Chapter Text
Sunoo didn’t know if he was extremely sensitive or if life was just unbearable for him.
How old could he be? How old could he be when he noticed—when he understood that life wasn’t for him?
Well, Sunoo wasn’t sure when it started, but it hadn’t stopped ever since. It occasionally got better or worse, but that happened to everyone sometimes, didn’t it?
Yes, sometimes he would oversleep a bit, too tired to even open his eyes. He would skip a few meals, drink more water to fall asleep without having to eat, even though he was hungry, but still, he was able to smile—to keep smiling despite what was happening in his head. He was still able to have fun around his members—to laugh and exist among them.
Yes, Sunoo was still able to do all these things, until he wasn't.
Sunoo felt the weight of the world slowly crushing him from the inside out. But he knew it wasn’t sudden. It never was. It was always building up, making it harder to breathe—harder to be himself.
But who was he, really? Who was he when he wasn’t performing for the people around him? Maybe the happy and shinny personality was never his to begin with. Maybe he was fake all along.
Smile. Smile and the world smiles with you. But when you cry—when he cried, when he had to put his hand over his mouth, so his sobs wouldn't sound, no one cried with him. He was alone.
Really, it was suicide. Others killed themselves with poison or with a revolver. He killed himself with smiles that no one knew—no one could imagine how much of a hold they had on him.
But again, Sunoo couldn’t stop thinking about how he used to smile without thinking. How his lips and eyes would form it, without him having to give his brain the order to do so, without him having to take the time to think that now was the time to do it.
Now, it felt to him that every smile he gave took something from him. Every day, he fought the rising tide of sadness, but it always found him—waiting for a moment of weakness. And gosh, there were so many moments. Maybe it was then that Sunoo realized he wasn’t strong anymore. He wasn’t the same Sunoo.
Maybe it was the hate. It’s just the internet. Everyone gets hate. It’s all just stupid words. Yes, maybe it was stupid to hear what some stranger had to say about how he performed, how he looked, how he acted. Maybe it was all just words, but words have weight, and they add up.
Maybe it was simplier than that. Maybe Sunoo just hated himself. But you see, the problem with hating yourself is that you can’t really talk about it. So again, he was alone.
It was like a crack in his heart, one that grew wider with every passing day, until it started to bleed—until Sunoo had to take the effort to actually make it bleed, make himself bleed.
It wasn’t about wanting to hurt himself, no, not really—it was about needing that pain to take on physical form, needing it to show, to make sense, to be something that he could control. He needed to make that pain real, valid, and he just didn’t know any other way to do so.
At first, he felt sick for even trying it, disgusted even. But every time he pressed the blade to his skin, there was this brief, unsettling release—an odd, almost twisted relief that made him crave it again. It was a moment where his pain had a shape, something he could see and control, and he found himself clinging to that feeling, even if he hated himself for it.
Sunoo had always been the kind of person who wanted to do everything perfectly. He wanted to be the best for the members, for the fans, for himself. But the pressure to keep up, to keep improving, to be the best version of himself—it felt suffocating, even more when he realized that this version did not, could not exist.
It got to a point where the rehearsals were now endless. The schedules never stopped. And every time he thought he couldn’t do it anymore, he just pushed through, pretending he was fine, pretending he could handle it. He just kept smiling.
But his body was breaking, too. The fatigue dragged him down further each day, and he found himself retreating into silence, withdrawing from the world around him.
Maybe it was then that Sunoo felt the need to be smaller, less of a burden, to fit the image of what he thought he was supposed to be. If he could just become lighter, thinner, maybe then he could actually disappear into the background. Maybe then he wouldn’t be so... visible. So exposed. So open to judgment.
Every skipped meal, every time he denied himself food, it felt like something he could also control—just like the cuts on his thighs, when everything else in his life felt so out of his hands.
He wasn’t sure when the pain stopped being something temporary, something he could control. Maybe it never was. Sunoo wasn’t just tired anymore. He wasn’t just sad. He was hollow, a void that no amount of smiling or pretending, or starving or cutting could fill.
Sunoo was no longer the boy who lit up a room with his smile. He was just a boy trying not to drown, trying to make it through the day without disappearing entirely, even if that was all he wanted. And somewhere, in the quiet places in his heart, he was beginning to wonder if that was all he could ever be—just a shadow of himself.
As the days passed, Sunoo’s behavior settled into a quiet, consistent pattern. He was no longer the bright, warm presence he once was. Instead, he had become a shell—someone who went through the motions without truly living in them. He smiled, yes, but it was always that same thin, fragile curve of his lips, never genuine, never reaching his eyes.
It wasn’t just one bad day—it became a slow, painful drift that marked each day. Sunoo would show up at practices, sit with the members at meals, but there was always that silence around him, that distance.
Of course, that wasn’t something that went unnoticed by his members. Every single one of them tried, time and time again, to sit down with him, to talk, but Sunoo didn’t seem like he wanted to or even cared, so naturally, everyone gave him space.
It got to the point where everyone would glance at him worriedly, only to end up saying nothing. But Sunoo had reached a point where he was too exhausted to care. Too tired to see the concern in their eyes, too numb to feel the worry that clung to every word they said.
Everyone had a soft spot for Sunoo, whether they showed it openly or not. Jay, with his food thing, was actually the first one to notice that Sunoo wasn’t eating much lately. Jungwon and Jake, with their silly, random hugs, found that Sunoo had grown oddly unresponsive to their warmth. Then, there was Sunghoon and Ni-ki, with their subtle but fierce overprotectiveness over him, even if they tried a little too hard to hide their worry.
Now Heeseung—he was different. He adored the younger member, of course, maybe in more ways than he allowed himself to admit, but he wasn’t as close to him as the others were, whether by choice—his choice—or not. While everyone else was slowly and quietly trying to be there for Sunoo in small, thoughtful ways, Heeseung simply… lingered, unsure of how to help.
The frustration had been building up inside him for weeks. He hated seeing Sunoo like this, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He wasn’t close enough to him, didn’t have the right words to make him feel better. But seeing Sunoo so lifeless, so distant—it broke something inside him. It made him feel helpless, and worse, it made him angry. He wanted Sunoo back—the Sunoo who smiled without thinking, who brightened the room just by being there.
Heeseung couldn’t keep it in anymore. And so that’s when the outburst happened.
The apartment was unusually quiet. The members had spent the entire day in interviews and rehearsals, and by the time they returned home, everyone was utterly exhausted.
Settling into the living room, Sunghoon passed Sunoo a can of soda with a small, reassuring smile.
“Hey…” he said softly. “You alright?”
Sunoo forced a smile back, his expression barely masking the weariness.
“Yeah, just...a long day,” he murmured.
Everyone felt the weight of his words; it was like a scene they’d experienced before, familiar and heavy. The silent concern in the room grew almost tangible, each member feeling it in their own way.
But seeing this, again and again, brought a kind of frustration Heeseung couldn’t shake off anymore. He was too tired of watching.
Suddenly, he sighed loudly from across the room, shattering the delicate calm. His voice held an edge of exasperation he couldn’t contain anymore.
“Honestly, Sunoo,” he muttered, his frustration obvious, “could you just stop acting so down all the time? It’s like we’re all walking on eggshells around you.”
Sunoo’s forced smile faltered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I didn’t mean to—”
Heeseung cut him off, sharper now. “You know we’re all tired, right? You’re not the only one having to keep up. Stop being like this; you’re just dragging everyone down.”
The words hit like a punch, and silence fell heavy. Jungwon looked up from his phone, worry etched on his face, while Ni-ki looked between Heeseung and Sunoo, disbelief spreading in his eyes.
Sunghoon shifted uncomfortably. “Hee, that’s too…”
But Heeseung just crossed his arms, his frustration spilling out unchecked.
“What? It’s the truth.” His voice sharpened, louder. “Sunoo, it feels like we’re always bending over backward for you, but you barely try. Do you even care about how this affects everyone else?”
A lump formed in Sunoo’s throat, a painful mix of anger and sadness welling up. He wanted to defend himself, to say he’d been trying, but the words wouldn’t come.
Heeseung’s eyes hardened, his frustration turning almost bitter. "Sometimes, I wish you’d stop being so… sensitive. It’s exhausting.”
“Hyung...” Ni-ki stepped in, voice tight. “I think that’s enough.”
Sunoo felt himself shrinking under their voices, the tension swirling around him like a storm he couldn’t escape. He hated this—hated that his struggles were becoming a burden, that he was the source of so much strain. He hated himself for feeling this way. Yes, Heeseung was right. He was being selfish—way too selfish with his sadness.
“Maybe…” he said softly, his voice a whisper as everyone turned to look at him, “maybe you’re right, hyung.” He paused, his gaze fixed on the floor. “Maybe I am just… too much.”
Sunoo stared at the floor, fighting back tears. He couldn’t look at any of them, couldn’t bear to see the disappointment—or worse, agreement—on their faces.
The room went silent again, the air thick and charged. Sunoo’s voice broke the quiet, fragile and hollow.
“I… I’m sorry…” It was all he could say, his voice small, nearly lost in the silence.
“Is sorry all you have to say?” Heeseung’s voice cut through, a hard edge of anger he couldn’t hide.
"Hee, stop this already," Jay began, trying to intervene. "Can't you see—"
But Heeseung wasn’t done, frustration lacing his words like daggers.
“Do you even care? Do you even care that we’re all trying here while you—” He couldn’t finish, the anger mingling with a raw hurt. “I’m just… I’m so tired of watching you like this.”
Silence fell once more, Sunoo’s trembling hands the only movement as he looked around at the others, his eyes lingering on Heeseung’s unreadable face.
“I… I’m sorry,” Sunoo’s voice broke again, softer, smaller. He forced a weak smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I know I’m… difficult sometimes. I know I get in the way, that I’m not strong enough or… enough for you guys.”
He swallowed, words catching in his throat. He pushed them out as if apologizing could somehow fix it. He knew he was selfish, he knew he was dragging them down. Maybe the only solution was to keep smiling after all. At least when he did, conversations like they have never happened.
“I’ll try harder, okay?" he said hoarsely as he tried to look at everyone, as if making a promise. "I’ll try to… to smile more, to be better, happier." His eyes flickered up to Heeseung’s face, searching for any sign of forgiveness or comfort, but he was met with silence, Heeseung’s expression unreadable, his gaze distant. "D-Don't.... please don’t be mad at me, Heeseung hyung.”
A small part of Heeseung wanted to reach out, to tell Sunoo that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t the problem. But the words felt trapped, tangled up in his own frustration and guilt, and all he could do was stand there, helpless, as he watched Sunoo’s smile fade, the hurt in his eyes deepening.
Sunghoon took a step forward, reaching out a tentative hand. “Sunoo… you don’t have to—”
"No, I..." Sunoo said as he got up, trying to leave as he suddenly wasn’t sure of where he was anymore.
But before he could finish, Sunoo swayed, his vision blurring, the edges of the room swimming. He tried to blink, to stay focused, but the dizziness only grew, and he could feel his knees weakening.
“Sunoo hyung?” Jungwon’s voice was tight with worry, noticing how pale he’d become. He moved closer, his hand gently resting on Sunoo’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Sunoo tried to nod, but even that small movement made his head spin. His vision went dark around the edges, and he reached out blindly, his fingers brushing against Jay’s arm as he tried to steady himself.
“I’m fine, really,” he managed, his voice faint, but his body betrayed him, his knees buckling as he slumped forward.
Niki was the first to catch him, his arm wrapping around Sunoo’s waist as he carefully guided him to sit back on the couch. Sunoo’s head hung low, his breathing shallow as he clutched at his stomach, the hunger pangs now sharp and unforgiving.
Jay knelt down beside him, worry etched deep in his eyes.
“When was the last time you ate, Sunoo?” he asked gently, his tone filled with concern.
Jay’s question hung heavy in the air, unanswered, as Sunoo's expression changed again, the same as before.
It made Heeseung so tired to look at him that he let his voice cut through, again, sharper than intended.
“Oh, for god’s sake… here we go again,” Heeseung muttered, more to himself, but loud enough that everyone heard. He shook his head, sighing as he glanced away, unwilling to look at Sunoo’s face— unwilling to watch him suffer.
Sunoo froze, Heeseung’s words sinking in like a stone in water, rippling through him with a hollow ache. For a second, he didn’t know whether to apologize again or simply disappear. His face paled, and he forced a shaky smile, a weak attempt at brushing off the concern and dismissing the heavy silence that followed Heeseung’s words.
They must have all been so tired of this, so tired of him being so exhausted that it was passing to them. He was tired of himself as well. He had to stop.
“I’m fine,” he said softly, voice barely a whisper. “I… I'll just go to my room for today.” He tried to stand up, to move past them all, to pretend like he wasn’t bothered, wasn’t hurting, but the dizziness hit him again, harder this time. As he took a few unsteady steps, his vision blurred, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath him.
Sunghoon was at his side in an instant, catching him before he could fall. He tightened his grip on Sunoo’s shoulder, holding him steady, his own patience worn thin.
“Enough,” he said sharply, his gaze snapping up to meet Heeseung’s. "Seriously, Heeseung? You see him like this, and that’s what you have to say?”
Heeseung’s face twisted, something like regret flashing across his features, but he kept silent, stubbornness and frustration warring with the guilt that was beginning to gnaw at him. He looked away, jaw clenched, but didn’t say anything.
Sunghoon, muttering under his breath, carefully helped Sunoo toward his room, his voice low and gentle. “Come on, Sun. Let’s get you lying down.”
Sunoo leaned into Sunghoon, the exhaustion and hunger catching up with him in full force. He tried to say he was fine, that he didn’t want to cause trouble, but the words stuck in his throat, too weak to keep up the pretense.
Jay and Jungwon watched, faces tight with worry. Ni-ki trailed after Sunoo and Sunghoon, too anxious to stay behind, while Jake threw a disappointed glance at Heeseung.
“Maybe think before you speak next time,” he said, his tone icy.
That’s when Heeseung felt it—the weight of his own words sinking in, the harshness of what he’d said. He hadn’t meant to push Sunoo further down, to make him feel worse about himself. Maybe he was the one being selfish after all.
Once Sunghoon settled Sunoo into bed, his eyes drifted shut, his breathing soft and steady in the quiet room.
“I want to stay with him,” Niki murmured, his voice gentle. "Sleep next to him..."
Sunghoon sighed, looking at Niki. “You haven’t done that in a while…”
Niki nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want him to be alone.”
Sunghoon placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s give him space for now, okay?”
Even though he looked disappointed, Niki agreed, casting one last glance at Sunoo’s sleeping- or so he thought sleeping figure before he quietly left the room, his heart heavy.
The morning sun streamed gently through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow over the apartment.
Sunoo was the first to get up, though truth was, he hadn’t slept at all.
By the time the others wandered into the kitchen, he was already busy at the stove, humming softly as he flipped pancakes. His face was lit up with the brightest smile they had seen in a long time.
Jay and Sunghoon were the firsts to approach. As soon as Sunoo spotted them, he greeted them with a warm, radiant smile.
“Good morning!” Sunoo chirped, his voice light and cheerful, almost too bright after the tense night before. He turned around, grinning wide, eyes crinkling as he placed the plates on the table. “I made breakfast for everyone.”
Sunghoon and Jay exchanged glances, uneasy as they took their seats, stealing glances at Sunoo’s too-bright smile.
Heeseung lingered in the doorway, dark circles under his eyes as he watched Sunoo move around the kitchen with that same cheery energy, as if nothing had happened. His heart twisted painfully; guilt and worry from the night before weighed on him.
As the rest of the group slowly gathered around, they each hesitated, their eyes lingering on Sunoo with growing concern. Sunghoon shot a look at Heeseung, who avoided his gaze, the guilt evident in his posture. Jungwon sat down slowly, glancing between Sunoo and the others, a quiet ache showing in his expression.
“Sunoo hyung… you’re up early,” Ni-ki said, trying to keep his voice light but unable to mask the concern there.
Sunoo flashed a big, radiant smile. “Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d do something nice for all of you—just look at these pancakes!”
They all watched him, carefully. It was as if the difficult past weeks—or months—had never happened. Sunoo moved with quick, intentional motions, serving each of them and chatting easily, as if he didn’t notice the way they were watching him, each one wearing the weight of unspoken worry.
“Sunoo…” Jay started, his voice soft and uncertain. “You don’t have to—”
“Oh, come on!” Sunoo cut him off with a playful roll of his eyes. “Let’s just enjoy breakfast, hm?” He laughed, the sound cheerful, and for a second, it almost sounded real.
The others exchanged glances, each of them feeling a deep, quiet dread that something was painfully wrong. But none of them knew how to approach him—how to reach past that bright, almost blinding cheerfulness he wore like armor.
Jungwon took a cautious bite of his pancake, forcing himself to smile back, even though his heart ached at Sunoo’s relentless cheer. “It’s… really good, hyung. Thanks.”
Sunoo’s smile softened, his eyes lighting up at the praise.
“See! That’s more like it,” he beamed, clapping his hands together. “I knew you’d all love it.”
Sunghoon swallowed hard, unable to look directly at Sunoo, his mind replaying memories from the night before: Sunoo’s exhausted face, his broken voice. Watching him smile so brightly now was almost like watching a stranger. But he kept his mouth shut, even as worry twisted inside him.
As they ate, Jungwon and Jay tried to keep up light chatter, tossing out jokes and gentle smiles, trying to ease the tension. And yet, every one of them could feel it—that heavy, unspoken fear hanging between them.
When Sunoo got up to head to his room, the others watched him go, glancing at each other in silent confusion.
As soon as he left, Jay let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “This isn’t right.”
“He’s… trying,” Heeseung murmured, though his voice was weighed down with regret. He remembered Sunoo’s face, the way he’d apologized so painfully, and now the forced cheerfulness—it hurt to see. “He’s just trying, like he said he would.”
“This... This is all wrong.” Sunghoon shook his head, frustration in his expression. “Every time he smiles like that, I... I feel like crying.”
A long silence filled the room, each of them trapped in their own thoughts, in their own guilt. None of them knew what to say or how to reach him without pushing him further away. But they all felt it: a deep, quiet worry for their friend.
Ni-ki bit his lip, glancing toward Sunoo’s empty seat. “He didn’t even eat his pancakes…”
In his room, Sunoo leaned against the door, his hands trembling slightly as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to take a deep breath.
He knew they were worried; he could see it in every glance, every hesitant smile. But he was determined to do better, to keep things light for their sake, not to bring down the room just because he was struggling. He cared, and he could see it was affecting them too—he’d be more careful from now on.
Softly, he looked at his reflection in his room mirror, smiling at himself. It wasn’t so hard now, was it? All he had to do was keep smiling. Everyone could get used to seeing someone smile, even him.
And suddenly, the words "just keep smiling" came out of Sunoo's mouth, which was weird because his smile was all he had, all he was, and all he would ever be.
So he did. He held onto that smile, wearing it like a fragile mask, even when it felt like it was breaking him from the inside out. He kept it up, even if it was the last thing he had to give.
And though each of them could see the cracks, though it sometimes hurt them to watch him, no one said a word. No one could. Maybe Sunoo's theory was write. Maybe indeed, everyone could get used to a smile after all.
It was late at night, and the bathroom was wrapped in a muted glow from the soft light of the moon filtering in through the small window. The pale light spilled across the tiles, cold and quiet.
Sunoo had been staring at his reflection in the mirror for what felt like forever. Fresh from the shower, he stood there still naked, water droplets still clinging to his skin.
He stared and stared, almost entranced at his reflection. The longer he looked, the harder it became to tell if he felt disgust, anger, fear, or shame. He wasn’t beautiful. He wasn’t beautiful, but he could be.
His gaze dropped to the cuts on his skin. They’d started to heal, and he’d had some time to avoid reopening them. But he knew, deep down, it was only a matter of time until he did. The thought was even there right then, it did cross his mind to reach for the blade, but he felt so drained, so bone-weary, that even that effort seemed too much. He sighed heavily and let his eyes drop as he finally pulled his gaze away.
Wrapping the towel around his waist, he turned, only to feel the room blur. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and his hand shot out to grab the sink, fingers gripping it tightly as the world began to spin. No, not this again.
His head grew light, the edges of his vision darkening, and, before he could steady himself, his knees gave way. He collapsed against the cold tile floor, the sharp sound of his fall cutting through the stillness of the apartment.
The thud echoed, and within moments, Sunghoon, who seemed to be the only one awake at that time, ran to him, his footsteps fast and frantic as he burst into the bathroom.
Quickly, he knelt beside Sunoo, his eyes wide with worry, taking in the sight of his friend, pale and trembling.
“Sunoo!” Sunghoon’s voice was filled with urgency, as he crouched down, reaching for him. Sunoo forced a quick, shaky smile, brushing it off as he tried to sit up.
"I'm fine," Sunoo murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I just… I just slipped.”
Sunghoon’s steadying hand remained on his shoulder, not fully believing him. “Hey, it’s okay. Let me help you up.”
Sunoo clutched the towel tightly, panic flickering in his eyes. The thought of Sunghoon seeing even a glimpse of his scars twisted something deep in his chest, a shame that felt as raw as the wounds themselves.
He gripped the towel desperately, trying to keep his voice steady. “S-Sunghoon… I can manage, really. I just slipped, I promise. I'm okay.”
But another dizzy spell washed over him, and he felt his grip weakening, his hands shaking. Sunghoon noticed and let out a soft, reassuring laugh, attempting to ease the tension.
“Sunoo, relax. It’s fine.” His voice was soft, coaxing. “Seriously, it’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked before,” he added with a gentle, teasing smile.
But as he looked more closely, he could see the sheer panic in Sunoo’s expression, and his face softened.
“Hey… I won’t look,” he promised in a quiet voice, careful and calming. He reached under Sunoo’s arm, slowly lifting him to his feet. But just as he steadied him, Sunoo’s balance wavered again, and he slumped into Sunghoon’s hold. Sunghoon instinctively wrapped his arms around him, his concern deepening as he felt Sunoo tremble.
“Sunoo, just breathe,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low and comforting. He hesitated, sensing the urgency of the situation, and decided to help him dress and take Sunoo back to his room.
Sunoo, unable to do much, could only let Sunghoon dress him up, knowing damn well what was about to come.
Without a word, Sunghoon began to help him dress, his movements gentle and careful.
First, it was his weight. Sunghoon couldn’t help but notice how much weight Sunoo lost but this concern could only last for a moment before his gaze fell on Sunoo’s legs, and his breath hitched. Scars—some faded, others white and textured—lined perfectly on Sunoo’s thighs. Cuts, thin and red, marked him in a way that felt all too heartbreaking.
Sunoo sat quietly, his face turned downward, unwilling to meet Sunghoon’s eyes.
Sunghoon’s hands stilled, his eyes lingering as pain flickered across his face. He felt his chest tighten, his heart pounding as he looked up at Sunoo, who had fixed his gaze on the floor, shame and fear evident in his face.
Even as Sunghoon continued to dress him, a heavy silence filled the air, both of them unwilling to break it. The weight of the moment hung between them, the silence pressing down, suffocating.
Finally, when Sunghoon finished and Sunoo was now in his pyjamas, he whispered, his voice raw, barely holding back his emotion.
“Sunoo…” He paused, struggling to find words that would convey the depth of his concern without overwhelming his friend.
"I…" Sunoo’s hands shook slightly, his voice barely a murmur. "P-Please, hyung… just forget you ever saw that."
Sunghoon swallowed, the pain clear in his eyes as he looked at Sunoo, who still couldn’t bring himself to meet his gaze. He wanted so desperately to say something that would lift this burden from him, but words, any words, felt funny to him to say.
"F-Forget?" Sunghoon’s voice broke, his words thick with sorrow. “How can I forget, Sun…? You…”
“I don’t do it anymore,” Sunoo interrupted, his voice filled with quiet desperation as he forced himself to lie. “I don’t do that anymore, so please… please don’t make this into a big deal.”
“Sunoo—” Sunghoon began, his voice soft with worry, but Sunoo cut him off again.
“No one has to worry, okay?” Sunoo’s voice rose, almost angry, as if trying to convince himself as much as Sunghoon. “Please, hyung, don’t say anything. I’m doing fine. I’m really trying, so…”
But as he trailed off, his gaze flickering to Sunghoon, he could see the sadness there, an empty stare that held so much he didn’t want to face. He wanted to scream, to tell him to look away, to stop looking at him like that. Instead, he felt tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, and his voice faltered.
“Sunoo,” Sunghoon said gently, reaching out to place a steadying hand over Sunoo’s trembling fingers. His touch was warm, comforting. “Just… talk to me, okay? Let me be here for you.”
Sunoo’s breath hitched, his hands clenching into fists.
“But you…” he whispered, a tear slipping down his cheek. “You weren’t supposed to know… no one was supposed to know.”
“Hey, Sun?” Sunghoon’s voice was soft, his hand warm and reassuring against Sunoo’s. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. But… if you ever feel like doing it again… promise you’ll tell me, okay? Come to me. C-Can you promise me that?”
Sunoo’s lips trembled as he whispered, “I… I promise.” But even as he spoke, he felt a wave of guilt, knowing he lied again.
Sunghoon gently helped him back into bed, pulling the covers up to his shoulders.
"Should I… should I make you something quick to eat?” he hesitantly asked, not wanting to upset Sunoo more.
Sunoo tensed slightly, then offered a small, weary smile. “It’s okay, hyung. I’m not that hungry. I’ll just… go to sleep.”
Sunghoon’s eyes held a hint of disappointment, but he nodded. “Then… do you want me to stay with you? Just for tonight?”
Sunoo didn’t answer right away, but it didn’t take long for him to gently shift himself over a little and make room for Sunghoon.
Even after they lay down, Sunoo held onto Sunghoon’s hand tightly, refusing to let go. For the first time, as they lay there in silence, Sunoo found a strange comfort in that touch. Somehow, even in his silence, Sunghoon’s presence made him feel lighter and for the first time in a long time, he could close his eyes and drift to sleep right away.
The next morning was quiet and calm. Sunghoon was the first to wake, easing out of bed slowly so as not to disturb Sunoo, who was still curled up, fast asleep. He slipped into the hallway and wandered into the kitchen, his eyes barely open, hoping to get a quiet start to the day.
But as soon as he entered, Niki’s voice rang out like a siren.
“You traitor!” he shouted as soon as he saw him.
The outburst startled Heeseung, Jay, and Jake, who were already seated around the breakfast table, munching on cereal and toast.
Sunghoon stopped in his tracks, blinking sleepily.
“Me?” he asked, pointing to himself in confusion. “What did I do?”
“You told me to give Sunoo hyung space!” Niki replied, crossing his arms with a huff, “But you slept with him!”
Ni-ki put on his best pout—though, in true Ni-ki fashion, he kept it brief, glancing around quickly to make sure no one caught him being too soft.
All eyes turned to Sunghoon, with Heeseung raising an eyebrow and Jay trying to hide a grin behind his coffee mug. Sunghoon could only sigh.
“He had a tough night, okay?” he said quietly, grabbing a cup from the counter to pour himself some coffee. “I was just… being there for him.”
Ni-ki stayed quiet, pretending to be wounded, though for some reason he could see that Sunghoon was being really serious about it, so he let it slide.
“Wait…” Sunghoon frowned, taking a sip of his coffee and suddenly looking at Ni-ki suspiciously. “How do you know?”
Ni-ki glanced down, shifting his weight a bit.
“You know I always check if Sunoo hyung woke up in the mornings…” he mumbled, a hint of shyness in his tone. “I was kind of surprised when I saw you on his bed as well.”
Sunghoon softly nodded and the kitchen grew quiet again. The only sound was the clinking of cups and the soft hum of the morning.
A moment later, Sunoo shuffled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and still looking half-asleep. His hair was a mess, and he looked even paler than usual, exhaustion written all over his face.
Jay noticed him first and broke into a warm smile.
“Hey, sunshine,” he greeted, his voice light and cheerful. “Morning.”
“Good morning,” Sunoo replied, his voice rough with sleep. Everyone couldn’t help but exchange a quick look—Sunoo’s morning voice was unexpectedly adorable, though the tiredness in his face had them all a little concerned.
Sunghoon, in particular, watched him with a worried gaze, trying to catch his eye. Honestly, he just couldn't stop thinking that the boy in front of him had all these scars in his body and he never knew about them until last night happened.
He watched as the younger poured himself some coffee and sat at the table, making no move to prepare himself something to eat whatsoever.
Heeseung, too, noticed the look in Sunghoon’s eyes. He looked between them, brows slightly furrowed, but brushed it off, deciding to say nothing.
After a pause, Ni-ki piped up, his voice a little too casual.
“Hyung…” he began, looking over at Sunoo. “Will you sleep with me tonight as well?”
Sunoo cracked a small, sleepy smile.
“Why? Were you jealous I let Sunghoonie hyung sleep with me yesterday?” he teased, his voice still soft and scratchy from sleep.
Ni-ki stiffened, glancing away quickly.
“No, I wasn’t,” he replied firmly, almost pouting again.
"Okay, okay,” Sunoo replied with an effortless cuteness that made everyone chuckle. “I don’t mind sleeping with you, Ni-ki-ah.”
Ni-ki’s ears turned pinkish as he mumbled, “Whatever,” though he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Just then, Jungwon entered, surprised that he didn't have to drag someone out of bed.
The morning air was filled with a rare lightness, even as Sunghoon’s eyes lingered on Sunoo, silently noting the fatigue that seemed to cling to him. For now, though, he didn’t say anything. He just stayed close, hoping his presence would be enough to remind Sunoo that he was there if he ever needed him.
After that day, nothing changed. Sunoo went on as if everything was perfectly normal, and, for Sunghoon, that was the scariest part. How long had he been like this? Had he been putting on that bright, cheerful front all along? Since when? Sunghoon felt a shiver as he realized he’d never noticed, not really.
People say you can always tell when someone’s struggling, but the truth is, you can’t. Sunghoon found himself facing that harsh reality, watching Sunoo every day.
Still, Sunghoon couldn’t shake the nagging question of whether he should tell someone—anyone—what was happening. Should he go to the manager or speak to another member? But every time he thought about it, guilt overwhelmed him. He didn’t want to betray Sunoo’s trust, to not give him a chance to open up on his own.
He wanted to believe that everything was fine, especially since Sunoo hadn’t reached out for help or shown signs of wanting to hurt himself. Each day, Sunghoon clung to the hope that as long as Sunoo didn’t ask for help, everything would be okay. It had to be fine. Sunoo had to be fine, or else, Sunghoon would lose his mind.
But the one thing he couldn’t ignore was the way Sunoo was eating... or, rather, not eating. Sunoo was losing weight, and it was clear as day. The stylists noticed, the fans started to notice, and of course, so did his own members. Sunghoon saw how the clothes started to fit differently, how the lightness in Sunoo’s step seemed to wear thin.
Maybe it was the stress, the relentless schedule they all endured. It could be a million things causing him to lose weight, and the members tried to consider all those possibilities. But somewhere, in the back of their minds, they knew. They knew, but didn’t want to believe it. The idea that Sunoo might be starving himself—that he was quietly, methodically ignoring his own needs—was too painful to accept.
They were holding on to the hope that he was just tired, just busy. But as the days stretched on, that hope started to wear thin, just like the brightness of Sunoo’s smile. Yet, both were still there.
It was late and everyone was sleeping, or so Sunoo thought. He promised to sleep with Ni-ki that night, yet as much as he tried, he couldn’t fall asleep.
Softly, without wanting to wake up the already sleeping boy beside him, he got up and sat in front of the large window in the living room, allowing himself to be showered by the moonlight.
Heeseung, who similarly couldn’t sleep, watched the boy from afar, hesitating, almost afraid to disturb him. But something urged him forward, and he took a quiet step toward his friend, his voice gentle and barely above a whisper.
“Hey,” he said softly to him, yet Sunoo still flinched slightly, startled by the voice cutting through the quiet.
“Hyung…” he breathed, surprised, his voice thick with the remnants of unshed tears. “You’re not sleeping?”
Heeseung shook his head. “You’re not sleeping either,” he replied, his tone light, but his eyes carrying a depth of concern he couldn’t quite hide.
“Right… I’m not,” Sunoo murmured, lowering his gaze. Even in the dim glow, Heeseung could see his eyes were puffy and red, signs of the quiet battle he’d been fighting alone.
The quiet stretched, a tension lingering between them that was both comforting and unbearably heavy. Heeseung’s eyes softened as he took in Sunoo’s posture, the way his shoulders slumped, almost as if he were trying to make himself smaller, invisible. He could see the pain radiating from him, feel the weight of everything Sunoo hadn’t said pressing down like a shadow.
“Why are you sitting in the dark?” Heeseung asked gently, hoping his question would break some of the tension.
Sunoo’s lips curved into a faint, almost sad smile as he replied, his voice barely more than a murmur.
“I don’t know…” he paused, his gaze drifting to the glassy window as if the answer lay somewhere beyond it. “I kind of like the dark.”
Heeseung hummed in understanding, a soft sound that seemed to fill the quiet space between them.
“Mh,” he breathed, his voice gentle. “I kind of like the dark too.”
The words lingered in the air, and for a moment, Sunoo looked at him, his eyes softened with something like relief. The moonlight illuminated his face, casting a pale glow across his features, making the sadness in his expression look somehow beautiful, like something delicate and raw.
“Then…” Sunoo began hesitantly, glancing down, almost shy. “Do you want to sit with me?”
Heeseung was surprised by the invitation, but he felt his heart stir with something he couldn’t quite name. He moved closer, sitting down beside Sunoo, right before the large glass window that bathed them both in cool moonlight. They sat in silence, the night pressing in around them, still and comforting.
Sunoo kept his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond, the distant lights flickering like stars, while Heeseung stole glances at him, pretending to look outside but unable to stop his eyes from drifting back. There was something fragile in the air, something he didn’t dare disturb.
After a long moment, Heeseung broke the silence softly. “Sunoo?”
Sunoo turned to look at him, his eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the moon. “Hm?”
Heeseung took a steadying breath, his tone as soft as the night around them.
“I know I never asked you before, but…” He hesitated, searching for the right words, his gaze steady and warm. “Are you okay?”
The question seemed to catch Sunoo off guard, a flicker of surprise flashing across his face. He blinked, as he opened his mouth to almost say something. Almost.
Then he stared. He had convinced himself that Heeseung didn’t really notice things like this, that he didn’t look at him the way the others did—he even dared to think that he didn’t care. Yet here he was, asking, with a sincerity that made Sunoo’s chest tighten.
Sunoo’s lips trembled with the weight of unspoken words, but for some weird reason, he didn’t want to lie.
“I…” He started, his voice low, almost breaking, but he forced a small smile, as if that could ease the weight of his answer. “I’m trying, hyung… I’m trying to be.”
Heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his eyes searching Sunoo’s, seeing right through the forced smile.
“So you’re not,” he said firmly, his words carrying a gentle certainty that left no room for pretense.
Sunoo’s smile faded, and he looked away, a shaky breath escaping him. For a moment, he stayed quiet, his fingers trembling slightly as he clasped his hands together, trying to steady himself. Heeseung stayed beside him, his presence a quiet reassurance, a silent reminder that he was there, even if he didn’t say the words aloud.
They sat together in the quiet, Heeseung’s gaze filled with a warmth and patience that spoke more than words ever could. He didn’t press, didn’t demand answers or explanations. He simply waited, his presence steady, a comfort Sunoo hadn’t realized he’d been craving.
Eventually, Sunoo broke the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I think… I think I’ll go to bed now.” He didn’t meet Heeseung’s gaze, his face hidden in the shadows as he rose to his feet.
But as he turned to go, the soft moonlight caught his face, casting a glimmer across his eyes. Heeseung saw it then—a faint glistening, like tiny glass shards reflecting the light. Sunoo’s eyes had turned glassy, tears held back but ready to spill, betraying the quiet battle he was fighting within himself.
Heeseung’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he almost reached out, almost called after him, but he held himself back. Instead, he just watched, his gaze following Sunoo’s retreating figure that suddenly seemed to fall into another one.
"Hyung?" Niki asked as he saw him. "What’s wrong? Why did you get up?"
Sunoo saw him and smiled.
"It’s nothing, Ni-ki-ya." Sunoo said effortlessly, cute. "I was just thirsty. Let’s go back to sleep, hm?"
Sunoo took softly Niki’s hand and guided him back to his room, but not before Niki and Heeseung could lock eyes with each other.
Sunoo made coffee. He pretended he was in love with his life. He made a point not to stare at the knives sitting on the countertop by the stove, yet as the minutes went on, that was all he could think about. Suddenly, he missed his blade.
There was mostly free time. They had some practice to catch up on, but other than that, it was about it. Even though he should be happy he got time to rest, he wasn’t. Staying home made him think too much, and he didn’t like that.
As everyone tagged along on, he slowly embraced himself for the day and by the time practice was over and they were all back, everyone was quick to take their baths and relax.
Sunoo was the last to go to the bathroom, leaving everyone in the living room, watching a movie he recommended before he did so.
The moment Sunoo closed the door, he immediately searched for his blade. It had been on his mind all day after all. But before he actually used it, he just stared at it.
He stared and stared until the thought crossed his mind. Maybe he just needed to be out of that body, even if that meant he had to be out of life—life had started to require an effort that he slowly understood he no longer had. His own desire was to be nothing, disappear, maybe just stop existing.
He stared and stared. He burned and burned, but for how much longer? Honestly, he had started to really think about it. What if he cut vertically this time, on his hand, one last cut, and gave an end to everything?
If he actually did it, would he really be missed? Would his members be able to move on, both in life and as a group without him? Would engenes be sad or perhaps angry? Would he be remembered by his smile? By the way he pouted and whined cutely at almost everything? Maybe by the mint choco-flavored things? Would they still remember him on his birthday?
What if he cut himself, vertically, on his hand, for one last time? He thought about this one more time until he realized he was already doing it.
He was so exhausted by his own thoughts, tired, that he didn’t realize he had already done it, which was so, so weird because he wasn’t feeling any pain.
Then, he finally looked down on his hand only to panic and look away.
He was embarrassed about his blood, its redness, the way it was just coming out of him with no concern for anyone's feelings.
He felt embarrassed to be alive, shameful, yet shame was a blade that he turned on to himself.
Gently, he touched his hand with his other one, staring at it as if trying to make sense of what he was seeing. For a moment, everything seemed to freeze—his breath, the room, time itself. He never thought it would come to this. But you see, you can’t simply sit and stare at your wounds forever. Eventually, you have to face them.
He hadn’t expected this, though. The overwhelming weight of it all was suffocating, and he wondered if there was any way back— he needed a way back. But you see, he wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
As panic surged in, he wrapped his hand in a towel, the blood seeping through, and rushed out of the bathroom, desperately trying to push the panic down.
Everyone was still gathered in the living room, half-engrossed in the movie, when Sunoo appeared, hand tightly pressed under the towel, staining it with blood.
Niki was the first to notice, a warm smile forming on his face—until it slowly faded as he realized the state Sunoo was in.
"H-Hyung..." he breathed out in a panic, his voice barely audible as his eyes widened in alarm.
Everyone else froze, turning to look at him, but Sunoo couldn’t meet their gazes.
"I..." Sunoo began, his voice trembling, shaky, but the words didn’t come out.
"Sunoo?" Jake asked softly, worry creeping into his voice. "Sunny, what’s wrong?"
But Sunghoon knew exactly what was wrong. Before Sunoo could say anything, both he and Heeseung rushed to his side, but it was the moment Sunoo saw Sunghoon, the moment he looked him in the eyes, that made him completely break down.
"I'm sorry," Sunoo cried out, his voice breaking as his body shook. "I’m so sorry, hyung. I... I lied. I did it again, hyung. I—"
Sunghoon’s heart stopped. He couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t sure if this was a nightmare or real life.
Everyone was silent, eyes wide with confusion and concern. Again? What did again meant? Had he done this before? And did Sunghoon know about it all this time?
"Hey, hey, it’s okay, Sun." Sunghoon’s voice was gentle but firm as he pressed the towel harder against Sunoo’s hand, trying to calm him down, but his heart was breaking. "It’s okay. We… we’ll fix this."
Heeseung stood there, watching with wide eyes, unable to speak nor take his eyes away from the bloody towel. The reality of what had just happened sank in slowly, each second more painful than the last.
"The manager..." Jake breathed out, his voice shaky. "Won… you need to call the manager. Now!"
Jungwon, his hands trembling, fumbled for his phone, even though all he could see was the blood that was dripping faster, soaking through the towel.
"I’m sorry," Sunoo cried again, the tears streaming down his face, his voice broken and lost. "I’m so sorry, everyone."
For a moment, there was silence. Sunoo had hurt himself. Sunoo had hurt himself and everyone was trying to process that information at their own pace but even if they did, it wouldn't change what Sunoo had done, what he tried.
"Ni-ki, get him more towels," Jay commanded, his tone urgent as he stepped closer.
"Help is on the way!" Jungwon called out, trying to sound reassuring as he rushed to Sunoo’s side.
And then, as if everything had suddenly become too much, Sunoo’s legs gave way beneath him. Slowly, he sank down, kneeling alongside Sunghoon and Heeseung.
"I..." Sunoo whispered, his voice barely audible now, the weight of exhaustion and guilt crashing down on him. "I was so tired… I’m so sorry."
"Hey..." Heeseung began, his hands shaking as he replaced the towel with the one Niki had brought back. "It’s okay to be tired, Sunoo. It’s okay..."
"I’m done... I just..." Sunoo choked on his words, his tears choking him. "I’ll never..."
Before he could finish, Sunghoon pulled him into a tight embrace.
"No, you’re not," he said firmly, his voice a quiet promise. "I’ve got you. Do you hear me? We’ve got you."
As Sunoo closed his eyes, too exhausted to keep them open, they all gathered around him, trying to surround him with their presence—hugging him, holding him, touching him in any way they could. Just letting him know they were there.
All Sunoo could think about a few moments ago, was how much he wanted to disappear but maybe, maybe he was wrong.
Maybe all he wanted all this time was to be seen, truly seen, even if he felt the most disgusted and shameful person in the world—the moment he felt all their hugs, all their warm hugs touching his body he finally realized. Sunoo could finally feel it. He wasn’t alone, he never was.