@Jonghosloves here's your request. Hope you like it.
1100 words.
⚠️Trigger Warning: Abuse, trauma, panic attacks
Jongho had mastered the art of hiding.
Not just his feelings, but parts of himself — the parts that had once cried in the dark, the pieces he had learned to tuck away behind his smile and stoic demeanor. His past was a warzone, but he walked through the world like it had never touched him. That was how he survived.
Because no one in ATEEZ needed to know the truth.
They didn't need to know that he'd grown up in a house where love was a myth, and discipline came with bruises. That the word "family" made his stomach twist in confusion rather than warmth. His parents didn't hit him to teach. They hit him because they could.
Wrong shoes? A slap.
Voice too loud? A kick.
Tears? A scream and a night locked in the pitch-black closet with nothing but his breath and the walls pressing in.
As a child, Jongho learned silence was safety. Obedience was survival. He learned to listen, to be perfect. To expect nothing. Praise didn't come. Only critique. Only fear.
He grew up believing he was never enough.
Becoming a trainee had been more than a career step — it had been a desperate escape. A new beginning. The first door he ever walked through that didn't slam shut behind him.
Years passed. ATEEZ debuted. They rose. They shone. The world saw a confident, stoic maknae with a thunderous voice and a steady presence. No one saw the cracks beneath.
He didn't let them.
Then came the new manager.
At first, it was subtle.
He didn't yell. He didn't curse. But his words carried something heavy — the same edge Jongho had grown up with.
"What, is that all you've got?"
"You're falling behind, try not to drag the others."
"Don't disappoint me again."
The others brushed it off — teasing, maybe a bit harsh, but manageable.
But to Jongho, every sentence dropped like a stone in his chest. They weren't just words. They were echoes. Reminders. Triggers. They opened doors in his mind that had been welded shut.
No one noticed how he started flinching again.
How he stayed late to fix things the manager had criticized, even if it meant skipping meals. How he barely spoke when the man entered the room. How he smiled, but his hands trembled beneath the table.
He told himself to get over it. That it wasn't the same.
But trauma doesn't listen to logic.
It all broke the night the manager locked the door.
They'd been practicing for hours. Everyone was tired, sore, looking forward to rest. Jongho especially. His body was drained, but more than that, his mind had been swimming in dread. The manager had been colder that day, more clipped. Something had felt off.
When the members tried to leave, the practice room door wouldn't budge.
Confused, Hongjoong called the manager. The reply was breezy, almost amused.
"Don't overreact. Just a little extra practice time. You'll be out in the morning. I'll send food."
The line went dead.
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K-pop sickfics/hurtfics
Fanfiction** requests are close** Some K-pop sick/hurtfics/littlespace about my favorite K-pop group. I take request. This story is considered a mature because some chapter could be triggering for people, but there is and will be no smut in this book.
