Stray Kids Oneshots & Sickfics

Felix: The Show Must Go On

•Skz: Felix
•Hurtfic
•CW: injury descriptions, hospital.
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It was another grueling day of rehearsal for the K-pop group, Stray Kids, as they prepared for their upcoming performance at the nation’s biggest music award show. The atmosphere was filled with the usual buzz of excitement, tension, and anticipation as each member focused on perfecting their choreography. Every move, every note had to be flawless. After all, their fans were expecting nothing less.

Felix was at the center of it all. His charisma, fluidity, and sharp precision made him the backbone of their performances. He had always been known for pushing through pain, never wanting to let his teammates down. Today, however, would test that limit.

During a particularly complicated segment of their routine, Felix lost his footing on a slick spot of the floor, twisting his right ankle with a sickening crack. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp sting of pain shooting up his leg. He staggered, trying to hide his discomfort, but the pain was too overwhelming. He caught himself with one hand, steadying himself on the nearby wall as he bit back a cry of pain.

The music blared on, and the rest of the group kept dancing. Felix's heart raced—he couldn't let them stop, not now. The last thing he wanted was to hold everyone back. He took a quick glance around to make sure no one noticed. The staff were focused on adjusting the lights and props, and his bandmates were busy nailing their parts. With gritted teeth, he forced himself to stand tall, pretending the injury didn’t exist.

“Are you okay?” Bangchan, the leader of the group, asked as he approached him, sensing something was off.

Felix smiled, his face pale but trying to act casual. “I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all. Let’s keep going.”

Chan didn't seem fully convinced, but he nodded, thinking he just needed a break. He returned to the others, and Felix took a deep breath, hoping the pain would subside. It didn’t. His ankle throbbed with every step he took, but he pushed through it, determined to get through rehearsal without drawing attention to himself.

As the day wore on, the pain only worsened. His ankle was swelling, and each jump or quick turn sent waves of agony through his body. But no one suspected a thing. The other members were too wrapped up in their own rehearsals to notice the way Felix's movements had started to slow. The choreography was demanding, and it required full mobility—but Felix didn't let on. He wouldn't be the one to ruin the group’s chances.

The day of the performance arrived, and the tension in the air was palpable. Backstage, the group was getting ready, nervously adjusting their outfits and touching up their makeup. Felix could feel his heart pounding in his chest—not just from excitement but from the fear that his injury would finally catch up to him.

“Felix, you good?” Chan asked again, noticing his grimace as he sat down to tie his shoes.

“I’m fine,” he lied, giving him a thumbs-up. “Just a little nervous. Big performance, right?”

Chan didn’t buy it, but he smiled anyway. “You’ll do great, as always.”

When it was time to take the stage, the group lined up behind the curtains. The fans’ screams echoed from the auditorium, the atmosphere electric. Felix's heart raced even faster as the curtain began to rise. He was about to perform in front of thousands of screaming fans and millions watching on television, but he couldn’t shake the ache in his ankle. He tried to ignore it. The adrenaline was supposed to help.

As the music started, the group launched into their synchronized routine, moving in perfect harmony. But with every jump, every sharp move, the pain in Felix's ankle grew. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep up. He couldn’t fall behind, not when everyone was depending on him.

But his body was giving out. During a particularly fast turn, his injured ankle buckled. He felt a jolt of pain shoot up his leg, and before he could recover, his other foot slipped. His vision blurred with the intensity of the agony. His body was screaming for him to stop, but the beat of the music, the weight of the spotlight, it all pushed him forward. He couldn’t stop now.

The pain became unbearable. His movements became slower, less precise, and he stumbled. One final spin was all it took—he lost his balance entirely and collapsed to the ground with a loud thud. The music kept playing, but Felix was lying on the stage, clutching his ankle, his breath coming in short gasps.

Minho immediately stopped and rushed to his side, followed by the rest of the group. “Felix!” he shouted, panic rising in his voice.

His bandmates surrounded him, confusion and worry flashing across their faces. Felix tried to push himself up, but the pain was too much. He collapsed back down, unable to hide it anymore. His ankle was clearly swollen, and it throbbed with every heartbeat.

“We need to get him to a hospital!” Hyunjin cried, voice trembling.

Without hesitation, the staff scrambled to get Felix off the stage and into the waiting car. Fans were still cheering, unaware of the unfolding chaos behind the scenes. The group’s manager was on the phone with medical personnel, arranging for the quickest route to the nearest hospital.

In the car, Felix was barely conscious, his face pale and slick with sweat. Chan sat beside him, holding his hand, his eyes filled with worry. “Why didn’t you tell us?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

Felix squeezed his hand weakly. “I didn’t want to ruin the performance… I didn’t want to let you all down.”

Chan sighed softly, guilt and frustration mixing in his chest. “Lix, you’re part of this team, and we’re in this together. You don’t ever have to do that alone.”

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity, but eventually, they arrived. Felix was rushed into the emergency room, and the doctors quickly assessed the damage. It turned out that he had severely sprained his ankle and would need to stay off it for weeks. The injury was much worse than anyone had realized.

Later, as Felix rested in the hospital bed, his bandmates sat around him, each one relieved that he was okay, but all of them visibly shaken.

“I’m sorry,” Felix whispered, his voice small. “I should have said something.”

Minho smiled gently, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re our friend first, Lixie. We’ll always take care of each other. No performance is worth your health.”

The group, now more bonded than ever, sat together in the quiet hospital room, knowing that sometimes the most important thing was not just the show they put on for the world, but the care and trust they shared behind the scenes.

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