“Hyung!” Sungchan cried out, lunging forward just in time to catch Taeyong’s collapsing body. The weight nearly dragged him down with it, but he held on, lowering his leader carefully so he wouldn’t hit the floor.
“Ch–Chanie… w-what—” the girl began, shocked, but her twin cut her off.
“Soul, help me—now! Please!” he said urgently, already trying to lift Taeyong’s upper body against his shoulder, his voice trembling more than he wanted.
The girl hurried to her feet, ignoring the jolt of pain from her still-healing injuries. Together, they managed to haul Taeyong onto the bed, his head rolling limply to the side.
She turned to her twin, her voice barely steady. “C-Chanie… what’s wrong with him?” Fear clung to every syllable.
“I… I don’t know,” Sungchan admitted, eyes scanning Taeyong’s chest until he saw it rise, shallow but steady. “At least he’s breathing,” he whispered, more to reassure himself than her.
“Yaya, listen—stay with him. I need to call the others and check what’s going on outside.” He turned to leave, but Soul seized his hand with trembling fingers.
“No! Ch-Chanie, don’t go!” she pleaded, her voice cracking. “We don’t even know why he fainted—I don’t want the same thing to happen to you!”
“Yaya…” He softened, squeezing her hand. “I know you’re scared. I am too. But I have to do this. I’ll be careful. I’m not leaving you—ever. You know that.” He pulled her close enough to place a kiss on her head.
“Wait here,” he said, stepping back—
“But Chanie—!”
He paused. She stared up at him, panic widening her eyes. “What if…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish.
He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away, scanning the room until he found a spare cloth. He pressed it over his nose and mouth like a makeshift filter.
“When I step out, push the towel under the door again. I’ll knock three times when I'm back. Okay?”
She nodded, biting her lip hard enough to taste blood.
He typed a quick message to the group chat, then pressed the phone into her hands. “I’m leaving it with you. If they text, answer them. And… take care of hyung. Promise?”
She nodded again, though fear made her shaky.
Sungchan yanked the towel aside, cracked the door open, and slipped out.
When the door clicked shut again, the girl quickly stuffed the towel underneath it, sealing the small gap as tightly as she could. Only then did she turn back toward the bed, her heart pounding as her eyes landed on the unconscious, intimidating body lying motionless on the sheets.
A faint tremble ran through her hands. The room felt too quiet—unnaturally quiet—except for the muffled sounds of the alarm system echoing in distant corridors. Taeyong’s stillness made everything worse. He didn’t look peaceful; he looked wrongly still, his skin pale under the dim light, sweat gathering along his brow. She took a shaky breath, feeling the cold press of fear settle in her stomach.
When the phone suddenly rang, she flinched. She grabbed it quickly.
“Sungchan! What do you mean by that message?! What happened?!” someone shouted from the other end.
The voice was frantic—far too loud for her already rattled nerves. Her fingers tightened around the device as she tried to calm her shaking hands.
“U-uhmm…” she stammered.
There was a brief pause before another, more familiar voice chimed in, confused.
“Soul?”
The moment she heard her name, her chest tightened—not with relief, but with guilt. They expected Sungchan. They thought he was answering. Everything suddenly felt too heavy for her to hold.
