Stray Kids Oneshots & Sickfics

Jeongin: Frayed Threads

•Skz: Jeongin
•Angst, Hurtfic
•CW: Trichotillomania, symptoms of anxiety and OCD.
•AN: Buckle up, this one's a long ride!
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Jeongin had always been the perfect image of a K-pop idol: charismatic, flawless, and always poised in front of the camera. His smile was infectious, his performances impeccable, and his fanbase loved him dearly. But behind the stage lights, behind the glitzy outfits, there was a struggle that he kept hidden from the world.

It started innocently enough. One day during a particularly grueling practice session, Jeongin felt his nerves begin to unravel. The constant demands, the perfect expectations, the pressure to always be at his best—everything was weighing down on him. And without even realizing it, he found himself tugging at a loose strand of his hair. It wasn’t much at first—just a single strand here and there, a small escape from the overwhelming flood of anxiety. But the release felt good, like a momentary break from the chaos.

As time went on, the habit grew. During rehearsals, after long days of filming, or in the quiet of his room late at night, Jeongin would find his fingers drifting to his hair. A subtle tug here, a painful pull there. It was his way of grounding himself, of distracting his mind from the whirlwind of his responsibilities. But soon, it wasn’t just the loose strands. Jeongin found himself yanking at clumps of hair, sometimes not even noticing how much he had pulled until he felt a patch of exposed scalp.

At first, it was easy to brush off. A tiny problem. Just something he needed to control. But when the hair loss started to become noticeable, Jeongin knew something was wrong. He tried to hide it with hats, scarves, and different hairstyles, but the anxiety was always there, lurking. The stress of being constantly in the spotlight, of perfection expected at every turn, weighed on him more than he could ever admit. And the hair pulling—his small secret—was becoming harder to control.

His bandmates began to notice.

It was Minho, always the observant one, who first caught Jeongin in the act. One evening, during a long break between performances, he noticed Jeongin, sitting quietly in the corner of the dressing room, his fingers deep in his hair, tugging. Minho's heart sank. He had seen the signs of stress before, but this was different. Jeongin was usually so composed, so in control, and yet, here he was, slowly unraveling in front of him.

“Innie,” Minho's voice was soft but urgent as he approached, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

Jeongin quickly jerked his hand away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I’m fine,” he said, his voice a little too shaky. “Just tired. Nothing to worry about.”

But Minho wasn’t convinced. He had seen enough to know this was more than just exhaustion. The others noticed too. Jisung, the ever-supportive member, tried to get Jeongin to open up about his stress, but Jeongin always shut them down with a nervous laugh and a change of subject. Yet, they could see the telltale signs—the patches of thinning hair, the slightly frantic look in Jeongin's eyes when the stress of their schedules started to build.

One evening, after a particularly grueling interview, Jisung found Jeongin sitting alone in the practice room, his back hunched, his fingers once again tangled in his hair. This time, Jeongin had pulled a significant amount from the crown of his head. Jisung's heart broke at the sight.

“Innie, please,” Jisung said, sitting down beside him. “You’ve got to stop. This isn’t helping. You’re hurting yourself.”

Jeongin's eyes flickered with guilt and frustration. “I can’t stop. I don’t know how,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “It’s the only way to make it stop. To make everything feel… bearable. The pressure. The expectations. It’s all too much sometimes.”