Kpop Sickfics & Hurtfics

Fragments of a Song (Han)

Han Jisung, known as Han to his fans and brothers in Stray Kids, sat hunched over the keyboard in the dimly lit studio, his fingers hovering above the keys but never touching them. The soft glow from the computer screen illuminated his face, casting deep shadows under his eyes. For the past few weeks, he had been stuck in this position—staring at the blank screen, his mind racing, but no melodies or lyrics coming out. The deadline for their next album was fast approaching, and the pressure was suffocating him.

Normally, writing music was Han's escape. It had always come naturally to him, like breathing. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between him and the music he loved. The more he tried to break through it, the harder it pushed back.

The others—Chan, Felix, Changbin, Hyunjin, Seungmin, I.N, and Lee Know—had noticed the growing bags under his eyes, the way he was staying later and later in the studio, skipping meals, and brushing off sleep. But every time one of them asked how he was doing, he'd plaster on a smile and say he was fine, reassuring them with words he didn't believe.

He wasn't fine. He was drowning.

It had been two days since Han had last slept properly. The lines between day and night blurred, his brain constantly running on overdrive. He typed out phrases, random melodies flitting in and out of his mind, but nothing made sense. His body ached, muscles tense from sitting in the same position for hours on end. Yet, despite the exhaustion that weighed on him, he refused to leave the studio.

"Just a little more," Han muttered to himself, rubbing at his burning eyes. "I'll take a break after this."

The others had already gone to bed hours ago, the dorm falling into a soft lull of silence. Han remained in his corner, consumed by the ticking clock and the crushing weight of expectations. His vision blurred as he stared at the screen, the letters and notes swimming before his eyes.

Then, it started—the faint whisper of a melody in the back of his mind. It was barely there, like a distant hum, but it was something. He grabbed his pen and scribbled the first few notes down, the feverish excitement pushing away his exhaustion for a brief moment. The melody grew louder, more insistent, and he scribbled faster, barely keeping up. Lyrics followed, incoherent and disjointed, but they spilled out of him like a dam had broken.

But there was something wrong. The notes didn't fit. The lyrics were garbled, words blending together into a mess of nonsense. His head throbbed as the melody twisted, growing more chaotic, more urgent, until it wasn't beautiful anymore—it was a cacophony, a painful ringing in his ears.

Han dropped the pen and clutched his head, the world spinning violently around him. His skin was hot, his throat dry, and it was hard to breathe. His body swayed in the chair, and the last thing he remembered was the feel of the cold floor beneath him as everything went dark.

The dorm was quiet that night, except for the occasional sound of footsteps padding down the hall. Chan, always the last one to sleep, noticed something off when he passed by the studio. The door was slightly ajar, and a faint glow flickered from within. Frowning, he gently pushed the door open.

"Han?" he called softly, expecting to see his friend still bent over the keyboard, lost in thought. But instead, he found the studio empty—except for the crumpled figure lying on the floor near the desk.

Panic surged through Chan as he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside Han. "Jisung! Hey, wake up, man!" He shook his shoulder gently, his heart pounding as he felt how hot Han's skin was beneath his touch.

The commotion drew the attention of Felix and Lee Know, who were passing by on their way to the kitchen.

"What's going on—" Felix froze mid-sentence when he saw Han lying unconscious on the floor. "Holy—what happened?"