Archive of Our Own

I.

"The one who's eliminated is--" 

No. 

Please no.

Stop.

Seungmin can't breathe. 

"-Minho."

JYP's recorded voice trickles through earbuds given to each Stray Kids member. Everyone laughs, chuckles, claps Minho on the back, banters loudly, cracks jokes to lighten the mood. Everyone except Seungmin. Eyes locked on the screen, Seungmin watches as clips replay from a haunting day, a dreadful memory that he can't erase.

The day Minho's eliminated. 

Before Seungmin can even process the slow-motion knife slitting across his throat, the edited video jumps ahead to Seungmin breaking down during the solo interview. A sledgehammer strikes across his skull. Rips out his vocal cords too, because he isn't allowed to scream. Everyone playfully teases Seungmin, reaching over to jostle his shoulder or ruffle his hair, cooing about how Seungmin cares for Minho so much.

"Of course, he does," Minho scoffs. The faux abrasive sound softens with a charming smirk and wink. Minho brushes the back of his knuckles down Seungmin's cheek. "After all, how can our puppy ever live without me?"

'I can't,' Seungmin wants to say. Seungmin wants to cry. Seungmin wants to tear off the earbuds, storm over to the screen, raise it above his head, smash it on the ground into a mayhem of glass and metal smithereens, yell at whoever thought it'd make good content for Stray Kids to react to this part of their past. Again. 

How many fucking times do these interviews and shows insist on revisiting this? There's a million other recorded moments in their history. But why this memory? Why the one memory that Seungmin already knows by every word, every silence, every tear, every pixel?

Loathsome night terrors spanning over years are already more than enough to engrave each detail into Seungmin's mind. This memory cuts deeper than his fingernails breaking palm lines, and carves him more achingly hollow than a slaughtered appetite. Seungmin doesn't need to see the memory again with his group members, and dozens of cameras surrounding them. Not when Seungmin obsessively digs up archaic clips online, and rewatches Minho's elimination.

Sometimes past ungodly hours at night, Seungmin will lay in bed, and let the audio drown him through headphones. He can recite every fragile word, every hitched breath, every stifled sob, every broken laugh. He can even count the seconds of silence between Chan giving Minho comforting words, and Minho finally breaking into tears. 

Maybe it'll hurt less the more times Seungmin replays those clips. Maybe it'll inject enough numbing chemicals into his veins until Seungmin can't feel the terror, the cannibalistic grief. It's like how Seungmin doesn't bat an eye at horror game jump scares. He stares right at those digital ghosts, beasts and monsters repeatedly until his neurons don't spark even the slightest reaction.

But rewatching the elimination today proves that Seungmin's tactics haven't done shit. He still feels too much of everything. Clenching his fist, blood gathers under Seungmin's nails when his own recorded voice grates at his ears.

Seungmin presses his burning hands flat on his knees, so he doesn't clench them into fists with a thousand hawkeye lenses on him. Through the rips in his black jeans, Seungmin's exposed knees char from crescent moon scars on his palms. They burn almost as much as Minho's fingers brushing down his cheek one more time. Nothing scorches like this tenderness. Tears threaten to rise, and rupture a catastrophic typhoon that won't spare any of them.

But Seungmin is a professional. He sifts through the mental inventory of countless expressions he's painstakingly crafted, including a wide array of smiles. After choosing the perfect smile for this situation, Seungmin paints it on. He even chooses a pre-recorded laugh to complement the smile. 

"Yeah, I don't know what I'd do without his cooking." Seungmin pretends to bite Minho's fingers.

"Hey!" Minho lightly swats at Seungmin's shoulder. In spite of scowling, there's still fondness in his gaze. Minho can barely hold back an amused grin. "You only want me for my food?"

Seungmin's supposed to answer, "And when you treat me to coffee." Or maybe something cheeky, a little coy like, "You know what else I want you for." Throw in some bedroom eyes that's a step away from being edited out, and landing on the cutting room floor.

But Seungmin misses the cue for an iconic punchline. An overflowing well of emotions corrode his voice until all Seungmin can do is just stare at Minho. He's beautiful. He's right next to Seungmin. He's here. 

But for how long? 

How much longer until Minho's gone again? 

What if next time, he doesn't come back? 

As the light dims in Seungmin's gaze, buried grief rises to the surface of tired, haunted browns. Seungmin doesn't know how to look at Minho without feeling as if he's already lost him. Heart, lungs, spider web of capillaries, and anything else in Seungmin's chest vanishes into a swirling void of quicksand. 

From years of idol training hardwired into his body, and knowing that every second is being recorded, Minho holds the mildly agitated expression. He plays his part of being playfully stern. And yet something subtly flickers in Minho's eyes. It's too nuanced for any cameras to catch. But to Seungmin, his stare screams worry and confusion.

"Our Lee Know's the best cook ever!" Sitting in the raised row behind Minho, Changbin throws his arms around the dancer, and nearly chokes him. "Top star chef right here. Gourmet everything!"

"What're you gonna make for dinner tonight?" Jisung tugs on Minho's sleeve over and over. "Tteokbokki? Pasta? Fried rice? All the above?"

"You're all human vacuums, I swear-" Minho wheezes while still trapped in Changbin's doting headlock.

Half of the group tries to help Minho out of Changbin's wrestling. The other half joins Jisung's enthusiastic dinner interrogation. Seungmin's grateful for the upbeat chaos that distracts Minho from Seungmin bleeding a mess of grotesque vulnerability out in the open. Minho's smiling, Minho's laughing. It's so precious that Seungmin's chest aches.

At the same time, Seungmin's mind overlays spliced frames of Minho's tearful eyes as he tries to hold a smile. Minho's the one who's eliminated, but he's still reassuring the group. Even reassuring Seungmin. "It's okay. Everything's going to be okay." Seungmin's body scalds with echoes of that final embrace on stage. His right shoulder blade bristles with invisible tremors from Minho's hand. Every tremble stains Seungmin's clothes with heartbreak and anguish.

Before Seungmin chokes on a gunpowder sob, and ruins this shoot, his mind slams the siren red emergency button. Seungmin leaves his body. Autopilot switches on. Some will say this is disassociation. Seungmin will just say it's doing whatever it takes to be the best bandmate, the best idol, to be perfect for their fans. Like muscle memory of falling into a choreo rehearsed a million times, Seungmin joins the camaraderie, the banter, the laughter. 

He doesn't know whose voice leaves his mouth. But it sounds real enough to everyone else, and that's all that matters.

Filming wraps up. A chorus of thank you's and great work's circle around. Mics off. Getting ready to leave. 

Slowly, Seungmin returns to his body. Like adjusting a telescope's magnifying lens, fuzzy shapes and dull colors sharpen into vibrant focus. Sounds reach Seungmin clearly rather than someone yelling at him while Seungmin's alone at the bottom of a swimming pool. His voice almost sounds like his own again. The curve of his smile still feels store-bought, made with too much artificial sugar, but that's okay. It's a smile that wins a fit of shy giggles out of Felix, and encourages Jeongin to playfully poke Seungmin's side.

In the future when Seungmin watches today's recording, he'll see nothing out of the ordinary with himself. Nobody's better than Seungmin at playing this rehearsed role. Different scripts for different roles-- the perfect son, perfect brother, perfect student, perfect friend, perfect trainee, perfect group member, perfect idol. 

Seungmin knows how to perform all these roles so well that he forgets where the real Seungmin begins and the script ends. It's better that way. Keeps Seungmin from being selfish, from being his real self, and burdening everyone with his damage, his fears, his poorly sutured wounds.

After Minho's elimination, Seungmin hones this skill into a mastered art form. Minho's gone, but the cameras are still around, the elimination show still goes on, and Seungmin needs to be okay, needs to take care of everyone, needs to prove he's good enough to be an idol, needs to earn his place in Stray Kids, needs to keep his shit together, needs to never be a burden his group, needs to-

"Seungmin, do you wanna talk?"

Blinking slowly, Seungmin only realizes now that Chan's standing near him, and massaging his shoulder. Chan's thumb strokes the nape of Seungmin's neck in a way that's always been soothing, since their pre-debut days. Maybe Seungmin isn't fully anchored back in himself yet. 

There's only patient love and kindness in Chan's warm gaze. But like a flock of ravens startled into abrupt flight, shadows of dread flicker in those eyes.

Seungmin almost asks if Chan wants to talk. After rewatching Minho's elimination, and making commentary along the way, the group sees Felix's elimination too. Back when Seungmin lives through that fucking awful, heartwrenching day, Seungmin only hears fragments of what Chan says to Felix. He's too lost in wrestling an impending panic attack to catch more than a few words here and there.

But today, Seungmin hears everything. 'Always find me, yeah?' And Seungmin hears Chan fighting to keep his words, his heart from breaking even more. 'I'm not gonna leave you behind.'

Shame incinerates Seungmin. Part of him wishes he can return to blissful ignorance, and not understand a single word Chan tells Felix that day. There's only gallons of salt pouring into open knife gashes while listening to how Chan's voice cracks under the weight of guilt, and Felix sobbing between fragile gasps. 

Seungmin wants to ask how Chan can look at Felix without wondering when he'll lose Felix again. Or Minho too. Or any of them. Doesn't Chan wonder if this is the last birthday they celebrate together? Last Christmas, last Chuseok, last Halloween, last photoshoot, last time on stage, last "g'night, see you tomorrow"? How does Chan breathe with that heavy lead weight sinking into the bottom of his lungs? Or does he not have that at all? Isn't Chan scared? 

But Seungmin isn't cruel. He won't rip open Chan's wounds, and eviscerate him with those hideous, terrifying questions.

"Thank you, hyung." Seungmin grasps Chan's hand. Squeezes it almost too tight. 'Thank you for fighting for us. Thank you, hyung, thank you so fucking much for bringing them back.' 

None of the members know truly how or why Minho and Felix were allowed to return. But Seungmin knows there's no way it could've happened without Chan intervening. 

"I'm okay. Really." For his beloved leader and hyung, Seungmin strives for his best, reassuring smile. "Probably just a little tired, but I'll catch up on sleep tonight."

In weighted silence, Chan stares at Seungmin for a long moment. An universe of unfathomable emotions sweep through those browns. Seungmin's tempted to rip his gaze away, but he doesn't want to alarm or worry Chan even more. Fire consumes Seungmin as Chan embraces him. It's never just a simple, fleeting hug from Chan. But an iron cage of protection, a hearth glowing warmly at home. As tears burn behind his eyes, Seungmin returns the hug.

The quiet breaks as Chan murmurs, "I'm here for you. Always."

Acidic guilt churns sickeningly inside of Seungmin's stomach. Fuck him for worrying Chan when this man has a million other more important things to worry about. Chan already has to focus on projects, tracks, deadlines, schedules, taking care of the members, the list never ends. How dare Seungmin throw himself onto that list? 

It's all the more reason why Seungmin never talks to anyone in the group about the eliminations. Everyone else seems over it. So, Seungmin should be over it too, right? And how can he be so fucking selfish? Minho and Felix were the ones hurt the most. Seungmin doesn't have any right to make those eliminations about his own pain.

"Same here, hyung." Seungmin cranks up the voltage on his mega-watt smile. "I've always got your back." He hugs Chan a little tighter, then walks away before he can do anymore damage. 

Seungmin feels Chan's eyes lingering on him, but fights the impulse to turn around. Top-notch singing, dancing, performing are the standard baseline of what's expected of a great idol. But Seungmin learns early on that being a great idol also means not burying his members with his fears, anxieties, sadness, this repulsive turmoil swarming inside. 

Luckily, Seungmin has experience from years of not troubling his family. They're busy. They've got their own lives. They come home after a long, hard day. Or maybe they're finally having a good day after weeks of exhausting days. Seungmin isn't going to ruin that.

Seungmin won't tell his family that he skips lunch, because when his childhood best friend moves away, Seungmin loses the boy he'd eat lunch with on the rooftop, the boy who threw the most challenging, thrilling pitches for Seungmin to hit, the boy who made Seungmin laugh, the boy who made Seungmin forget how school was relentlessly worse than Dante's Inferno.

And Seungmin won't tell his family about the homeroom teacher who doesn't give up on Seungmin, no matter how much Seungmin struggles with numbers. This teacher tutors Seungmin so well that he actually scores best in his class. Seungmin won't tell his family how this teacher's the first and only adult to protect Seungmin from vicious, inhumane bullies. That teacher even fights for Seungmin against the faculty, parents, anyone that sees Seungmin as the problem, the mistake, the one who's wrong, because Seungmin's a boy that likes boys. Seungmin cries night after night when his favorite teacher's forced to transfer, sobbing so hard into his pillow that he can't breathe anymore.

Seungmin won't tell his family about why the baseball team ostracizes him. Or how he gives his blood and tears to being an idol trainee, because yes, of course, Seungmin loves singing, but also yes, please, please, he needs a life line, he wants to walk towards the stage, not the rooftop ledge. 

Seungmin doesn't tell his family any of that. Instead he's the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect boy who makes sure the house is clean, the laundry is folded, the meals are made, and the grades are flawless. All Seungmin wants is to make everyone's lives easier.

He exhales in relief once hearing Hyunjin start light-heartedly chatting with Chan. Good. Hyunjin will lift up Chan's spirits, and Chan won't waste his time anymore worrying about Seungmin.

Just when Seungmin thinks he's in the clear, he's ambushed. Mercilessly, brutally. The affectionate tackle hug from Minho almost sends them both collapsing onto the ground.

"Seungmin!" Minho throws his arms around Seungmin from behind, and leans on him with his whole body weight. "My Seungmin." Minho's smile brushes against Seungmin's cheek. "I'm glad you like my cooking. I'll make whatever you want for dinner next time, yeah?"

Without any cameras and the public eye around, Minho's affection specially tailored for Seungmin runs rampant and free. No need to play up the cat and mouse dynamic when it's just them. Minho squeezes more oxygen out of Seungmin with the tightening hug, and nuzzles him with an elated sigh. 

Seungmin strains to listen to that delighted sound instead of hearing replayed echoes of Minho's stifled sobs. His hand brushes over Minho's hand resting on his chest. Just so Seungmin can trace his skin, his veins, the curves of his knuckles. Seungmin exhales softly at feeling how Minho's still here with him. Vulture talons hungrily scratching inside of his ribcage begin to quell.

"I'll help you cook." Playfully, Seungmin nudges their heads together. "You don't have to do it alone, hyung. But I'll do my best not to distract you."

A rush of scarlet sweeps over Minho's face. With a huff, Minho pretends to chomp at Seungmin's shoulder. "Why can't you be sweet to me on camera?"

Laughing at Minho's antics, Seungmin feels throes of endearment ache inside of his chest. "Because then everyone would see this pretty blush." His knuckles caress against Minho's burning cheek. "Maybe I wanna keep that to myself."

Minho's eyes widen. "Kim Seungmin, you-!" Short-circuiting, he cuts off his own tirade. "You're a menace. An absolute Casanova menace." Minho hides his face against the curve of Seungmin's neck and shoulder. 

Seungmin feels lips brush over his skin. Maybe it's a light kiss. Maybe it's something that happens by chance. Whatever it may be, it splits apart the cracks of Seungmin's heart wider. Don't go trickles out, but evaporates too quickly. Please stay gets caught between a crevice. I need you, I love you never leaves the aorta, just carves itself into the bruised chamber walls over and over.

Artificial cabin lights dim down into darkness, so the flight mimics nightfall. Everyone except Seungmin is already asleep. Even Minho who sits beside him. With how hectic their schedules have been leading up to the flight back home, Minho knocks out quickly. Seungmin turns off Minho's in-flight entertainment screen, and starts fixing the blankets draped over his body. Minho has Seungmin's blanket as well, since Seungmin knows the man gets cold easily. Just as Seungmin's about to turn away, Minho catches his hand.

Seungmin blinks. Must be an accident. Or Minho mistakes him for someone else. Gently, Seungmin tries prying his hand away. 

Minho tightens his grip like a vice, and lets out a muffled noise that's something between a whine, a swear, and "Seungmiiiiiin." He pulls their clasped hands closer until he's hugging Seungmin's arm to his chest. With a content and sleepy sigh, Minho relaxes.

'Christ-' Seungmin thinks, grateful it's dark, and everyone's asleep, so his blush can't be seen. Why the Hell is Minho so cute like this? In spite of how the flight's still and serene, Seungmin's heart punches into overdrive. Joy sparks inside of Seungmin's chest like summer night fireflies. 

But as Seungmin feels Minho's fingers caress the back of his hand, those fireflies extinguish. Leaving him cold and lost in the darkness. The same kind of darkness from when Seungmin and Minho embrace for the last time on that elimination stage. The same kind of darkness that follows Seungmin to the solo interview, and cameras witness his heart being excavated, carved out, pulverized.

With the tremendous weight of exhaustion pulling at Seungmin's bones, surrendering to sleep should be easy. But Seungmin fights to stay awake, so he can memorize this moment on the plane. The silken softness of Minho's hair against his cheek. The warmth pooling between their palms, the spinner ring on Minho's index finger, a thin band on his smallest finger, curves of his knuckles. The steady rise and fall of Minho's shoulders as he breathes.

A vile mess of despair and fear drives Seungmin to archive these details. Because suddenly one day, Seungmin doesn't go home with Minho anymore. And Minho isn't there in the wall mirror's reflection when Seungmin dances. He can't listen to the songs Minho would ask Seungmin to sing for him. No more secret smiles shared across the room. Minho with overwhelming fondness in his eyes. Seungmin being so goddamned shy, but too helplessly enamored to look away. 

They've only grown closer, since Stray Kids debuted. Minho's rooted even deeper into his life. Seungmin can't lose him, not again, please, god, please no. So, Seungmin leans against Minho on the plane, tries to memorize the rhythm of his breathing. Please don't take him away.

Seungmin closes his eyes tighter. Nobody's awake. Nobody can see him in the darkness. 

But he still fights to hold tears inside.

"I swear to god, if you gremlins keep eating the chocolate chips before they're even in the cookie dough, I'm gonna throw you into the oven-"

Minho's heated threats grow more colorful, lethal and creative with each one. And yet it does nothing to deter Jeongin from swiping at the bowl of chocolate chips, passing some over to Felix, then shoving the rest into his mouth. All while looking right at Minho who's on the violent brink of having an aneurysm. When Jeongin attempts to steal the entire bowl, Minho hisses sharply, and waves the rubber spatula like he's in a swordfight. Felix's laughter sparkles as he watches the one-sided duel, and helps retie Minho's apron.

It's the usual, carefree shenanigans they grow up with. A blissful reprieve from their overpacked, intense schedules. No matter how fierce Minho appears, he's always about to break character with a grin tugging at his mouth.

"Yang Jeongin!" Minho yelps when Jeongin (playfully) bites on his upper arm. "Oh, my god-- what-" Scowling, Minho shakes his arm with wild vigor. "You rabid animal! Let go!"

While Jeongin pretends to gnaw on Minho, and Felix collapses against the counter with giggles, Minho shouts up a storm. 

But he's happy. They're all so happy.

And a serrated knife stabs into Seungmin's abdomen, twisting apart veins and tendons, grating at bones, puncturing through the other side. Crimson spews. Raw viscera pours out to stain Seungmin's pale violet hoodie. Soft lavender darkens into splotches of polluted, sickly indigo. The pain's so severe and abrupt that Seungmin can't scream. He can't ever scream. Or even cry.

Slam. He slams the red emergency button. Slam. Slam. Okay, let's go, time to leave this body, this body that's being devoured alive by something insidious, something merciless, something Hellbent on making Seungmin a powerless hostage inside of his own skin. Slam. Time to play the role. Seungmin already has the script memorized. He'll join his bandmates in the kitchen, refill his empty water bottle like he's been meaning to, then calmly take a handful of chocolate. Or maybe he'll eat cookie dough, just so Minho can scream bloody murder at him, attempt to strangle him, goddamnit, why is Minho so adorable when he's all riled up, Seungmin will tease back, Minho will sigh in exasperation, but there will be so much adoration in his eyes, oh, god, Seungmin loves him, loves him, Seungmin's so fucking in love with him, Seungmin's going to lose him- Slam. Sla-

Oh.

It's not working.

Seungmin can't escape. Can't disappear.

He's trapped in this body. 

And with each millisecond Seungmin stays here, anxiety floors the accelerator towards a raging panic attack. It's a flashy, high-speed getaway car, but fear drives Seungmin in circles, circles, spirals, because he can't outrun himself, and the engine was torn out long ago. 

Darkness bites at the edges of his vision. Oxygen incinerates within his windpipe collapsing on itself. The walls of Seungmin's lungs wildly rattle like his childhood bedroom windows during brutal, unforgiving thunderstorms. They shake so badly the window panes might rip right off the frame, just like how Seungmin's masks, composure, skin might rip off his skeleton. 

Go. 

Leave. 

You need to leave now. 

Right fucking now. 

His breathing evens out too much until he's barely breathing at all. Seungmin's trying to stop himself breaking down with loud, ragged gasps, or maybe just outright flatline himself. Go. You need to go. Anxiety injects every vein with acid until Seungmin doesn't know where his skin begins and the fire ends. Fuck. Can't breathe. Can't breathe. Can't let them know-

Seungmin darts past the kitchen, tremors jolting his arms so badly that he worries he'll shatter the empty water bottle by gripping it too tightly. But his body insists on rigor mortis as if playing dead opossum will hide that he's about to have a panic attack. It's okay. It's going to be okay. His legs are still cooperating. He can make it to the front door.

As Seungmin's sliding on his tattered black Converses, the front door lock beeps a familiar tune. The color drains from Seungmin's face. Numbness freezes his hands, white laces slipping out of his fingers. Eyes wide, Seungmin watches with sheer, glacier horror as the door opens.

Fuck. 

It's the rest of the group. Chan. Hyunjin. Changbin. Jisung. Individually, they're frighteningly perceptive. Together, they're omniscient to unparalleled degrees. No way will Seungmin be able to hide his severely skyrocketing anxiety if all of their attention's on him. 

A cold epiphany drives a medieval, carbon steel corkscrew into Seungmin's guts. Damnit, of course, they're all here. It's movie night. The front door area suddenly becomes a crime scene. Seungmin's both the culprit with glistening red on his hands, and the corpse whose outline matches the chalk tracing.

But luckily, Chan and Hyunjin are laughing at Jisung cracking a joke. Jisung's even going in for another punchline with grand hand gestures, and an air of theatrics. It ignites another peal of hysterical laughter from Hyunjin and Chan. Good. They're distracted. Seungmin's in the clear. Even managed to tie his shoes. All he needs to do is angle his body with mostly his back to them, say a quick bye, then slide out the door, walk fast, run, go, fucking go, get out of here-

"Hey, dude!" Changbin throws an arm around Seungmin's shoulders, and pulls him closer. Beaming, Changbin playfully tousles Seungmin's hair. "You heading out?"

"Hey, hyung, I- yeah, just for a bit," Seungmin scrambles for a reply that's casual. It gets harder to escape when Changbin's being so genuine and warm. And it's almost impossible when panic repeatedly bashes a battering ram into his sternum. "Gotta take care of something. It'll be quick."

Seungmin means to give a light, but still sincere hug. But as Changbin embraces him, Seungmin sees flashes of Changbin from the elimination. Changbin wounded. Changbin crying. Changbin embracing Minho. Changbin holding on to Felix. Each time, Changbin imploding into a wreckage of choking sobs and heartbreak debris.

Swallowing down tears, Seungmin grips so tightly at the back of Changbin's jacket that he's clawing at the black fabric. Like earlier while watching the endearing kitchen mayhem, Seungmin's seized by cold terror. How many more times will Seungmin have the chance to hold Changbin? Or feel the sculpted planes of Changbin's shoulder blades under his ruined, scarred palms? Or feel his own body ache, almost lovingly break as Changbin holds him tighter?

"...Seungmin?" Changbin whispers near his ear. Even with the softer timbre, worry rings clearly through Changbin's voice. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you oka-"

"Yep, yeah, I'm totally cool, hyung, gonna be out for a sec." Seungmin's words trip over each other like how he nearly trips over himself as he breaks out of the embrace. He covers up how he can't breathe, he can't fucking breathe with a laugh. "Go ahead and start the movie, I'll be back later, bye!"

Seungmin avoids Changbin's concerned eyes, and rushes towards the door. Seungmin's never been one to drink so much to experience blackouts. But he wonders if it's something like this. Teleporting. Losing time. Vanishing inside of yourself. One moment, Seungmin sees the phantom limb of his arm reaching out for the door. Next moment, Seungmin sees the familiar walls of the old vocal practice room. 

It's too small, cramped. Barely any space to breathe when an ancient, upright piano was shoved in here too. Nobody uses the room anymore, or even visits this wing of the company building. 

But it's where Seungmin would hide during his trainee days, and try to become a decent singer. Or a place he can be alone, let the thousands of scripts fall onto the ground, and not have to perform any role. These walls witness more of Seungmin crying, gasping, biting into his knuckles, falling apart than his members ever have.

Keeping the lights off, Seungmin locks the door. "Please-" Seungmin doesn't know who he's begging to. But he so desperately wants to eject himself out of this body that's now a burning building. 

And yet something inside keeps Seungmin trapped in the basement. Guilt. Maybe it's guilt that's rightfully punishing him. Maybe Seungmin deserves every panic attack lurking around the corner, every night terror murdering his sleep.

Clenching his jaw, Seungmin tries to stay silent, to swallow the broken shrapnel of his weak, revolting heart. When Seungmin makes the mistake of breathing, a sob escapes. It's the quietest, most pathetic sound that shatters even before falling off his tongue. 

"Fuck-" One tremor. Two tremors. A ruthless earthquake racks Seungmin's frame as he slides down the door. 

Drawing his knees to his chest, Seungmin hangs his head, and covers his ears. Not to block out the heinous noise of his gasps and sobs. But to drown out the recording, "-kay. Everything-", the faintest hitching of Minho's voice, "The one who's eliminated is Minho", "--ing's going to be oka-"

Laughter explodes around Seungmin. He misses the joke, or who even says it, but doesn't miss the cue to laugh along. Perfectly timed. While streaming for their fans, the group sits comfortably around a table, and chats casually with a relaxed vibe. Comfortable. Casual. Relaxed. Seungmin exerts all his willpower to appear that way for the camera. 

But his body burns from where Minho's arm drapes around his shoulders. Seungmin's earlier attempt to sit farthest away from Minho proves to be futile. Minho sits right next to him, and even slides his chair closer, so he can lean against Seungmin. In the past, Seungmin would melt at this show of affection, and lean into Minho more.

Now, he grips tightly at his knee under the table, but he still paints on a relaxed smile. "Maybe next time we can each order something different?" Seungmin flows easily into the conversation. "That way we can all try more of what's on the menu."

"See?!" Jisung slaps his hand onto the table, then gestures passionately at Seungmin. His eyes gleam brightly. "This is why our Seungmin is a genius!"

"And a great mediator." Nodding, Chan wears a proud smile. "He knows how to keep the peace between you guys." His smile turns into a wry grin while pointing at Jisung and Hyunjin.

"Yeah, totally." Changbin crosses his hands behind his head. "Or else those two would be at each other's throats again."

"What?!" Jisung slams both hands on the table, but with outrage this time. He even jumps to his feet. "Excuse me, but he always starts things! It's like he's always looking for a fight with me."

"We all know that's not true." Hyunjin deadpans, but it breaks a second later as he smirks coyly. Tilting his head, Hyunjin rests his chin in his hand. "Anyways, I always win."

With a strident pterodactyl screech, Jisung's about to lunge across the table, and throttle Hyunjin. Jeongin and Felix hold Jisung back, so there's no murder on camera. Hyunjin leans back in his chair, looking smug as Hell.

"You guys fighting or flirting?" Minho drawls out, but there's no real exasperation to his words. Chuckling, Minho turns his head, and murmurs into Seungmin's ear, "They're right though. You're good at helping everyone feel chill and happy." A warm smile colors Minho's voice. Running his fingers through Seungmin's hair, Minho sighs softly. "I adore that about you."

Seungmin gnaws on the straw of his iced coffee, so his teeth don't bite at the inside of his cheek. Every gentle touch. Every kind word. All this affection is more than Seungmin's lovesick heart could've ever hoped for. It still bewilders Seungmin that Minho's taking the initiative to dote on him in public now. Seungmin's first instincts are to melt against Minho, nuzzle into his shoulder, mumble something shy and sweet that's nowhere near eloquent, but still innocently earnest.

And maybe when they're done for the day, Seungmin can curl up with Minho in bed. He misses being in Minho's arms, feeling safe and warm. They'll watch trailers for upcoming movies and shows, sleepily chatting about which ones to watch. Or Minho will torture Seungmin by showing the latest hundreds of photos he's taken of Seungmin, and scorching him alive with praise. 

Everything Seungmin has ever wanted is right here. This warmth. This comfort. This lov-

Battery acid explodes in Seungmin's mouth. But he forcefully swallows down the broken glass, the terror, the rusted nails, the copper mouthful of blood. Seungmin still manages to pull on his best smile. "Thanks, hyung." He nudges against Minho. "And that's how you make me feel."

Minho looks over, eyes warm and fond. Seungmin's lungs stutter at how much quiet, unwavering love dwells in that gaze.

And his heart seizes at how much it fucking terrifies him.

Flash.

Smile, Seungmin. 

Look this way, Seungmin. 

Flash.

Tilt your head just a bit to the right, Seungmin. 

Flash.

You're doing amazing, Seungmin. 

You're perfect, Seungmin. 

Flash.

These days, Seungmin resists the feral urge to slam his fist into a mirror. Bathroom mirror. Dance studio mirror. Even the black mirror of his phone when the screen goes dark. Beyond red swallowing his sight, Seungmin sees an imposter whose face he wants to obliterate. 

Flash.

But as Seungmin stands under neon hues of vivid magenta and striking cyan, he poses for the camera. Lets the camera devour him. Anything the camera wants Seungmin to be, he'll change himself into that. Like how he slides into these designer brand clothes, Seungmin can wear any aesthetic, any vibe, anything as long as it's not the real him. 

As the photographer, the crew, everyone on the other side of the camera raves about his modeling, Seungmin's elated at doing a good job. Finally. This is what he needs. To be good, to be perfect. Seungmin can do something right, and make people happy. The ultimate win-win.

Once they're done with the individual and group photos, the members get ready to leave. Seungmin lingers towards the back as he lets his bandmates have their first pick of where they want to sit in the van. 

Slowly, Seungmin exhales. It's been so long since Seungmin feels anchored and content with himself. The compulsion to claw out of his skin quiets down. Instead of a thousand dead albatrosses hanging around his neck, it feels like there's only a couple hundred. Maybe Seungmin can sleep tonight, even if it's for an hour or so.

Standing behind Hyunjin in line, Seungmin appreciates the rare, quiet peace that settles in his mind. There isn't parasitic anxiety buzzing under his skin. He can breathe today. 

But when Hyunjin turns around to face Seungmin, he stares warily. Seungmin blinks at his best friend with growing curiosity.

Hyunjin looks Seungmin up and down, then locks eyes with him. "You okay?"

That question douses the warm content and ease Seungmin's been floating in. His mind races. Is there something Seungmin did to make Hyunjin ask that? Did Seungmin fuck up? Did Seungmin not do a good job after all? Was he just deluding himself?

"Yeah, I'm good." Seungmin fixes on his black baseball cap. He plays it casual and chill even when panic flickers under his composure. "What's up?"

Hyunjin hesitates with a rough inhale, then tugs at Seungmin's sleeve. "Your shirt."

As curiosity gives way to confusion, Seungmin glances down at himself. It's a simple black, long sleeve shirt with a gold star embroidered over the left chest. Does it not match the rest of his outfit? Is there one too many wrinkles? But Seungmin can't find anything out of the ordinary. "What about it?"

Hyunjin falls quiet. It's the kind of contemplative quiet Hyunjin settles into when trying to choose his words carefully. 

Any good vibes Seungmin's been enjoying crumble away. The warmth in his veins catch on fire as anxiety takes the wheel again. What did Seungmin do wrong? Why is Hyunjin struggling with what to say? Hyunjin's always straightforward and honest, especially with Seungmin. It's their earnest natures that drew Hyunjin and Seungmin so close when they first met. Hyunjin stalling like this means he's precariously maneuvering a minefield, but Seungmin doesn't even know why there's hidden explosives in the first place.

"This used to fit you just right. It's big now. Like..." Hyunjin traces his fingers along Seungmin's shoulder. Puzzled, his brows knit together. "Really big."

"What?" Seungmin lifts his arms to the side, and looks himself over again. Maybe it's a little looser? "I guess, it got stretched out a bit." Seungmin shrugs.

Something stricken and anguished etches across Hyunjin's face. He struggles to take in a breath. "Seungmin." It's no longer hesitation, but thorns of fear piercing inside of his throat. "Are you not eating again?"

Seungmin holds his smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes anymore. Even before Seungmin consciously thinks about it, that mental inventory offers up the best smile for this situation. "Of course, I'm eating."

Seungmin ate half a granola bar yesterday. But Hyunjin didn't ask if Seungmin ate today. And maybe Seungmin forgets to eat whole meals. Sometimes. But he doesn't intentionally choose not to eat. Seungmin's just a little forgetful. No way does he have any kind of eating disorder. There's a difference. Anyways, less time eating means more time dancing, singing, practicing, working, getting one step closer to maybe being enough. 

"Don't worry, dude. I'm okay." With a reassuring grin, Seungmin pats Hyunjin's back. "C'mon, you go ahead first. Let's go home."

Hyunjin's about to say something else, but Seungmin guides him inside the van, and climbs in afterwards. There's already several pockets of chatter going on. Before Hyunjin can continue asking Seungmin questions, and alarm anyone else, Seungmin wears his wireless earbuds. Seungmin knows that Hyunjin means well. But nobody needs to waste their time or efforts worrying about Seungmin. That energy is better given to the other members.

Seungmin watches the city blur beyond the window. An ache resonates in his chest when feeling Hyunjin's hand slide into his own. Guilt scorches Seungmin's insides. Just because Seungmin's good at skillfully evading questions that pry too deep, and building a fortress around himself doesn't mean that he enjoys it. 

But this is for the best. Seungmin won't trouble Hyunjin with anything, and take away from his peace of mind. Hyunjin already has enough to worry about without Seungmin fucking things up.

Inhaling deeply, Seungmin rests his head against the cold glass, and closes his eyes.

As his body follows the music, all the static noise in Seungmin's mind finally dials down. That broken radio between his ears mutes even more when Seungmin dances to Minho's choreography. 

It's just the two of them in the studio. Sometimes, Minho wants to choreograph dances to other artists' works, even if it's not something that'll end up recorded. Minho's been inviting Seungmin to these sessions, since the early days of Stray Kids.

As Seungmin dances, he can't help but watch Minho in their shared reflection. His heart races faster than the song's rapid BPM. Like the first time Seungmin sees Minho dance, he's rendered breathless. Minho's skillful technique and precision are leagues beyond anything Seungmin has ever seen. His elegance comes off effortless, but it's clear how Minho's cried and bled and fought for his craft. 

The language of Minho's body moves Seungmin more than any words, any lyrics. What grips Seungmin most is how Minho gives all of himself when he dances. The raw expression grips Seungmin's heart, and throttles it around ruthlessly.

In the beginning, Seungmin wonders if what he feels for Minho is admiration for another artist. But that curiosity quickly mutates into full-blown terror. Minho makes Seungmin feel so much, too much when he dances. And Minho carries that same air with him when they go for late-night walks. The light in his eyes burn just as bright when they practice in the dance studio, or when Minho laughs as they run in the rain, racing towards the nearest bus stop for cover.

But nothing frightens Seungmin like when it's just the two of them dancing. Minho choreographs dances for them where there's more direct interactions. Whether they face each other to reflect motions, or Minho standing behind Seungmin to echo a gesture, it's all so electrifyingly intimate. The connection between them pulses fierce and strong, even during moments when their bodies don't touch.

And when they dance, Seungmin can't play any role. Scripts incinerate, falling to the ground as scattered ashes, being swept away by their gliding feet. Seungmin can't wear any carefully crafted masks. His gaze brims with yearning and desire, the edges darkening with shadows of grief.

Minho burns with fierce protectiveness. It smolders in his piercing stare, it shapes the way his hands reach for Seungmin. Even when Seungmin closes his eyes, he can still feel Minho being his shield.

Panting, they sprawl out on the ground while taking a break. Seungmin lays on his back, arms spread wide, rib cage rising and falling. He overplays a melodramatic "oof!" as Minho rests his head on Seungmin's chest.

Laughing, Minho turns to face Seungmin. "My head that heavy?" He doesn't make any move to lift his head up.

"Yeah, trust me, I'm surprised too," Seungmin wheezes painfully as if his lungs are withering. He pokes at Minho's temple. "Guess you have more than one brain cell in there after all."

Eyes flaring with outrage, Minho gasps. "Are you kidding me?! I have more than you!" Minho slaps Seungmin's thigh.

Seungmin yelps. The sheer absurdity of Minho's reaction breaks Seungmin's startled shout into a fit of giggles. Minho falls easily into that joy with his own laugh. As Minho muffles his voice into Seungmin's shirt, Seungmin revels in the feeling of delighted vibrations. That pure joy seeps through fabric, and into his skin like spring rainwater. Seungmin can't resist reaching out to card his fingers through Minho's hair.

With a soft purr, Minho closes his eyes, and basks in the gentle strokes. He curls up more against Seungmin while keeping his head against that strong chest. "My favorite." 

Seungmin's eyes flicker over to Minho. "What?"

"My favorite sound," Minho whispers. As if sharing his happiest secret, Minho's lips curve into a smile. "Your heartbeat."

An arrow pierces through Seungmin. His breath hitches. The sharp arrowhead gracefully avoids Minho, but brutally stabs into Seungmin's torso. Seungmin fucking melts. Burning scarlet, Seungmin panics on the inside, and wonders if Minho can hear his heart skip a beat or two or dozen.

"Oh, wait-" Humming, Minho lets his gaze drift over to Seungmin. Like first morning rays spilling over the city skyline, Minho's eyes brim with warmth. "I have another favorite sound."

Still reeling from the earlier 1 hit K.O., Seungmin can't even imagine what Minho will sucker punch him with this time. Seungmin holds his breath. "What is it?"

Minho leans closer with the natural grace of a wildcat, and the gentleness of a midday breeze. Flesh turns into marble as Seungmin freezes statue still. Seungmin's body is wired for receiving violence. Hands and knees scraping across rough asphalt. Abdomen slammed with a baseball bat. But Seungmin's body doesn't know what to do when given tenderness. Cheek caressed by Minho's fingers. Rib cage warmed by Minho's chest.

Hovering above, Minho brackets Seungmin's head with his forearms, and gazes with a warm smile. "Your voice." The light in his eyes brings so much flourishing vibrance to the world around them. "When you sing. When you talk. Even when you tease and poke fun at me." Laughing softly, Minho cascades his fingers down the side of Seungmin's neck, and rests them over his pulse. "Your voice will always be my favorite sound."

Seungmin's heart cracks. Tears rise. Seungmin knows he shouldn't stare right at the sun. But he can't look away from Minho. What...what are they doing? What's Minho doing? Why is he getting closer? Isn't he scared of them being torn apart again? What if Minho's taken away again? What if they're not in each other's lives again? What if-

The rampant questions hush when Minho wraps his arms around Seungmin. Closing his eyes, Seungmin pleads to not let these damned tears escape. The sun becomes the ocean. Minho drowns him. Terror threatens to collapse Seungmin's skeleton, and fester malignantly in the marrow of his fatigued bones. But with Minho holding him-- Seungmin feels safe. 

Lifting his arms out of molten grief, Seungmin returns the embrace. He matches his breathing with Minho's steady, gentle exhales.

Today was a good day.

Seungmin lays in bed. The best way to end this rare, good day is by sleeping. Not unstable, on/off sleep where Seungmin wakes sporadically throughout the night, and totals maybe an hour or so of unconsciousness. But actual full, deep sleep where Seungmin can truly rest.

As Seungmin closes his eyes, he sees Minho resting his head on Seungmin's chest. Minho smiling at him as he holds his hand out, and helps Seungmin onto his feet. Minho laughing as he cooks dinner in the kitchen. So many bright, effervescent moments where Seungmin falls even deeper for Minho. And as Minho dotes on Seungmin, holds his hand, gives just as much love back-- Seungmin's chest ruptures. Gripping at his shirt, Seungmin tries to stop the bleeding, but he can't find the wound.

Seungmin pulls out his phone. Plays the elimination clips. 

And replays. 

Replays. 

Replays.

He feels Minho's cheek brushing his own from earlier today.

And he sees Minho torn away from him in the video.

No.

Seungmin can't lose him again. Can't get too close again.

He hits replay.

Seungmin disappears. Performs a one-man vanishing act. Masters the art of skillfully avoiding his members whenever there's free time.

No more coffee runs with Hyunjin where Seungmin has Hyunjin's order memorized, and Hyunjin insists on taking a walk through their favorite route in the park. Seungmin will offer his elbow, so Hyunjin can loop his arm around it. They'll take the longer way back home. More sights to see. More time together. It's mostly Seungmin listening, Hyunjin talking. Hyunjin will talk about how Monet studies the effect of light changing throughout the day, or their bandmates accidentally using up all of his hair treatment again. And Seungmin will always listen, giving his undivided attention, adoring every second. If it gets a little too chilly, Seungmin drapes his navy and white windbreaker around Hyunjin's shoulders. Hyunjin smiles, shy and bright.

No more surprising Felix with new hair clips, Seungmin's fingers sifting through soft locks and fixing the accessory in place. Seungmin will sit on the sofa, Felix will sit between his legs on the ground, a show they've been meaning to watch flickers on screen. Unlike the roughness Seungmin gives to his own body with compulsive scratching and bruising, Seungmin's always gentle with Felix's hair. Just like how his hand on Felix's back is gentle as he guides Felix into another restaurant-- new to Felix, old childhood favorite to Seungmin. He likes treating Felix to meals before sending Felix off to a day packed full of solo schedules. Or they'll end the day by going for ice cream at the convenience store, Felix holding onto Seungmin's sleeve all throughout the walk back home.

No more kicking down 3RACHA's studio door like Big Bird, the Kool-Aid Man, Godzilla combined incarnate. Seungmin walks in armed with their favorite takeout. Since he doesn't want to bother them, and disrupt their creative process, Seungmin tries to leave quickly. But Jisung will insist on using Seungmin's lap as the world's most comfortable chair. Or Chan will feed him a bite of this and that. Or Changbin will hold Seungmin hostage with an one-armed hug. But times when Seungmin knows the trio pulled too many all-nighters, Seungmin herds them like rebellious cats, and takes them back to the dorm. He may leave after seeing them fall asleep, or end up being one of their human pillows that gets hugged into unconsciousness.

No more marathoning shows and movies with Jeongin, limbs getting tangled in bed, chests aching with gleeful wheezes. They're respectfully quiet when watching with other people. But when it's only them in Jeongin's bedroom, and Seungmin's laptop playing the latest horror movie, there's running commentary. Vehement rants. Excited praises. Seungmin loves hearing Jeongin's voice more than anything playing on screen. Jeongin isn't usually one for physical contact. But he'll throw his legs over Seungmin's lap, and demand Seungmin to play with his hair. The movie becomes background noise as they talk about their day, their aspirations, their ghosts, their hopes. 

No more surprising Minho with trips to cafes he mentioned days or even weeks ago. When their schedules allow for it, the outing turns into a day trip. Seungmin takes Minho to Haneul Park once the vast fields bloom into rosy pink. Candid photos turn into matching phone wallpapers. Getting lost in the fields, finding their way out together with hands clasped. Seungmin takes Minho to their favorite coin noraebang. Singing out of tune, and obnoxiously loud for the Hell of it. With rainbow neon lights painting over Minho, and his laughter making it impossible to hit any notes right, Seungmin wants to kiss him. For now, Seungmin sings one of Minho's favorites.

But no more of any of that as Seungmin disappears. Makes himself less than a ghost.

[ minho: ]  Seungmin, are you okay? 
[ minho: ]  You've been out a lot practicing
[ minho: ]  I'm proud of you for working hard. But you can't overdo it. Or not eat. Or not sleep
[ minho: ]  Come home, yeah? I'll cook for you

[ jisung: ]  dude
[ jisung: ]  where are you????
[ jisung: ]  what's wrong? why are you avoiding us??
[ jisung: ]  did we do something?
[ jisung: ]  we fucking miss you, bro please let's talk

[ felix: ]  Are you alright? How can I help?
[ felix: ]  We missed you at movie night. Tbh we miss you all the time
[ felix: ]  I miss you. So much. 
[ felix: ]  No matter what you're going through, I want to be there with you.

[ changbin: ]  I love you. I care about you.
[ changbin: ]  And I know you can handle yourself. You're so strong, so brave. But that doesn't mean you have to deal with anything alone. You mean so much to all of us.
[ changbin: ]  If you need some space, I totally get that. 
[ changbin: ]  But any time you wanna talk or just hang out, I'm here. 

[ jeongin: ]  Wanna watch something from your list?
[ jeongin: ]  I'll order us takeout
[ jeongin: ]  We don't need to talk about anything serious if you don't want to. We don't even need to talk at all
[ jeongin: ]  We can just chill together
[ jeongin: ]  Please, hyung?

[ chan: ]  Seungmin, I'm here for you. 
[ chan: ]  I love you. We all do.
[ chan: ]  Any time you want to talk, I'll listen. 

Seungmin still disappears.

And still takes care of his members from afar.

Seungmin gets a new bottle of Hyunjin's hair treatment in his favorite luxury brand. He notices there's only a few pages left in Hyunjin's sketchbook, so Seungmin leaves a few new ones on his desk. 

When Jeongin has to get up early for a solo interview, Seungmin switches their vocal lessons. It lets Jeongin have his lesson first, and go home early, so he can sleep a decent number of hours.

Seungmin doesn't remember much these days when to eat, since he's so busy with cramming practice, practice, practice into every second of any free time. But Seungmin never forgets to order takeout delivered to Chan, Jisung and Changbin when they're at the studio. 

After overhearing Felix sadly tell Jisung that his headphones broke, Seungmin switches Felix's pair with his own headphones. He notices one of the keycaps on Felix's keyboard is missing. Hopefully, Felix won't mind Seungmin's black keycap amongst the rest of his white and sky blue keys.

Seungmin cleans the dorms when nobody's home yet. It gives him the chance to stock up the pantry with his bandmates' favorite snacks. He returns Minho's lavender hoodie, Hyunjin's crew fleece sweater, Changbin's three oversized t-shirts, and Jisung's burgundy bomber jacket. Just like how he returns clothes he borrowed from Chan, Jeongin and Felix too. All nicely washed, of course.

At least, that's what Seungmin thinks. He doesn't understand how or why all those clothes reappear in his bedroom over time. 

Minho even delivers his hoodie in-person, taking a page out of Seungmin's book by storming into his bedroom like the Kool-Aid Man. But his rendition includes being clearly, vehemently pissed off. Minho heaves rough breaths. It's like the distance from Minho's room to Seungmin's room was the world's most challenging triathlon.

Minho grips the hoodie until skin stretches white over taut knuckles. A wild, feral light blazes in his lethal glare. "Kim Seungmin."

Sitting on his bed, Seungmin pauses organizing polaroid photos, ticket stubs, keychains, handwritten letters, and more cherished items. He's working on boxing up these mementos, so he can shove them away under his bed, in the closet, anywhere out of sight. 

Seungmin stares wide-eyed in bewilderment at Minho. It's not common for Minho to storm into someone's bedroom like this. Seungmin looks at the light violet hoodie, then back up at Minho. "...Hyung?"

"What is this?" As if holding up a murder weapon with Seungmin's unmistakable fingerprints, Minho shakes the hoodie in his clenched fist. "What the Hell is this, Seungmin? You don't like it anymore?" Minho fires with the striking ferocity of a viper. Each word hones sharper at the edges. "Just fucking woke up one day, and got bored of it, so you're going to throw it away?"

"I- I--" Seungmin can't breathe. Never in Seungmin's life has Minho been genuinely furious with him. Discomfort jumps off the skyscraper, and plunges right towards escalating panic. "What? I- Are you-- are you talking about-" Seungmin blinks. Bewilderment gives way to incredulity that blows out a fuse in his lagging mind. "...the hoodie?"

"Yes, the fucking hoodie!" Minho's shout ricochets off the walls. 

Seungmin flinches. "But I-" His mind works frantically to understand why Minho's so outraged. Did Minho forget that hoodie belongs to him? "Hyung, I got you that hoodie. It's yours."

"I know that you got me this. But you always wear it." Seething, Minho shakes the lavender hoodie as if it can ward off demented spirits. "Are you telling me that you don't like it anymore?"

"No?" Seungmin's blood runs cold when seeing Minho's left eye twitch. A tell tale sign that Minho's about to self-implode. "Wait, wait, hyung, I mean--" Shaking his head, Seungmin places the keepsake box away, and sits up straight. "No as in yes, of course, I still like it-"

"Then why don't you want it anymore? Why are you giving it back? It's not fucking good enough for you anymore? Why would you just leave the hoodie without even talking to me about it?" The ferocity of Minho's rapid-fire words slash across Seungmin's throat. Every question mark stabs into Seungmin with a spear, an icepick, a pitchfork. "Doesn't- it-- Why, damnit, fuck-" Minho raises his arm as if to hurl the hoodie on the ground. But he turns away from Seungmin, swearing loudly under his breath. "Doesn't it matter to you?" Shaking, Minho struggles to level out staccato inhales, and fight sobs at the same time. "I just- you--" 

Suddenly, all that unbridled fury extinguishes. Closing his eyes tightly, Minho holds the hoodie against his chest. The murder weapon becomes a safety blanket. Anguish bleeds across Minho's face. He opens his eyes to look at Seungmin. With too many tears trapped in that betrayed gaze, autumn browns erase as bedroom lights reflect harshly.

Like cracks in his composure, Minho's voice splinters into the fading ghost of a whisper. "Why won't you keep it?"

Seungmin stares.

Minho almost doubles over with a sob, and tightly clutches the hoodie to catch broken pieces of his heart. 

As the man Seungmin loves falls apart before his eyes, Seungmin burns alive in guilt. So many firsts today. First time Seungmin fucks up so badly that Minho instigates an one-sided screaming match with him. First time Seungmin becomes the catalyst to Minho's rationality exploding. First time Seungmin makes Minho cry.

Seungmin stands up, and reaches out to dry Minho's tears. The gentle touch of Seungmin's hand only breaks the dam in Minho even more. Every sob explodes louder than the last, racking Minho's frame violently.

"Hyung." Hushing softly, Seungmin wipes more of those tears away. His other hand takes the hoodie back. 

Seungmin gazes at the pale violet fabric. It's well-worn, well-loved over the years. Something Seungmin bought for Minho during their first trip abroad. With how the hoodie's so wonderfully soft, comfortable, and carries the scent of home, Seungmin would often borrow it. Something about wearing Minho's clothes swaddles Seungmin in warm safety. The hoodie goes back and forth between them, but usually ends up in Seungmin's closet.

Minho proudly tells their members and fans and neighbors and pets that he loves this hoodie that Seungmin got him. Since Minho adores it so much, Seungmin thought Minho would like it back. He shouldn't be selfish, and keep it all to himself. 

Part of Seungmin wants to explain this to Minho. But after how catastrophic this fight was mere minutes ago, Seungmin's throat twists into silence. He can't say anything. If Seungmin says something, there's a chance he'll accidentally cut the wrong wire, and detonate another explosive.

After unfolding the fabric, Seungmin pulls the hoodie on. Minho's tense shoulders relax, but a new wave of tears rise. It doesn't stop Minho from throwing his arms around Seungmin. They collapse on the bed, strangled noises sounding too close to sobs.

Seungmin knows Minho isn't invincible. None of them are. But Minho rarely reveals his hurt, since he doesn't want to burden anyone. For Minho to almost break down Seungmin's door, and cry openly must mean he's been penting up poisonous emotions. And this hoodie is what finally erupts Pompeii. 

"I'm sorry, hyung." Seungmin holds Minho tighter. "I'm really sorry."

"No-" Minho shakes his head. "You don't need to be sorry for anything. I'm the one who's sorry." Exhaling shakily, Minho twines the hoodie drawstrings around his fingers. "I'm sorry for blowing up on you like that. And for yelling, for saying those awful things to you." Minho closes his hand into a fist, so the drawstrings go taut. "I just-" He cuts himself off.

Seungmin waits. But there's no other words. He pulls Minho closer, fixing the blankets over them. Minho melts into the embrace. While holding him, Seungmin realizes he can't remember the last time they laid in bed like this. Or cuddled on the sofa. Or held hands during a car ride. 

With how quickly Minho dozes off, Seungmin burns with guilt. Has Minho not been sleeping? Fuck. He must've been so exhausted.

As Seungmin closes his eyes, tears escape. 

He doesn't know how to fix this.

Seungmin forgets something really fucking important.

Yes, Seungmin can perform any script flawlessly. The moment cameras turn on, and the public eye's focus on him, Seungmin can eject himself out of his body. Seungmin can act. Seungmin knows how to play this game. No, it's not lying. It's just doing whatever it takes to make everyone around him happy.

But Seungmin forgets not everyone's like that.

During a fanmeeting, Seungmin reaches over to fix the golden sun hair clip in Felix's hair. His touch is gentle and slow while tucking strands behind Felix's ear, and lingers for a moment. Felix looks at him with wide, glimmering eyes, oh, god, are those tears? Seungmin stares in shock, panicking on the inside. Jisung catches this from Felix's other side. He immediately fires a provoking remark at Hyunjin. Havoc breaks loose as the two bicker more than enough to distract the entire room. Before Seungmin can stammer out an apology to Felix, he's being hugged tightly. 

Seungmin freezes. This isn't a fanservice driven hug. This is a I really missed you, please don't go hug. Slowly, Seungmin thaws, and wraps his arms around Felix. He angles his body to shield Felix from prying lenses.

Paired up together for a horror special, Seungmin and Jisung wander through a supposedly haunted town surrounded by the dark woods. They hold hands, making commentary along the way as the two search for clues in this mission. Seungmin rarely gets afraid in these kinds of shoots, but he can feel Jisung being on the edge. 

"It'll be okay. I'm not going to let you go," Seungmin reassures as he squeezes Jisung's hand. 

"Really?" Stopping abruptly, Jisung deadpans with an unwavering, hostile stare. "You're not going to throw me away?"

Seungmin startles to a stop. He stares at Jisung with wide eyes, then glances at the cameras following them. The only illumination around shines from their flashlights, but even with shadows obscuring most of Jisung's face, Seungmin sees that intense gaze. Eyes seething with silent, dangerously brewing anger. Seungmin almost asks if this is some elaborate hidden camera prank. No way would Jisung try to go for a serious, real confrontation while they're filming. Jisung just laughs, so Seungmin laughs too? What else is Seungmin supposed to do? Jisung pulls Seungmin along, and they fall back into the rhythm of playing along with this mission. None of the jump scares make Seungmin flinch, but his heart pounds anxiously whenever seeing flickers of hurt in Jisung's hardened eyes.

Words firing like a maelstrom of bullets, Changbin raps at Seungmin on stage. Changbin's done that endless times before. Usually heated with passion, holding his heart out of Seungmin. Or winking playfully, and striking a pose in hopes of making Seungmin laugh. But these days, Changbin ruthlessly goes after Seungmin like a starving shark chasing after blood in the water. Eyes wild, flaring. Free hand cutting at the air like a knife. As Changbin obliterates any personal space, Seungmin takes one step back after the other. Changbin grabs Seungmin's shirt in a tight fist, and wrenches him forward. The crowd screams. They adore the drama, the chemistry. Seungmin can't look away, even when scarlet smudges around Changbin's glistening eyes. When Seungmin touches the inside of Changbin's wrist, he feels a tremor. Before Seungmin can ask what's wrong? are you okay? do you hate me now?, Changbin roughly lets Seungmin go, and walks away. 

It's somewhere past midnight, but with the jet lag they've got going on, Chan and Seungmin stream a live together. "What makes Chan a good leader?" Seungmin reads out loud a question posted in English, then laughs softly. "He isn't a good leader. He's a great leader. The best." While talking about one of his beloved members, Seungmin's nervousness about his English falls on the backburner. "He always fights for us. Protects us. And he believes in me, loves me. Even if I don't know how to do that for myself sometimes. Anywhere he goes, I'll follow." With a flustered laugh, Seungmin looks over sheepishly at Chan. "Did any of that make sense?" 

A beat of silence. The fleeting moment stretches into an eternity as Chan stares at Seungmin. His eyes carry an ocean of...sadness? Before Seungmin can say anything, Chan holds him. Tight. So tight that Seungmin's bones ache. 

Just like how a blistering ache unfurls inside of Seungmin's chest when Jeongin doesn't stay in his hugs for more than two seconds. It's easy for Jeongin to play it off as not being into physical touch, since that's part of his public reputation. But he's always been happy to stay in Seungmin's arms. One, two, Jeongin slides out of the embrace. One, two, Jeongin nudges away Seungmin's leg thrown over his lap. One, two, Jeongin untangles their fingers. It doesn't take long for Seungmin to stop initiating. He never wants to make Jeongin or any of their members uncomfortable. With an unspoken agreement, Jeongin and Seungmin find other ways to interact like playfully bantering, so their members, fans and management aren't alarmed by any sudden distance between the two. 

When they're assigned to do a photoshoot together, the idols pose in sync with electrifying chemistry. Jeongin leans against Seungmin. Jeongin doesn't shake off Seungmin's hand on his shoulder. But Seungmin feels the tension in Jeongin's body that cameras can't capture. Even when they sit beside each other during a meeting, Jeongin crosses his arms as if to shield himself. Seungmin has to shove his hand into his pocket, and stop himself from reaching out.

Pure white sound stage. Another interview with fun games in between sets of questions. Seungmin and Hyunjin stand facing each other, holding hands. They're supposed to make direct eye contact, and say nice things about their bandmate. Seungmin talks about Hyunjin's fierce determination to always get better, how he lights up the room, his artistic skills, his infectious laugh. When it's Hyunjin's turn, he stares at Seungmin for a long time. Maybe too long when Seungmin sees the crew fidgeting from the corner of his eyes. Seungmin squeezes Hyunjin's hand gently, thumb brushing over his knuckles. 

Hyunjin inhales, suddenly looking drained. "You're my singer. My best friend. There's so much about you that I love. That all of us love. And we know you love us too, Seungmin. Nobody takes care of us like you do." Hyunjin tries to smile, but it falls half short. "I just wish you'd give yourself even a fraction of that love. You're-- you're so hard on yourself, and you think you don't deserve good things. It breaks my heart."

Stunned, Seungmin stares. His mind works in overdrive to not let any tear ducts spark to life. This isn't part of the script. What-- what's Hyunjin doing? How can he be so open and vulnerable and real when cameras are rolling? Before Seungmin can even think of what to say or do next, Hyunjin holds him tight. It's been so long, since they've touched. 

Electric cyan melts into cosmic violet as neon stage lights wash over them. Raising the mic, Seungmin turns towards Minho, and sings for him. It's one of Minho's favorite songs. The crowd explodes even more raucously. Minho smiles.

But Seungmin's heart stutters once seeing how Minho's smile doesn't reach his eyes. No overjoyed crescent moons. It's a well-rehearsed smile. Maybe Minho knows how to follow the everchanging script too. They're only one or two footsteps apart, but Seungmin has never felt further away from Minho. 

Seungmin powers through, singing his best. Just as Seungmin's part ends, and shadows curtain over Minho, he sees Minho inhale sharply. A tremor rips across his shoulders. 

As if he's holding his breath. As if he's fighting tears.

Seungmin nails every line. Hits every note. All perfect takes.

It's deliciously intoxicating. Seungmin wants to practice more, sleep less, never eat, get better, be perfect. His life outside of the recording studio is imploding on itself. So many bridges set on fire that Seungmin only sees smoke and ashes these days. 

But standing here in this room, and singing his heart out, none of that static chaos can reach him. Exhilaration sizzles and sparks in his veins. Catching his breath, Seungmin's stunned by how well this session has gone. 

"Seungmin."

Any warmth flourishing inside of Seungmin's chest extinguishes. It's Chan's voice. But it's Chan's voice with that careful, diplomatic tone when he's getting ready to have a serious talk. Heavy tension settles in Seungmin's bones along with confusion bristling at the edges. Maybe the session wasn't as good as he thought? The constructive feedback he's been getting from Chan, Jisung and Changbin during this session's been positive. Did Seungmin miss something?

With his mask fixed in place, Seungmin turns his eyes towards the glass. He sees Chan with a genuinely fond smile. But the warmth of that smile contrasts starkly with the dark, exhausted circles under Chan's eyes. Changbin wears an open, patient expression, and his posture mirrors that patience as the man leans back in his chair. Jisung's all sharp angles-- sharp stare, sharp line to his clenched jaw, sharp tension in his shoulders.

Seungmin's heart sinks at how he isn't just looking at his members, but analyzing their expressions, their body language, their silence. Seungmin just wants to exist with the people he loves. Not dissect them. 

But what if they're doing the same to him? Seungmin makes himself into a lifesize, cardboard cut-out. Best to be a blank slate. Leave the ball in their court, and see how this conversation plays out before Seungmin makes his next calculated move.

"Yeah, Chan hyung?" Seungmin's voice stays neutral as his expression. On the inside, he's frantically welding metal gates, and reinforcing the iron fortress walls. "Do you want me to try singing it again?"

"No, it was perfect. Actually-" Laughing under his breath, Chan smiles in awe. "Everything you sang today was amazing. Your expression, your technique-- all of it's incredible. I can tell how hard you've been practicing. I'm so proud of you."

Seungmin pauses in the middle of building a lava-filled moat around the fortress. His shoulders relax. A smile begins to tug at the corners of Seungmin's mouth. "Oh, thanks, hyun-"

"But we wanted to talk about how you're doing." Chan lets out a measured exhale. "Seungmin, we're worried about you."

Damnit.

God-fucking-damnit.

Seungmin should've known better than to let his guard down. Even if it's around people he loves. Panic twists arteries and veins right within his shrinking rib cage, but nothing mercilessly grips his throat like guilt. The entire group's so exhausted from unending schedules and spontaneously changing deadlines. But here's Seungmin making it worse by not being more careful. He shouldn't be showing up on anyone's Need Immediate Damage Control radar.

Eyes downcast, Seungmin tries to hold his breathing steady. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

"No, it's okay," Chan reassures gently. The warmth doesn't fade from his kind, tired eyes. "You don't need to apologize, Seungmin. You're not in trouble or anything like that."

"Yeah, we just wanted to talk with you." Leaning forward, Changbin rests his elbows on his knees. He idly plays with the loose, fraying threads from his red and black friendship bracelet. "Did something happen? Was it any of us?"

'It's all of you. And how fucking terrified I am of losing you.' Seungmin shakes his head. "No, it's not anything like that-"

"Then what is it?" Jisung snaps harshly. He almost spits out the blood pooling inside of his mouth. "What the Hell's going on that you keep avoiding us?"

The recording studio reveals itself to be a cage. An interrogation room. A crucible. Part of Seungmin wants to bare venomous fangs, claw at the walls of his chest, hissing and snarling with carnal rage. Rest of Seungmin wants the ceiling to cave in, and bury him under the debris. The recording studio used to ignite Seungmin's excitement. It's a creative place he adores spending time at whether he's the one being recorded, or sitting behind 3RACHA to learn how they work. 

Seungmin doesn't realize how safe he used to feel here until betrayal smashes his kneecaps, and holds up his organs for desert vultures. Fury freezes Seungmin's heart with deadly frostbite. His own members, his best friends turn this safe haven into a mouse trap. 

Black crude oil splatters onto the walls, tarnishing everything. Seungmin knows this isn't just a spur of the moment kind of conversation. It's a strategic decision. Seungmin almost laughs. Fucking Hell. This is an intervention. Chan, Changbin and Jisung must've already talked about Seungmin amongst themselves. Maybe rest of the group was involved too. 

Nausea turns Seungmin's organs against himself, giving battle commands to decimate Seungmin from the inside out. Seungmin forces himself to swallow the caustic stomach acid. He can't remember when he last ate, but that doesn't stop his body's compulsion to dry heave. Inhaling roughly, Seungmin goes from cardboard cutout to steel machine. No fucking way can he fold now.

"Jisung." Changbin rests a hand on the man's shoulder. "We're not here to accuse anyone."

"But hyung-" Jisung's voice splinters from a mix of rage and pain that dangerously borders on contempt. Vehemently, Jisung thrusts a hand at Seungmin's direction. "He keeps playing us. How's that okay?"

Sliding his hand discreetly into his pocket, Seungmin clenches his fist. "What do you mean 'playing'?"

"You're playing us!" Snarling, Jisung slams a hand on the desk, and jumps to his feet. "You act all sweet and close and loving when we're in public, then act like we don't exist outside of work. Do you know what kind of fucked up emotional whiplash that is?" His shoulders rise and fall erratically. The volcanic eruption cranks up Jisung's tirade to a deafening, thunderous volume. "And then when we're home, you're gone! You fuck off to who knows where doing god knows what, because you can't stand being around us anymore!"

As simmering anger swells towards the boiling point, Seungmin digs his nails deeper into his palm. His brain only registers the sharp pain as faint flickers, since smothering frustration dulls his senses. 

Why the Hell is Jisung raising his voice? Why is he even upset in the first place? Doesn't Jisung understand what business they're in? Anyone in this industry needs to play their metaphorically scripted part(s). Especially idols. It's their responsibility to craft the best experiences for their fans, which includes making them happy by showing good, close relations between Stray Kids members. Jisung's one of the smartest, intuitive people Seungmin knows. How can he not see that Seungmin's trying to do what's best for everyone?

Despite struggling to breathe through the thick, noxious smoke, Seungmin still stares worriedly at Jisung. Wide, erratic eyes. Tight fists. On the brink of hyperventilating. Seungmin reads the signs screaming that Jisung's careening towards a panic attack. Even though Jisung's raking Seungmin over torrid coals, then driving an eighteen-wheeler over his corpse, Seungmin doesn't want to fight. Doesn't want to trigger Jisung anymore than he already is.

Seungmin inhales slow. Exhales even slower. "Would it help alleviate the situation if I was closer to you outside of work?"

"Oh, my fucking-" Turning away, Jisung roughly runs a hand through his hair. He lets out a twisted caricature of his laugh. The smile falls fast as Jisung looks at Seungmin again. Fully crystalized contempt burns in his glare. "You can't even talk like a human being to us anymore. Who are you?"

There isn't even the slightest nuanced change in Seungmin's expression. But like how Seungmin learns to never scream, never cry-- he learns how to be a statue when Jisung viciously hurls an axe forged by those words. The sharp blade digs deep into the curve of Seungmin's neck and shoulder. Reverberations from the impact violently jolt Seungmin, but he tightens his jaw, and forces himself to stay still. 

Seungmin just stands there. Staring at three of his members, his best friends on the other side of the glass. It's only a single pane of glass, but there's a divide fissuring between them that Seungmin doesn't know how to cross anymore. He watches as Changbin tries reasoning with Jisung, and struggling to keep his voice level. Jisung talks more with his hands, and scowling, tearful eyes. Chan rubs Jisung's back, guiding him to sit back down. 

What a fucking mess. 

And it's Seungmin's fault.

"Seungmin." Chan shapes his name gently, but there's still an underlying firmness. "Can you come out here and talk with us? So that we're in the same space."

Seungmin stands up straight, and squares his shoulders. "No." Because maybe this isn't a cage. Maybe it's the only place he's safe now. Safe because he's alone, and can't hurt anyone else anymore.

Caught somewhere between perplexed and exasperated, Changbin stares. "What? Are you serious?" He almost loses his grasp on Jisung's arm while Jisung laughs in hysterics.

Seungmin knows he's being fucking ridiculous, but still takes a step back. "I'm not leaving this room."

Slowly, Chan's eyes glimmer a little more. No fury. No resentment. Only held back tears. "Are you going to stay in there forever?"

Oh, god. Seungmin's making Chan cry. Broken shards of Seungmin's heart slice up the inside of his throat. "I-"

"Do you want to leave us?" Jisung hollers, but the bark swiftly crumbles under the weight of a sob.

"Me?" Seungmin's voice finally breaks above decent, moderate volume, and hits a strident note. Even the carefully composed mask shows a hairline fracture. "ME?!" Seungmin slams an outraged hand on his chest so hard that his sternum almost shatters. But that intense throb is nothing like his heart being flayed layer by layer. "You think I want to leave?"

"Yes, you!" Jisung screeches. When someone else raises their voice, Jisung roars a thousand times louder, and destroys the sound barrier. "It's like you can't wait to go solo or somethin-"

Seungmin storms so abruptly, so violently towards the glass that Jisung jumps back. Even Chan and Changbin tense up. It's as if they're bracing themselves for Seungmin punching his fist through the glass, or maybe even hurling the nearest object like his final baseball pitch. But Seungmin doesn't break anything except making a bloody massacre of his palms.

"The last thing I want is to leave." Seungmin barely gets the words out between abrasive exhales. "I don't want to sing alone, dance alone, be alone, I don't- I can't--" As vulnerability turns his iron fortress into delicate glass, Seungmin bites the inside of his cheek. He needs pain, he needs anger, he needs to forge stronger armor.

Chan and Changbin exchange deeply worried, yet calculating looks. It's as if there's finally some dots to connect. Fuck. Seungmin realizes too late he's showing one too many cards with this volatile outburst. Suddenly, he's gripped with the dire desperation to swallow all his cards, and never say another word again.

But Jisung isn't one to back down. Like a prowling bloodthirsty tiger, Jisung repeatedly paces behind Chan and Changbin. "Honestly, Seungmin, I don't know if I can believe you anymore. You say you wanna stay, but you sure act like you wanna leave." Even when he's burning too, Jisung throws more gasoline into the fire. The sacrificial pyre bursts, flames climbing towards black skies. "And like, c'mon--" Grimacing, Jisung shakes his head. "You even gave Minho hyung his hoodie back." 

Backhanded by the lightning slap of absurdity, Seungmin recoils. "For real, dude?" He scoffs out a single laugh. The ugly, harsh sound cuts at the corners of Seungmin's mirthless smile. "You're bringing up the hoodie right now?"

"What?" Brows knitted together, Changbin looks over his shoulder at Jisung. "What hoodie?"

Jisung crosses his arms over his chest. "The pastel-y light violet one." Fingers drum a furious arpeggio on his elbow. 

"The one that Seungmin always wears?" There's a wariness to Chan's voice as if he's hoping to be wrong. Once seeing Jisung nod curtly, Chan mutters something in English under his breath. 

"Damn." Changbin drags in a slow, rough breath. He rubs his eyes tiredly.

"Yeah, exactly," Jisung answers while glaring right at Seungmin. "And he just gave it back to Minho hyung without even talking to him about it."

"Ah, I see," Chan hums pensively.

Face in his hand, Changbin heaves the loudest, earth-shattering sigh.

Suffocating silence falls upon the room. Seungmin stares blankly with delirious laughter scratching inside of his throat. But he can't laugh when the ridiculousness of all this wires directly to his tear ducts.

"It's just a hoodie!" Seungmin screams, the words shredding inside his bloodstained mouth. He steps away from the glass, gripping at the front of his shirt, trying to catch his frightened heart that's desperate to flee. "Like- what is this? Am I missing something? Were you guys seriously talking behind my back about clothes?"

"Oh, my fucking god, you sonuva-" Jisung raises his hands as if to pull at his hair, but they turn into trembling fists. "What do you think it means when Minho gives his favorite hoodie for you and only you to wear?" Jisung's shaking, not caring anymore about trying to breathe right. "How can you not know that he-" Suddenly, Jisung cuts himself off. "Fuck." All the rage flaring in his eyes extinguishes. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, Seungmin."

"What-" Seungmin doesn't understand why Jisung's apologizing. Or why his group's faces, the equipment, the walls, the lights, everything blurs. Blinking slowly, Seungmin touches his cheek. He startles at the sensation of scalding dampness. Finally realizing that he's crying, humiliation and shame crashes into him with the magnitude of a freight train. "Fuck."

Scraping tears roughly off his face, Seungmin hears Jisung cry loudly, and Changbin try to comfort him. Jisung's heartbreaking sobs with I'm sorry, Seungmin, I'm really, really sorry trickling in between only slams Seungmin with more tears.

"Seungmin, look at me."

Following the sound of Chan's voice, Seungmin looks over. Chan stands before the glass. Tints of scarlet paint around Chan's eyes from held back tears, and soul-crushing exhaustion. In the chairs behind their leader, Seungmin sees Changbin sitting beside Jisung, and holding him. Jisung almost collapsing out of his seat, crying into Changbin's lap. Seungmin can't see Changbin's face hidden against Jisung's back. But from the deliberately slow rise and fall of Changbin's shoulders, Seungmin knows he's trying to steady his own pained, anxious breathing.

Chan rests a hand on the glass. "Do you think we would leave you?"

It doesn't feel as if Chan's hand stays on that glass. But reaches through Seungmin's marred chest, and gently hovers around his small, scared heart cowering in a corner. Seungmin can try to act like a rabid creature, hissing and snarling, make himself so abhorrently monstrous with his gouged out eye, and blood around his mouth, so nobody gets too close. Give up on him. Stop fighting for him. Don't waste your love on him.

But that farce never works with his members, especially Chan. Seungmin's just a wounded, lonely animal that was left in a cardboard box out in the rain. Emaciated and scarred and so fucking tired, Seungmin crawls to the middle of an empty forest, so nobody can help him. Care for him. Love him. Because he doesn't deserve it.

"Do you think we would leave you?"

As another tear escapes, Seungmin shakes his head. Silently pleading for Chan to not make him answer. Please, please don't make Seungmin say it out loud.

"Seungmin, I love you. We all do." Even with tears in his eyes, and his forearm bleeding from Seungmin's bite, Chan smiles. "And I promise, I'll never let anything happen to us."

'But you couldn't keep us together last time.'

Seungmin doesn't say the words out loud. But he recoils from the sheer shock of hearing those god awful, terrible thoughts. What the fuck, what the actual fuck- Phantom taste of bile explodes in the back of his throat. Body spasming, Seungmin slaps a hand over his mouth. Jisung's right. Who is he? Who is this person that would think such cruel, atrocious things about his leader? His best friend? Someone he loves?

Eyes wide and breaths quickening, Seungmin's hands shake. Go. Leave. Get the fuck out. Everything blurs as Seungmin swings the recording booth door open, almost ripping it off the hinges. "Seungmin!" someone shouts, but Seungmin can't stop, can't look back. He's about to race towards the studio door, so he can run out of the building, the city, the country. He'll go to another continent, even another hemisphere. 

Changbin catches Seungmin in his arms. The force of the collision knocks the breath out of them both, and slams them into the nearest wall. But Changbin turns them around at the last second, so he can shield Seungmin with his body, and buffer the impact. At the sound of Changbin muffling a pained hiss, Seungmin chokes on a scorching rush of tears.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Seungmin sobs against Changbin's shoulder, his chest. "Hyung, I'm really sorry, I--"

"It's okay, Seungmin, it's going to be okay." Changbin hushes near Seungmin's ear, his cheek. He strokes Seungmin's hair like he's done, since their pre-debut era. Back when Seungmin's body freezes up at physical touch, and his eyes plead for more affection. "We've got you."

Seungmin wants to hold onto Changbin. And even Chan who's rubbing Seungmin's back. He wants to go over to Jisung, dry his tears, say he's sorry for scaring him, hurting him, yelling at him, making him cry. Seungmin wants to tell his members everything, wants to confess I don't know how to fight this. I don't think any of us can, and yes, he knows they're not on the survival show anymore, but what if something happens to you, to me, to any of us? Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. 

But someday, they may not be together anymore, and Seungmin doesn't know how to stop what hasn't even happened yet. There weren't any warning signs about his childhood best friend moving to another country. Or his favorite teacher, his mentor, his protector being torn away. Or his baseball team abandoning him. Or Minho and Felix being eliminated. After all the times Seungmin loses someone, shouldn't he be used to this?

When does grief end?

Does it ever truly leave?

"Don't--" Forcing space between himself and everyone, Seungmin holds his hand out. It shakes as much as his other hand that hovers over his eyes. Shielding them. Hiding them. But it doesn't do any good when tears still shred apart his voice. "Please. I'm sorry."

Changbin and Chan look utterly wrecked. Seungmin doesn't know why they aren't getting mad at him. They have every right to berate and yell him, tell him to get his shit together.

"Do you want to take a break?" Chan's hand twitches as if wanting to wipe away Seungmin's tears, hug him, pull him closer. But his hand stays still. "It's okay, Seungmin. I'll talk with management. We'll get it figured out."

"No. The comeback. I'm not going to fuck that up. And a break won't solve anything." Wrenching his eyes shut tightly, Seungmin shakes his head. "Only thing that'll solve this is if I-" '-love all of you less.'

Gunshot. 

The truth blasts a crater in his chest.

When you love someone less, then it'll hurt less when you lose them.

This clarity silences the raging static storm in Seungmin's mind. That demented car radio shuts up. Tears halt. Even anxiety erases. Or maybe Seungmin's leaving his body again, but isn't aware of it anymore. Doesn't care anymore.

Slowly, Seungmin stands up, dries his face, and straightens his clothes. Auto-pilot: on. Emotions: off. "Do I need to record anything else?"

Jisung starts crying again, but Seungmin doesn't know why. Changbin falls back against the wall, succumbing to defeat. But nobody knows who they're even fighting against anymore.

"There isn't anything else to record. Not today." Chan sounds devastated as he looks, but still reaches out towards Seungmin. Fingers brush his arm. "Seungmin, come home with us. We'll just relax, and-"

"I need to practice." Moving his arm away, Seungmin stands with his back to his best friends. "I'm sorry."

Before anyone can stop him, Seungmin leaves. A new tidal wave of tears hit. He fucking hates how he's walking away when it's so clear this is what Jisung's been terrified of. Same for Chan and Changbin too.

But Seungmin can't be in that room. Just because Seungmin's burning doesn't mean he'll keep setting people he loves on fire. Chan, Changbin and Jisung have already been decimated by the blast radius of collateral damage. Only the forgotten vocal practice room witnesses how the inevitable panic attack brings Seungmin down onto his knees. 

Sobbing loud, clawing at the ground. Alone in the empty forest. Seungmin can't breathe.

Every step, every gesture, every motion. Seungmin knows every detail of all the choreos for their next comeback. He's been drilling practice for hours by himself. Seungmin's only companion is the cold wall mirror. Since he can't practice singing endlessly without ruining his voice, Seungmin moves onto dancing. He knows he's walking a dangerous tightrope, and on the verge of plummeting into harmful overpractice. His body screams in protest, but desperation for a distraction wins over common sense.

Any sense of time vanishes. But the heaviness in his chest, the thorns piercing into his skin, none of that vanishes. When Seungmin leaves the building to return home, it's already dark. He hesitates with every step he takes. Felix, Minho and Jeongin are probably already home. Will they fight with Seungmin too? Is there going to be another cataclysmic intervention? Would they call Hyunjin over, so he can have his say? Should Seungmin turn around? Find somewhere else to stay for the night? 

Before Seungmin's frantic, spiraling mind can make a decision, his body already walks him through the front door. Seungmin's insides wither at light glowing from the kitchen. Quietly, he says, "I'm home."

"Welcome home!" Grinning, Minho shows up while untying his apron. "Perfect timing. I'm almost done cooking dinner." Minho's words trail after him as he returns to the kitchen. He talks louder, so his voice still reaches Seungmin. "Go wash up. I'll bring everything out when you're settled in."

Seungmin stares at the spot where Minho was standing only moments ago. His mind still hasn't caught up. That warm, affectionate "Welcome home!" still reverberates in Seungmin's ears like the monotonous ringing from an explosion's aftermath. Swallowing hard, Seungmin can barely see through tears as he shakily undoes his shoelaces.

Once Seungmin's done showering and changed into new clothes, he nervously walks towards the kitchen. Hopefully, the shower erased any redness around his eyes from crying. Seungmin's already put three of his members through Hell today. He doesn't want to do the same to Minho.

"Oh, my god." Seungmin's chest tightens at the sight of the dining table.

All of his favorites. The gyeranjjim Seungmin fell in love with, since Minho first made it for him when they began living together. Along with the side dishes that Seungmin knows Minho makes himself. Racking his memory, Seungmin knows that Minho had a packed schedule today. He must be tired, but still gives his time and effort to cook Seungmin a homemade meal.

Exhaling, Seungmin sits down. "Thank you for making all of this, Minho hyung." He tries to hold his voice steady, but it trembles slightly at the edges. "This- wow, this is amazing."

"Of course. Anything for my puppy." With a warm smile, Minho sits down across from Seungmin, and ruffles his hair. "There's plenty of rice too, so let me know if you want seconds."

Seungmin nods. "Thanks, hyung." He wants to say more, but with how his throat keeps tightening, Seungmin's afraid he'll suddenly cry. As Seungmin starts eating, he hums in deep content. Now that he thinks about it, Seungmin can't remember the last time he ate. His body forgets being hungry when his stomach's too full of anxiety and guilt.

"I heard from Chan and Changbin."

Seungmin pauses. If this wasn't Minho's cooking, he would lose all appetite right now. Guilt gnaws at his arms like starving rats gorging themselves on Seungmin's body. Seungmin doesn't know how there's still flesh on his bones anymore. 

"Are they okay?" Barely talking above a mumble, Seungmin studies where the dishes are placed. The spoon grows a thousand tons heavier. "Jisung too?" His voice falls quieter, almost disappearing into a whisper. "Does he hate me?"

"Hate you?" Minho laughs, but it isn't unkind. Only warm and adoring. "Seungmin, he loves you. And so does everyone else."

'Even after I fucked up so much? Even after I'm being a fuck up?' Seungmin chews each of those words along with another delicious spoonful. Damnit. Even the rice is made so well. Everything Minho does for him overflows with love. Seungmin scrutinizes a faint scratch on the table to keep his eyes busy. He can't cry. Not in front of Minho. Please. He's so tired of crying.

"And they'll be okay," Minho reassures. Grinning wryly, he fixes Seungmin's hair. "Got those three well fed, and they're sleeping at normal hours for once."

Seungmin lets out a breath of deep relief. He's been agonizing over how Chan, Jisung and Changbin must be so confused and hurt by the fight in the studio. It wasn't just a simple argument that can easily be blown over after a day or so. That was a nuclear fallout on an apocalyptic scale. 3RACHA probably hates Seungmin now, or at least strongly resents him. But he's grateful that Minho can soothe some of their wounds.

"Thank you for taking care of them, hyung." Seungmin tries to bring warmth into his voice, but he sounds so wrecked and tired. "And for taking care of me."

"I love taking care of you guys. That's how all of us are, y'know? Especially you, Seungmin. We appreciate everything you do for us." Minho's gaze softens. Deep pools of concern well in those browns. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Seungmin holds the spoon tighter, so his hand doesn't give away a tremor. 

He stalls by taking a bite of the gyeranjjim. This dish that Minho made just for Seungmin's tastes. Minho who cooked for Seungmin after a long, tiresome day of hectic schedules, then doing even more exhausting damage control. Seungmin's spoon hovers, not knowing whether to eat more, or run out the door. 

Finally, Seungmin breaks with a quiet sob. He cries, "I'm sorry, hyung."

"Oh--" Minho's eyes widen. "Does it taste bad? Too much salt?"

Laughing breathlessly, Seungmin shakes his head. "Tastes perfect." His grip on the spoon tightens so severely until the metal's on the brink of warping. "Thank you, hyung-"

Seungmin almost gasps it out the way he does in that interview after Minho's elimination. Alone in the dark. Ripped apart from Minho forever. Seungmin doesn't completely turn around like back then on that set. But he angles his body away from Minho, and attempts to hide his grief stricken face. An ugly sob racks his frame. Through the growing storm raging between his ears, Seungmin hears Minho get up, and circle over to his side of the table.

"Seungmin. Oh, sweetheart." Minho brushes a few mollifying waves through soft hair, then rests his hand on the nape of Seungmin's neck. "I can get you a ride to the doctor. I'll go with you." 

Seungmin shakes his head no. He tries to say thank you, but I'm not sick, not like that, it's worse, so much fucking worse, but the words strangle disgustingly. Why can Seungmin articulate himself with natural ease in front of a camera? On stage? In public? But he can't even choke out a syllable around the people he loves? 

The part Seungmin hates most about this is how frustrating this must be for Minho and everyone else in the group. It's not fair to his members that Seungmin's so fucking abysmal at expressing himself. 

Seungmin tries to take in another breath, but it gets trapped in his throat, and scrapes coarse sandpaper across his tongue. "I just-" Seungmin closes his eyes tighter. "I want to stay. Here. With you." 

A sob rattles around within the shambles of Seungmin's rib cage. In the darkness of closed eyes, he sees Jisung, Chan and Changbin on the other side of the glass. Paralyzed with fear and hurt of Seungmin maybe throwing them away. Of maybe not loving them anymore.

"I'm sorry-" Seungmin talks quieter, but his sobs get louder. "I don't want to leave anyone. I really, really don't."

"I know. I believe you." Minho lets out a laugh, even with tears catching at his voice. "Anyways, no way I'd ever let you go. You're staying right here with us."

"Seungmin, it's going to be okay," another familiar voice promises. Warmth rings clearly even as every other word breaks with a hitching sob. "We're here."

A harsher sob punches Seungmin's abdomen. He would double over if it wasn't for Felix kneeling by his side, and braceleting his arms around Seungmin. Felix cries into Seungmin's sweater. With too many apologies to count falling with his tears, Seungmin returns the hug.

And even though he doesn't say anything, the tremors in Jeongin's arms, hands, fingers scream as he holds Seungmin from behind. Seungmin's other hand reaches back, trying to find his dongsaeng. Jeongin catches his hand, and grasps it tightly until bones ache.

With protective arms, Minho holds all of them. Doing everything he can to shield his members. Sobs. Hitching breaths. Tremors. It's impossible to tell who's crying, who's pleading, who's saying I'm sorry. 

Maybe they all are.

II.

"The one who's eliminated is--"

No. 

Please no.

Stop.

Seungmin can't breathe. 

"-Minho."

The earth falls out from under Seungmin's feet, ripping out his heart with plunging tectonic plates. Pain so excruciating crosses over into numbness, a corrosive river running through paper-thin arteries. A single thin, delicate thread anchors Seungmin to his body. His eyes linger on everyone's shadows cast upon the stage floor by harsh, cold lights. Gunshot to the chest. Knife slitting across the throat. Hammer smashing the knee. There's no end to the savage barrage of fatal attacks, turning the performance stage into a bloodsoaked execution field. It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad that he'll steal the bayonet, and pierce his own heart out. He's scared. He wants to scream.

But Seungmin's frozen silent once it's announced Minho's eliminated. 

No.

Please, no.

Not Minho.

Not Minho who patiently teaches Seungmin how to sharpen and perfect every choreo, even taking the time to teach him privately, and smiling at the mirror once Seungmin nails the move. Not Minho who teases Seungmin when the atmosphere weighs too heavily, and playfully provokes Seungmin to banter back. Not Minho who holds Seungmin when the nights run too hauntingly long, anxiety steals Seungmin's voice, but Minho's always there to whisper, "I'm here. You're safe."

Seungmin's tempted to lift his head, so he can stare at Minho. Desperation bleeds through Seungmin with the desire to etch every line and curve of Minho's elegant profile in his mind. Red light floods the darkroom of Seungmin's heart, so memories can develop into photographs. Seungmin will even obsessively hoard the film negatives when he can't reach for Minho's hand anymore. 

Minho's number will still be in Seungmin's phone, but he doesn't know if it'll be okay to text or call after Minho leaves. Would Minho answer? Or will he cut Seungmin off? Erase Seungmin out of his life? Resent him? Hate him?

Seungmin doesn't want to forget how sunrays spill across the line of Minho's shoulders, trickling down his sides like pale golden rainfall. Or how Minho stands balanced on both feet, always the epitome of poise and grace, rather than Seungmin who nervously shifts his weight from side to side. And god, please don't let Seungmin forget the color of those smoldering firewood eyes, or the brilliant light flickering inside of them.

But if Seungmin raises his gaze to look at Minho, gravity will unleash feebly held back tears. A harrowing ocean of grief dangerously brims Seungmin's eyes. Why? Why can't they stay together? The boy tightly keeps the sob locked behind aching teeth, and clenches his fists to lose all feeling in his hands. Seungmin's breath hitches like cinders on the brink of sparking a wildfire that ravages mountains. Nothing will grow from these charred grounds again. Not when Minho will take with him the sun, the moon, the stars, everything good and light and kind.

Seungmin stares intensely at Minho's shadow. He'll memorize this beloved shadow so damned well until he can draw the outline in white chalk. But his heart cracks open wider once realizing that blind contour sketch will look too much like a crime scene. There won't even be cremation ashes left behind for Seungmin to grab fistfuls of.

Once the boys are left alone with the fleet of cameras dissecting them alive, Seungmin dashes right into Minho's waiting arms. There's always been a safe, comforting magnetic force to Minho that Seungmin adores being pulled into. Seungmin loves laughing into Minho's shoulder, and loves it even more when Minho holds him close, asking Seungmin what he wants for dinner. 

But today, it breaks Seungmin's heart as he surrenders to Minho's gravity, knowing it's the last time he'll lean into this solid, steadfast warmth.

The cameras capture Seungmin gently bumping into Minho. But it feels like a tidal wave crashing into the cliffside as tears break free. "Hyung-" Seungmin sobs into Minho's shoulder, tears and heart shrapnel staining the black jacket.

Hushing gently, Minho holds Seungmin in a protective embrace, and shields him from incoming typhoons of grief. "It's okay." Minho rubs soothing circles on Seungmin's back. The circles are drawn in the same tender, slow rhythm Minho uses to calm Seungmin during late nights when there's three sharing the bed-- Mino, Seungmin, anxiety. Minho's quiet exhale carries soft laughter, and hints of growing tears. "Everything's going to be okay."

Like confused birds flying and smashing into windows of a decrepit house, an ugly sob ruptures from Seungmin. He cuts his tongue by crying, "Hyung--"

Seungmin grimaces at the acerbic taste of blood and mourning. Sobs shred his throat, shattering across the roof of his mouth. The thunderstorm mutates into an earthquake that violently shakes Seungmin. Like decaying walls of a house infested with black mold, Seungmin's rib bones collapse, and bury the boy alive.

Damnit. Damnit. Goddamnit. Seungmin should be the one comforting Minho. Grab his hands, look him in the eye, say with all of his heart even while it breaks, 'Thank you for everything. I love you.' And Seungmin should smile, give only warmth and reassurance as he sends Minho off.

But it's Minho who smiles for Seungmin, just as Minho does for everyone else who's breaking down. Seungmin wants to keep holding on, just a little longer, just long enough to memorize Minho's heartbeat drumming against his chest. As Seungmin curls his fingers tightly into Minho's jacket, he's struck with the absurd impulse to steal this black jacket, hold it tightly to his chest. No, you can't have this back. Not unless you stay. Fuck the elimination, fuck the show, fuck all of this. Please don't go. I need you. I can't do this without you. How the fuck can I stand on the stage if you're not beside me? Please, please don't go, please stay-

Seungmin lets go, so everyone else can say their final goodbyes. Even just taking one step away from Minho exsanguinates all the blood and strength out of Seungmin's body. Traitorous tears cascade endlessly, but don't purge any of the heartbreak. Even as Seungmin's sight blurs with tears, he watches Minho, silently pleading for his mind to remember how Minho's smile reaches his eyes, softening into crescent moons.

And then, Minho leaves.

Further and further away, his back to Seungmin, being swallowed by the darkness.

Seungmin doesn't know how he makes it from that stage to sitting down for the solo interview. A final message to Minho. Like water thrown onto a painting that's nowhere near done drying, Seungmin's words dissolve into a mess. No vibrant colors. Only morbid grays. Every syllable cracks all over the place, but he bleeds open his heart earnestly.

"Thank you, hyung-"

As the last of his heart rips away, Seungmin's voice crumbles with a wrenching sob. He turns his back to the camera, so he doesn't give into the feral impulse of smashing the recording device on the ground, screaming fuck you, give him back, give him fucking back, we need him, I need him, I love him, please, screaming a sound void of anything human, just pure loss and heartache. 

Seungmin doesn't scream. Cameras remain untouched. Yet the pain spikes so severely that Seungmin's sobs strangle out his voice, and only escape as straining exhales. As the heel of a clenched fist digs into his thigh, Seungmin tries to fight the panic attack.

But he can't.

He lost Minho.

Minho's gone.

How can Seungmin grieve someone who's still alive?

Choking, Seungmin falls out of the chair, the world blurring into a mayhem of bleeding colors and overexposed light. His knees crash onto the hard, unforgiving floor, but there's no time for an outcry when Seungmin's chest smashes down. Panic erupts. Double doors of his rib cage swing open, a revolting waterfall of arteries, doves drowned in blood, broken promises, viscera and wilting alizarin carnations pour out. His forehead touches the ground that's damp with his tears. He can't breathe. He can't fucking breathe. Please somebody help him breathe. Please somebody just rip out his windpipe. Seungmin's eyes are wide and vacant, but his mind doesn't make any sense of shapes and shadows flickering in his sight. Vaguely, Seungmin feels someone's arms-- maybe Chan's? -- wrap around him.

Silent pain grows into a savage wildfire, burning, scorching, the flames reach higher, incinerating his veins, his lungs, the carving knife stabs into Seungmin's chest again and again--

-and again, sharply jolting him awake. Pain pierces through the spaces between fragile rib bones, one blade splitting into a thousand needles laced with scorpion venom. Inhaling roughly, Seungmin arches off the bed, muscles tensing with paralysis, hands numbly clawing at the sheets. "Fu-- ck-!" He can barely spit out the swear as eroding syllables harden into stone, crashing against the back of his teeth.

Seungmin's heart pounds fast, too fast. A war drum playing to a frenzied rhythm that only speeds up in tempo. Every syncopated beat pulverizes cartilage and bone into jagged fragments, and reminds Seungmin that he's a hostage in his own body. With every failed breath, porcelain shards cut the corners of Seungmin's lips, across the roof of his mouth, over his tongue. He can't taste anything, but blood these days.

Something in the back of his fracturing mind reminds Seungmin that he isn't on set with scrutinizing cameras, falling apart on his hands and knees, having a fucking panic attack in front of the crew. And Chan? Yeah, Chan was there. It was Chan trying to calm Seungmin down, guiding him to breathe, ripping away the mic, wearing his best reassuring smile despite the fear and guilt wavering in his eyes.

Seungmin's in the present, in his own bedroom, in a dorm where Jeongin sleeps with Rainstorm Sounds BGM for Hrs playing softly, Felix passes out after gaming, and Minho--

"Hyung?" Seungmin whispers into the empty, vast darkness.

Even as panic swiftly escalates into a vengeful hurricane, and scratches at the inside of his ribcage, Seungmin knows he needs to keep his voice quiet. He can't bother anyone with this repulsive wreckage of emotions, and stain them with an unending oil spill. His members always proudly tell interviewers, the cameras, the fans how Seungmin's mentally strong.

"He's very grounded, centered."

"Resilient. Yeah, that's what Seungmin is."

"His mentality doesn't waver. I respect that a lot about him." 

"Seungmin's our pillar."

When they lived together in one dorm, Seungmin became best friends with the bathroom floor at 2AM, collapsed on cold tiles, covering his mouth to silence rough gasps and sobs as voracious anxiety eats him alive. After moving dorms, his members still say Seungmin's strong, Seungmin's unshakeable. Now Seungmin has a whole bedroom to himself where he can hide breakdowns and skeletons under the floorboards.

But Seungmin doesn't have the heart to correct his bandmates when they gaze at him too warmly, too lovingly. And the one who looks at Seungmin with quiet, profound adoration is always Minho.

Terror seizes Seungmin's heart with icy talons, and pins his body onto the mattress like a framed butterfly. Holding his breath, Seungmin stares at the door with wide eyes. What if Minho isn't in the dorms? His room? What if Minho isn't here at all? What if Minho wasn't brought back after the elimination? What if Minho's gone?

"No-" Shaking and gasping, Seungmin rips his limbs off bed, and scrambles out of the room. "No, god, please, no, I--"

Seungmin forgets to grab his phone to use the built-in flashlight, and doesn't think of turning on the hallway light. Pitch black grows heavier, suffocating, too much like that dark stage when Minho's ripped away from them. This dorm, this home distorts into an intricate, twisting labyrinth with no exit in sight. Terror and anxiety chase Seungmin like a minotaur starving for blood and flesh.

Before Seungmin passes out from hyperventilating, he pauses with his hand resting on the nearest wall. Seungmin grasps at the threads of memory. He visits Minho's room countless times. If dance practice is exceptionally strenuous and emotionally taxing that day, Minho invites Seungmin over. They'll watch a show together until passing out. Whenever Seungmin swings by a cafe, he grabs something for Minho, and enters his room with offerings of caffeine. And there's random times when Seungmin goes to Minho, and rests his head in Minho's lap, enjoying the feel of Minho playing with his hair as they both scroll on their phones.

But tonight's the first time, since living in separate rooms that Seungmin goes to Minho because of a night terror. Fingers curl tightly into his sleeves as Seungmin tries staying silent. His ragged breathing strains as the panic attack prowls hungrily on the horizon. 

Kneeling down by the bed, Seungmin sees Minho's sleeping form shrouded by shadows. Minho lays on his side with his back facing Seungmin. Just to make sure that it's really Minho, that Minho's here, that Minho's still breathing-- Seungmin reaches out to touch his back.

"Are you really here?" Seungmin whispers, the tremor in his voice reaching his fingertips.

Slowly blinking through the drowsy cloudiness of sleep, Minho opens his eyes to half-mast. He turns around towards the source of that shaky voice. As his vision adjusts to the darkness, Minho recognizes the familiar silhouette hovering by his bedside. But confusion still seeps in. "Seungmin?"

"...--Hyung."

Eyes snapping open, Minho jolts upright, survival instincts kicking into high gear. "What happened? Who hurt you?"

Sheer, relentless red swallows Minho's sight. Even in the darkness, crimson remains standing as the only surviving color. Minho's known for his cool, stoic composure. If he's ever genuinely agitated, then it's the wintry, cut-throat kind of frustration. Sharp, swift and precise. Minho's more likely to strategize ten steps ahead on a chessboard than just deck someone across the face like a savage brute.

But unbridled fucking rage erupts in Minho once hearing Seungmin's voice so small, twisting and splintering with tears. Minho's feral wrath can only think of hunting down whoever hurt Seungmin. He's ready to reach for a knife, a gun, a crowbar. Who's been tormenting Seungmin? Who's been pulling Seungmin away from the group? Minho isn't going to stand for Seungmin being hurt anymore. 

The next best weapon within reach is his phone, so Minho can round up Chan and Changbin. Or at least throw the phone at the culprit's skull like a fucking brick.

Before Minho can swipe his phone off the bedside table, Seungmin touches his hand. Callused fingertips barely brush over, slowly tracing the rise and fall of knuckles. As Seungmin rests his hand on top of Minho's, his fingers curl to hold on.

As if struggling to break through the ocean's surface, Seungmin gasps, "You're here."

Seungmin smiles, even laughs airily as the invisible minefield in his body detonates. Heart implodes. Lungs incinerate. Veins scorch. Choking and wheezing, Seungmin buries his face into the bed to smother himself, a shaky hand clawing at the sheets. Panic slams a ruthless wrecking ball into Seungmin's brittle bones to an unyielding rhythm, erupting violent earthquakes with every failed inhale.

"Hyung-" Seungmin can't breathe, but still calls out for Minho with a strangling voice. "Don't go- please, you can't-" As blood pools in his mouth full of stones and briars, Seungmin gasps out, "I'm sorry--"

'--for staying away from you.' Seungmin's eyes widen. There's a knife sinking right into the center of his abdomen, and he's the only one wielding the blade. Seungmin's been digging it deeper, twisting, carving, since the group reacts to the elimination clips. Or maybe even long before that. If Seungmin rewatches his solo interview, maybe he'll see his hand slip on the hilt, and cut his palm on the sharp edge.

They never talk about what happened back then with the elimination. Or maybe Minho wants to. But Seungmin always runs, always keeps a safe distance, always plays it nice for the cameras, always stays out of Minho's reach behind closed doors. Now, he's rarely ever home. Because how can Seungmin hold onto Minho so tightly again, love him again-- when Seungmin may lose him again?

Throwing the sheets away, Minho slides off the bed, and rushes over to Seungmin's side. "I'm here, Seungmin. Right here." Minho rubs soothing circles on Seungmin's back that's frighteningly taut with tension. Hushing gently, Minho guides Seungmin, so he doesn't smother himself into the mattress. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Still shaking, Seungmin moves closer to Minho. His forehead falls into the curve where Minho's neck slopes down into his shoulder. "I'm sorry, hyung, I-" He refuses to relax the vice grip on the front of Minho's shirt.

"It's okay, puppy. You don't need to apologize." Minho keeps Seungmin close. "Just breathe with me, okay?" While taking deep breaths, Minho guides Seungmin's hand to rest on his chest.

After staggering inhales, Seungmin slowly calms down his breathing. He feels empty, carved out. As if Seungmin just performed countless songs back-to-back without a break. Numb to another tear that falls, Seungmin leans against Minho, and feels his blood run cold. For fuck's sake. Even the scalding sensation of crying reignites Seungmin's memories of the group being torn apart. Seungmin doesn't know how to stop the past from devouring him, not even willing to spit out a bone.

"What happened, Seungmin?" Minho's fingers brush over the curve of Seungmin's ear, lightly gliding down to touch his pulse. "Please, talk to me. I need to know what's going on, what's hurting you so bad."

"I don't know how to tell you without hurting you."

Minho freezes. 

Fuck, goddamnit. Why did he say that? Seungmin begs for the universe to smite him with lightning, the earth to split open and swallow him up.

"Are you--" Minho talks slowly, so he doesn't cut his tongue on these glass words. "Hurting...because of me?"

Closing his eyes, Seungmin tries to disappear. He can leave his body if he chooses to. The red emergency button is right there.

But when Minho's sob shatters his bones, Seungmin stays. No more running away. Seungmin turns towards Minho, and holds him tightly.

"You didn't do anything wrong, hyung." Seungmin's drained heart gives the last of its warmth to Minho. "Not back then. Or now."

"What?" Minho exhales sharply, reeling from the revelation that Seungmin's boogeyman is Minho all along. He would collapse if it wasn't for Seungmin holding him. "What- what did I do? Was that what your nightmare was about?"

"It was..." Seungmin's voice trails off into another choking sob. "A memory. When I-" He gasps for air that won't reach his lungs. Or maybe Seungmin forgot to shove his lungs back inside while half-heartedly sewing up everything that spilled out. "When I lost you."

Blinking, confusion spikes in Minho. He leans back just enough to look at Seungmin. "Lost me?"

"Lost you." Staring at the shadows in the bedroom, Seungmin sees the cold, harsh stage lights. The rays slice sharper once Minho walks away, the sight of his back disappearing. "You were-- gone."

Minho races through his mind in search of what Seungmin's talking about. When has Minho ever left him? Chest aching, Minho sees how Seungmin's still shell shocked after just barely surviving a panic attack. Minho can't even imagine what's been haunting Seungmin this relentlessly.

Gently, Minho runs a hand through Seungmin's hair. "But Seungmin, I'm here. You can't ever lose me-"

"Eliminated." Seungmin recoils from the gunshot, even though he's the one who pulls the trigger. "When you were eliminated on the show. And I--" Choking on a sob, Seungmin obliterates scarred palm lines with nails, and closes his eyes tightly to fight burning tears. "I couldn't fucking do anything-"

Suddenly, Seungmin's seized with the urge to leave. Run away. Guilt bulldozes over him as reality douses him in cold, glacier water. Not only is Seungmin stealing Minho's sleep by barging into his bedroom, and breaking down all over his floor. But Seungmin's bringing up one of the worst times in Minho's past.

'Eliminated.'

---the word reverberates in Minho's mind, playing on loop. Every time the word repeats, it distorts, glitches, mutates into something incoherent, but even more painful. 

Minho doesn't talk about that experience. Nobody else does either. What's there to say? Shouldn't Minho just be grateful he's given the chance to come back, and be part of Stray Kids? 

The black cesspool of shame and guilt from not being good enough is only for Minho to deal with. Minho's the dance lead and one of the oldest. It's Minho's responsibility to take care of the group, and be someone reliable, steady. Alone, Minho bandages his gaping wounds from the elimination.

But there's always been an invisible guillotine hovering above his head. Who knows if or when the higher ups may someday cut Minho out of the group? Maybe they'll see again that Minho isn't enough.

But nothing slaughters Minho more than realizing how the elimination haunts Seungmin.

From the dark circles smudging under Seungmin's eyes to his quieter, yet heavier exhales, Minho knows Seungmin suffers alone these past several nights. And whether they're on standby for their turn on the photo stage, or waiting in line at the airport, sometimes Minho catches Seungmin watching him from the corner of his eye. It's always with silent, harrowing grief. As if Minho is a ghost that will vanish from Seungmin's side any second.

For a fleeting moment, Minho wonders if Seungmin holds any secret resentment towards him. But Minho's quick to kill that terrible thought. Seungmin always lets Minho take the window seat whether they're in a van or plane, since Minho enjoys watching outside. Minho's favorite coffee grounds and snacks are stocked in the kitchen without ever running low. It seems random on the surface how Seungmin will send Minho recordings, but it's always covers of Minho's favorite songs.

Quietly and deeply from afar, Seungmin still cares about Minho. Even now as Seungmin clings onto Minho, grasping onto his shirt with fingers pleading for Minho to stay.

"Seungmin." Minho holds that shaking hand. Even though Seungmin won't look at him, Minho doesn't let his gaze drift away. "It's not your fault."

"But hyung-" Seungmin's sob shatters in the forest of thorns in his mouth. He's so tired of tasting his own blood.

"I mean it." Lashes damp with tears, Minho rests his forehead against Seungmin's temple. "The elimination was never your fault."

It's only ever been Minho's fault. He's always known this, since standing on that stage with his members for the last time, and being told to leave. It was fucking devastating to see how quickly his dreams shattered before his eyes. But nothing destroyed Minho like inflicting wounds upon his members in one fell swoop. 

Being brought back into Stray Kids isn't just Minho's second chance at being an idol. It's Minho's second chance to give his members the love and care they deserve. Especially Seungmin. The boy that Minho cries over every night after the elimination. Fiery heat from his own tears only remind Minho of Seungmin's tears against his cheek, his shoulder, the back of his fingers. 

It's a despicable feedback loop, but in some fucked up way, Minho clings onto it. He never wants to forget Seungmin, even if all he has left are memories of heartbreak.

"But..." Slowly, Minho draws in a shaky breath. "I understand how you feel. Like when I saw your interview."

Minho doesn't need any social media clips, or variety show segments to remind him. Those pixels of Seungmin breaking down alone in that empty, black void are chiseled into his memory. Along with the sounds of Seungmin's sobs shattering as he turns his back to the camera, shoulders quaking. 

The first time Minho watches Seungmin's interview on a pale glowing screen, Minho runs to the bathroom, knees hitting the tile, nausea slamming into his stomach. Seungmin looks so...so fucking sad, so wrecked, Minho screams as his bites into his forearm.

It's from Chan one late night that Minho learns how Seungmin's scene cuts short. The editors were kind enough to not show Seungmin collapsing out of the chair, and self-destructing into a panic attack on set. Out of respect for Seungmin, Chan doesn't go into detail about that experience. But the heavy, haunted look in Chan's drifting gaze paints everything for Minho.

After holding Chan for a long time, and making sure their leader finally goes to bed, Minho returns to his own dorm. But not his own bedroom. Minho quietly steps into Seungmin's bedroom, sits on the edge of his bed, and lightly strokes his hair as Seungmin sleeps. Closing his eyes, Minho grips Seungmin's hand to his chest, and cries silently.

Now, that same grief dwells in Minho's tears as he holds Seungmin. Both of them a sprawling mess of shaky sobs and graveyard dirt and albatross carcasses and heartbreak on the bedroom floor.

"I'm sorry you were hurting so much." Blinking through tears, Minho dries Seungmin's damp cheek. "It-- it fucking destroyed me that I couldn't be there to comfort you, hold you."

"N-no, hyung, I-" Seungmin shakes his head. Ruining Minho's hard work of drying his face, more tears cascade in harsh waves. The scalding sensation echoes how it feels for Seungmin to cry under those heartless stage lights. "It's okay, I'm sorry, you were hurting most, I shouldn't be selfish, please don't--" Another sob shatters against Minho's palm as he cradles Seungmin's face.

"You're the furthest thing from selfish." As Minho wipes away a tear with his thumb, he smiles warmly. "Honestly, it'd do you some good to be a little more selfish."

"You too," Seungmin mumbles into Minho's hand. Just when he feels like he's calmed down enough, a whole new tsunami of tears unleashes. "I'm sorry for-- for keeping away from you. For not being closer, and- and disappearing. Hyung, I never wanted to hurt you, but-- but I did, and I'm so fucking sorry." 

Seungmin buries his face into Minho's palm as if it'll hide him forever. His eyes fall shut. In the darkness, Seungmin sees Minho's back as he walks away.

Fading.

Vanishing.

Gone.

In a whisper that carries too many tears, Seungmin confesses, "I was scared." He opens his eyes. "But that doesn't make it right to confuse and hurt you. I'm really sorry, Minho hyung. I swear, I'll do better. Please-" His voice grows louder, but for all the wrong reasons as another hideous sob escape. "Please don't go."

"Thank you for telling me all of that. And coming back to me. But Seungmin, I'm not going anywhere." Minho nudges his forehead against Seungmin's hair. "So, I-" He swallows down a bitter mouthful of fear, and scrapes up whatever courage remains in his chest. "I need you to stay."

Long-awaited rainfall breaks over the vicious forest fire. Seungmin isn't burning anymore. Sobs quietening down, Seungmin nods. "I'll stay." His lips brush over Minho's palm, catching the faint salt of his tears. "That's all I want, hyung."

Breathing in slowly, Minho keeps his gaze on Seungmin. "To be honest, what's been going on lately hurts like Hell. But I never blamed or resented you for anything. Because Seungmin-" Minho waits to make sure Seungmin is looking at him. "You're good." He keeps pressing forward even as Seungmin cries harder. "You're so good, Seungmin. I knew you weren't being malicious, or anything fucked up like that. I just- I didn't understand why you were pulling away from me, from all of us."

"I was- I am--" Seungmin leans closer. He can't fight the gravity of heartache anymore. "I'm so fucking terrified of losing you. And everyone."

Shock widens Minho's eyes. Shock at learning what's been tormenting Seungmin. Shock at how it's the same fear that plagues Minho as well. 

"Christ-- No wonder you've been- Yeah." Minho heaves a weary exhale that he's been holding in for too long. Softly, Minho admits, "I was scared too." He laughs quietly, but it's fragile at the edges like crumbling butterfly wings. No more iridescent gossamer left. Only colorless decay. "Sometimes, I'm still scared."

"Of what?"

Minho falls silent. He's tempted to use one of a thousand tactics to evade, deflect, avoid answering. Last thing Minho wants is to burden anyone. But after Seungmin bares all of himself, Minho stops reaching for the armor plates.

Gaze breaking away, Minho answers, "That I might be cut from the team again."

"Hyung-" Seungmin's hand shoots out, and grabs Minho's sleeve. Panic flaring wildly in wide eyes, Seungmin shakes his head. "No fucking way. No, absolutely no. We wouldn't let that happen. Chan hyung- I mean, all of us will never let you go."

"I know." Minho chuckles. Some warmth sparks in his eyes again as he looks at Seungmin. "You guys are what keeps me from losing my mind these days."

In spite of Minho's smile, Seungmin still catches shadows of apprehension flit across his face. "Why do you think you'd be cut out of Stray Kids?"

"I don't know." Shrugging a shoulder, Minho tries to play it nonchalant. "Not attractive enough. Not masculine enough. Not thin enough. Not fit enough. Not smart enough. Not funny enough. And yeah, I can dance, but-" Minho kneads his knuckles into his thigh hard enough to almost bruise. "There's always going to be way better dancers than me." 

Suddenly, Minho tenses, then laughs it off nervously. What the Hell is he doing throwing his Pandora's box of insecurities at Seungmin? Minho's supposed to be reassuring Seungmin. Not be the one asking for comfort.

"Sorry, puppy." Raising his eyes from the ground, Minho smiles apologetically. He reaches out to brush Seungmin's bangs. "I didn't mean to make this about myself-"

Seungmin catches Minho's hand. "Hyung, you're enough."

Minho stares. Then with a sudden laugh, Minho looks away. "Really, Seungmin, you don't have to-"

Leaning closer, Seungmin declares with all his heart, "You're enough." 

"Don't." Minho's voice hardens, sharpens. Oxygen rattles around in his ribcage, and tears singe the corners of his eyes. "We all know there's legit, real reasons I was thrown out before. And it's because I was lacking, I made mistakes, I fucked up, I wasn't enou-"

"Minho hyung." Seungmin tugs on Minho's hand to bring those tearful eyes back to him. "You've always been enough." Fierce, stubborn love burns bright in Seungmin's gaze. "And I'm so sorry that I didn't know you felt this way. Or how long, how deeply you've been hurting like this. But hyung, I'm never going to let you be alone in this anymore."

Minho flares up to protest, to insist that he's okay dealing with this by himself, to confess that he's not worth it. But the decay encaging his heart perishes, erodes, burns away as Seungmin kisses Minho's palm. Ardently, searingly. Tears spilling over, Minho stares stunned into absolute, aching silence.

Seungmin presses his lips against Minho's hand, even as his own tears trickle along palm lines. When Seungmin seals a promise onto Minho's tender wrist with a kiss, he feels a hummingbird pulse in those veins. 

Never again will Seungmin let fear win. 

Never again will Seungmin leave Minho alone. 

"You're funny in that clever, witty way." Seungmin kisses Minho's finger. "You're smarter than anyone I know, but never brag about it, never put people down." Another kiss on another finger. "You're the dancer that moved my heart in ways I didn't even know it could be moved. No other dancer makes me feel so much, so deeply." Another kiss. "You're our home, our North Star." Another kiss. "And you're so fucking beautiful, I forget how to breathe when I look at you."

With one last kiss, Seungmin lifts his gaze from Minho's hand.

Soft amber lamplight reflecting off his tears. Seungmin sees Minho struggling to stifle sobs with the back of his other hand. For so long, Minho has been reaching out towards Seungmin. Tonight, Seungmin reaches for Minho, hands cradling his face, foreheads touching.

"--can't-" Still crying, Minho scowls, and lightly swats at Seungmin's chest. "I can't with you, oh my god-- I'm supposed to comfort you. Take care of you."

Seungmin laughs. He almost jumps in surprise. It's been too long, since Seungmin hears the sound of his own joy. Seungmin laughs again, loving how it's Minho who brings this sound out of him. "If you wanna be competitive about this, that's fine. But you're not going to win."

"What-" Before Minho can fire back a remark, he yelps as Seungmin carries him. "Kim Seungmin!" he exclaims in a hushed whisper, so the entire dorm doesn't wake up.

Seungmin lays Minho down on the bed, then slides in after him. Even after being apart, their bodies naturally gravitate towards each other. Seungmin melts at how Minho circles strong arms around him in a protective embrace. Instead of the feral compulsion to rip apart his skin, Seungmin feels okay in his own body tonight. He exhales softly, basking in the long missed sense of safety.

"Hyung."

"Mm?"

"I want to talk to everyone." Seungmin grasps at Minho's shirt. "And apologize."

"Okay." Minho's fingers brush waves through Seungmin's hair. "I'll be there with you." As his thumb brushes over Seungmin's cheekbone, he wipes away a tear. "And I'm here now, Seungmin. If your thoughts get too loud, too scary again, trying to make you run-- talk to me. I'll always listen."

Laughing under his breath with another round of tears, Seungmin leans into Minho's touch. "Then you gonna lecture me?"

"No." Minho kisses Seungmin's forehead. "I'll remind you that no matter what, you'll always have me." Minho kisses Seungmin's cheek. "And that you need to stay with me, because I want you to sing my favorite songs."

Kissing the corner of Seungmin's mouth, Minho lets his lips dwell for a moment longer. Seungmin's heart halts. Yearning burns and smolders. Just one of them needs to turn their head slightly for mouths to brush.

For tonight, Minho kisses Seungmin's other cheek, then rests his head on the man's chest. Carding his fingers through silken strands, Seungmin wonders if Minho can hear his heartbeat. It's not racing. For the first time in a long while, Seungmin's heartbeat falls into a steady, serene rhythm. 

Their eyes close. Breathing evens out. Seungmin settles into Minho's arms, reveling in the warmth that doesn't fade away. No night terrors. No haunting fears. 

Together, they drift off to sleep.

III.

When Seungmin asks if he can talk with everyone, the group doesn't hesitate. They're all eager to get together. Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung and Changbin come over to the other dorm. 

Before Seungmin can say he's sorry, Jisung throws his arms around Seungmin, and cries into his shoulder. Seungmin doesn't just hear Jisung's loud, decibel shattering sobs. He feels the vibrations of those sobs repeatedly run a chainsaw across his skin.

"I'msorrySeungmin-" Jisung cries hard, holding onto Seungmin tighter. "I- I was such a fucking asshole to you, and oh god, I said the worst awful shit, and-- and you didn't deserve any of that, and I just- I love you, man, I love you so much-"

"No, Jisung, I'm sorry," Seungmin gasps shakily. As his own tears pour over, Seungmin dries Jisung's face with soft sleeve paws. "I was hurting you and everyone by being so distant and closed off. That was really fucked up of me to do. And I love you too. I-- I should've been a better friend-"

"Dude, you're already my best friend. I'm the one who should've been better--"

"But I-- I shouldn't have raised my voice and made you cry-"

"I was yelling louder and made you cry way more!"

Their words keep tripping over each other. But they're surprisingly well coordinated with taking turns drying each other's tears.

"You guys really be filming a drama," Minho drawls, walking towards the living room with a tray of everyone's comfort drinks. "Where's your Oscar invites at?"

"We're having a moment here!" Scowling, Jisung exclaims while Jeongin, Felix and Hyunjin crack up in the background.

Seungmin can't help, but smile. It's so good to hear his best friends laughing again. Everyone knows that Minho plays up the sass to lighten the mood. In silent gratitude, Seungmin touches the small of Minho's back as he passes by. Minho leans into the touch with a warm, doting smile.

"You seem lighter."

As Seungmin turns towards that familiar voice, Chan's arms wrap around him. Seungmin closes his eyes, so he doesn't break into tears again. Ever since making the decision to ask if they can all talk, Seungmin's mind writes a million worst-case scenario scripts. Several of these terrifyingly detailed three-act plays involve heartbreaking disasters like Chan saying Seungmin has to leave the group, or cutting Seungmin out of his personal life.

But here's Chan holding Seungmin. Heel of his hand massaging Seungmin's chest to ease the soreness from god knows how many panic attacks. Seungmin expects anger, rejection, abandonment, hatred. Chan gives love. 

And so does Changbin as he squeezes them both, and almost shatters their bones with affection. Warmth blankets around the three of them. Held back tears break free from Seungmin, along with breathless laughter.

When the embrace releases, Seungmin's left aching, but in a good way. "Thank you for coming over to talk."

"Yeah, of course, dude. I'm really happy that you reached out to us." Chan rubs Seungmin's arm. Even without Seungmin saying anything, Chan knows that his bandmate must feel wound up and tense with anxiety. "And we got the entire day off. Tomorrow too. I told management we need a break."

"Oh." Seungmin's hands disappear into his sleeves. The rest of his body suddenly wants to disappear too. "Is that okay, hyung? I-"  A hurricane of countless schedules and deadlines rip through the ghost town of Seungmin's mind. "This talk might not take long. I'll make it quick. I don't want to cause any trouble with management, or make it harder for our group, or..."

Seungmin's panicked rambling trails off as he takes in how Chan looks at him. Dark, exhausted circles dwell heavily under his eyes. It's the kind of exhaustion not just from a lack of sleep. But from brutal storms raging inside. But even with that weariness, the warmth in Chan's eyes burn stronger.

"More than okay." Chan grasps the back of Seungmin's neck. Comfort bleeds through callused fingers, doubling with the stroke of his thumb. "Don't worry, we took care of everything. Nothing matters more than making sure you're okay." With a boyish grin, Chan ruffles Seungmin's hair. "Anyways, we could all use a break."

"Yep, I sure can." Changbin slings an arm around Seungmin's shoulders. "And no way am I gonna pass on hanging out with our precious, cute puppy." He jostles Seungmin around playfully until shaking a giggle out of Seungmin. With a soft gaze, Changbin nudges his forehead against Seungmin's temple. "We know it can be scary opening up. So, take your time talking. We're here and not going anywhere."

Blinking, Seungmin tries to hold back another wave of tears. Even after how much Seungmin's cried until now, the reservoir of tears refuses to run out. "Thank you, hyung." He squeezes Chan's hand, and leans against Changbin. "And I'm sorry for the mess in the studio."

"It's okay. We know you were doing your best." Chan smiles kindly even when Seungmin struggles to meet his eyes. "Opening up is hard. I still have a lot to learn with that too."

Changbin squeezes Seungmin's shoulder. "Yeah, and like no matter how messy things get, we're gonna deal with it together." 

Together. 

All of them being together. 

But for how long? 

Seungmin's chest seizes with a festering cesspool of anxiety. Instead of running out of the room, Seungmin takes a deep breath. He does it three more times. And he stays. Even while everything inside of him screams to go, leave, run-- Seungmin stays. 

After everyone gets comfortable and settled in their seats, a respectful quiet falls upon the living room. Seungmin clenches and unclenches and clenches his hand. Some of his bandmates look at him, open and patient as ever. Others look elsewhere, not wanting to overwhelm Seungmin with the sense that he's being examined and interrogated.

A roughly exhaled "Fuck" under Seungmin's breath breaks the quiet. He stands up, chest heaving, starts pacing. 

Immediately, Seungmin's struck with the urge to sit back down, since this feels like he's going to give some beautifully eloquent, powerful TEDTalk. But the words Seungmin's been rehearsing in his mind dropkicks out the window.

"Just a sec, I'm going to talk-" Seungmin reassures them, despite already being out of breath as if he ran all bases around the diamond. Not because he struck a homerun. But because a pack of hunting dogs trained by anxiety keep chasing him. Before any of their bloodstained maws bite his leg, Seungmin says:

"I'm sorry."

And takes a breath.

So does everyone else. A few inhales hitch on faint, quickly swallowed down sobs. 

"I'm really sorry." Seungmin struggles to look at everyone, since their pain and confusion radiates fiercer than direct sunlight. But he needs all of his members to hear this. "I'm sorry for hurting and worrying you guys by avoiding you. Pushing you away. Being close to you in public, but then-" Molten shame pours over Seungmin, covering him in third-degree burns. "Running away when we're home. I'm sorry for-- for making you feel unwanted. Unloved. Because I swear-" Seungmin closes his eyes tightly, pleads for tears to stay inside. After feeling them recede just enough, Seungmin looks at everyone again. "All I want is to be with you." 

"Then why did you leave?" Jeongin keeps his stare on Seungmin. There's no hostile edge to his words, or defensiveness to his posture. Jeongin rests his arm on the sofa's upper ledge, along the line of Chan's shoulders. He shares matching dark circles with their leader. "Were you upset with us?"

"Yeah, like-- did we do something?" Felix already has another tissue in his hand. The box was moved over to him by Minho, since Felix hasn't stopped crying once Seungmin began apologizing.

"No, no, I swear, it's not anything like that," Seungmin reassures quickly. "Nobody did anything bad. I wasn't angry or upset with you guys. I just-" Seungmin curls his fingers more into his sleeves. It's almost impossible to see when his lashes blink furiously to cage tears. "I- I didn't..." 

Chest tightening, Seungmin feels his body grow heavy with vertigo, and nearly succumbs to keeling over. He doesn't want to say this. He doesn't want to hurt his members anymore than he already has. Seungmin holds onto the truth like gripping a grenade that's already been unpinned. He'd rather swallow the fatal grenade than murder his bandmates in the unavoidable explosion. 

But through the blur of tears, Seungmin sees Minho's fingers touch his knee. Seungmin follows the line up Minho's arm until seeing those warm, encouraging eyes. That's right. Seungmin isn't alone. Minho's right here next to him, seated on a chair carried over from the kitchen. Seungmin gives a grateful nod to Minho, then stands up straight.

"I'm sorry." After swiping the back of his hand across his tearful eyes, Seungmin looks at everyone. "I didn't know how-- how to be around you anymore. It hurt too fucking much-"

"Wait, so it is because of us?" Hyunjin barely gets the words out over a slew of sobs crashing into each other. "But I thought-" With the way Hyunjin grips his shirt so tightly, the buttons may rip off. Despair serrates his voice, shaking his frame. "Don't you love us?"

"Of course, I do-" Seungmin's voice almost raises, and he nearly throws an arm up to punch at the air. But he quickly dials it back down. Nobody here wants to fight. Softer, Seungmin says, "I love you. All of you. Even when I was away, I still loved you."

"And we love you too, Seungmin." Gazing at Seungmin, the warmth in Chan's eyes hasn't dimmed even by a fraction. But Chan looks a thousand times more drained, which means it's actually a million times more, since Chan exerts all strength to keep it together. "Why does being around us hurt you?"

Panicking, Seungmin glances at the door. Can he make a run for it? Or would someone intercept him? No. He can't run. He can't leave his best friends suffering and heartbroken and confused anymore like this. There's nothing kind about that. His members deserve better.

"I just-" Seungmin's voice strangles. "I- I love you all so much, more than I could ever love myself, and I know-" Hand clenching tight, Seungmin's nails reopen injuries that haven't even had the chance to heal and scar. "I know it was really fucked up and cowardly, but I--" Defeated, Seungmin's arm falls to his side. "I left first so you couldn't leave me again."

"Again? What? How?" Jisung blinks too quickly, too much. It's obvious that his mind races faster than the speed of light, desperately trying to remember when Seungmin was abandoned. "We left?" Jisung looks around at everyone as if someone else knows about this heinous act, this atrocious crime. "When did we leave him? Why--" Hands closing into fists, and eyes glaring dangerously, Jisung's already getting riled up at the mere thought of Seungmin being left. "Why the fuck would we do that?"

"Seungmin hyung, we've always been here. Waiting for you." Jeongin doesn't have it in him anymore to keep his voice steady. Even his composure trembles, breaks. His hand goes from roughly drying his face to gesturing sharply. "I understand that you're anxious and scared, but I swear, we're not going anywhere."

"And we would never leave you." In spite of the tears burning his eyes, Changbin watches Seungmin. The hat Changbin came here wearing now lays on the living room table. His hair becomes a mess from running a distressed hand through it too many times. "There's no way that could ever happen-"

"But it did!" Seungmin screams. Or tries to. His heart ruptures with the truth, exploding out of his coal mine ribcage. "It happened, it fucking happened, I know nobody here wants to leave anyone, but it happened, and I- I just--"

Shocked by Seungmin's rare outburst, everyone jolts with wide eyes, or doubles over, crying harder. Seungmin was wrong. There isn't any grenade in his hand. The weapon, the explosive, the dangerous thing has always been him. But with the truth broken out of its cage, and running off with the throat of Seungmin's silence in its bloody jaws, Seungmin can't stop.

"It happened." Face scalding with a torrent of tears, Seungmin staggers back. "And when I'm with you guys, especially when I'm happy with you, loved by you-- I can't stop thinking about what if it happens again?" Seungmin gestures ferociously by ripping out every knife, arrow, bullet lodged into his body, and throwing them onto the ground to slaughter every question mark. "What if I lose you again? What if I can't sing or dance or stand on stage with you again? What if I can't go home to you again? What if I can't be with you again? What if- what if I can't stop it-" 

As if he isn't already choking on a sob, Seungmin cries harder once Minho squeezes his hand tightly. Painfully. 

"What if I-- I can't do anything again?" With overwhelming heartbreak, Seungmin looks at Felix who stares in bewilderment. Seungmin has to tear his eyes away. "I'm sorry--" 

Seungmin's gaze falls upon Minho, elbow on his knee, face buried into his arm as he violently shakes with silent sobs. Seungmin rests his hand between Minho's shoulder blades, and strokes the vulnerable space in between. 

When a loud, harsh sob finally escapes Minho, Seungmin falls to his knees. Minho bites at his sleeve, fabric nearly ripping between his gnashing teeth. It does little to stifle the terrified, anguished outcry.

"Hyung-" Seungmin hides his face against Minho's back, every bone and vein incinerating from heartache. "I'm sorry, hyung."

After squeezing Jeongin in a hug, and gently grasping the nape of Changbin's neck, Chan stands up. He walks over to Seungmin and Minho, lowering onto a knee by them. For a quiet moment, Chan holds them, massages burning anxiety out of Seungmin's arms, strokes Minho's hair. Once Seungmin calms down enough to raise his head, Chan wipes away his tears. The gentleness only beckons more tears from Seungmin.

"You said something happened." Changbin holds his gaze steadfastly on Seungmin. "What was it?"

"Wait." Minho grasps Chan's wrist.

All eyes turn towards Minho, most of them already welling with tears. It's the first time Minho says anything in this conversation. Minho stays quiet up until now, so Seungmin can say everything he needs to share. And Minho isn't going to stop him.

But as Chan's best friend, as the only member who saw Chan's private breakdowns during pre-debut, as someone who will go to Hell and back for him-- Minho needs Chan to know, "It's not your fault."

Chan stares. Unblinking, silent-- tears carrying a whole different kind of excruciating pain rises. The epiphany guts him alive. Chan smiles, but it quickly splinters into a twisting line as he forcefully swallows down a sob.

Behind them, Felix lets out a sharp gasp from how tightly Changbin abruptly holds his hand. Felix tries comforting him, but Changbin won't lift his head.

Jeongin closes his eyes. Braces himself for impact.

"I mean it." Gazing intensely, Minho grasps the side of Chan's neck. "What happened was never your fault. And there's absolutely nothing in me where I've ever blamed you. Or resented you. I've only been grateful to you, hyung." Minho closes his eyes to calm his racing, anxious heart, then looks at Chan again. "You're the one who brought us home."

Nodding, Chan grasps Minho's hand. The tears won't go away, but Chan doesn't feel like he's going to unravel any second. 

Chan turns his attention back to Seungmin. Eyes warm. "It's okay, Seungmin. You can say it." Chan smiles, even as his heart breaks a hundred times over again. "What happened?"

With a haunted gaze, Seungmin wants to say sorry, wants to never say another word again. Not when it comes at the cost of lining all of them up for being gunned down. Point blank range.

"We lost them," Seungmin whispers, another tear falling. He looks at Minho closing his eyes tightly in silent agony, then glances at Felix watching them in confusion. When Seungmin turns his gaze back to Chan, he cries. "The survival show. The eliminations."

"NO!" Jisung shouts, jumping to his feet, not even knowing who he's screaming no at, but still needing to scream anyways. He turns his back to everyone, covering his face with his hands.

Inhaling so loud and hard and sharp that his body recoils, Felix crumbles. "Ohmygod-" His tears break free fast and hard.

Somebody's falling, somebody's trying to catch the other, it's a mess as Changbin and Felix end up on the living room floor. It's horrifyingly reminiscent of them holding each other when Felix is eliminated.

With his elbow on the sofa arm rest, Jeongin gnaws on his knuckles to stifle sobs, and looks off into the distance. At nothing. At everything back then. 

Hyunjin grabs Jisung's sleeve, so he doesn't pace outraged circles hard and fast enough to kindle a fire. Hyunjin's other hand trembles, hovering over his eyes, but it doesn't hide the cascading tear stains at all.

"That's why you were hurting?" Sobbing, Felix reaches out towards Seungmin. "Oh, god, Seungmin, I'm so sorry-"

Shaking his head, Seungmin holds Felix's hand. "No, don't, Lix- It's not your fault." Seungmin rests his other hand on Chan's thigh. "And it's not your fault either, hyung."

Seungmin can't see anyone clearly through his tears, but he hears Jisung crying louder than Felix, Hyunjin trying to calm Jisung down even while he's falling apart too, Changbin's unnerving silence, and Jeongin's hitching breath.

"It's not anyone's fault. And- and that's the thing--" Seungmin scrapes roughly at his face to erase tears. "I know we all love each other. I know we want to be together. But-" Choking on a sob, choking on blood. The knife gash in his throat keeps widening with every word. "--what if- what if something happens outside of our control, and it rips us apart? I- I--" Tears blur everything. He can't see anything, but murky colors. "I'msofuckingscared-"

Arms wrap around Seungmin. Strong, steadfast, warm. All of his members, his best friends holding Seungmin and each other. Grieving together. Crying together. Breaking down together.

They almost pass out from crying beyond exhaustion. Sofas and dining chairs left forgotten. The group stays on the living room floor. Needing to be close, leaning against each other, hands touching.

"I'm sorry for making a mess of everything." Seungmin's voice is so small. After raising his voice for the first time within just a few days, Seungmin feels that he's screamed enough for a lifetime. "I was terrified of bringing this up with you guys. I didn't want anyone else reliving what happened before. And-" Seungmin's palms are too numb by now. He doesn't want to see how ruined they are, since he doubts he'll care anymore. "I was ashamed. Maybe I'm the only one who isn't over it."

Changbin huffs out a barely audible laugh. "I don't mean to make this about myself, but-" Anxiously, the man rubs his neck and collarbone. "Seungmin, I've felt the way you do too. But I figured everyone got closure from what happened, so I kept it to myself."

"Same." Hyunjin traces invisible, abstract patterns on the ground.

Jeongin's back to gazing off into the distance, fighting hard to stop crying. He lets out an incoherent noise of agreement.

"I forced myself to forget." Scowling at the rips in his jeans, Jisung tears off more denim threads, and widens the rips even more. "But like- yeah, dude-- I totally know that- that fear."

"I've never gone anywhere without it." Minho gazes at the sky in the spaces between window blinds. "The fear. The uncertainty. Not knowing if or when it's my last day with you guys."   

Choking too much on tears, Felix nods. Another sob breaks through when Changbin pulls Felix into his arms, holding him bruisingly tight.

Seungmin stares. It's heartbreaking to learn they've all been haunted by this terror. Suffering alone. When Seungmin dares to look at Chan, his chest scorches. Never has Seungmin seen a sadder smile.

"I'm sorry that we didn't talk about this before-"

"Hyung, no," Seungmin's about to start crying again. "Please, don't- You did everything for us."

"It's okay." Chan strokes Seungmin's hair with gentle reassurance. "I wish it wasn't so painful for all of us to get to this point. But it's clear that we need to talk about what happened back then." Inhaling deeply, Chan looks around the room. "I'm grateful that we all love each other so much, and don't want to make it hard for anyone. But none of you are ever a burden. I don't want you guys struggling by yourself anymore."

And so, they begin to talk. 

Raw confessions. Seemingly unending tears. Hours pass. Ordering take out. Crying into their food. Laughing about crying into their food. Hands reaching, holding onto each other.

"It's like I'm grieving over you guys, even while you're still alive." Seungmin's voice runs hoarse. So does everyone else's, since they've been talking for hours and hours. "I get trapped in the past. Or so fucking terrified of the future. I don't know what to do anymore."

"You just need to be here with us." Holding Seungmin's hand, Minho gazes at him. "Right now. This moment."

Seungmin stares. The answer's so simple that he almost laughs. Not to mock Minho. But out of distress. "How do I do that?"

"Watch so-bad-it's-so-good movies with me," Jeongin chimes. Using Seungmin's back as his makeshift wall, Jeongin leans back against him. "Buy me McDonald's. I want our usual."

Hyunjin pokes Seungmin's side. "Show me where you bought those new sketchbooks. The paper quality's amazing." He grins. "We can get coffee on the way back too."

"Maybe we can bake together again some time?" Smiling shyly, Felix tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. His fingers brush over a white gold hair clip with a sun motif. "You can choose the playlist. I want to know more songs you like."

"Bro!" Returning with more snacks and candy, Jisung playfully punches Seungmin's arm, then drops Seungmin's favorite in his lap. "Let's make music! You write like the best letters ever, so c'mon, write some songs with me. It'll be killer."

"How about you let hyung treat you to food for once, hm?" Changbin's grin grows with a glint in his eyes. "Then we'll go to the gym. Do some bonding." He winks not so discreetly.

Grinning, Chan nudges Seungmin with his elbow. "Teach me baseball. Maybe I'll do better next time we do sports episodes." 

The neon green bag of Choco Homerun Ball in Seungmin's lap is so shiny that he can almost see his reflection. But it blurs terribly as Seungmin blinks back tears.

"Spend time with us." Minho dries Seungmin's damp eyes, and gently bumps their heads together. "Talk to us. Be with us. We'll anchor you, comfort you. Even when it hurts." He lets Seungmin play with the rings on his fingers, even the ones Seungmin gifted him. "The fears, that grief-- it'll still be there sometimes. And that's okay, Seungmin. Just means you've got a really big heart." Smiling, Minho turns his hand, so he can invite Seungmin to lace their fingers together. "There's also going to be joy. New memories to make together."

Holding his breath, Seungmin stares at those sunset siennas. "And what about you, hyung?" He turns bashful, especially when feeling a few more eyes turn their way. "What kind of memories do you wanna make?"

"Hmm." Tilting his head, Minho hums thoughtfully. As his lips curve into a coy smirk, Minho leans closer, and whispers into Seungmin's ear, "How about you take me out on some dates?"

Seungmin collapses into a burning, blushing mess. It causes an uproar from the group, demanding to know Minho's answer. Only Chan, Changbin and Jeongin don't interrogate Seungmin, since they can read everything in Minho's preening smile. 

It's deep into the night when Chan makes them a promise. 

"It'll always be us. All of us here." Gaze intense and unwavering, Chan looks at each of them for a solid, weighted moment. "I swear on my life, I'll never let us be torn apart again. I love you guys too damned much. I won't ever give up any of you. No matter what happens in the future, I'll fight for us."

"And we'll fight too." Seungmin grasps Chan's hand. No more glass walls between them. Only the warmth between their palms. "Better together than alone, right?"

Eyes shining bright with tears, Chan laughs. "Totally." He pulls Seungmin into a tight, bone crushing hug. 

That embrace ignites a domino effect of everyone piling on. Some complaining about bony elbows and knees. More tears, but this time, there's even more laughter.

E P I L O G U E .

Nightfall fades. Cascading curtains of darkness lighten into pale, almost colorless indigo. It'll still be a few more minutes before the sun wakes up. That doesn't stop all of them from going outside, walking along the Han River. It's the same secluded route they would trek when they first crashed into each other's lives.

Even at this early hour, Hyunjin and Jisung insist on racing against each other. Felix cheers them on. But when Jeongin declares that it's a tie, Hyunjin and Jisung run again. While Chan laughs good-naturedly, Changbin shakes his head with more fondness than exasperation. 

Seungmin watches the endearing chaos unfold from a couple steps back. Icy vines of fear crawl between his rib bones, and begin to bind around his heart. This joy. This togetherness. Will it last-

Minho laughs. Right beside Seungmin. The sound is soft, pure, bright. Melting the glacier terror before it can cage Seungmin's heart.

Seungmin slows to a halt. "Hyung."

Warmth still dancing in his eyes, Minho looks over to Seungmin. "Yeah?"

Before light colors gold from the rising sun, the first rays shine over the waves, and cast a glow around Minho. That smile. It's the same smile Seungmin sees in the dance studio's wall mirror as they learn their first choreography; when Minho glances over his shoulder, thanking Seungmin for tying his apron; Minho coming back with Felix, returning home to Stray Kids, walking into that room with hands reaching for Seungmin. 

And maybe this will be the same smile Seungmin sees when he takes Minho to Haneul Park again, following him through fields blooming in shades of rose gold; Minho lighting up their new shared bedroom with his sunbright laughter, collapsing on the mattress they just hauled in, this bed where they'll fall asleep together, and see each other the next morning; it's the smile that curves against Seungmin's healed palm, brushing against one of two matching rings.

But of all the smiles Seungmin has seen, and may someday see, Seungmin most loves this smile right here.

Now.

Today.

Throwing away blueprints of a new iron fortress into the fire, Seungmin takes a step towards Minho.

"I don't know how much time we have together. I don't know what will happen to us in the future." Seungmin draws in a shaky breath, even as rusted terror and held back tears scrape inside his throat. "But there's one thing I know for sure, hyung." As Seungmin keeps his eyes on Minho, he exhales. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you." 

Slowly, the light glimmers in Minho's widening eyes as they brim with tears. "Seungmin."

"I-- I'm still scared." As Seungmin clenches his hands, a sob tries clawing its way out. Fear binds vines around his legs, poisonous thorns piercing into him, whispering soundbites from the elimination clips. "I'm scared of losing you- of you not being here anymore--and-" His ribcage slow-mo collapses into a black void. Suffocating him with an excruciatingly slow pace. "And- not being able to do anything-" 

Something awfully similar to anxiety simmers inside of Seungmin's chest. Maybe he should stop here. Change the subject. Run. 

But as Seungmin stares at Minho, he sees the vulnerability and hope and 'I'm scared too, will you stay, am I worth it, am I enough, do you love me' and light wavering in those eyes.

Seungmin opens his hands. No more fists. No more painful, red crescent moons. Seungmin opens his hands, so he can reach for Minho. Fingers aching with yearning find each other, intertwining.

"I want to be with you, Minho hyung." Seungmin's voice trembles at the edges, but it's louder, stronger than recorded clips from the past, fabricated soundbites from the future, anything created by fear. Holding Minho's hand tighter, Seungmin smiles. "I want today, tomorrow, every day with you." Another step forward. Poisonous vines and thorns perish, falling onto the ground to bloom fire poppies. Foreheads touching. His heart drumming wildly, bravely. "I'm staying."

"I- You-- Oh, my god, Seungmin-" Minho doesn't know whether to laugh or sob, so he lets out a little of both. It turns more into a flustered gasp once seeing Seungmin's smile grow warmer. As if Seungmin sees Minho as beautiful even when he's a mess with scarlet around his eyes, and sleeve swiping over unending tears. 

Breathing in slow and deep, Minho returns that smile with one of his own. Hands reach up to hold Seungmin's face, his thumbs tracing the edge of a lightbeam painting over a cheekbone. Heart swelling, Minho stares in awe and wonder at this lovely, courageous man. His tears. His scars. His laughter. Minho wants all of it.

"I'm staying too." That small smile grows, breaking across Minho's face like sunrise that finally arrives. "So, good luck, Kim Seungmin. You're stuck with me. And you know I'm going to be stubborn as Hell about it."

As Seungmin laughs, the cracks in his heart ache. Instead of trying to cauterize the open wounds, Seungmin lets go. Venom purges out. Something pure, good and kind floods inside. Maybe this is what healing feels like.

While grasping onto Minho's hand, Seungmin leans into that gentle touch, and smiles against his palm. "I love you."

Minho stares.

Seungmin stares back. 

Fuck. 

There's too much weight, too much of his heart in those words. It sounds different from all the other times Seungmin says those three words to Minho. But with a deep breath, Seungmin steadies himself. This love frightens him, overwhelms him. But not once has Seungmin ever been ashamed of it.

Eyes softening, Minho takes Seungmin's hand into his. "I love you too."

No more gunshots. No more knives. No more hunting dogs. There's only an avalanche of tenderness as Minho kisses the scars on Seungmin's palm. A kiss for every scarred crescent moon. A kiss for every frightened, lonely, heartbreaking moment. A kiss for every part of himself that Seungmin doesn't know how to love. Yet. Seungmin doesn't even realize he's crying until Minho's drying his face, and laughing softly.

"Hyung-" Seungmin's breath hitches on another shaky sob. Is this real? No matter how many times Seungmin thinks about confessing, Seungmin never imagines a reality where Minho maybe loves him back. "What I mean is that I'm in love with you."

Tilting his head, Minho's smile grows warmer. "I'm in love with you too."

Seungmin lets out a startled laugh. "Really?"

"Yeah, sweetheart." Minho leans closer. "But you sure? Because I'm not-" As his smile falters slightly, Minho's quick to cover it up with a brittle chuckle. "I'm not easy to love-"

Grasping the side of Minho's face and neck, Seungmin fiercely pulls him closer for a kiss. The collision of their lips, of their hearts. No, there aren't any fireworks.

Hell yes, there's a supernova collapsing into pure, infinite brilliance. There's a crescendoing symphony of strings. There's a field of wildflowers bursting into bloom, reaching for the skies, growing from the charred remnants of a forest fire. There's tears catching at the corner of melding mouths, Seungmin pressing his scarred palm against the pulse in Minho's neck, his other arm circling around Minho, holding him tight, holding him close. There's breathless laughter brushing across lips, Minho wrapping his arms around Seungmin's shoulders, his fingers getting lost in soft strands, ribcages pressing flush, heartbeats matching rhythm. 

And there's loud, ecstatic, happily explosive screaming. "Oh, my god! OhmygodOHMY-!!!" Chan. Jisung. Changbin. Hyunjin. Jeongin. Felix. "It's happening, it's really happening!" Screaming with unbridled joy, so damned loud that they'll wake up the entire city. "LET'S FUCKING GOOOO!" Screaming louder than every stadium in the world combined. "I can't- Jesus Christ, oh- Finally, just look at them--" Breathless sobs shaking with tears, with the kind of cathartic relief where your heart demands to be clutched at, pounding with furious elation against your palm.

Just when lungs demand for air, the kiss breaks. "Hyung-" Seungmin's voice jumps to a delighted shout as Minho grasps under his thighs, and lifts him up. 

Precious. The sound of Seungmin's laughter is so goddamned precious that Minho absolutely has to kiss him again. 

Their members scream again too. Some of them keeling over and falling on the ground. Or maybe that's just Hyunjin and Jisung, collapsing, shaking each other violently, beyond wrecked. Felix's sobs break into a fit of sunny giggles as Changbin squeezes him in a crushing back hug. Fingers laced tightly, Jeongin pulls Chan against his side, murmurs into his ear, a soft smile brushing the dimple on Chan's tearstained cheek.

Even once the kiss breaks, Minho doesn't let Seungmin down on the ground. Not yet. "Can't believe you stole my thunder."

"What-" Seungmin laughs, feeling too deliriously happy. "Well, only fair, right? Because you-" With a smile that's almost frightening, perhaps even feral, Seungmin pokes at Minho's chest. "--stole my heart."

"Oh, my god." Minho lets Seungmin on the ground, and tries to cast one of his signature deadpans. But his face keeps aching with a smile. Even a blush scorches him. Minho tries hiding his burning face with his hand.

"But really, it's okay." Seungmin draws Minho's hand away, so he can see that pretty blush. "I trust you, hyung. I know you'll take care of my heart. Just like you always have."

"Damnit, Kim Seungmin." Minho launches the second wave attack by kissing that adorable dimple. "You can't keep being this cute. It's lethal. You've already got half our group over there about to go into cardiac arrest." When that dimple grows more prominent as Seungmin beams, Minho lets out a scoff. He kisses Seungmin's cheek again. "My own boyfriend's going to put me six feet under."

"Boyfriend?"

Minho falters. "Oh." Warmth extinguishes in a flash. Vulnerability that rarely sees the light of day surfaces. "I mean-" Hesitating, Minho scrambles in his mind for some banter, a witty remark, anything. But with his heart already beating too hopefully, Minho whispers, "Too fast? Are we- uhm-- doing things out of order? Should we- like, do it in order?"

"Fuck that. We'll do it our way, babe." Seungmin cradles Minho's cheek, tilting that lovely face towards him for another kiss. "This is just perfect," Seungmin murmurs across the curve of Minho's smile. "You're perfect, hyung. Always more than enough for me."

Minho's first instinct is to shout incomprehensibly, and maybe throw in another vehement "Kim Seungmin!" Seriously, since when has Seungmin been so naturally romantic? But when Seungmin kisses him again, Minho melts. One kiss after another blends together.

Seungmin takes Minho's hand. As their fingers intertwine, Seungmin and Minho walk towards everyone else. Chan. Jisung. Changbin. Hyunjin. Jeongin. Felix. Their home. The upbeat mix of their playful teasing and loud laughter sparkles brighter than dawnlight glimmering over the water. 

Looking over his shoulder, Minho smiles warmly at Seungmin with love and promise shining in his eyes. Right here. Now. Today. This is what matters. Seungmin's heart swells vastly, his rib cage achingly full of light.

Today, Seungmin breathes.