Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

The Weight of the Maknae (Jisung)

MalakMimi541

The rehearsal studio buzzed with energy, the sound of NCT Dream's music booming through the speakers as the members fine-tuned their choreography. Jisung led the charge, his steps precise and fluid as he moved with the intensity of someone determined to perfect every beat. Sweat dripped down his forehead, but he didn't care. The performance in just a few days was important—it was their first in this country, and the anticipation was electric.

As the music hit a crescendo, Jisung went for a sharp turn, but his foot caught on a slick patch of the polished floor. He stumbled, landing hard on his side with a muted grunt.

"Jisungie, you okay?" Jaemin's voice cut through the music as it was hastily paused.

"I'm fine," Jisung replied quickly, getting to his feet and brushing off concerned looks from the others. "Just slipped. Let's go again."

Mark hesitated, his gaze lingering. "You sure? That sounded like a hard fall."

"Really, I'm fine." Jisung forced a smile and stretched his arm experimentally. His side ached faintly, but nothing he couldn't handle. "Let's not waste time."

Satisfied, or at least convinced enough to continue, the group resumed practice. But as the session wore on, Jisung found it harder to ignore the throbbing pain in his side. It wasn't unbearable, but it gnawed at him, slow and persistent.

The days that followed were a blur of rehearsals, press interviews, and restless nights. Jisung's stomach began to ache, an annoying, twisting sensation he attributed to stress and lack of proper sleep. He popped a couple of painkillers when it got particularly bad, figuring it was just part of the grind.

His appetite waned, but he chalked it up to nerves. After all, who wouldn't feel jittery before a major performance?

It wasn't until dinner on their third night abroad that everything came crashing down. The group had gathered in their shared dorm to enjoy a rare moment of relaxation over a local meal. Jisung pushed the food around his plate, forcing bites here and there despite the queasiness bubbling in his stomach.

"Jisung, you're not eating," Renjun noted, his tone both gentle and probing.

"I'm fine," Jisung mumbled, offering a weak smile. "Just not that hungry."

"Not hungry?" Haechan quipped, eyebrows shooting up. "You're the bottomless pit! Since when do you leave food on your plate?"

Jisung opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. A sharp pain radiated through his stomach, making him wince. He quickly excused himself and hurried to the bathroom, his vision blurring at the edges.

The second he shut the door behind him, he doubled over the sink, gagging as nausea clawed at his insides. His stomach heaved violently, and to his horror, he vomited thick, dark blood.

For a moment, he stared at the sink, his mind racing. Then another wave hit, forcing more blood from his throat. Panic gripped him.

"Sungie?" Chenle's voice came from outside the door, followed by a knock. "You okay in there?"

Jisung tried to respond but couldn't find his voice. The door creaked open just as another retch overtook him, and Renjun froze in the doorway.

"Renjun-hyung!" Chenle shouted, his voice shaking. "Come here! Now!"

Renjun was at Chenle's side in an instant, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "What the—Jisunh, are you—"

Renjun snapped into action, grabbing Jisung's arm to steady him. "Get the others! Now!"

Within moments, the entire group crowded outside the bathroom. Mark pushed his way in, his face pale. "What happened? What's going on?"

"He's vomiting blood!" Renjun exclaimed, his voice breaking.

Mark immediately reached for his phone, fumbling to call their manager. "This isn't normal. We need help—"

Haechan hovered near the door, his usual bravado replaced with visible panic. "Why is he throwing up blood? Is it his stomach? Did he eat something bad?"

Jaemin stepped in, his tone calm but firm. "Haechan-hyung, calm down. Freaking out won't help."

"But—"

"Just breathe," Jaemin said, placing a steadying hand on Haechan's shoulder. He crouched down to meet Jisung's eyes. "Jisung, can you hear me? What's wrong?"

Jisung swayed in Renjun's grasp, barely managing a nod. "Stomach... hurts... bad."

"Chenle, grab water and a towel," Jaemin ordered, slipping into a leader-like role. "Mark, is the manager coming?"

"Trying to reach him," Mark muttered, his hands trembling as he redialed.

When the manager finally arrived, he wasted no time getting Jisung to the hospital. The car ride was tense, the silence broken only by Haechan's nervous rambling and the occasional groan from Jisung.

At the hospital, they faced another hurdle: the language barrier. None of the members spoke the local language fluently, and though the manager did his best to explain the situation, the medical staff's responses were clipped and hard to follow.

Mark and Renjun hovered near the front desk, trying to piece together what little they understood. Meanwhile, Jaemin stayed close to Jisung, holding his hand as they waited for a doctor. Haechan paced anxiously, muttering under his breath, while Chenle tried to comfort him.

Finally, a doctor approached with a translator in tow. "He's being taken in for tests," the translator explained. "It might be internal injuries. Did he fall recently?"

The question hit like a ton of bricks.

Mark's face fell. "Jisung, why didn't you tell us?"

"I... didn't think it was bad..." Jisung murmured weakly as the medical team wheeled him away.

Back in the waiting room, the group was left to grapple with their emotions.

"This is our fault," Mark said, his voice heavy with guilt. "We should've noticed something was wrong."

"We've been so caught up in work," Renjun added, his hands clenched into fists. "How did we miss it?"

Haechan sank into a chair, his head in his hands. "He's the maknae. We're supposed to take care of him."

Jaemin, ever the steady presence, spoke up. "Beating ourselves up won't help him. Let's focus on what we can do now—support him."

The others nodded, though the guilt lingered in their eyes.

The doctor's eventual diagnosis confirmed their fears: Jisung had suffered internal injuries from the fall, which had worsened due to his reluctance to rest. He was stable but needed several days of monitoring and absolute rest.

The group took turns staying with Jisung at the hospital, their schedules adjusted to give him—and themselves—time to recover.

During one quiet moment, Jaemin sat beside Jisung's bed, speaking softly. "You don't have to push yourself so hard, you know. We're a team. If something's wrong, tell us. We'll always have your back."

Jisung's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I just didn't want to be a burden."

"You're not," Jaemin said firmly. "You never were."

As the days passed, the group began reevaluating their habits, promising to check in with each other more often. They learned to slow down, to listen—not just to the music but to each other.

Their performance was postponed, a decision that initially felt like a setback but quickly became a symbol of their commitment to prioritizing health over everything else.

And as Jisung recovered, he realized that being the youngest didn't mean he had to carry his struggles alone. Together, they could shoulder any weight—no matter how heavy.