Chapter Text
Everyone had a presence, a glow that made them stand out.
Felix and Jisung the sunshine twins—their laughter was golden and energy infectious. No one could ignore them. Minho, sarcastic and sharp-witted—his personality was an acquired taste, but once you got it, you never forgot him. Hyunjin, dramatic and beautiful—every movement was poetry, every word a performance. Eyes always followed him. Changbin, muscular cutie—strong, bold, soft underneath. A presence you could feel even before he spoke. Bang Chan, the leader—the unwavering pillar, the one everyone ran to, the heart of their world. Jeongin, the maknae—the baby of the group, effortlessly loved and adored.
And then there was Seungmin.
Just Seungmin. No glow, no presence. Just there.
The practice room was buzzing with energy as usual. Changbin was his usual loud self, his voice carrying across the room as he tried to make everyone laugh with some elaborate joke. The members chuckled, their eyes crinkling with smiles as they enjoyed the light atmosphere. It was their typical after-practice routine: jokes, pranks, and casual banter. And in the middle of it all sat Seungmin, in his usual spot in the back corner, an observer in the sea of his bandmates' laughter.
Seungmin didn't mind the chaos; he was used to it. But tonight, for some reason, the laughter felt distant. His mind wasn’t in sync with the energy around him. His eyes followed the others, watching as they interacted, but there was a growing sense of detachment that made him feel invisible.
Changbin was cracking jokes, and Hyunjin was leaning in, pretending to be offended, all while Felix joined in with his infectious laugh, the sound bright and pure. Seungmin forced a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. His chest tightened as he tried to push the feeling away, focusing on the rhythm of the conversation. They were talking about something that had happened earlier in the day, and their voices mixed into a harmonious melody that made Seungmin feel more and more out of place.
He shifted in his seat, trying to get comfortable, but every movement felt forced. His eyes drifted to his phone, and his fingers moved instinctively, unlocking it. A notification blinked at him: Group Chat: Dinner after practice? He clicked it open, the names of his bandmates filling the screen with a flurry of messages.
The group had made plans to grab dinner together, the usual post-practice bonding ritual. But as Seungmin read the messages, he felt a sudden pang in his chest. Everyone had already made their plans. Felix and Hyunjin were discussing what to order, Changbin was cracking jokes about food, and Bang Chan had thrown in a few suggestions. But no one had asked Seungmin what he wanted. No one had even acknowledged he was there.
He typed a quick message in the chat: “Hey, what time are we meeting tomorrow?”
It felt like the right thing to do, like he was making an effort to be part of the group. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, unsure. But before he could send it, another message popped up. It was from Bang Chan. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Seungmin’s stomach sank. It was casual, almost dismissive. Just another quick reply like the many others that had become so common. His thumb hovered over his screen, wanting to type something back, but instead, he just stared at the screen, feeling the emptiness fill him up. He put his phone down, suddenly too tired to even engage with the group chat anymore.
The others didn’t notice, of course. They never did. They never had to. Seungmin was always there, always quiet, always in the background. His jokes were often too dry, his energy too subdued for the group’s more boisterous personalities. They had all known him as the prankster, the guy who made everyone laugh, but lately, it felt like he was just... fading away.
A part of him knew it was his fault. He had buried the feelings of inadequacy deep inside, hiding behind pranks and jokes so that no one would see how lonely he really was. But the loneliness never went away. It only grew stronger as the days passed.
He stood up slowly, trying to shake off the feeling that had settled in his chest. The others were still laughing, engaged in their own conversations, completely unaware of his presence. He grabbed his bag and walked toward the door, glancing back one last time. But no one looked up. No one called out his name. No one even noticed he was leaving.
As he stepped out into the cool night air, Seungmin’s heart ached. The cold breeze hit his face, but it didn’t seem to matter. He had become a ghost in the group, unnoticed and forgotten. His stomach churned, a sense of emptiness filling him from within.
He walked back to the dorm in silence, his footsteps echoing in the empty streets. The world around him felt distant, like he was moving through a dream that he couldn’t wake up from. He knew the members loved him but he just couldn't accept it right now
When he finally reached the dorm, he found it eerily quiet. The other members were either out or already in their rooms, and the silence seemed to settle over him like a weight he couldn’t escape. He stepped into his room, closed the door behind him, and sat down on his bed, letting out a long sigh.
His phone buzzed again, but this time it was a message from Jisung. “Are you coming to dinner? We’re waiting.”
Seungmin looked at the message for a long time before his fingers moved to type a response. “I’m fine. You guys go ahead.” He hesitated again, feeling the heaviness settle back in. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to join them; he just didn’t know how to be a part of something that felt so distant now.
He set his phone aside and laid back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark except for the faint glow of the nightlight beside him. The silence was deafening, and he realized, for the first time in a long while, how completely alone he felt. The emptiness spread through him, like an ache that couldn’t be soothed, and the tears he had been holding back threatened to spill over.
But he didn't cry. He never cried.
It was easier that way. Easier to pretend he wasn’t hurt. Easier to bury everything deep inside and hope that someday, maybe, it would all get better.
But it didn’t.