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

Beyond Reach

The silence in the hospital waiting room was oppressive, each second dragging on like a heavy weight pressing down on Chan and the others. They sat side by side, hands twisted together, eyes red and exhausted. It had been a week since Seungmin's last attempt—a week filled with tense glances, whispered conversations with doctors, and a gnawing fear that hadn't left any of them since the night they'd nearly lost him again.

Finally, the doctor reappeared, her face drawn with exhaustion but her expression resolute. She looked at the members, then to Chan, her gaze steady yet compassionate.

"Chan," she started, her voice soft but firm. "After evaluating Seungmin's condition and considering his recent attempts... we believe it would be best for him to stay in a mental health facility for intensive care."

Her words hung heavy in the air, and Chan felt a rush of dread settle over him.

"For how long?" he managed to ask, his voice barely above a whisper.

The doctor hesitated. "It's hard to say. It could be weeks or even months. Seungmin needs round-the-clock support, and the facility we're transferring him to has specialists who can provide him with the care he needs. He's very fragile right now, and it's important we take every step to ensure his safety."

Beside Chan, Jeongin's breath hitched. Felix reached over, squeezing Jeongin's shoulder, but even Felix's hands were shaking.

"Can we still visit him?" Han asked, his voice trembling.

The doctor hesitated again, and Chan's heart sank. "For the initial period, it's best if Seungmin focuses solely on himself and the therapy process. Limited outside contact will be permitted at first, and then visits may be allowed later on, depending on his progress."

The words hit Chan like a punch to the chest. The thought of Seungmin, isolated and struggling alone, broke something inside him. He'd always been the one to carry the group, to take on everyone's burdens. And now, in Seungmin's darkest hour, Chan felt helpless, unable to do anything but sit back and let others take over

"I can't... I can't just leave him there alone," Chan whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "He's already hurting so much. If we're not there—if he thinks we've given up on him..."

The doctor's gaze softened. "I understand how hard this is. But right now, Seungmin needs this focused time, away from external pressures, even from those who love him. It's a difficult process, but it's one that gives him the best chance."

Chan slumped back in his seat, a hollow ache spreading through him. He looked at the others—at their pained, helpless expressions. This wasn't just hard for him. They were all aching, lost, and terrified.

---

The day of Seungmin's transfer arrived far too quickly. Chan and the rest of the group were given a brief window to say goodbye before the hospital staff escorted Seungmin out to the waiting transport. The goodbye felt surreal, each of them taking turns, trying to keep their voices steady, trying to assure Seungmin that they'd be waiting for him. But the look in Seungmin's eyes—the quiet pain, the resignation—haunted Chan.

When it was his turn, Chan knelt by Seungmin's bed, his heart twisting at how fragile his lover looked.

"Min," he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "This isn't forever, okay? You'll come back to us. We're going to be right here, waiting for you."

Seungmin's gaze flickered down, his fingers fidgeting with the corner of his blanket. "I'm... sorry I put you all through this," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"No, don't apologize, we all love you very much Seungmin and don't know what we would do without you." Chan said firmly, reaching out to hold Seungmin's hand. "You don't have to be sorry. We just want you to get better, okay? That's all that matters."

Seungmin's eyes filled with tears, and he looked away, his lips pressed tightly together. "I... I don't know how," he whispered.

"You don't have to know how," Chan replied, his own voice trembling. "Just trust that the people there can help you, and that we're going to be right here when you're ready. You're not alone, Seungmin."

Seungmin nodded, but his expression was faraway, as if he'd already begun pulling back from them.

The moment the hospital staff came in to take him, Chan's heart felt like it was being ripped out of his chest. He stood in the hallway, watching as Seungmin was wheeled out, his figure growing smaller and smaller as the distance between them grew. It felt wrong—everything about this felt wrong—but he had no choice. They were doing this for Seungmin's safety, but it didn't make the pain any easier to bear.

As the transport doors closed, Chan clenched his fists, a tear slipping down his cheek. The silence in the hallway felt deafening, and when he turned back to the others, they all looked just as shattered.

Felix wiped his eyes, his voice barely a whisper. "Hyung... do you think he'll be okay?"

Chan swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to nod. "He has to be. We just... have to believe in him."

---

Back at the dorm, the emptiness was suffocating. Seungmin's absence hung heavy in the air, each member feeling his loss in their own way. His laughter, his quiet jokes, his comforting presence—everything was missing, and it left an ache that none of them knew how to fill.

Late that night, Chan sat alone in the practice room, the memories of Seungmin lingering like ghosts. He could still picture him, going over choreography with a meticulous eye, laughing at their jokes, lending a listening ear. And now, for the first time, he couldn't reach him.

The pain was almost unbearable.

A tear slipped down Chan's cheek, and he pressed a hand over his chest, trying to breathe through the ache. "Please, Min," he whispered to the empty room. "Please come back to us. We're lost without you."

The words faded into the silence, and Chan let himself cry, hoping that wherever Seungmin was, he could feel the love they were sending his way, hoping it would be enough to bring him back home.