Kpop Sickfics & Hurtfics

A Song Unheard (Sion)

The studio was dark, save for the dim glow of a single lamp in the corner. Sion sat at the piano, his fingers hovering over the keys, as if waiting for the right moment to begin. His eyes were fixated on the half-filled notebook before him, filled with countless scribbles and scratched-out lines, symbols of months of toil and sleepless nights. Each page held fragments of lyrics that told stories he hadn't shared with anyone else - tales of heartbreak, hope, and resilience. These songs had been crafted with care, each note and word painstakingly chosen. This was his solo project, a dream he had nurtured for years. But now, it felt like all of it had been for nothing.

The project had been canceled, just like that, leaving Sion reeling. The news had come down abruptly: "Redirect your focus back to the group." Those words echoed in his mind, a hollow reminder of the silence that followed. No explanations, no reassurances. He had been told to put aside his dreams to support another member's solo debut without even a glance in his direction. It had felt like a betrayal, a cruel twist of fate. In that moment, Sion's heart felt like it had shattered into pieces, leaving a void he couldn't quite comprehend.

This project wasn't just about the music for Sion; it was his chance to finally say something that mattered. To express himself in a way he rarely got to as the leader of NCT Wish. As a leader, he was often the one providing guidance, support, and strength for the others. But he had always yearned for a space where he could share his own voice, his own truths. Now, it felt like his voice had been taken away from him, snatched away in an instant.

He lifted his head when the studio door cracked open. Riku stood there, looking hesitant, as if he'd been waiting for Sion to notice him. His presence was like a warm light in the encroaching darkness.

"Hey, hyung," Riku said softly, his voice laced with concern. "I thought you might want company."

Sion tried to muster a smile, but it fell flat. Riku's warm presence was one of his favorite comforts, yet tonight, he couldn't mask the pain swirling in his chest. "Thanks, Riku," he replied, his voice a hoarse whisper. "I just... need a bit of space. You know?"

Riku nodded, though the look in his eyes told Sion that he knew something was wrong. Without saying anything more, Riku retreated from the room, though Sion knew he wouldn't go far. Riku always had a way of hovering, of staying close even when he tried to give Sion the distance he thought he needed.

Days passed, and although Sion returned to the usual group schedule, he could barely muster the same energy as before. His normally bright eyes seemed dull, clouded by an unseen weight. The excitement that once fueled his passion for practice had evaporated, leaving behind a hollow shell of who he used to be. His laughter felt forced, a mere echo of the genuine joy that once filled the air.

The other members-Riku, Yushi, Jaehee, Ryo, and Sakuya-had all noticed, casting worried glances his way whenever they thought he wasn't looking. They exchanged whispers, their concern palpable. It was as if Sion's silence had cast a shadow over the group, dimming the light of their collective spirit.

Jaehee finally approached Riku one evening after practice, his brow furrowed in worry. "Hyung's not okay," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "He barely even sings in the dorm anymore, and you know how he is. He's always humming something, even when he's tired."

"Yeah," Riku agreed, frowning deeply. "I think... it's because of his solo. I heard the staff talking about shelving it last week. They didn't even tell him directly; he found out through the grapevine."

The words settled heavily between them, the reality of the situation sinking in. Sion had poured everything into his project, pouring his heart and soul into every lyric, every note. And now, he was expected to just put it aside, to pretend like it hadn't mattered. The members shared a look of understanding, their expressions somber. They knew they had to do something.