K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

IN skz - abuse

Skaya_Cori here's your request. Hope you like it.
900 words.

At first, it was just small comments. A passive-aggressive remark here, a sharp criticism there. Nothing that couldn't be brushed off. At least, that's what Jeongin told himself.

"In, can you try that again? You're off-beat."

He nodded quickly, adjusting his posture in front of the mirror. The staff member watching him sighed loudly.

"No, no. You're still stiff. Are you even trying?"

Jeongin's jaw tightened, but he forced a smile. "I'll do better," he murmured.

This wasn't new. He was used to getting corrections, just like everyone else. But lately, the tone had changed. The words weren't meant to help him improve anymore. They stung.

During a vocal session, one of the trainers shook their head as he finished his line. "That was weak. No presence. Do you even deserve to be the maknae of Stray Kids?"

Jeongin froze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but he said nothing. What could he say?

Maybe they were right.

The doubts began creeping in after that. Every criticism, every harsh word—he took them to heart. Were his vocals really that bad? Did he really have no stage presence?

He began staying later after practice, pushing himself harder. He replayed the comments in his head over and over, overanalyzing everything. The members would joke around after schedules, but Jeongin's laugh became quieter. His bright smile didn't come as easily.

But not enough for them to notice.

At least, not yet.

After a few weeks the comments turned sharper. The expectations heavier.

"You're dragging the team down."

"Do you even try? I bet the others regret having you in the group."

Jeongin bit his lip hard. If he focused on the sting, it kept the tears at bay.

He kept telling himself that if he just worked harder, it would stop. If he could just prove himself, they would see his worth. But it didn't stop.

The first time it got physical, it was subtle. A clipboard slammed onto his desk, barely missing his hand. A shove when he wasn't fast enough. A grip on his wrist that lingered too long, fingers digging into his skin.

But it was still his fault, right? If he had just moved faster. If he had just done better.

At the dorm, he tried to act normal. The others were starting to notice that his energy was off, but Jeongin was careful.

"Are you okay?" Seungmin asked one night.

Jeongin forced a grin. "Of course! Just tired."

The members didn't look convinced, but they didn't push. They trusted him. And maybe that hurt the most.

Because he was lying to them.

And worse—he was starting to believe the staff's words.

That he was worthless.

~~~

Jeongin's wrist ached, the deep bruise hidden beneath his sleeve. He tugged it down instinctively, but as he did, he caught Chan's eyes lingering on it. His heart skipped a beat.

Chan didn't say anything. Just looked at him with something unreadable in his expression before turning away.

Jeongin exhaled shakily. Had he noticed? Did he know?

No. It didn't matter. Even if he did, he couldn't do anything.

The next day at the company, Jeongin moved through the halls with his head down. His stomach was tight with unease, as it always was now. The practice room felt suffocating, the air heavy.

Then it started.

"You think that was good? Are you joking?"

His body tensed.

Something slammed onto the table next to him, making him flinch.

"You don't belong here."

A hand grabbed his wrist, squeezing hard.

Jeongin's breathing became uneven. His thoughts spiraled.

Maybe they're right.

He wanted to fight back, to say something, but fear locked his voice in his throat.

Then—

The door flew open.

"Let him go."

Jeongin's breath caught. His heart stopped.

No. No, no, no.

Chan stood in the doorway, eyes dark with barely contained rage. His phone was raised, recording everything.

Panic surged through Jeongin's chest.

Chan knows. Chan saw everything.

Shame crashed into him like a wave. He wanted to disappear.

The staff member let go immediately, stepping back, but it was too late. Chan crossed the room in seconds, grabbing Jeongin's wrist—not roughly, but firmly, protectively—and pulled him away.

Jeongin's mind was racing. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

This was bad. This was really, really bad.

Chan didn't stop until they reached the studio.

Han and Changbin looked up in alarm as the door slammed shut behind them. "Hyung?" Changbin stood.

Jeongin was shaking. He couldn't stop. He felt exposed, raw and vulnerable in a way he had never been before.

Han moved first. He didn't say anything—he just wrapped his arms around Jeongin, pulling him into a tight embrace.

That was when Jeongin broke.

A shuddering sob ripped from his throat, and he clung to Han like a lifeline. His chest ached, his breath uneven, but Han held him firmly, rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.

"It's okay, Innie," Han whispered. "You're safe now."

Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut. Safe. The word felt foreign, unfamiliar.

Changbin sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. "We've got you," he said softly.

Chan stood a few steps away, his phone still in hand. He exhaled slowly, then pulled it up to his ear.

Jeongin barely registered what he was saying—his mind was too foggy, too overwhelmed—but he knew one thing.

The truth was out.

And for the first time in months, he didn't feel alone.

Thanks for reading. If you have any story in mind don't hesitate. I take requests.
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