ENHYPEN SickFics

Keep Going- Jay

---

The buzzing lights of the rehearsal studio felt harsh as Jay stared at his reflection in the mirror, beads of sweat rolling down his face. The room was filled with the familiar sound of feet hitting the ground, music blaring, and heavy breathing as ENHYPEN drilled their choreography for the umpteenth time. It had been a grueling week, and exhaustion was beginning to seep into Jay’s bones, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

They had a comeback around the corner, and the pressure to be perfect weighed on him like an anchor. Each movement needed to be sharper, each transition smoother. Jay was known for his precision, for his perfectionism, and he prided himself on never being the one to slack off. But lately, the cracks were starting to show.

He could feel it—the slow burnout creeping up on him, the mounting stress of not just the physical demands, but the mental strain of being perfect all the time. He was the dependable one, the one who never let anyone down. But lately, he could barely keep up with his own expectations.

“Let’s run it one more time,” their choreographer called out, his voice firm but not unkind.

Jay gritted his teeth, willing his body to keep going as the music started again. The other members were tired too, he could see it in their faces, but they pushed through, just like him. The group was a well-oiled machine, and any weakness could throw everything off balance. He couldn’t afford to be the one to slow them down.

The music played, and Jay moved through the choreography with his usual intensity, but his body felt heavy, sluggish. His feet dragged, his chest tight with the strain of holding it all together. His vision blurred slightly at the edges, but he ignored it, focusing on hitting every move with precision.

As they neared the end of the routine, Jay’s body began to falter. His breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles screaming for a break. The final move—a powerful leap and turn—loomed ahead, and Jay gritted his teeth, pushing himself harder.

But as he jumped, his knee gave out mid-air.

With a sickening thud, Jay hit the floor hard, his knee buckling beneath him. Pain shot through his leg, radiating up into his hip, and his vision swam with white-hot agony.

The music stopped instantly, and the other members rushed to his side, their faces etched with concern.

“Jay!” Sunghoon was the first to kneel beside him, his voice tight with panic. “Are you okay?”

Jay clenched his jaw, trying to fight back the wave of pain that washed over him. His knee throbbed painfully, and when he tried to move, another sharp jolt of pain shot through his leg, making him wince.

“I’m fine,” Jay muttered, though the tremor in his voice betrayed the truth.

“No, you’re not,” Heeseung said, his brow furrowed in worry. “Don’t try to move. Let’s get help.”

Jay shook his head stubbornly, trying to sit up despite the pain. “I can keep going,” he insisted, his voice hoarse with frustration. “I just need a minute.”

But when he tried to stand, his leg gave out completely, and he collapsed back onto the floor with a gasp of pain.

“Jay, stop,” Sunoo said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re hurt. Don’t push yourself.”

The other members watched helplessly as Jay struggled, his pride refusing to let him admit just how badly he was injured. He had always been the strong one, the dependable one, and now he felt like he was falling apart in front of everyone.

The staff rushed over, and within moments, Jay was carefully helped onto a bench, his leg elevated as the medic examined his knee. The room was tense, the atmosphere thick with worry.