Her Song, His Heart

Unspoken Battles

The morning had passed like any other, except for the heavy stillness that had settled over Mannon. The excitement that had filled her the night before was gone, replaced by a palpable tension she couldn’t shake off. She hadn’t wanted to face it, but it crept in anyway—the anxiety, the pressure, the constant low hum of confusion that made everything feel just a little too distant.

She sat at the breakfast table, silently pushing the cereal around in her bowl, her thoughts a tangled mess. The voices in her head weren’t loud or jarring, but they were there, faint whispers just beneath the surface of her mind.

“Mannon?”

It was Hyunjin’s voice, soft and concerned. She blinked, shaking her head slightly to clear the fog.

“Yeah?” Her voice came out quieter than she intended.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brows furrowed as he looked at her with a mix of worry and curiosity.

“I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile, but it felt like the words were being pulled out of her rather than offered freely.

But Hyunjin didn’t buy it. He could see the distance in her eyes, the way she wasn’t really there with them. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t frustration. It was something else—something deeper.

Before he could press further, Mannon abruptly stood from the table, her chair scraping against the floor louder than necessary.

“I… need some air,” she muttered, not making eye contact with anyone as she hurriedly left the kitchen, her footsteps quick and almost frantic.

---

Mannon’s room felt suffocating. It had always been her safe space, but today, it was just walls closing in on her, amplifying the rush of thoughts that she couldn’t stop. She tried to breathe deeply, to push everything back, but the pressure only grew heavier with each passing second.

The voices were quieter today, but they were still there, and they made her feel like she wasn’t really herself. Her own thoughts felt like foreign words in her head—distorted, out of reach. It was the weight of it all that crushed her, the constant fight to keep her mind intact.

“Mannon?”

She didn’t even hear him coming up the stairs. Chan’s voice was gentle, but there was an underlying edge to it, like he already knew what had happened. She heard the door creak open, and without a word, he entered the room.

She had been standing by the window, her face pressed against the glass, staring out into the quiet streets below. She didn’t turn around when he entered.

“You don’t need to hide from me, you know.”

Chan’s voice was soft, but there was an undeniable firmness behind it—one that made Mannon’s chest tighten. She swallowed hard, but the words wouldn’t come.

“I… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood,” she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. “I just…” She trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence. The shame of it all flooded her, making her feel like she was betraying the very people who cared for her.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Chan said, his voice steady. “Mannon, you’re not ruining anything by being yourself.”

Her breath hitched as she turned to face him, her eyes wide with unshed tears. “But I’m not the same. I can’t… I can’t keep it together all the time, Chan. I’m broken.”

Chan crossed the room to her in two long strides, his expression softening as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “No, you’re not broken. You’re just… going through something right now. And that’s okay.”

Mannon shook her head, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’m not normal. I can’t be who you think I am.”

Chan’s heart ached at the sight of her, standing there so vulnerable, so afraid. He reached out, gently pulling her into his arms, and for a long moment, she didn’t resist.

“I never expected you to be ‘normal,’” Chan said, his voice calm and comforting. “I don’t need you to be anyone but you, Mannon. This—” He gestured between them with his free hand. “This is who you are. And I love you for it. All of it. Even the parts that you think make you weak.”

Mannon clung to him, her shoulders trembling with quiet sobs. She could feel the weight of everything lifting, just a little, with each word.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to make it harder on you.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Chan murmured, rubbing her back gently. “You’re not making anything harder for me. You never do.”

Mannon took a deep breath, letting his words settle in her heart. She felt a bit lighter now, not because everything was fixed, but because she didn’t have to carry it all on her own anymore.

“I’ll get through this,” she said, the words steadying her as she pulled back slightly to look up at him. “But I… I need help sometimes. I can’t do it alone, Channie.”

“Of course,” Chan replied softly, his hand brushing a stray lock of her hair from her face. “You’ll never be alone, Mannon. Not while I’m here.”

She looked at him, a small, fragile smile tugging at her lips. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he said, his voice full of love and understanding.

---

The rest of the day passed quietly, the tension in the dorm room easing as Chan kept a watchful eye on Mannon. She was quieter than usual, but there was a sense of calm in the air. The storm had passed, for now.

When dinner rolled around, Mannon was the first to sit down at the table, though her movements were slow, careful. She glanced around, seeing the other members talking and laughing, but her mind was still a little distant. It wasn’t that she wasn’t trying, but the weight of everything was still there, just waiting to rise again.

“Feeling better?” Hyunjin asked, sitting down beside her.

Mannon gave him a small, warm smile. “Yeah,” she replied softly. “Just… needed a minute.”

He didn’t press, but he didn’t need to. He could see that she was trying, and that was enough for now.

As the others settled in around the table, the conversation flowed naturally, and for a brief moment, Mannon felt a sense of peace. It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And that was something she could hold onto.

Chan sat across from her, his eyes flicking between the group and Mannon, a protective streak running through him. She was still his sister, his responsibility in a way—but more than that, she was someone he loved, someone he would do anything for.

And he knew, deep down, that she would get through this. She always did.