Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

Pushing Through (Wonjin)

Carateume47

The bitter chill of autumn gripped the air, creeping into every corner of the outdoor set. The sun had dipped below the horizon hours ago, leaving only the harsh glow of spotlights to cut through the darkness. The crew's hurried steps and muffled conversations filled the silence, their breath visible in the cold as they prepared for the last scene of the day.

Cravity had been filming since dawn, and exhaustion was etched into every line of their faces. The members shuffled in their places, arms crossed and shoulders hunched, doing their best to stay warm. Wonjin sat off to the side, his head lowered as he tried to gather what little strength he had left. His body ached, his head throbbed, and his throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.

"Wonjin, you good?" Jungmo's voice broke through the haze. He stood over Wonjin with a water bottle in hand, his brow furrowed with concern.

Wonjin managed a faint smile. "I'm fine," he said hoarsely, though his voice betrayed him. He coughed into his sleeve before adding, "Just cold."

"Everyone's cold, but you look like you're freezing," Jungmo replied, draping his scarf over Wonjin's shoulders. "Last scene, okay? Then we're done."

Wonjin nodded weakly, but dread curled in his stomach. The final scene was his, a dramatic close-up of his character in distress—a scene that called for a nosebleed. It had been rehearsed endlessly in the weeks leading up to the shoot, but now, faced with the reality of performing in his current state, Wonjin wasn't sure he could pull it off.

"Alright, everyone to positions!" the director called, clapping his hands for attention. The crew scrambled to prepare the set, adjusting lights and cameras. "Wonjin, we're setting up your blood effect now."

Wonjin stood reluctantly, wobbling slightly as he made his way to the makeup artist. They worked quickly, applying the latest batch of fake blood beneath his nose.

"This one should work," the artist said, though her tone was uncertain.

The sharp, metallic smell hit Wonjin instantly, making his head pound even harder. He winced but didn't complain. He stepped into position, standing in the center of the frame, while the other members lined up behind him in the background. The director called for action.

The blood was supposed to drip naturally, trickling down his nose in a steady stream. But nothing happened.

"Cut!" the director barked, his frustration evident.

Wonjin sighed, his body sagging under the weight of exhaustion. The makeup artist rushed forward, dabbing more blood beneath his nose. The smell was overwhelming now, sharp and acrid, and it made Wonjin's stomach churn.

"Let's try again," the director said, his voice clipped.

Again, the blood refused to cooperate. They tried different methods—adjusting the consistency, applying it differently—but each attempt ended in failure. Wonjin could feel his patience and energy slipping away, but he forced himself to stay upright, knowing the entire crew was waiting on him.

Finally, on the fifth attempt, the blood supposedly worked however what Wonjin didn't realise was that it wasn't the fake blood but rather that his nose was actually bleeding. A thin, crimson trail trickled down his nose, pooling above his lip. Wonjin wiped it away as directed, his movements slow and deliberate.

The camera zoomed in, capturing the anguish in his expression. But as the scene continued, Wonjin's vision began to blur. The lights above seemed to grow brighter, their glare stabbing into his skull. His legs felt weak, and his breathing grew shallow.