A Backstage Love I Han Jisung x Reader

The Unprescribed Therapy

I looked up at him, curious. "What do you mean?"

Han gave me a reassuring smile. "How about we head to the practice room? I know how much you miss being there."

My heart lifted at the thought. The practice room was where I felt most alive, even if just watching from the sidelines. "That sounds amazing."

He helped me into a wheelchair and began to wheel me down the hospital corridor. As we moved, I could feel my excitement building. The sterile smell of the hospital began to fade, replaced by the anticipation of being back in the stinky practice room, which I entirely preferred.

Han navigated the wheelchair with ease, nearly riding on the back of it at times like a bicycle. Soon enough we were outside, the crisp air a welcome change. The city was bustling around us, but I was focused on the destination ahead.

When we arrived at the practice room, Han carefully maneuvered the wheelchair inside. The familiar sight of the dance studio, with its mirrored walls and open space, brought a wave of nostalgia and joy. I could see the Stray Kids members in the middle of their practice, their energy and enthusiasm palpable even from a distance.

Han beamed as he looked at me. "See? I knew this would help. Now, no more breaking any records today, okay?"

I rolled my eyes playfully, adjusting my position in the chair. "No promises. But I'll take a front-row seat for now."

"You're a handful, Y/N," Han said, shaking his head with a smile.

I grinned back, feeling a bit lighter. "You know you love it."

"True," Han said, chuckling. "Just don't make me call for a stretcher next time."

I laughed, the weight of everything lifting for a moment. "I'll try to behave... for now."

He nodded, his expression softening. "You've been a huge support to them and to me. I figured it's time you got to be a part of it again, even if it's just as a cheerleader for now."

I chuckled, a genuine laugh escaping despite the lingering pain. "Cheerleader sounds good to me."

Han wheeled me to a spot near the mirrors, where I could watch the practice unfold. As the members continued their routine, I felt a rush of joy. The music, the rhythm, the way they moved-it was all so familiar and comforting. I cheered them on with all the energy I had, my voice occasionally catching in my throat as I felt a surge of emotion.

Despite being restricted to my wheelchair, my smile was immeasurable. I felt a sense of belonging and contentment that had been missing during my recovery. The practice room was my sanctuary, and even though I couldn't participate physically, being there was enough.

As the practice continued, Han stayed close, offering words of encouragement and support. His presence was a comforting constant, and I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of appreciation for everything he was doing for me.

The practice session was winding down when Han came over, kneeling beside my wheelchair. "How are you feeling?"

I looked at him, my heart full. "Better. Much better. Thank you for bringing me here."

He smiled, his eyes reflecting his own relief. "Anytime. It's good to see you happy."

We watched the final moments of practice together, and as the members gathered around us, their smiles and laughter filled the room. The sense of community and support was palpable, and I felt a renewed sense of hope and determination.

In that moment, surrounded by friends and the energy of the practice room, I knew that no matter how challenging the road ahead might be, I had a support system that would help me through it. And with Han by my side, I felt more ready than ever to face whatever came next.

As Han wheeled me back to my apartment, the soft glow of the city lights seemed to blur with the haze of my emotions. Despite the lingering pain and fatigue, the smile on my face was genuine, though it masked a storm of feelings I couldn't quite articulate.

While I was feeling bold, I pulled him closer, just a fraction of an inch. My heart skipped a beat, a fluttering warmth spreading through me. I could feel the faint brush of his breath as I leaned in, the soft sound of his pulse thudding in the quiet of the room. Without thinking, I pressed my lips gently to his cheek, the brief moment stretching in a way that made my pulse race. The touch lingered for just a second longer than I'd intended, but I didn't pull away immediately.

There was something about the way his skin felt beneath my lips-so warm, yet soft-that made me feel more connected to him than I could put into words.

I pulled back, but not before I noticed the faint flush on his face and the way his eyes softened. "Thanks for today," I said, my voice quieter now, thick with emotion. "It really meant a lot to me."