Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

Echoes of the Past (Bang Chan)

Bang Chan had always been a leader who prided himself on his strength. As the heart and soul of Stray Kids, he carried the weight of the group with steady hands, guiding them through successes and struggles alike. But even the strongest leaders have their breaking points, and Chan's came quietly, creeping into his life like a shadow.

It started on an unassuming evening. The group had just wrapped up promotions for their latest album, and a rare break had been scheduled. While the other members planned how they would spend their free time—some discussing video games, others debating which movies to watch—Chan retreated to his room with a tired smile, claiming he had some work to finish.

In truth, he was scrolling through old videos on his laptop. Nostalgia wasn't something he indulged in often, but tonight, a pang of curiosity had led him to revisit clips from his trainee days. He watched as a younger version of himself practiced tirelessly, his movements precise but still raw. The background was filled with familiar faces—friends who had trained alongside him but had since moved on to debut in groups like TWICE and GOT7.

The pang in his chest grew heavier as he remembered the nights spent wondering if his dream would ever come true. He remembered the fear that gripped him when he saw others debut while he remained behind. He thought he'd left those feelings behind, buried under years of hard work and success. But as the memories resurfaced, so did the fear. What if it had gone differently? What if he had never debuted? What if he had never met Stray Kids?

That night, the nightmares began.

In his dreams, Chan found himself back in the practice room, surrounded by mirrors that reflected not his current self, but the younger version of him—exhausted, uncertain, and desperate to prove himself. He watched as his friends celebrated their debuts, their faces glowing with joy, while he stood in the shadows, unnoticed and forgotten.

The dream shifted, morphing into something crueller. He was in the recording studio, but it was eerily quiet. There were no voices, no laughter, no presence of his members. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating him as the realization hit: Stray Kids didn't exist. His family, his team, his everything—they were gone.

He woke up gasping, his heart pounding, sweat clinging to his skin. The vividness of the nightmare left him shaken. But Chan, ever the pillar of strength, brushed it off. It was just a dream, he told himself. Nothing more.

Yet the nightmares returned, night after night, each one more vivid than the last. He started avoiding sleep, fearing the dreams that awaited him.

The lack of rest began to take its toll. Chan's already irregular sleep schedule spiraled further out of control. His late-night studio sessions stretched into the early morning hours, and the few hours he did manage to sleep were restless and filled with nightmares.

His appetite dwindled. Meals were skipped or pushed aside, his focus too fragmented to notice the gnawing hunger. Even his safe haven—the recording studio—became a source of frustration. His once-flowing creativity now felt like a dried-up well. He'd stare at the screen for hours, unable to piece together melodies that once came naturally to him.

The members began to notice the changes.

"Hyung, you've barely touched your food," Seungmin pointed out one evening, his tone gentle but firm.

"I'll eat later," Chan mumbled, waving it off as he stared blankly at his laptop.

"You said that yesterday," Felix added, his concerned eyes lingering on Chan's thinning frame.

Hyunjin, ever observant, noticed the dark circles under Chan's eyes growing more pronounced. "Hyung, are you sleeping at all?"

"I'm fine," Chan replied, forcing a tired smile. "Don't worry about me."

But the cracks in his facade were becoming harder to hide.

It happened during a late-night recording session. Chan was alone in the studio, his laptop open to a blank project file. His hands hovered over the keyboard, but no matter how hard he tried, the notes wouldn't come.

Frustration boiled over. He slammed his hands on the desk, his breath coming in short, uneven bursts. The walls of the studio seemed to close in, echoing the doubts that had been plaguing him.

What if he wasn't good enough? What if he let his members down? What if everything fell apart?

Unbeknownst to Chan, Han had walked into the studio, intending to check on him. The sight of Chan—slumped over the desk, his shoulders shaking—stopped Han in his tracks.

"Hyung?" Han's voice was soft but startled.

Chan quickly wiped at his eyes, sitting up straighter. "Han, what are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that," Han replied, stepping closer. "It's past midnight, and you're—" He stopped, taking in Chan's red-rimmed eyes and trembling hands. "Hyung, what's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," Chan muttered, avoiding Han's gaze. "It's nothing."

But Han wasn't convinced. "This isn't nothing, Hyung. You're not yourself lately. What's going on?"

The members confronted him the next day. They'd noticed the changes—his lack of sleep, his diminished appetite, the frustration in the studio. They cornered him in the living room, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

"Hyung, talk to us," Lee Know said, his voice unusually gentle.

Chan hesitated, the weight of his fears pressing heavily on him. "It's...just stress," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"It's more than that," Jeongin said, his wide eyes filled with worry. "Hyung, we're here for you. Whatever it is, you can tell us."

Chan looked around at his members—the people he considered his family. He took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "I've been having these nightmares...about not debuting, about not meeting you guys. It's like my biggest fear—being left behind—just won't leave me alone."

The room fell silent. Then, Felix stepped forward, wrapping Chan in a tight hug. "Hyung, we're here because of you. Stray Kids wouldn't exist without you."

Hyunjin nodded, his eyes glistening. "You're not alone in this, hyung. We're a team. We'll get through this together."

The members rallied around Chan, determined to help him through his struggles.

Lee Know introduced him to relaxation techniques, encouraging him to take breaks and prioritize self-care. Changbin took over some of the producing workload, reminding Chan that it was okay to rely on others. Han and Hyunjin kept the mood light with their playful antics, often dragging Chan into their impromptu dance-offs.

Felix baked comforting treats, his warm presence a constant reminder of support. Seungmin and Jeongin made sure Chan ate properly, often sitting with him during meals to keep him company.

Slowly but surely, the nightmares began to lose their grip on Chan. With his members' support, he started sleeping more, his appetite returned, and his creativity flowed once again.

One night, as they gathered in the living room for a movie marathon, Chan looked around at his members—his family. The warmth in their laughter, the comfort in their presence, reminded him of why he fought so hard to be where he was.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice filled with gratitude.

"For what?" Lee Know asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For reminding me that I'm not alone," Chan replied, his eyes glistening.

Stray Kids wasn't just a group. It was a family—a family that stood together through thick and thin, proving that no matter how heavy the burden, it was always lighter when shared.