Kpop Sickfics & Hurtfics

Deep Aching (Zhang Hao)

Zhang Hao's body ached, a deep, unrelenting pressure settled in his chest. His breaths came shallow and quick, but he forced himself to steady them as he sat in the corner of the practice room. The others were joking around, taking a short break from the relentless rehearsals. They didn't notice how Zhang Hao's shoulders trembled with each inhale, nor did they hear the quiet rasp in his throat as he exhaled.

Good. He didn't want them to notice.

The tightness in his chest had started about a week ago. It had been just a minor cough, nothing to be concerned about. Zhang Hao had brushed it off, telling himself that it would go away with some rest. But the rest never came—between rehearsals, fan events, and recording sessions, he didn't have time to stop, much less time to recover. And so, the cough had grown worse, spreading into his lungs until it hurt just to breathe.

But he couldn't afford to be sick. The comeback was looming, and as the center and main vocalist of ZEROBASEONE, Zhang Hao felt the weight of responsibility more than anyone. He needed to be perfect, for the team, for the fans, for himself. There was no room for weakness.

So, he pushed through.

"Alright, guys, break's over!" the choreographer called, clapping his hands. "Let's run the whole routine one more time, from the top."

Zhang Hao nodded, though his legs felt like lead as he pushed himself to stand. His vision blurred momentarily, and he had to grab onto the mirror for support, but none of the members noticed. They were all focused on getting into position.

The music started, the familiar beat filling the room as the boys moved in perfect sync. Zhang Hao moved with them, his body remembering the steps even as his mind swam with exhaustion. He could feel the sweat dripping down his neck, not from exertion, but from the fever that had been creeping up on him for days. His muscles screamed with every movement, and the air felt thin, as if he couldn't take in enough oxygen no matter how hard he tried.

But he kept going.

By the time they reached the final chorus, Zhang Hao's lungs were burning, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He stumbled slightly, his body swaying as he fought to stay upright. His vision was starting to tunnel, the edges of his sight going dark. He was so close to finishing the routine, just a few more steps, just a little longer—

The world tilted, and Zhang Hao's body collapsed onto the floor with a dull thud.

"Hao!" a voice shouted, but it sounded distant, muffled. Zhang Hao blinked, trying to focus, but everything was spinning.

The music stopped abruptly, and suddenly, the other members were around him. Hanbin was kneeling beside him, his hand on Zhang Hao's shoulder. "Hao-hyung, are you okay? What happened?"

Zhang Hao tried to speak, to tell them he was fine, but all that came out was a wheeze. His chest felt like it was being crushed, and no matter how much he gasped for air, it wasn't enough. He could hear the panic in the voices around him, could see their worried faces, but he was too far gone to respond.

"Call an ambulance," Hanbin said urgently, his voice shaking. "Something's wrong."

The next thing Zhang Hao knew, he was lying in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of disinfectant filling his nose. His chest was wrapped in tight bandages, and an oxygen mask was secured over his face, feeding cool air into his lungs. He blinked, disoriented, as the memories of the last few hours slowly came back to him.

The practice room. The collapse. The suffocating weight in his chest.

He'd tried so hard to hide it, to push through, but in the end, his body had betrayed him.