Skz oneshotes (Requests Open)

🐺 Through Shadows and Light

Main characters: Chan
Page People: Minho, Jeongin
Subject: mental illness, littlespace

Title: "Through Shadows and Light"

Chan sat on the worn-out couch in the dorm, staring at the blank TV screen in front of him. It had been another long day—practice, recording, meetings. His body was exhausted, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. The constant whirlwind of thoughts, responsibilities, and expectations weighed heavy on his chest. It wasn’t a new feeling, but lately, it had grown worse. Darker. More suffocating.

The others were out, either at the studio or grabbing late-night snacks. He welcomed the solitude, or at least he thought he did. In reality, the silence left him alone with his thoughts, and that was a dangerous place to be.

Chan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. It was always there, lurking in the background—a nagging emptiness that nothing seemed to fill. He knew what it was. He had read about it, talked to a few professionals, even opened up to Minho and Jeongin once, but it wasn’t the same as dealing with it head-on.

“Depression,” they had called it. But that word never seemed enough to describe the storm inside him. It was more than just sadness. It was numbness, anxiety, and this strange, overpowering sense that no matter what he did, he wasn’t enough. Not as a leader, not as a friend, not as a person.

Chan felt the familiar pull—something deep inside him that wanted to retreat, to disappear into a simpler, safer place. It was a coping mechanism he had discovered by accident some time ago. He hadn’t told anyone about it, not even Minho or Jeongin, and he wasn't sure they’d understand. It was a space in his mind where the weight of the world melted away, where he didn’t have to be a leader, or an adult, or anything at all. It was littlespace.

With a deep breath, Chan allowed himself to drift into that headspace. He pulled his knees up to his chest, curling into the couch. In this state, the stress, the expectations, and the overwhelming thoughts seemed to vanish, replaced by a simpler, more innocent mindset. His surroundings felt larger, more intimidating, but in a comforting way. He felt small, vulnerable, but also safe. The world wasn't as complicated in littlespace. He didn’t have to make decisions or be strong for anyone else. Here, he could just be.

Minutes passed, maybe hours—he wasn’t sure. His thoughts became simpler, his worries less complex. He glanced around the room, noticing things he normally wouldn’t, like the softness of the blanket draped over the arm of the couch, or the faint hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. It was peaceful. But as much as he cherished these moments, they never lasted forever.

The sound of the front door opening startled Chan. He quickly wiped at his face, though he wasn’t sure if he had actually been crying, or just feeling the weight of everything. He sat up straighter, trying to slip out of the headspace as fast as he could. The familiar voices of Minho and Jeongin echoed through the dorm, pulling him back to reality.

“Chan-hyung? You here?” Minho’s voice was laced with concern as he stepped into the living room, eyes scanning the area until they landed on Chan.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Chan mumbled, clearing his throat. He tried to act normal, but Minho could always see through him. It was one of the frustrating things about having such close friends—they knew when you were lying, even when you didn’t say anything.

Minho sat beside him on the couch, not speaking for a moment. Jeongin followed shortly after, taking a seat on the floor by Chan’s feet, his youthful face full of quiet concern.

“You okay, hyung?” Jeongin asked softly, tilting his head as he looked up at Chan.

Chan forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired. Long day.”

Minho narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t push right away. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, folding his arms across his chest. “We were thinking about grabbing something to eat. You should come with us. Get out for a bit.”

“I’m not really hungry,” Chan replied, shaking his head. “You guys go ahead.”

There was a brief silence, the kind that stretched uncomfortably between people who cared about each other but didn’t know how to bridge the gap. Chan felt it, and it only added to the heavy knot in his chest.

Minho finally spoke, his tone softer than usual. “Hyung, we’ve noticed... something’s been off with you lately. You don’t have to tell us everything, but we’re worried.”

Chan swallowed hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. He hated that they were worrying about him. They had enough on their plates without dealing with his issues. But there was a part of him—an almost childlike part—that desperately wanted to be understood, to be taken care of, just for a moment.

“It’s just...” Chan’s voice broke slightly, and he paused, taking a shaky breath. “It’s a lot sometimes, you know? The pressure, the expectations. I don’t know how to explain it. Some days it feels like I’m drowning, like nothing I do is good enough.”

Jeongin’s face softened even more. “Hyung, you’ve done so much for us. For everyone. You’re always taking care of us... It’s okay to let us take care of you too.”

Minho nodded in agreement. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. We’re here, okay? Whatever you’re going through, you’re not alone.”

Chan looked down at his hands, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He wasn’t sure how to explain littlespace to them, wasn’t sure if they would understand. But he could feel their sincerity, their concern, and it made him feel safe enough to try.

“There’s something... I’ve been dealing with in a different way,” Chan admitted quietly. “I don’t know if it’ll make sense, but sometimes, when it gets too much, I... retreat into this headspace. I feel smaller, like a kid almost. It helps me cope, but I don’t know if it’s normal.”

Jeongin and Minho exchanged glances, but neither looked judgmental or confused. Instead, Minho reached out, placing a gentle hand on Chan’s shoulder.

“There’s no ‘normal’ when it comes to coping, Chan. Everyone has their own ways of handling things. If it helps you feel safe, then that’s what matters.”

Jeongin nodded. “And you don’t have to do it alone, hyung. We’ll be here, no matter what. If you need time to feel small or just... escape for a while, we’ll support you.”

Tears welled up in Chan’s eyes, but this time, he didn’t try to hide them. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel ashamed of his struggles, of the strange way he needed to cope. He had spent so long trying to be perfect, trying to live up to the expectations of being a leader, that he had forgotten it was okay to lean on others too.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Minho squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to find out, hyung. We’re not going anywhere.”

Jeongin smiled softly, his presence calm and comforting. “You’ve always been there for us. Now it’s our turn.”

For the first time in what felt like weeks, Chan felt a weight lift off his chest. It wasn’t a solution to everything, but it was a start. And for now, that was enough.