K-pop sickfics/hurtfics

Jungwoo nct 127 - isolation

'Funny how one person can mess you up that much', if I had to resume this vu voter I think this sentence will be close.

@jungwoo_Ncta here's your request. I tried to make as long and as deep as I could, but don't know if it satisfies you.
2220 words.

⚠️ suicidal thoughts, neglect, isolation...

It started with a misstep. A brush of his shoulder too sharp, a laugh too loud, or maybe a word that landed wrong. Jungwoo couldn't remember exactly what he'd done—but the look Yuta gave him afterward stuck like a thorn in his memory. Sharp, fleeting, but unmistakably cold. Not furious. Not even annoyed. Just... disappointed.

And then the warmth disappeared.

Yuta didn't tease him like he used to. No playful jabs in the practice room, no sly smiles across the van, no inside jokes whispered between takes on set. It was subtle at first, barely noticeable. But over time, the gaps grew.

When they were all out for dinner, Jungwoo sat beside Jaehyung instead of Yuta, because Yuta hadn't saved him a seat. When he passed Yuta in the hallway, a nod was returned with silence. When he laughed at something Mark said, he caught Yuta glancing at him—and looking away like he wasn't even there.

He tried not to make a big deal of it.

Maybe Yuta was just tired. He had his moods. They all did. Jungwoo told himself it would pass. But it didn't. Days turned to weeks, and the distance remained.

The others didn't seem to notice—or if they did, they didn't say anything. Maybe it was just in his head. Maybe Yuta had grown past him, and that was natural. Friendships faded sometimes, especially in a group as tightly packed as theirs. Jungwoo tried to believe that. But believing didn't stop the dull ache that curled under his ribs every time he felt left behind in the room they all shared.

He kept smiling, though.

He danced hard. He sang harder. He made sure to laugh on cue, to show up first and leave last, to be helpful, cheerful, grateful. Jungwoo did not want to be a burden. Not again.

Not ever.

He remembered what it felt like, those first years—the fear that if he slipped even once, he'd be seen as unnecessary. Replaceable. The weird kid who smiled too much and cried too easily. So he learned to shine. But now, he felt like he was dimming again. Something quiet in him was breaking, slowly, like a lightbulb flickering before the burnout.

He didn't ask Yuta what had changed. Maybe he didn't want to hear the answer.

Instead, he told himself he would try harder. Be quieter. Stay out of the way.

He didn't notice when he stopped sitting at the table during meals, choosing the floor or couch instead. Didn't notice when his messages in the group chat grew shorter. He didn't even notice that Taeyong had started glancing at him during practice breaks like he was watching something fall.

But Jungwoo noticed Yuta—always Yuta. Every time he laughed with Doyoung, or ruffled Haechan's hair, or leaned against Johnny with that same ease he once shared with Jungwoo. It was like watching a home you used to live in, now occupied by someone else.

And that hurt more than he could admit.

So he didn't.

He just nodded when spoken to, laughed when prompted, and swallowed the creeping sickness in his gut that told him something inside him was slipping loose.

Something he wouldn't be able to hold together much longer.

Jungwoo had always felt things too deeply.