Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

Through the Pain (Wonjin)

Carateume47

Wonjin had been feeling off all day, but he brushed it off as exhaustion. His legs carried a dull, nagging ache, and there was a faint, uncomfortable pressure in his chest that came and went in waves. He chalked it up to the group’s relentless schedule—long practices, back-to-back performances, and brainstorming sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning. Fatigue was nothing new to him; he’d learned to live with it.

By midday, though, something felt different. The ache in his legs began to spread, creeping into his lower back, making every step feel like he was walking through quicksand. The pressure in his chest deepened, no longer a fleeting discomfort but a persistent weight that made it harder to breathe. Even his head joined in, a dull throb forming behind his eyes, amplifying with each passing hour.

He forced himself to power through. There were still things to do—vocal practice, choreographing sessions, and a meeting to discuss an upcoming fan event. Wonjin smiled when he needed to, laughed at his members’ jokes, and pushed the discomfort to the back of his mind. He told himself it was fine, just one of those days where everything felt a little heavier.

By the time the dorm quieted down for the night, Wonjin could no longer pretend. His body was screaming at him to stop. The sharp, stabbing jolts of pain in his legs left him staggering as he made his way down the hall to his room. His head throbbed relentlessly, and the pressure in his chest had grown into a tight, suffocating band around his ribs. Each breath felt like a struggle, shallow and labored, as though the air refused to fill his lungs properly.

The dorm wasn’t empty. He could hear Jungmo, Serim, and Woobin chatting softly in the living room, their voices drifting down the hall. A part of him wanted to go to them, to tell them something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. They’d been just as busy as he had, if not more so. The last thing he wanted was to burden them.

Instead, he slipped into his room and shut the door behind him, the sound barely audible over the pounding of his heart. He collapsed onto his bed, hoping that lying down might offer some relief. But the moment his body sank into the mattress, the pain intensified.

It started in his stomach—a searing, white-hot agony that made him curl up instinctively, his knees drawn to his chest. The dull ache that had been haunting him all day had transformed into something unbearable, radiating outward to his chest and sides. His breaths came in short, shallow gasps as the pain robbed him of the ability to inhale fully.

Sweat poured down his face, soaking into his pillow, and his hands trembled violently as they clutched at his stomach. He tried to calm himself, to focus on anything other than the relentless stabbing in his abdomen, but his thoughts were a jumbled mess. Panic began to set in as the pain continued to escalate, each wave crashing over him harder than the last.

Wonjin squeezed his eyes shut, tears spilling down his cheeks. His heart raced uncontrollably, each beat reverberating through his chest like a drum. Every attempt to shift his position only made things worse, the agony shooting through his body like an electric current.

He needed help. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. Wonjin’s eyes darted to his nightstand, where his phone lay just out of reach. If he could call out to the others or dial for help, he’d be okay. It wasn’t far—just a stretch of his arm.

Summoning every ounce of strength he had left, Wonjin extended a trembling hand toward the phone. His fingers brushed against the edge, nudging it slightly closer. He stretched further, his arm shaking with the effort, but before he could grab it, his strength gave out. The phone slipped from the nightstand, hitting the floor with a soft thud.