Kpop Sickfics and Hurtfics Part 2

Disconnected (Keeho)

Arabella02EJ

Keeho had never thought something as small as a phone could mean so much.

It wasn’t about scrolling through social media or killing time with random videos. For him, his phone was a bridge—a connection to the people who reminded him of who he was outside of the industry. He called his mom every night, even if just for a few minutes. He messaged his siblings between rehearsals, sending them dumb pictures of the members to make them laugh. It kept him grounded, reminding him that no matter how hectic things got, there was still a world outside of P1Harmony, outside of the company, outside of the pressure.

And now, that bridge was being taken away.

Their manager stood before them in the practice room, arms crossed, expression stern. The atmosphere was suffocating, heavy with unspoken frustration. The members were still catching their breath from an exhausting dance rehearsal when he had called them all together, and Keeho’s skin was still damp with sweat.

“You guys have been too distracted lately,” the manager said, voice sharp and unwavering. “The company has noticed that your focus isn’t where it should be. We’re putting in measures to fix that.”

A cold unease settled in Keeho’s chest.

“What kind of measures?” Jiung asked cautiously, wiping sweat from his forehead.

The manager didn’t hesitate. “Effective immediately, all personal devices—phones, tablets, laptops—will be confiscated until further notice.”

The words sent a jolt through the group.

Keeho’s heart skipped a beat, his stomach twisting. He glanced at the others. Jiung’s jaw was clenched, his usually calm expression darkening. Theo’s gaze was locked on the floor, his fingers twitching at his sides. Soul, unreadable as always, shifted his weight slightly, his lips pressed together. InTak’s brows furrowed in disbelief, while Jongseob’s eyes widened in shock.

It wasn’t just a minor inconvenience—it was a punishment.

“For how long?” Intak asked, his voice tense.

“That depends on you,” the manager replied. “The company believes you’ve been too absorbed in personal distractions. You’ll get your devices back when they feel you’re prioritizing your work the way you should.”

Keeho bristled. What?

They already worked themselves to exhaustion every day. They trained past midnight, perfected every detail of their performances, and poured everything into their music. How could they possibly be doing more?

“Hyung,” Jongseob spoke up, his voice quieter than usual. “We’re already working really hard. Why do we have to—”

“It’s not up for debate.” The manager’s voice left no room for argument. “Hand them over.”

The tension in the room spiked. Keeho swallowed hard, his hands instinctively tightening around his phone. His lock screen—a picture of him and his mom at a restaurant, both laughing—stared back at him.

A lump formed in his throat.

He wasn’t ready for this.

“Hyung,” Jiung said carefully, stepping forward. “This… this isn’t fair.”

“It’s the company’s decision,” the manager said flatly. “You can either hand them over willingly, or we can collect them ourselves.”

Keeho exhaled shakily.

He wanted to fight back. He wanted to tell them how much those calls meant to him, how his mother’s voice kept him from feeling like he was suffocating under the pressure of idol life. How hearing his family’s laughter reminded him that he wasn’t just Keeho, the leader of P1Harmony—he was just Yoon Stephen, their son, their brother, their family.