Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

Broken Notes and Healing Hearts (Jihoon and Sunwoo)

Carateume47

The late evening air was thick with unspoken tension. Sunwoo sat on the worn leather couch in Jihoon's apartment, absentmindedly fidgeting with the fraying hem of his hoodie. They had spent the last few hours chatting about their schedules, their lives as idols, and the pressure they both endured. It was supposed to be a relaxing night, just like countless others they had shared over the years.

But tonight, something was off.

Sunwoo hesitated before speaking. "You know," he began, his voice low, "I've been struggling with my vocals lately."

Jihoon, sprawled across the other end of the couch with his phone in hand, glanced up. "What do you mean?"

Sunwoo sighed, his fingers tightening around the fabric of his hoodie. "It feels like no matter how hard I try, it's not enough. Every recording session, every practice... I can hear the flaws in my voice, and it's like I'm letting everyone down."

Jihoon frowned, sitting up slightly. "That's ridiculous. You're one of the most talented people I know."

"Am I?" Sunwoo asked, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "Because lately, it feels like I'm just barely scraping by. Everyone else seems to have it together, but me? I'm stuck."

Jihoon rolled his eyes, setting his phone aside. "Sunwoo, you're overthinking. If you're not happy with your vocals, just practice more. Put in the effort, and you'll get there."

The casual dismissal hit Sunwoo like a slap. He turned to Jihoon, his eyes wide with hurt. "Practice more?" he repeated, his voice shaking. "You think I haven't been trying? Do you have any idea how much pressure I'm under, how hard I'm pushing myself?"

"Then push harder," Jihoon shot back, his tone sharper than he intended. "Maybe then you wouldn't be so insecure about it."

Sunwoo's breath caught in his throat. Jihoon's words hit a nerve, one he'd been carefully guarding for months.

"I trusted you," Sunwoo said quietly, his voice trembling. "I thought you understood. But instead, you're just... throwing this in my face like it's nothing."

Jihoon's face softened for a moment, but instead of apologizing, he doubled down. "Look, I'm just being honest. If you can't handle that, maybe you're not cut out for this industry."

The room went deadly silent.

Sunwoo stood abruptly, grabbing his bag from the floor. His vision blurred with unshed tears as he turned toward the door.

"Sunwoo, wait—" Jihoon began, but Sunwoo cut him off.

"No," he said, his voice firm despite the crack in it. "You don't get to say that to me. Not you."

And with that, he was gone, leaving Jihoon alone with the suffocating weight of his own words.

Days passed. Sunwoo buried himself in work, refusing to dwell on the argument. He poured all his energy into endless practice sessions, determined to prove—if only to himself—that he was enough. But no matter how much he pushed himself, the doubts lingered, amplified by Jihoon's words.

At the same time, Jihoon was consumed by guilt. He replayed their fight over and over in his mind, wishing he could take back everything he'd said.

I was just frustrated, he thought miserably. I didn't mean it. Why didn't I just say I was sorry?

He tried to reach out, but Sunwoo didn't respond.

I'm sorry, Sunwoo. Can we talk?

The message went unread. Jihoon called several times, each one going straight to voicemail. He even left small gifts at Sunwoo's dorm—Sunwoo's favorite snacks, a handwritten note apologizing—but it was as if Sunwoo had vanished entirely.