𝙱𝚊𝚗𝚐 𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙾𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢

TW: anxiety, depression, major character injuries, mentioned suicide attempt, near death experience, maybe main character death

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I promise there's fluff on the way @BabyBread977 and @Ydeath_606

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Not enough.

It's exhausting, the vicious cycle of life.  

You should have done more.

He could have. 

You could have done more.

He should have. 

Why didn't you notice?

He has no excuse.

How did you let him get to such a horrible state without even noticing?

He doesn't know. 

How can you even call yourself a member of his team after this?  

He has no excuses. 

All he knows is that his hyung, their leader, somehow slipped through the cracks, somehow got lost amid the repetitiveness of everyday life, schedules and rehearsals, that somehow, somehow, they left him behind. 

Left the one person that has given so much, sacrificed everything for their group, behind, not bothering to check in on him from time to time, everyone choosing to believe that someone else was doing it. 

They are all to blame for this, for not keeping track of how often Chan was taking his medicine, for not ensuring that he was actually keeping his promise of not taking his anger and pain out on himself, for not taking him to his therapy sessions, making sure that he was actually going. 

They neglected him. 

That's all there is to it. 

They neglected him, and now they are paying the price. 

Now, who knows if they'll ever even be able to see the leader's smile again, hear his laugh, even just be able to cuddle with him after a grueling day of running left and right, of costume fittings and interview rehearsals and dance practices. 

Who knows if they'll even be able to see the leader again, his condition so fragile, the once bright smile replaced by sunken cheeks, hollowed eyes that, if they were open, would undoubtedly show no spark, no sign of the warmth that the eldest once held. 

Once, Chan was proclaimed as the mentally strongest member, able to withstand any trial that was thrown his way. They had no way of knowing that the same mind that worked tirelessly to ensure their mental stability condemned himself in the same moment. 

Once, Chan was a rock of support, always there to comfort them no matter the situation. Now, he is being kept alive by machines, the cold, sterile numbers set to levels that will keep him alive, keep him there for a little while longer, even if it is better for him to leave them. 

No. 

The elder can't leave. 

None of them are ready to bear that burden, to say goodbye for the final time. 

There is a slim chance that he will wake up. 

But it is too improbable, and no matter how much he wishes otherwise, he can't magically write a different outcome to the leader's story. 

This isn't some story that he can go back into and make edits to whenever he so wishes. 

How could you not have noticed? 

He knows. He knows. 

He has cried himself to sleep every night, the first horrible night that Chan spent in the hospital, the doctors and nurses fighting to keep his heart beating, his brain working. 

He has cried himself to sleep the night following that, and the next one, and the next one. 

He has cried himself to sleep every night because he deserves it, because he didn't notice. 

The pain is constant, a dull throbbing ache in his head that won't ever go away no matter how much he prays for it to. 

What kind of dongsaeng are you?

He should have checked in with the leader more often, made sure that he was eating, that he was actually taking his medicines, not leaving the bottle to collect dust in his dresser drawers, until he decided to make up for it by taking every last fucking one at the same fucking time. 

He wants to be angry at the leader. 

He wants to blame Chan for doing this. 

But he can't.  

He can't fault the elder for struggling, for falling further and further into the cold, muted ocean that is depression. 

No, he can't blame Chan in the slightest. 

Instead, he blames himself. 

He blames the others, too, because they were all hand-picked by Chan, he trusted them to look after one another, and they should have included the leader in that equation, too. 

They should have. 

But they didn't. 

And now they are left with nothing but a memory, a shattered husk of who their leader once was, warmth and love reduced to nothing but a cold body on a hospital bed, heart beating and chest rising and falling despite his absence from his own body. 

There will come a time when they have to say goodbye to the leader, when the machines that are keeping him alive will be unhooked, and his body sent back to Australia for a funeral. 

He doesn't want to think about that. 

He can't bear it. 

Chan isn't the shell that he found on the bedroom floor, he isn't. The leader is compassion and warmth and kindness. At least, he was. 

At the end of the day, there is no one to blame for Chan's downfall but themselves.

They should have seen the signs. 

But they didn't. 

Not proofread

Lazy and repetitive 

Easily the shortest one I have written