Invisible Wounds

"Invisible Wounds"

Ni-ki was used to being the maknae, the playful, energetic youngest who brought laughter to the group. He had always been their little brother, the one they doted on, the one they protected. But lately, something had changed.

The stress of their comeback had turned his once-loving hyungs into strangers. Exhaustion clung to them like a second skin, their patience worn thin by sleepless nights and endless rehearsals. And somehow, Ni-ki had become their outlet.

At first, it was just small things—sharp words, exasperated sighs, ignored questions. He told himself it was fine, that they were all just tired. But then, it got worse.

“Ni-ki, can you stop messing up the timing?” Sunghoon snapped during practice one evening, his voice laced with irritation.

Ni-ki’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t even been off-beat, but he bit his lip and nodded. “Sorry, hyung.”

“Just focus,” Jungwon muttered, rubbing his temples. “We don’t have time for mistakes.”

Heeseung, usually the first to defend him, just sighed and turned away.

The words cut deeper than they should have.

That night, Ni-ki sat at the dinner table, waiting for someone to pass him the side dishes. No one did. They spoke around him, their voices distant, their laughter strained. He felt like a ghost in his own home.

He told himself it was okay. He could handle it.

But then, the mistakes started piling up—not because he wasn’t trying, but because his hands trembled every time he danced. His chest tightened whenever he spoke.

He started second-guessing everything.

One night, he accidentally left Jake’s shoes outside, forgetting to bring them in before it rained. When Jake found them soaked, his usual warm demeanor was gone.

“Seriously, Ni-ki?” he huffed, holding up the ruined shoes. “Can’t you do one thing right?”

Ni-ki swallowed the lump in his throat. “I—I forgot. I’ll buy you new ones.”

Jake scoffed. “It’s not about that. Just… think before you act.”

It shouldn’t have hurt so much.

A few days later, he accidentally set the bathwater too hot for Sunoo. When Sunoo yelped in pain, Ni-ki flinched, already expecting the anger.

“For god’s sake, Ni-ki!” Sunoo snapped, shaking his burnt hand. “Are you even paying attention?”

He wanted to say it was an accident. He wanted to remind them that they had all made small mistakes before. But instead, he lowered his head. “Sorry, hyung.”

The worst part was that no one defended him.

Ni-ki had never felt so alone.

⭐⭐ ⭐

One evening, after an especially grueling practice, the members left in their usual rush, too preoccupied to notice that Ni-ki had fallen behind. By the time he realized they had gone, the practice room was empty, his phone dead.

He waited.

They’d come back for him. They always did.

But they didn’t.

So Ni-ki walked home alone. In the rain.

The cold seeped into his bones, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

When he finally made it back to the dorm, dripping wet, the members barely looked up from where they sat on the couch.

“You’re late,” Jungwon muttered, not even bothering to ask why.

Ni-ki clenched his fists.

He was exhausted.

His body ached.

His head was burning.

And for the past few weeks, his fever had been slowly climbing, but no one had noticed.

Because Ni-ki was strong. Ni-ki didn’t need help.

Did he?

That night, he lay awake, his limbs too heavy to move, his skin too hot.

Maybe if he just stayed quiet, they’d see how much he was hurting.

Maybe they’d care again.

But no one came to check on him.

The fever worsened over the next few days, but he kept pushing through it. He danced through dizziness, laughed through nausea, smiled through tears.

Until, finally, he couldn’t anymore.

They had just gotten home when it happened. He tried to climb the stairs to his room, but his legs gave out beneath him. His vision blurred, and before he could stop himself, a sob escaped his lips.

He hadn’t meant to cry. He had promised himself he wouldn’t.

But he was just so tired.

So, so tired.

The members turned at the sound.

And then, right before their eyes, Ni-ki collapsed.

Panic erupted around him.

“Ni-ki!”

“Someone get the manager!”

“Oh my god, he’s burning up—”

The voices blurred together, but Ni-ki barely heard them. He just felt warmth—hands holding him, shaking him, calling his name.

For the first time in weeks, they saw him.

And then, everything went black.

⭐⭐ ⭐

Jungwon barely had time to think. The moment Ni-ki collapsed, he instinctively caught him, his body reacting before his mind could process what was happening.

"Ni-ki! Wake up!" he shouted, shaking the younger boy gently, but Ni-ki remained limp in his arms.

The members stood frozen in shock, their faces paling as reality sank in.

"He’s burning up," Jay whispered, placing a trembling hand on Ni-ki’s forehead. "This isn't just a normal fever—he's burning."

Jungwon didn’t hesitate. He crouched down, adjusting Ni-ki onto his back before hoisting him up in a piggyback. The maknae’s head lolled against his shoulder, his breathing shallow and weak.

"Call an ambulance!Inform the manager too!" Jungwon ordered, urgency in his voice.

Sunghoon fumbled with his phone, his hands shaking as he dialed emergency services. The guilt was suffocating, but right now, getting Ni-ki help was the priority.

As soon as the ambulance arrived, Jungwon climbed in with Ni-ki still clinging to his back. He didn't care that his arms were numb or that Ni-ki’s feverish body was soaking his shirt with sweat—he just wanted him to be okay.

The ride to the hospital was silent except for the occasional beeping of the heart monitor. Jungwon stared at Ni-ki's face, pale and exhausted even in unconsciousness.

They had done this to him.

And they hadn’t even noticed.

---

At the hospital, their manager was the one to receive the medical report. The doctor’s words hit like a punch to the gut.

"Severe exhaustion. His body has been overworked to the extreme, and his immune system is weak," the doctor explained grimly. "On top of that, his fever spiked dangerously to 41°C. If he hadn’t been brought in, the consequences could have been life-threatening."

The manager’s face hardened. "How long will he need to stay?"

"A week at least. We need to monitor him closely to prevent any serious infections. His body is too weak to fight anything off right now."

As if that wasn’t bad enough, the nurses had discovered something else.

"There are multiple bruises on his shoulders," a nurse reported, her voice laced with concern. "They seem to be from an impact injury."

Jungwon stiffened. "Impact?"

"Yes, did he ever told you about it?I'd like to say it is some sort of metal pole.It bruised bad."The nurse informed.

Realization dawned, and Jungwon felt sick.

Sunghoon.

It hit him like a freight train—the moment in practice when Sunghoon, in frustration, had shoved Ni-ki too hard, making him stumble into a metal pole. Despite the loud bang,Ni-ki had shaken it off, brushing away concerns, but…

He had been hurting all along.

When their manager found out, he stormed into the waiting room where the members sat, their faces filled with worry and guilt. His voice was sharp and unforgiving.

"Are you all out of your minds?" he snapped, making them flinch. "How could you let it get this bad?!"

No one spoke. They had no excuses.

"You ignored him, pushed him too far, and didn't even notice he was suffering?!" His gaze zeroed in on Sunghoon. "And you physically hurt him?"

Sunghoon’s breath hitched. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, his hands gripping his knees so tightly they turned white. "I… I didn’t mean to…" he whispered, his voice breaking.

The manager sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "Intentions don’t matter. What matters is that Ni-ki is lying in that hospital bed because of you all."

The weight of their actions crushed them.

Jungwon looked down at his hands—the same hands that had carried Ni-ki to the ambulance. Why hadn’t he carried his burdens sooner?

Why had they all been so blind?

As they sat in silence, the beeping of machines in the next room the only sound filling the air, one thing was certain:

They had failed Ni-ki.