aching back, and Minho was heading to the fridge.
"Hyung?" Jisung's voice was small, smaller than he intended.
Chan looked up, blinking tiredly. "Yeah, Hannie? Is everything okay? If it's about the track revisions, can it wait until morning? My brain is fried."
"It's not about the music" Jisung said, his heart hammering against his ribs. He twisted the fabric of his shirt. "I....I wanted to talk to you guys about something. Something important."
Minho sighed, leaning against the counter. "Jisung, we're really exhausted right now. Innie just had a meltdown, and Lixie won't settle. Can this be a 'tomorrow' conversation?"
"It's about why I don't hang out with the Littles" Jisung pressed on, the desperation leaking into his tone. He felt the "slip" threatening to take over, his vision blurring slightly. "I'm not...I don't hate them. It's just...I'm like them. I'm a Little too."
The room went silent for a heartbeat. The only sound was the muffled cartoon playing on the TV in the background.
Chan didn't give him a hug. He didn't offer a warm smile. Instead, he rubbed his temples and let out a long, heavy breath. "Jisung, please. Not tonight."
"I'm serious, hyung" Jisung whispered, a tear pricking his eye. "I've been hiding it for a long time. I need-"
"What you need is to realize that we are at our limit" Seungmin interrupted, walking over with a tray of clean bottles. His voice was sharp with stress. "We already have three Littles to look after, Jisung. We are tired and have a lot of work to do. We don't need a fourth one."
Jisung flinched as if he had been slapped. The word burden flashed in his mind
"We love you, Jisung" Changbin added, though he didn't look up from the toy he was fixing. "But you're the one person we can usually count on to be an adult when things get chaotic. Don't start this right now just because you want attention. It's not the time."
"I don't want 'attention,'" Jisung choked out, his throat feeling like it was closing up. "I'm telling you who I am."
"And we're telling you we can't handle any more" Minho said, his voice firm. "Go to bed, Han. You're just tired. We'll talk when everyone is in a better mood."
Jisung stood there for a moment, feeling incredibly small, but not the good kind of small. He felt tiny, insignificant, and unwanted. He had opened his ribcage to show them his heart, and they had told him it was too much work to look at.
"Okay" Jisung whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being annoying."
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and walked down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He reached his room and shut the door, clicking the lock with a trembling hand. He collapsed onto his bed, the tears finally falling freely. He felt a deep, cold ache in his chest. His parents were right. He was a burden. He was a complication they didn't have space for.
With shaky hands, he reached under his bed and pulled out a small, plastic bin hidden behind some old shoe boxes. He opened it and pulled out a pale pink, fluffy blanket, the softest thing he owned. He wrapped it tightly around his shoulders, burying his face in the plush fabric.
Next, he pulled out a stuffed squirrel he had named 'Cheeky.' He squeezed it against his chest so hard his arms ached. Finally, he found his pacifier. It was a simple, white one, nothing fancy like the bright, decorated ones the other Littles had. He popped it into his mouth, the familiar suction immediately grounding him and forcing his breathing to slow down.
He crawled into the corner of his bed, pulling the covers over his head to create a dark, safe cave. He felt himself slipping further and further into his headspace, the world of "Big Jisung" fading away into a blur of hurt feelings and exhaustion.
In the dark, he sucked on his paci, the rhythmic movement soothing the sharpest edges of his pain. He felt so lonely. He imagined what it would be like if Chan hyung was here to rock him, or if Minho was humming a song to him. But the reality was a cold room and a locked door.
He sat in the middle of his bed, legs crossed, clutching Cheeky the squirrel to his chest.
Cheeky, Dada said no, he said with quite voice to his plushie, his mind processing their rejection through the filter of his headspace. Dada, Minmin, Binnie, and Minnie...they no want Hannie. Hannie too much.
He picked up a small toy car from the box, rolling it back and forth on the bedsheet. usually, he would make 'vroom vroom' noises, but tonight he was silent. He played alone in the dark, the only sound in the room being his occasional wet sniffle and the rhythmic suck of the pacifier.
He wanted a hug. He wanted someone to tuck him in. He wanted Minho to stroke his hair like he did for Felix. But he couldn't ask. He wasn't allowed.
Jisung curled onto his side, pulling his knees to his chest. He buried his face in the pink fluff of his blanket, hugging the squirrel so tight his knuckles turned white.
"M'sorry" he mumbled around the pacifier into the darkness, apologizing to everyone and no one. "M'sorry m'bad."
Eventually, exhaustion overtook the heartbreak. Jisung fell asleep curled in a tight ball, tears drying on his cheeks, hiding under his pink blanket.