Her Song, His Heart

A Flicker of Hope

The next few days passed with a careful balance. Mannon continued to embrace the small moments where the heaviness lifted, where she could breathe without the constant pressure weighing on her chest. But ther were also days when the darkness seemed to linger, pulling her back into its grasp, the intrusive thoughts swirling just beneath the surface.

Chan remained her anchor, always there when the storm threatened to break. But she knew that she couldn’t rely on him alone forever. She needed to find her own strength, her own way to navigate the battles in her mind.

Today was one of the good days.

Mannon had woken up with a smile, one that felt genuine, and the sun had been shining brightly through the windows as if the universe was cheering her on. She had spent the morning with the members, her energy light, her laughter easy. Even the usual weight of uncertainty that accompanied her condition didn’t feel as oppressive.

But as the day wore on, there was an undercurrent of tension—one that wasn’t just her own. The members had been quieter than usual, watching her with curiosity and concern in their eyes, trying to figure out where she stood, what was going on behind her carefully curated smiles.

It wasn’t that Mannon wasn’t grateful for their care, but sometimes their attention felt suffocating. It made her feel like she was constantly being watched, analyzed. She didn’t want to be the center of their worry.

She needed to feel normal again.

---

Later that afternoon, the group gathered in the living room for a meeting. Chan was speaking with the others about upcoming schedules, but Mannon was only half-listening, her mind drifting. She’d been getting more and more calls from her agency, and while they had been encouraging, a part of her still felt unsure. They wanted her to start recording, to step into the spotlight, and it scared her. It all felt like too much too soon.

But there was something else too—the pressure to be the version of herself that everyone expected. The version of Mannon that wasn’t constantly battling her mind.

“Hey,” Hyunjin said softly, his voice cutting through her thoughts.

She blinked, looking up at him. “What?”

He smiled gently. “You’ve been quiet lately. Everything okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. There were so many things she could say, so many emotions bubbling under the surface, but she didn’t want to burden him, didn’t want to burden any of them.

“I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt like a lie even as she said them.

Hyunjin studied her for a moment, his gaze soft and understanding. “You know, you don’t have to be fine all the time, right?”

Mannon’s lips twitched upward, but it was fleeting. She knew he meant well, but the truth was that she wasn’t sure how to be anything other than fine.

---

That evening, after dinner, the group settled into their usual routine. Felix and Seungmin were in the kitchen making a snack, Changbin was sitting with Hyunjin, chatting about a new song, and the rest of them were scattered around the living room.

Mannon had excused herself, claiming she was tired. She didn’t feel tired, though—just restless. And a little bit out of place. The weight of her thoughts was pushing down on her again, and she needed a moment to clear her head.

She found herself on the balcony, staring out at the city lights below. The cool air felt refreshing, though it did little to calm the turmoil inside.

Chan found her there a few minutes later.

“Should’ve known,” he said with a small, knowing smile. He leaned against the railing next to her, looking out at the view. “It’s one of those nights, huh?”

Mannon nodded, her arms folded across her chest. “Yeah. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Channie. I feel like I’m… slipping away again.”

Chan’s expression softened. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not slipping away. You’re just… feeling a little lost, that’s all. It happens. You don’t have to have it all figured out right now.”

She sighed, resting her head against the railing. “I want to, though. I want to be more than this. I want to stop feeling like I’m drowning.”

Chan was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft but firm. “You don’t have to do it alone, Mannon. You’ve got me. And you’ve got the guys. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be you.”

She turned her head to look at him, her gaze steady despite the uncertainty still clouding her heart. “But what if me is too much? What if I’m too much for everyone?”

“No one has ever thought you’re too much,” Chan said, his words filled with conviction. “You’re exactly who you’re meant to be. And I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Mannon swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. She wanted to be strong, wanted to believe what he was saying, but it was hard when the battle inside her head felt like it was never-ending.

“I’m scared,” she admitted quietly. “Scared that if I let myself go too far, I won’t come back.”

Chan’s hand squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll make sure you do.”

There was a long pause before Mannon spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. “What if I can’t?”

“You will,” Chan replied, his voice filled with an unshakable belief. “I know you will.”

---

Mannon didn’t know if she truly believed him, but as the night wore on, a small part of her felt a little lighter. Maybe she wasn’t as lost as she thought. Maybe she just needed time to find her way.

For now, though, she could lean on Chan. And that was enough.

---

The next day, Mannon woke up with a different feeling. The weight of the world wasn’t completely gone, but it felt manageable. She could breathe, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was drowning.

She had a long way to go, but maybe, just maybe, things were starting to fall into place.