K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Renjun nct dream - panick attack

Don't forget to go check out the new sickfic book. I've been updating over there for a few days.

Anyway let's start the last chapter of this book.
And thank you so much for reading, voting and comments (I don't always answer but they are so fun to read).

800 words.

Renjun had been doing better lately.

The tightness in his chest that used to follow him like a shadow had been quiet. He was smiling more, laughing louder, feeling lighter. The studio didn't feel suffocating anymore, and the stage had begun to feel like home again.

He thought, maybe, he was finally past the worst of it.

But jinx, he did.

It was during a major live performance of Smoothie , the version with intense lighting effects and fast camera switches. The kind that thrilled the audience but overwhelmed him on bad days.

He thought today wasn't one of those days. He had even joked around in the waiting room, playfully stealing Jeno's snack and dodging Haechan's retaliation with a smirk.

But when the first beat dropped and the stage lights burst into motion, something cracked.

It started as a ripple under his skin. Barely there. A faint tightness in his chest that could have passed for nerves.

Then the lighting flickered wrong—too fast, too bright, too chaotic—and his ears started ringing.

The crowd roared. The music thundered. But inside, everything in Renjun screamed.

His breath shortened. The corners of his vision tightened. The music turned to muffled pounding in his earpiece. His thoughts started spiraling, fast and sharp: You're going to mess up. Everyone can see. You can't do this. You're choking.

His legs still moved. His mouth still formed the lyrics. Somehow, through sheer instinct, he stayed in sync. But his chest was caving in.

It was only three minutes.

It felt like a lifetime.

And the second they stepped off stage, he didn't make it five steps before the panic took over.

"Renjun?" Mark's voice was the first to cut through the haze.

Renjun didn't answer. He bent forward, hands on his knees, gasping—but no air was coming in. He staggered a step to the side, chest heaving, vision blurring with tears.

It wasn't just anxiety. It was a full-blown panic attack.

Before he could fall, a pair of steady hands caught him.

"Come with me," said someone—quiet but firm. It was Jaemin.

Renjun couldn't see clearly, but he let himself be guided. Down the hallway, around a corner, into a bathroom. The cool, sterile light stung his eyes, and the silence made the roar in his ears feel deafening.

As soon as the door closed, Renjun collapsed onto the floor.

He covered his face with trembling hands, tears spilling out faster than he could stop them. He couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. His body was shaking, throat burning with the effort of trying to stay silent and failing.

Jaemin crouched down instantly, saying nothing at first. Just staying close. Not touching him unless needed. Just being there.

"I've got you," Jaemin said gently, his voice like a tether. "You're not alone. You're okay."

Renjun shook his head violently. "I-I thought I was better—" The words broke off into a sob. "I can't—I don't know what's happening—I was fine—"

"You are better," Jaemin said, voice low and grounded. "This is just one moment. It doesn't undo everything you've done."

Renjun cried harder. Ugly, full-body sobs that stole the air from his lungs. His hands gripped his hoodie, nails digging into fabric, and he hated himself for it—for unraveling, for being the weak link.

But Jaemin didn't flinch.

"Okay. Look at me," Jaemin said softly. "We're going to breathe together."

Renjun didn't think he could, but he tried. He clutched the tiled floor like it would anchor him and listened.

"In for four," Jaemin coached. "One, two, three, four... hold... now out. One, two, three, four..."

It wasn't perfect. His breaths were still jagged. But with each cycle, the edges dulled. The storm began to pass. Slowly.

Eventually, his breathing evened out. His shoulders stopped shaking.

Jaemin handed him a tissue. "Blow your nose. You sound like a dying duck."

Renjun let out a wet laugh through the tears. "I hate you."

"No, you don't."

They sat on the bathroom floor for a while in silence.

And then, quietly, Renjun asked, "Was it obvious?"

"No," Jaemin said truthfully. "Not to them. But we saw it. I saw you."

That meant more than anything. I saw you.

When they finally returned to the green room, Jisung stood up right away, worried. Chenle put a hand on his shoulder, gently. Haechan gave him a water bottle without saying a word.

No one pried.

No one judged.

Mark simply said, "You did great out there."

And in that moment, Renjun realized something:

Struggling didn't mean starting over.
Breaking down didn't mean broken.
And even in the worst moments—
He was seen.
He was loved.
He wasn't alone.

Thanks for reading 😊😊😊😊😊