K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Jisung skz - Haphephobia

@ronjafi thanks for the request hope you like it. Early update since I'm busy tomorrow.
900 words

Haphephobia = fear of touch.

Jisung had always been quick to move away. A hand reaching out for a pat on the shoulder, a casual arm draping over his, an accidental brush of fingers—he avoided it all with a sharp step back, a flinch, or, if he was cornered, a quiet, "Don't."

At first, the others thought it was just a quirk. Something small, something insignificant. A personal bubble thing. Maybe he just didn't like unexpected touches. But as the months passed, they started noticing the patterns.

How he tensed up when Felix threw an arm around his shoulders, his breath hitching for just a second before he excused himself. How he laughed too quickly, too nervously, when Hyunjin tried to ruffle his hair. How he always sat on the very edge of the couch, ensuring that there was space between him and anyone else.

He was careful about it. But they weren't blind.

Chan was the first to bring it up.

"Jisung," he had said one evening when they were the last two awake in the dorm's living room. Jisung was curled up on the far end of the couch, arms wrapped tightly around himself. "Can I ask you something?"

Jisung gave him a tired glance. "You just did."

Chan huffed out a small laugh, but his expression remained serious. "You don't like being touched, do you?"

Jisung stiffened. His fingers clenched into the fabric of his hoodie. "Why are you asking?"

"Because we've noticed," Chan admitted gently. "And we don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Jisung swallowed. He wished they hadn't noticed. Wished he had been better at pretending. Wished—wished that the mere thought of someone's hands on him didn't make his chest tighten like he was suffocating.

"I just..." He exhaled shakily. "I don't know."

"Jisung," Chan said again, softer this time. "Has someone—"

"No." The answer was immediate, too quick, too defensive. Jisung's voice cracked on the word, and he winced. "It's nothing like that. I just—I just don't like it, okay?"

Chan hesitated. He wanted to press, but the way Jisung's hands had curled into fists against his sides made him stop.

"Okay," he said finally. "Okay. You don't have to talk about it."

Jisung let out a breath like he had been holding it in for too long. He nodded once, sharply, and looked away.

The topic wasn't brought up again, but after that, the others made more of an effort to be careful.

Hyunjin, the most touchy among them, started keeping his hands to himself around Jisung, no matter how much it killed him not to pull him into a hug when he looked like he needed one. Seungmin and Jeongin, who weren't big on physical affection to begin with, respected the distance without question. Even Felix, who expressed love through touch, started asking, "Is this okay?" before initiating anything, giving Jisung the option to say no.

He always said no.

But sometimes, when he was exhausted or overwhelmed, he'd look at them—at the way they sat close but not too close, at the way they made room for him without making him feel like a burden—and he felt a hollow ache settle in his chest.

Because he wanted to. God, he wanted to.

He wanted to let them in. Wanted to feel safe enough to lean into the warmth they so freely offered. Wanted to stop recoiling like an open wound every time someone reached out.

But something inside him wouldn't let him.

And maybe that was the worst part.

—

It happened on a particularly bad day.

He hadn't slept the night before, the weight of everything crushing him until his thoughts were a tangled mess. He had barely touched his food, his head pounding from the lack of energy. His skin felt too tight, his chest too hollow. The world was loud and overwhelming, and he was so, so tired.

And then, before he even realized it, he was standing in the dorm hallway, his breathing uneven, his hands shaking at his sides.

Chan found him first.

"Jisung?" He sounded worried. Cautious. Like he wasn't sure if getting too close would make things worse.

Jisung swallowed thickly. He felt like he was unraveling, his carefully built walls crumbling around him. He hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated how much he wanted to reach out but couldn't.

He didn't notice the way his fingers twitched at his sides, like they were trying to grasp onto something. But Chan did.

And that was when he offered.

Not forced. Not imposed. Just offert .

"If you need it," Chan said gently, "I'm right here."

Jisung's breath stuttered. He looked at him, at the way he had extended his arm—not in expectation, not demanding, just there. A choice. A lifeline.

His throat tightened.

He didn't move at first. His body screamed at him to back away, to not trust, to stay safe. But his heart—his heart begged him to just try.

So, with every muscle in his body tense, every instinct screaming against it—he took the smallest step forward.

It wasn't much. Just enough for Chan's hand to graze his sleeve. Just enough for him to feel the warmth, the grounding presence.

And when nothing bad happened, when his lungs didn't collapse, when the panic didn't consume him—he closed his eyes, just for a second, and let himself breathe.

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