Chapter Text
The dorm was too quiet that night.
Normally, someone would be humming, gaming, or bickering over the TV, but after the studio incident, silence pressed down on the air like a weight.
Seungmin had left after trying to talk to Minho, leaving him in a very rough patch.
Minho sat at the kitchen table, shoulders hunched, his hands clasped so tightly his knuckles turned pale.
He focused on the rhythm of his breathing—inhale, exhale, steady—but every sound felt too loud. The hum of the fridge, the tick of the clock, the faint creak of the hallway floorboards—they made the silence worse.
“Hyung.”
The single word snapped him out of his fragile rhythm.
Hyunjin stood in the doorway, arms crossed, his tall frame shadowing the dim light.
His eyes were sharp, searching, but Minho could also see the storm gathering in them.
“You’re scaring everyone.”
Minho blinked, lips parting as if to protest, but his voice cracked on the first syllable.
“Scaring?”
Hyunjin pushed away from the door and strode in, pulling out the chair opposite him. His movements were controlled but tense, every step purposeful, like a dancer on edge.
“You keep slipping,” Hyunjin said, lowering himself into the chair.
“With the lyrics, with the way you talk. It’s not coincidence anymore. Seungmin’s tracking it, Chan’s losing sleep. And me—” he broke off, his jaw tightening, “I know you. And something’s wrong.”
Minho’s gaze dropped to the table. His hands trembled against his knees, so he tucked them under the table where Hyunjin couldn’t see.
“You’re imagining things.”
“Stop lying.”
The words cut straight through the dim air. Minho’s shoulders flinched, though he didn’t look up.
His eyes stayed fixed on the wood grain of the table, anything but Hyunjin’s piercing gaze.
“You think I don’t notice?” Hyunjin pressed, leaning forward.
“Your breathing goes shallow every time someone corners you. You ball your fists so tight your nails leave marks. You can’t even look me in the eye right now. That’s not stress—it’s fear.”
Minho’s chest tightened. He tried to control his breathing, to make it even, but Hyunjin’s words made him feel exposed, stripped bare.
“If I told you…” Minho whispered, his voice cracking, “you wouldn’t believe me.”
Hyunjin didn’t hesitate. “Try me.” His eyes shone now, damp but steady.
“I’d rather hear the impossible than watch you tear yourself apart.”
The silence stretched. Minho’s trembling hands gave him away; he quickly pulled them into his lap, gripping his knees to still them.
“I can’t,” he whispered again.
“Can’t, or won’t?” Hyunjin shot back. “Because there’s a difference.”
The weight of those words made Minho finally lift his head. His eyes were glassy, panic flickering in them.
His breath stuttered, uneven.
“I don’t want you to get pulled in. Any of you. If you knew, you’d…”
He trailed off, shaking his head.
His voice dropped.
“It’s better if I keep it to myself.”
Hyunjin slammed his palm flat against the table, making Minho flinch so hard his chair nearly shifted.
“You don’t get to decide that for us!”
Hyunjin’s voice cracked, raw and trembling.
“We’re not just bandmates.
We’re family .
You can’t keep bleeding in silence and expect us to smile like nothing’s happening.”
Minho stared at him, chest heaving, his breathing shallow and erratic again.
He couldn’t form words, not when every nerve screamed at him to run or hide.
But then Hyunjin reached out, his hand shaking, and covered Minho’s clenched fists under the table.
His touch was warm, steadying, breaking through the panic.
“I’m not asking for everything,”
Hyunjin said softly, his earlier fire dissolving into something fragile.
“Just… don’t shut me out. Please. I can handle whatever this is.
What I can’t handle is watching you fall apart while pretending you’re fine.”
Minho’s vision blurred, hot tears stinging. His instinct screamed to pull away, but Hyunjin’s hand anchored him.
For once, he let himself stay.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold it together,”
Minho confessed, his voice cracking.
Hyunjin’s grip tightened, firm and unyielding.
“Then let me help you hold it.”
The words hit Minho harder than Chan’s shouting ever had.
For a fleeting moment, he felt the urge to let go of everything, to hand over the unbearable weight.
But fear kept him bound.
He forced a shaky laugh instead.
“You’re too dramatic.”
Hyunjin exhaled sharply, his lips twitching into the ghost of a smile.
“And you’re too reckless.”
They sat there, hands still locked, both pretending that this fragile connection was enough to stave off the storm.
But Hyunjin noticed the way Minho’s eyes darted to the floor again, how his chest still rose too fast, how his knuckles shook beneath his grip.
And Minho knew Hyunjin wasn’t fooled.
The silence between them didn’t soothe—it only made the storm ahead feel closer, inevitable.
Later, when Hyunjin finally left the kitchen, he didn’t go straight to his room.
He lingered in the hallway, leaning back against the cool wall, one hand pressed against his chest.
He replayed Minho’s trembling voice in his head—
I don’t know how much longer I can hold it together.
Hyunjin shut his eyes.
He had pushed, confronted, even begged—but still, Minho had kept the heart of it locked away.
Fear coiled tight in Hyunjin’s stomach. He thought he had gotten through, if only a little, but the haunted look in Minho’s eyes told a different story.
Minho wasn’t just exhausted.
He was breaking.
And Hyunjin realized something with painful clarity:
If Minho fell, he might not come back.
Hyunjin clenched his fists at his sides, his nails digging into his palms.
“I won’t let you drown, hyung,” he whispered to the empty hallway.
“Even if you won’t let me in… I’ll find a way.”
The dorm was silent again, but in Hyunjin’s chest, determination burned hot.
What he didn’t know—what he couldn’t know—was how close Minho already was to shattering.