I can't live without you.. || Chanmin

Fragile Hearts

The hospital room felt too small for the weight it held. The fluorescent lights hummed softly, casting a sterile glow over the walls. Machines beeped steadily, a quiet reminder that Seungmin was still alive—but the air was thick with emotions the group couldn't quite put into words.

Seungmin sat propped up against the pillows, pale and exhausted, his dark hair messy against the white sheets. He stared at the blanket pooled in his lap, avoiding everyone's eyes. His body was there, but his spirit seemed far away, lost in the storm that had overtaken him.

One by one, the members of Stray Kids shuffled into the room, their faces etched with worry. None of them knew what to say—they were too scared of saying the wrong thing. The sight of their bright, witty Seungmin looking so broken crushed something inside each of them.

Hyunjin was the first to move, sitting gingerly at the edge of the bed. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for Seungmin's, holding it between his own. "Hey, Minnie," Hyunjin whispered, his voice softer than usual. "I missed you."

Seungmin gave a small, forced smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Sorry for worrying you."

Hyunjin shook his head quickly. "Don't apologize. Just... I'm glad you're still here." His voice cracked on the last word, and Chan, standing by the door, had to turn away, his throat tightening.

Beside him, Han fidgeted nervously, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. He wanted to say something funny—something that would make Seungmin laugh like he used to. But nothing came. Instead, he just whispered, "I wish I noticed sooner, Min. I'm sorry."

Felix, standing near the window, wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie. "You don't have to go through this alone anymore, Seungmin," he said gently, his voice breaking. "We're here, okay? All of us. For whatever you need."

Jeongin, usually the most cheerful, looked the most heartbroken. He sat quietly on the floor by the bed, his head resting on Seungmin's knee. "I need you to stay, hyung," Jeongin whispered, his voice fragile. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

The weight of Jeongin's words made Seungmin's lip tremble. He tried to hold it in—he'd been holding it in for so long. But the dam broke, and tears began to spill down his cheeks, silent and relentless.

"I'm so tired," Seungmin choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "I tried so hard... but it felt like I was drowning, and I didn't know how to stop it."

The room fell into a heavy silence, each of the boys struggling with the helplessness of not being able to fix what their friend had been silently suffering through.

Chan knelt by the bed, taking Seungmin's hand in both of his. "Minnie... I know it's hard. I know how heavy it feels. But you don't have to carry this alone anymore. We'll hold you up, okay? All of us."

The words were simple, but the emotion behind them was devastating. Seungmin sobbed openly now, his body shaking with each ragged breath. It wasn't loud—just broken gasps, like he'd been holding his breath for far too long.

Hyunjin leaned in, wrapping his arms around Seungmin gently but firmly. "We've got you," he whispered. "No matter what."

Han and Jeongin followed, squeezing onto the bed to embrace Seungmin with trembling hands. Felix stood at the foot of the bed, his teary eyes locked on Seungmin's as if silently promising that he wouldn't let him go.

Chan stayed kneeling by Seungmin's side, his hands still holding the younger's. His heart ached, but he let it—because this was what Seungmin needed. Not perfect words, not a quick fix. Just presence.

"We're going to walk through this with you, Minnie," Chan whispered, brushing a tear off Seungmin's cheek with his thumb. "One day at a time."

The group stayed like that for what felt like hours—no words, just soft breaths and quiet tears, tangled together in a cocoon of warmth and grief and love.

Eventually, Seungmin's sobs subsided into soft sniffles, and the exhaustion weighed him down. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel completely alone. He let himself rest in their presence, his head tucked against Hyunjin's shoulder.

As the room settled into silence, Chan glanced at the others—his brothers—and gave a small, weary smile. They weren't okay. Not yet. But they would be. They would carry each other through the dark, as they always had.

Because that's what family did.

And as the moonlight streamed gently through the hospital window, it cast a quiet promise over them all:

They were going to make it through this. Together.