Chapter Text
When Jeongin woke, it was to the sound of birds chirping outside his windowsill.
He blinked blearily, trying to gather his bearings as he came to fuzzy consciousness. He was lying down, he realized first, his head pillowed against his dark hair and one of his legs half-off of whatever surface he was laid on. The light he could see through the slits of his eyelashes, he realized second, was terribly blinding. He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan, curling away from the fluorescents. The air smelled thick of formaldehyde.
Where am I?
He placed his hands by his sides, only hesitating for a second before pushing himself up. His head spun with the action. The adrenaline that had left his body had begun to surge back with weary familiarity.
He didn’t remember why.
He was in the hospital. He was wearing a gown and hooked up to a machine that was beeping softly, most likely what he had imagined as bird song. His hands were clean of and freshly pale against the white sheets. The sun shone warmly through the window, illuminating the gifts set up on a table next to him. Saxifrage, stuffed foxes, and a bag of crisps that he recognized as Felix’s favorite.
He glanced down at his side, where it ached dully. A wound. Wrapped in clean bandages, smelling of solvents and blood. The sight of it made him feel strange. Trapped.
He yanked out the IV drip tracing into his wrist as he hauled himself upright, bracing himself heavily on the edge of the bed. He closed his eyes as he got up fully, unable to avoid the dizzying head rush but at least still standing. His phone was nowhere in sight. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment as he tried to recall what could have happened to it. To him. It felt like a long time ago.
Maybe it was.
His memories felt slower, blurred. Fragmented.
He padded towards the window, hesitating for only a moment before pulling the shades open.
The blinds rose to reveal a sunny day.
ASAN Medical Center had a beautiful view of a park below, where residents strolled underneath the delicate cherry blossoms, exchanging notes and numbers. The sun rose gently from its nestling between two buildings towards the sky, painting it in shades of persimmon and gold. Paper airplanes thrown out the window of a room far adjacent to his swooped through the air, flitting through the breeze in multicolored hues.
It wasn’t raining. The clouds were white and small.
There was no thunder booming above his head.
His hands were still on the windowsill. He looked down. Familiar scars, lighter now, traced through his fingers.
What…what am I thinking about?
He took a step back. The calendar was flipped cheerfully to…
Wednesday.
That feels…better.
He wasn’t really sure how long he stood at the window, his memories sifting and spiralling around him, fleeting yet nearby. He couldn’t touch them.
Why am I here? How did I…
“Indori,” a painfully familiar voice breathed behind him, and he turned.
Jeongin’s mother stood behind him, eyes brimming with tears and hands full of flowers.
She dropped them with a thud, the heavy vase hitting the ground with such force it made Jeongin flinch without thinking, leaning against the sill. The action made a sob break from her throat and he hurried forward, voice too choked and hands too shaky to do anything but crumple in her hold. Her palms were frail yet strong as they wrapped around his back, just barely keeping him upright.
“Jeongin,” his mother sobbed into his ear. “Jeongin, Jeongin, Jeongin.”
Mom.
She held him when his knees crumpled, the way she used to when he was small and sick and shaking from practices and overnights and homesickness. Like she used to when he cried he couldn’t do it anymore, when he told her for the first time that he was lonely. She cried with him now, their breaths matching in hitched gasps and his cheek wet against her soft sweater.
“I’m here,” she repeated, over and over. “I’m here. It’s okay.”
His fingers dug into the back of her sweater until his knuckles burned. It was real. The smell of their home shampoo, slightly sterile yet still smelling of star anise and blossom. It was real.
Why do I miss her so much?
She pulled back, eyes teary yet crinkled with warmth. She looked older than he remembered.
“You scared us,” she breathed out. “We had no idea what had happened when we got the call that you were in hospital, and a gunshot wound, no less…”
“Exactly why he should be resting,” one of the nurses cut in, and Jeongin jumped. He had barely noticed her enter, but she didn’t look happy as her gaze locked on to the discarded IV. “Jeongin-ssi, you’ve sustained quite the wounds. We had to do emergency surgery, and…” she looked at his mother with a pause. “We can go into details later.”
“Yes, of course,” his mother said, flustered, moving back. The nurse guided him gently back into bed, ignoring his feeble protests.
“What time is it?” he asked urgently. “What happened to me?”
“Back in bed first. Only one question.”
For some reason, the question about time felt more pressing.
“Fine. What time is it?”
“2:00 PM,” she said. “You’ve got quite the family waiting there for you.”
Something about her made him uncomfortable. He scooted slightly away. Was it her eyes? Her hair? She looked like someone he should remember.
“Jeongin-ssi?” The nurse said softly, looking concerned. He glanced up at the beeping machine.
“Too much adrenaline. He might be remembering again,” he heard the nurse explaining to his mother over the pounding of his own heartbeat. “I think we should give your son another sedative.”
“No,” he blurted out, shooting back up even as his side twisted in agony. He didn’t know why, but he knew it was wrong. His mother made a pained noise.
“Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.”
The nurse descended upon him as the beeping echoed louder. It thrummed in his ears, racing, beating. As if it was a wire dragged against his skin.
As if it was a gun pressed to his temple.
And everything clicked together again.
The members.
She was above him. She was going to kill him. He didn’t have any more resets.
He twisted away from her, his bedsheets tangling messily between his feet and rolling him straight off the bed with a yelp of fear. She was going to kill him. Everything rushed back in in a tunnel of blind terror, the fog disappearing and panic electrifying him up, up and pressing himself against the wall, panting fast and ragged. His wild gaze searched for a weapon as she held up the syringe, eyes blown wide.
He curled his fists and watched his mother break.
She rushed out of the room with a cry and he watched her go, not daring to move.
Lucky 6 has people everywhere.
He watched the nurse with narrowed eyes. His legs trembled underneath him, pure exhaustion weighing him down.
They’re trying to sedate me. To stop me. To kill them. To keep me forgetting.
“Where. Are. They.”
“You’re unstable right now,” the nurse said cautiously. She was small and scared, yet mighty in her stance and in the fire of her eyes. “I need to sedate you, for your own good.”
He laughed deliriously. “Sure. How many times have you said that before?”
Her fingers flew faster than he saw them, pressing a small red button right above his heart monitor. He moved fast, advancing over the bed, but it was too late. She darted out of the room to be replaced by larger guards, with tasers and for some reason that still felt foggy he felt phantom crackles of lightning up his skin, burning terrifying pain that made him choke on his yell as they tackled him. He screamed as his side burned, his stitches splitting. Hands. There were hands everywhere.
He choked on a sob. They were closing over his throat.
I know what to do. I can fix it. Images of his hyungs, already dead, blurred in his memory. Everything was dark. Blood was everywhere. Lightning, lightning burned him. I can fix it.
His fingers met.
“JEONGIN.”
They fell uselessly apart before they could snap.
Seungmin stood in the doorway.
“Get off of him,” Seungmin said quietly.
“He’s dangerous,” the guard explained with a grimace. He wrestled Jeongin’s hands lower and his terror surged again, his head knocking sharply against the wall with a whine of hysteria. His vision blurred with tears as pain flooded into his skull.
“You’re hurting him,” Seungmin said, sharper. He stalked forward. “Get off. Now.”
The guard hesitated. “He—”
“I’m his emergency contact,” a familiar voice cut in. Chan strolled in behind Seungmin. “No sedatives.”
“But—”
“Emergency contact. No sedatives. Let him go.”
With a sigh, the guard dropped back on his haunches. Jeongin scrambled loose, his back hitting the wall with a thump. His eyes flashed between the two standing above him, his head foggy and confused by the sudden shift.
Chan and Seungmin looked…normal. Except for the white bandages wrapped around Seungmin’s left wrist and the sutures on Chan’s chin they looked unscathed, if not exhausted, from their ordeal. Seungmin was wearing his beat-up Dodgers hoodie and Chan was wearing a thick jacket. They both shivered a little in the cold of Jeongin’s hospital wing, gazes unsure yet fighting to stay composed.
Something within him settled, if only for a few moments.
He slumped back, his head hitting the wall. The guards backed up slowly, watching him. His side burned and he winced as he felt blood beginning to seep from the bandages. He looked up at them again, anxiety and panic seizing him with a million things to say but ultimately leaving him with only one question in the face of their sheer stoicness.
“The others?”
“Everyone’s okay.” Chan stepped forward and Jeongin pressed further into the wall.
He shook his head. “N-no, I remember…you were hurt. Don’t lie to me.”
Seungmin glared at Chan. He mouthed something Jeongin couldn’t catch.
“The tiny guy got Changbin-hyung pretty good in the nose, but it’s just a bruise. Yongbok has a couple cuts from the glass. Hyunjin…one of them got a cheap shot at his ribs.”
“His ribs?” The beeping came faster. The bullets had been everywhere. He hadn’t noticed. Hyunjin-hyung was shot. He could be dead, or dying, or—
“Shoot, my bad…shit, okay, I’m just not choosing good words here,” Seungmin waved his hands frantically. “He wasn’t shot. They kicked his side and probably fractured one of his ribs, according to the doctors. But he’s perfectly okay.”
Jeongin blew out a breath of relief. Seungmin dragged a hand through his hair, looking invariably stressed at the panic he had just caused.
“He’s okay,” Jeongin tried out the words carefully. “Everyone is.”
Despite himself, he felt his vision blur again. He sniffled, reaching up to wipe his tears but Chan was there, so close to his face and his fingers reaching out.
Hands. Around my neck. Screaming, strangling.
The enemy.
He flinched back, eyes squeezing shut, and Chan froze where he stood.
“Hyung,” Seungmin said quietly. Jeongin curled into the side of the bed, folding into himself.
“Please,” he breathed. “Please don’t.”
Chan’s expression broke. “I…I wouldn’t. I would never…never again, Innie. I promise.”
I can’t trust that.
The silence stretched between them. It felt like a chasm in what had once been a mountain of their memories, fish-cakes in the cold and long nights of practice broken, split down the middle by gunshots and unwavering hands.
Chan swallowed. Jeongin knew that he could see it too.
Chan always knew him.
“The others will be here soon,” Seungmin broke the silence. There were tears in his eyes. “They want to see you.”
He didn’t want them to see him like this, but he couldn’t stop himself from curling in at the thought of seeing them all again. Safe.
“I want to see them now,” he said, voice trembling. “Please?”
Seungmin made a soft noise, turning away and wiping his eyes. Chan folded his hands over each other very carefully, as if he was trying his best not to make an expression.
“Not right now,” Chan said carefully. “I promise, I promise. The second you…you’re better. Okay?”
“Okay,” the nurse spoke up again, her voice calmer. Chan motioned something to her that Jeongin didn’t see.
“Jeongin-ssi, your stitches have split.”
He glanced down at the red from his side with apathy. It hurt distantly, but it felt like a molehill in the mountain he had just endured. The aches and pains still crawling from under his skin felt muted now, drowned by the thump of adrenaline ever-present in his veins.
“Oh.”
“Let’s get you back into bed and all bandaged up,” she said kindly. She reached for him very slowly. He glanced up for a moment before taking her hand. She eased him back into the bed, her hands cool and firm. He considered resistance, but one look at the tasers changed his mind. He felt…fuzzier now. He glanced down at his arm.
That might be why.
The needle retracted quickly, and she smiled guiltily.
“I…I told you…” his voice wavered. “I said no…”
Chan bit his lip. “You need rest.”
“I told you no,” he grit out, panic flooding him again. Lucky 6. They could still be here, could still be coming after us.
I could wake up and they could all be dead.
He turned to Seungmin. “They have people everywhere,” he said frantically. “They had people with the police, with our staff, more than themselves, Seungmin-hyung please—”
“You need to sleep,” Seungmin said cautiously, eyes darting to Chan. “Hyung knows what’s best.”
“Like he did when he tried to kill me?” Jeongin spat viciously. His arms felt heavy and his knees began to buckle. Chan caught him and Jeongin thrashed, screaming something incoherent as he began to lift.
He was on something soft. His vision blurred into darkness, his mind slipping with it. His cries faded, the pain easing. Voices were talking above him.
“Increase the dosage…paranoia.”
“Hyung…don’t do this.”
“He can’t possibly hate me any more right now.”
His consciousness slipped away.
***
The next time Jeongin woke, everything was cold.
The sky outside was black and swirling with small clouds, the area as lively as ever with residents and doctors shuttling patients outside. Pale light shone from outside his very open window, providing an explanation for the chilling breeze ruffling his gown. He groaned, curling up on his side as knives stabbed through his mind.
Everything hurts.
His memories filtered in and he winced as his words came to mind.
I just can’t stop hurting them.
But…Lucky 6 could still be here.
It had been mostly paranoia driving him earlier, but he still couldn’t discount the possibility that it wasn’t over. He couldn’t be sure of that.
The police. The residents at the hospital. Anyone could be working for them.
I need to get out of here and find them. Protect them until I can be absolutely sure nobody’s coming for us.
He gritted his teeth. I remember Hayoon alive. I’ll get it out of her. I just need to get out of here.
Pushing past the pain in his head, Jeongin forced himself up. His hands felt colder than the rest of him for some reason, but he dismissed it. His side felt much better now with the healthy dose of morphine. With a sigh, he moved to pull out his drip.
His fingers stopped short.
What?
He looked down at his fingers, straining for purchase. Lower.
His wrist was handcuffed to the edge of the bed.
Terror flooded through him instantaneously. He jostled it but the handcuff didn’t come loose, biting into his skin like a warning. His other wrist was cuffed too, both of them to the edges of the bed with police-grade handcuffs. He swore to himself, mind racing.
“No, no, no, no—”
They’re coming for me again.
He sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm.
Okay. I’m not helpless. Not this time. He turned his fingers around, searching for the tiniest bit of slack. He could fit one finger through the small gap, no more. There were no helpful keys around, either. He stared down at his thumb.
I’ve seen it in a good amount of horror movies.
A noise echoed from outside and Jeongin stilled.
He could hear someone approaching.
One of theirs. It must be.
His heart skipped a beat.
He pressed himself frantically against the wall. He couldn’t reset. Not anymore.
“Get away from me!” he screamed with the remains of his broken voice. His head knocked against the wall, his back up against it. He thrashed uselessly against his restraints. “I swear I’ll shoot you just like I shot whoever you work for.”
The footsteps didn’t stop, pounding closer. His breath caught in his throat.
“Stop!” he shrieked. “Don’t get any closer. I’ll kill you!”
The restraints cut deep into his flesh, rivulets of blood tracing down his wrists. He screamed, bloodied and panicked. “Stop,” he whined as the door began to creak open. They’re going to kill me. I can’t reset. I don’t have the loops anymore.
“Innie?”
Jeongin’s wrists dropped.
Hyunjin stood in the hallway, eyes blown wide at the sight of him. He was wearing a hospital gown and there were clean white bandages around his ribs. He gripped an IV drip tightly in his fist. His eyes were bloodshot, sunken.
There were tear-tracks on his cheeks.
“Hyung,” he cried, and Hyunjin ran towards him.
He had a second to breathe before Hyunjin barreled into him with a series of loud sobs, the IV drip’s pole skidding in circles before falling, detached, to the floor. Jeongin let out a small “oomph” as Hyunjin latched on to him tightly, mumbling something incoherent as he wrapped Jeongin in his arms, eyes closed yet tears soaking through Jeongin’s gown.
Jeongin’s hands twitched with want. His fingers reached up, catching Hyunjin’s shivering arms and rubbing, almost comfortingly, as his hyung sobbed into him. It hurt like hell, of course it did, but Jeongin felt so safe he didn’t care.
Hyunjin clung to him like he was afraid Jeongin would vanish if he let go. His shoulders shook violently, breath hitching in broken little gasps that soaked through the thin fabric of Jeongin’s gown.
“I thought—” Hyunjin choked. “I thought I lost you. They wouldn’t tell me anything. They just kept saying you were resting and then I heard someone screaming and you’re bleeding and—”
Jeongin swallowed hard. His throat burned.
“I’m here,” he said hoarsely. “I’m here, hyung.”
Hyunjin pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes frantic, scanning his face like he was checking for holes. Then his gaze dropped.
The cuffs.
Hyunjin went very, very still.
“…Why are you handcuffed?” he asked, voice eerily calm.
Jeongin followed his stare. The blood. The angry red marks circling his wrists.
“I don’t know,” Jeongin said quietly. “I thought…I thought it was Lucky 6. They have people everywhere, hyung. Is everyone…”
“Everyone’s fine,” Hyunjin said curtly. “This wasn’t Lucky 6.”
Hyunjin’s jaw tightened. Something sharp flickered behind his eyes, bright and furious. He looked mad. Was it because it was Jeongin’s fault? His fingers came up again, grasping desperately.
“I’m...I’m sorry,” he stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to get you hurt. You guys were never supposed to get hurt.”
“What are you even talking about?” Hyunjin breathed. His eyes were wide and red. “They…they handcuffed you. The police.”
“The police? The police are here?”
“They won’t be very soon,” Hyunjin growled, whirling around. Jeongin’s head spun and Hyunjin caught him before he could fall, easing him back into where he had laid before. “Shit. Hold on. I’m calling Chan.”
“No,” Jeongin blurted before he could think. Hyunjin’s fingers halted over his phone. “I…don’t, please.”
Hyunjin hesitated, phone hovering uselessly in his hand. His brows knit together, worry cutting deep lines into his already exhausted face. Jeongin hated what he had done to him.
“Innie,” he said softly. “He needs to know you’re awake. What they did. Believe me, we’re all furious as all hell at him, but…”
Jeongin shook his head weakly, hair sticking damply to his forehead. “Please,” he whispered. “Just…give me a second.”
Hyunjin opened his mouth to say something but footsteps outside made them both flinch. Jeongin’s head went back hard, muscles seizing, heart spiking so fast the monitor began to chirp angrily. Hyunjin straightened immediately, placing himself between Jeongin and the door.
The door opened slowly, a man and woman dressed in police attire striding in. The man closed the door behind the woman, who bowed curtly to both of them.
“Don’t say a word,” Hyunjin murmured to him. The woman made a face.
“Hyunjin-ssi, I thought we talked about this.”
“We talked, alright. We’re not saying anything without our lawyer present or unless you bring your prosecutor to interrogate us herself.”
Lawyer? Prosecutor? Interrogate? Jeongin searched their expressions and didn’t find anything familiar. He couldn’t remember if they had been some of the cops that had helped Lucky 6 on some of the loops or not. The loops were beginning to melt together, warping the fine details. Hyunjin met his gaze, questioning.
Jeongin shook his head and Hyunjin slumped in relief.
“Why are you here?” he asked haltingly, ignoring Hyunjin’s sigh. He straightened as much as he could, wincing as the metal dug into his flesh. The woman winced in tandem.
“It better be to take those cuffs off,” Hyunjin growled. “Now.”
The woman exhaled slowly. “Jeongin-ssi was deemed a danger.”
“A danger?” Jeongin laughed incredulously, his words coming out faster than he could think. “The real danger is still out there. God knows how many men they have on their side, on their dime, to kill us.”
“I said don’t say anything,” Hyunjin hissed, but it was too late. The woman straightened, curious. Jeongin went quiet, watching her.
“He’s not in his right mind and you have him shackled like a criminal,” Hyunjin’s voice broke. “He’s terrified.”
“He doesn’t understand anything right now—”
“I’m real sick of people telling me what I do and don’t know,” Jeongin snarled, his voice dropping an octave. “Let me go before I break both of my wrists and get out of these cuffs myself.”
The male officer shifted first, hand drifting instinctively toward his belt before he seemed to catch himself. The woman shot him a sharp look, then turned her attention back to Jeongin, eyes softening just a fraction as they traced the blood on his wrists, the tremor in his hands, the way his chest hitched.
“…You won’t have to,” she said finally, low and careful.
Hyunjin’s head snapped toward her. “Then why are they still on him?”
“Because,” she said, choosing each word with surgical precision, “The tapes in your practice room show a black room and seven people dead with Jeongin-ssi’s fingerprints all over them. It shows that he’s got massive internal injuries no doctor can explain the reason for. That puts us in a very narrow, very ugly protocol.”
“I didn’t attack anyone,” Jeongin said hoarsely. “I was defending myself.”
Hyunjin rounded on her, and for a split second Jeongin saw something he’d only ever seen on stage, sharpened and real and terrifying.
“He’s bleeding,” Hyunjin said, pointing. His voice didn’t rise. That was somehow worse. “His stitches reopened earlier. And you chained him to a bed. And you’re questioning him.”
Jeongin’s hands began to shake again, adrenaline surging back in sharp, painful waves. The room felt too bright, too loud. The woman’s gaze felt predatory now.
“Hyung,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
Hyunjin turned back to him immediately, expression crumbling. “No,” he said softly. “You’re not. This is illegal. Get those cuffs off him now.”
His voice held authority in a way it never had before. His eyes burned with the promise of hell and Jeongin thought, for a moment, that his hyung was absolutely terrifying.
The man nodded brusquely and moved forward. Jeongin squirmed away from him, even as he went for the keys and slowly unlocked the handcuffs.
Jeongin flinched as the first cuff came loose, the sudden absence of pressure almost worse than the restraint itself. His arm dropped heavily onto the bed. When the second cuff was removed, he sagged forward, breath hitching, vision blurring.
Hyunjin caught him instantly, careful of his side, arms wrapping around him again.
“You’re okay,” Hyunjin murmured over and over, pressing his forehead to Jeongin’s temple. “You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
Jeongin’s hands curled weakly into the fabric of Hyunjin’s gown. His whole body trembled now, delayed shock crashing in like a wave he couldn’t outrun.
“I thought you were one of them,” he admitted brokenly. “I thought—”
“I know,” Hyunjin said, voice thick. “I know.”
“They…” he felt like a broken record. “They could be here, hyung. They could be watching us. How…how do you know they’re not?”
His hands kept close together. Hyunjin watched them carefully.
The police officer sighed, getting to her feet. “This conversation isn’t over.”
Hyunjin ignored her until the lock clicked shut behind the both of them. His hands traced Jeongin’s wrists, rubbed red and raw.
“I want to go home.”
Hyunjin sighed, as if he had been expecting this. “Innie.”
“I don’t trust them,” he whispered. “I don’t…I don’t trust anyone but you guys.”
“Nobody’s coming after you,” Hyunjin promised, pulling him in tighter.
“You don’t know what I saw,” Jeongin said hollowly. “You don’t know what they’re capable of. It’s not over until…”
“The police will question Hayoon,” Hyunjin said readily, understanding him in an instant. “She’ll confirm what I already know.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Jeongin challenged. “If you die again?”
Hyunjin went quiet.
Footsteps sounded again in the hallway. Multiple this time. Familiar rhythms, eerily in sync like always. Jeongin stiffened, muscles locking before his brain could catch up.
“I.N-ah!”
He looked up and the world tilted. Changbin was there first, sprinting forward with that half-grin, half-grimace that always meant he’d gotten himself into trouble but was here anyway. Seungmin followed, arms slightly outstretched, eyes scanning desperately, relief bright behind the tiredness. Behind them, Han and Felix barreled forward, practically tumbling over each other in their hurry to reach him. Minho’s steady gaze softened as he touched shoulders with Chan, whose trembling smile threatened to break entirely.
They were all here. Every single one of them.
“Jeongin-ah!” Felix cried, launching himself at him, plushies and flowers bouncing in his arms. Han immediately joined, hugging both of them tightly in a squeeze that left Jeongin gasping for air but laughing through tears anyway. He hugged back weakly, his newly freed hands shaking in the cold. He saw the moment Chan and Minho saw the blood in their sharp intakes of breath, glancing at each other in tandem. Minho hurried forward, his hands over Jeongin’s. He looked to Hyunjin, who frowned and explained softly. Jeongin tuned them out, letting his eyes close as the others held him tighter. He knew when the others found out by the way they stiffened, drawing away slightly from him.
“Shit, man,” Han said, strained. “They cuffed you?”
Felix blinked, eyes growing watery. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m okay,” Jeongin lied, because he was a lying liar who always lied.
Chan didn’t say anything. He just stood there, jaw tight, eyes dark and furious and wet all at once, staring at the dried blood beginning to crust on his wrists.
Jeongin squeezed his eyes shut.
Chan noticed.
He softened instantly, crouching down so they were eye level. “Hey,” he said quietly. “You’re safe. We’re all here.”
Jeongin shook his head and leaned away. Chan drew back, expression impossibly hurt.
“I want to go home,” he whispered again, weaker this time.
Changbin reached out, stopping just short of touching him. “You’re still hurt.”
“I don’t care,” he pleaded. “I…I need to be home. I can’t stand this place anymore.”
Minho sighed, pinching his nose. Chan looked at him, biting his lip.
Jeongin knew what was coming.
He braced himself for argument, glaring at Chan.
But before he could say anything, Seungmin cut in.
“No.”
They all went quiet. Seungmin jutted his chin out, challenging. “We can’t even begin to help him with the injuries he has. It’s safer for him to stay here, where we’re sure he won’t drop dead.”
Silence.
“And that’s…uh, my thoughts. Not anyone else’s.”
“No,” Jeongin said slowly, still wrapping his head around the fact that he was disagreeing with Seungmin. “They don’t understand the loops, anything. I need to keep you safe.”
“See, that’s a load of bullshit,” Seungmin said sharply, meeting his gaze. He looked uncertain. Like he was proving a point. “We want to keep you safe. So stay.”
“I disagree,” Han said slowly, as if the very idea was foreign. “We can check him out Against Medical Advice, right? The doctors have no idea about any of this loop stuff. Jeongin’s right.”
“At least at our own place, we have more control over the investigation,” Felix added.
“That would just be reckless,” Seungmin scoffed. They all turned to him incredulously. Seungmin scowled.
“What? Is it so wrong to have an opinion now? This is a democracy and it’s not just one person that gets to make decisions that Jeongin doesn’t like for his own good and gets called evil for it.”
Chan blushed and looked down. Seungmin’s voice rose.
“And even if there was, this whole thing sucks, okay? So let’s all go easy on each other until we can figure it out. Okay?”
“Okay,” everyone echoed, unsure. Seungmin nodded tautly and sat back down.
“I’m still getting out of here, though?” Jeongin asked after a moment.
Seungmin, having made his point, nodded. Han rolled his eyes. Chan sighed but didn’t say anything. The silence hung over them awkwardly.
“So,” Changbin said slowly. “How are we going to explain this to the cops?”
Jeongin stiffened. They all groaned, reaching over from their various positions on Jeongin’s bed to hit him.
“We agreed we’d wait until after,” Felix complained. “Don’t worry, Innie.”
Hyunjin ran his fingers through Jeongin’s hair a tad more aggressively. “They won’t touch you. Not now.”
Jeongin sighed, leaning into his hand a little more. He was exhausted already.
“If they ask me questions, I’ll have to answer them.”
“We’ll protect you,” Minho said vehemently, his eyes flashing. “Everything you did was in self-defense.”
His mind flashed back to the security office. To a microwave.
To the edge of a cliff. To a stormy evening.
To a cashier counter. To a rosary necklace.
Not everything.
He looked up at them, his throat drying. He couldn’t bear to tell them what he had done.
That guard. I killed him with this loop.
He stayed dead.
He was their friend, maybe. He had a family. Kids. A wife.
He never asked to be in any of this.
“Innie?” Hyunjin asked quietly.
I killed him. I took his life in cold blood.
I didn’t even hesitate before hiding his body.
I…I valued my life more than his.
Han’s hands reached towards his.
“Self-defense…right?”
They were around him now, suffocating. He heard the beeps of the monitor grow faster. Hyunjin cursed, trying to shove Han away but Han was looking him in the eyes now, not letting go, his face ashen.
“Jeongin.”
“Right,” he whispered timidly, and the room settled.
He could tell they didn’t believe him. He could see it in the way Han drew back from him, in the way Hyunjin’s hands were gentler through his hair, in the way Changbin’s face pursed like he was about to cry.
He knew they wouldn’t push it.
I can never tell them what a monster I really am.
“I…I need them to question Hayoon,” Jeongin said, his voice timid. “I…I’ll offer my testimony if they question her first. Make sure there isn’t anyone else that can hurt you.”
“Innie,” Changbin sighed, but Jeongin shook his head fiercely.
“No. You guys haven’t seen what I’ve seen. They had people with the police, people everywhere. I have no idea how much influence they held, none of us do. Not until they get it out of her.”
“And your testimony?” Minho cut in, his voice sharp. “They’re looking for a murderer, Jeongin-ah. You fit that profile much better than the woman who appears attacked.”
Jeongin drew away at his words, and Minho winced. “I…I didn’t mean that.”
“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Jeongin said softly.
“They can twist what you say, Innie,” Changbin explained. “Even if you’re trying to explain it, they’ll bring it up in court and have you in circles before you know it.”
“Well, if I get into that situation, I can just go back,” he snapped back. He waggled his fingers. “Remember?”
“No. Never again.”
Chan’s eyes were dark as he spoke.
Jeongin was getting tired of this.
He sat up, meeting Chan’s gaze challengingly.
“Why not? It’s my power.”
“We’ve seen what it's done to you,” Chan said back. He pointed accusingly to the scars tracing his wrists. “What it's made you do.”
“It hasn’t made me do anything,” Jeongin growled, anger mounting. “Everything I did, everyone I hurt, it was to get back to you. To save you.”
“Jeongin—” Minho said warningly, but he couldn’t stop. He was tired of being useless. Tired of being told what to do. Tired of being scared. His words came out, biting and venomous.
“I would have solved it in a loop if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t be stuck again and again watching you die if it wasn’t for you always not telling us anything. I wouldn’t be in this stupid hospital with blood on my hands and police on our asses if it wasn’t for you. Maybe you should have actually strangled me so we wouldn’t be in—”
“That’s enough!”
Changbin grabbed his wrists.
“Innie,” he hissed, gaze warning. Jeongin growled, trying to shake free, but something about his eyes made him realize that it wasn’t about him.
Jeongin looked up.
Chan was crying.
It was quiet and slow. Jeongin had never seen someone cry like that. He’d seen Chan cry before, of course he had, but it had always been happy tears or tears of fear or sometimes, very rarely, tears of sadness. But even then, it would just be a few and then on his merry way, bottling everything up again until it inevitably exploded on himself and he locked himself in his room for a day. Rinse. Repeat.
But this time, he wasn’t just crying. He was sobbing.
Sobbing loud and ugly as his trembling hands came up to wipe at his face desperately, the tears slipping down his face and tracing down his neck as he turned away from them.
Jeongin stayed silent.
Chan pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, breathing raggedly. It didn’t slow down. His hands shook harder and he let out a broken little gasp that snapped the others out of their shock. Changbin stood up, reaching out for him, but Chan was moving before any of them could process it. He hurried out the door, almost frantic as he turned the handle before Changbin could grab his shoulder. Changbin glanced back at them, eyes wide, before running after him.
The door shut with a soft click.
Jeongin stared at the empty doorway like he could still see Chan’s silhouette burned into the air, the echo of his breath, raw and unfinished. His chest felt hollow, like something vital had been scooped out and left behind.
Seungmin swore under his breath and followed them out.
Han sat down hard on the edge of the bed, fingers digging into his own sleeves, eyes unfocused. Felix hovered uselessly near the IV stand, looking at him in that way he always did when he had something to say. Minho had gone very still, jaw tight in that way that meant he was holding back words sharp enough to draw blood.
Hyunjin’s hands were still in his hair.
I’ve gone and done it now. He fought the urge to laugh or maybe cry. I’ve finally, finally pushed them far enough to despise me like they should.
Maybe it’s better this way.
“Okay,” Minho said carefully, not meeting his gaze. “You…need some rest. I’ll call the doctors to look over your wrists and make sure that most of the physical injury is healed before you come home.”
Jeongin opened his mouth and shut it after one look from Han. The message was clear.
“Okay,” he said hoarsely.
“Okay,” Minho said softly. He came a little closer, kissing his forehead with a feather-light touch in a way he never had before. Jeongin let him, blinking up at him. His hyung smiled, strained.
Despite everything. He gritted his teeth. I hurt them despite everything.
“Get some rest,” Hyunjin echoed, staring into the space where Chan had been. “We’ll be back soon.”
His gaze was stormy but he held Jeongin’s hands tight. He knew what Jeongin was thinking.
“You’re allowed to be angry,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay,” Jeongin murmured. Han and Felix didn’t say anything as they left, gathering up their things quietly. Hyunjin squeezed his hand once last time before letting go.
Minho didn’t look back.
The room was silent as the door creaked shut. Jeongin sat numbly on his bed, his arms burning where they had held him moments before he had destroyed everything.
I did this. Not Lucky 6, not Hayoon, not the police, not bullets. Me.
In all his time, he hadn’t considered it. Not really.
Maybe the greatest danger to them right now is me.