Just a reminder I'm not taking requests, I keep getting asked to do requests, and saying no is horrible.
I will start taking requests again, but not yet, I have exams coming up so I want to focus on them.
So please stop asking for requests until i tell you the requests are open again. It will probably be by the 20 of June or something.
@SKZ8_ENHAT here's your request. Sorry for the delay😅
1400 words.
⚠️TW: emotional/physical abuse, panic, trauma
Jeongin stared at the message on his phone for a long time.
"Come home. It's time you stop pretending you're too good for your family."
— Dad
It had been three days. He hadn't replied. The screen stayed lit until it dimmed into darkness, his reflection staring back at him in the glass. Tired eyes. Hollowed cheeks. He hadn't been sleeping well—not since the message came.
He was used to pretending. Pretending he didn't hear the sneer in the words. Pretending the knot in his stomach didn't grow tighter every time he thought about walking back through that door. But now that the invitation had arrived—not a request, not a reconciliation, just a summons—it was real. The dread was real. And it was eating him alive.
That night, he skipped dinner with the members.
The next morning, he skipped breakfast.
By afternoon, he was curled up in the corner of the practice room, hoodie pulled over his head, music turned up so loud it drowned out his thoughts—but not the memories.
The screaming.
The crack of a door slammed just inches from his face.
The harsh grip on his wrist.
The coldness in his mother's voice when she said, "You're such a burden."
The laughter from his father when he cried, called pathetic.
He gasped and turned off the music, chest heaving.
He couldn't go.
He didn't want to go.
But the guilt crept in like it always did.
What if they've changed? What if I'm just being dramatic? What if I owe them this one last chance?
His phone buzzed. A message from Chan.
"Haven't seen you all day, kid. You okay?"
Jeongin stared at the screen, eyes blurring.
He typed:
"Yeah."
Then erased it.
"Busy."
Erased it again.
His fingers trembled before he typed what he really felt.
"Hyung... can I talk to you?"
Fifteen minutes later, Chan opened his door to find Jeongin standing there, arms wrapped around himself like armor.
"Come in," he said immediately, stepping aside.
The apartment smelled like chamomile tea and freshly washed blankets. Warm. Safe.
Jeongin hovered near the entrance for a moment, unsure if his legs would carry him forward. Chan didn't rush him. Just waited.
Eventually, they sat on the couch. Jeongin couldn't meet his eyes.
"I didn't know where else to go," he whispered.
"I'm glad you came here," Chan replied gently. "What's going on?"
YOU ARE READING
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.
