Jupiter

It’s unsettling how in one moment, your life can go off course completely. It’s like how one hijink in a string of code can alter the structure and function of program. Or, how one missed beat can throw off an entire performance.

One moment can leave you feeling helpless, suspended in air. Tear down your defenses, hurt you in ways not thought possible. A fire burning at your feet, and you’re drowning in the smoke but rendered utterly useless.

It’s debilitating. Crushing at your chest, suffocating you no matter how hard you gasp for air, beg for mercy.

It’s always with you.

-

Jaemin knew that joining the entertainment industry wouldn’t be easy. This, however, was not something he’d anticipated.

It’s cloudy the day Dream meets their new manager.

The man is stocky, wide shouldered and muscly, but not particularly tall. He looks on the younger side, the only sign of age being the soft smile lines around his eyes.

His lips are kindly upturned when he shakes each of the dreamies hands, introducing himself (“Park Shiwoo, nice to meet you. I’ll be your manager from now on”). His seemingly gentle charisma and jolliness gaining favour within minutes. If there’s anything off about him, it flies over everyone’s heads.

It’s said when confronted with a despicable person, you’ll get an uncontrollable gut-feeling and, somehow, you’ll just know that they’re no-good.

Jaemin would argue that this is not true. If it is, the man surely deserves an Oscar for his impeccable acting.

Their introductions don’t last long before the group is whisked off to practice, but the impressionable teens have already made up their mind on the new manager. The man has gained their trust.

(And that’s the first mistake).

-

A manager always stays at the Dream dorm. No one really questions it, leaving a group of teenage boys alone near constantly is a terrible idea, plain and simple.

The managers take it in shifts. A day and a night at a time, the three managers switching in and out.

It’s not long before Shiwoo has his first shifts. The new manager presents himself as laidback and fun, and the teens are excited to finally spend some time with him.

It’s everything they expect. He lets them get away with eating junk and stirring up trouble. He doesn’t complain when they act immature, in fact, he plays along with them the majority of the time, while still maintaining his position as manager.

Quickly, he becomes an integral part of their little family.

It only takes a few weeks for the first incident to happen.

-

Shiwoo’s sitting in on their dance practice. Jaemin’s foot won’t stop slipping on this one part, and as if he’s not already frustrated enough, he can feel the gazes of his members and manager on him.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get this,” he mutters frustratedly as they restart the music yet again. Everyone looks tired after hours of practice, and Jaemin feels terrible for keeping them at the studio with his stupid mistakes. He steels himself and lets his body perform the dance.

When the dreaded part comes, he takes extra care to do it perfectly. He heaves a relieved sigh as it passes without mistake. They finish the dance without problem, tired smiles painted on their faces as they realize they can go back to the dorm at last.

Shiwoo doesn’t look as happy, but Jaemin tries to ignore his usually kind manager’s scowl.

They’re walking out of the studio when Shiwoo says it.

“You did really bad today, Jaemin.” It’s said quietly when Shiwoo and him are walking a few paces behind the rest of the group.

It’s not big, it shouldn’t bother Jaemin as much as it does, but he still finds himself frowning in hurt.

“I’ll make sure do to better next time,” he responds, trying to keep the upset out of his voice. Shiwoo smiles, increasing his pace to catch up with the others.

“Yeah, you better.”

It’s only one comment, but Jaemin suddenly doesn’t feel nearly as comfortable around the manager as he did before.

-

It doesn’t escalate very quickly, but it doesn’t get better either.

Generally, it’s just Shiwoo making passive-aggressive comments towards Jaemin, nothing as outright as telling him how bad he did, or how bad he is, but there’s nothing reassuring or comforting about the way the manager treats him.

He just assumes that he’s the managers least favourite, and he can live with it. He can’t be everyone’s favourite at all times. That being said, not being liked by the manager certainly hurts, especially seeing how happily Shiwoo interacts with the other dreamies.

Jaemin begins to feel like an outsider in his own home when Shiwoo is around. The other teens always choose to spend their time with the older man when it’s his shift, but it’s clear he doesn’t want Jaemin around, and frankly, at this point Jaemin would rather avoid the damage being around the manager may constitute.

It’s one of Shiwoo’s days, so Jaemin is isolated yet again. Typically, he spends these days alone in his room, at the studio, or at a different dorm. Today is no different. He’s in his room scrolling through Twitter while everyone is outside having fun.

Well, that is until Shiwoo himself waltzes into Jaemin’s room without knocking, looking bothered. His arms are crossed, brows furrowed in aggravation.

“Listen,” He starts, voice coated in annoyance, “I don’t know what your problem is, and I don’t know what I could have possibly done, but everyone thinks it’s weird that you’re not joining us, so get your ass out of here.” Jaemin has to suppress a scoff at his manager’s ignorance. Not knowing what he did to make Jaemin dislike him? Who knows, maybe treating him like dirt compared to the other dreamies?

He rolls his eyes, shoving his phone into his pocket and swinging his legs off the bed. Shiwoo glares at him, stepping forward to size Jaemin up.

“Excuse me? Did you actually just roll your eyes at me?” He rhetorically asks, eyes narrowed. Quick to irrational anger, Jaemin mentally notes.

Jaemin isn’t scared of the man by any means. He’s sure he would never lay a hand on him, so the boy retorts back.

“Yeah, so what? Am I not allowed to be annoyed?” And logically, Jaemin knows he should have some respect, but why should he give any to this man when all he does is disrespect Jaemin himself?

He realizes soon that his response was a mistake.

Shiwoo grabs the collar of the younger’s shirt and pulls him forward. Jaemin’s body goes cold in a mix of surprise and fear, but he still stares the man in the eyes.

“I swear, if you ever disrespect me again, you’ll regret it with every pathetic fibre of your being,” the manager hisses, figure stiff, “You hear me?” Jaemin’s eyes are wide now. He gulps nervously, and nods slowly. He attempts to step backwards, but Shiwoo’s grip is tight.

“Let me hear you say it,” the man’s voice grits. Jaemin, without hitch, mumbles,

“I won’t disrespect you, I hear you loud and clear.” The older man pushes Jaemin backwards slightly when he lets go, and turns to walk out of the room.

“Good. Now come join us.”

Jaemin really doesn’t want to, but clearly he was wrong in thinking the manager wouldn’t stoop so low as to getting physical, and the man would certainly interpret his resistance as being disrespectful. Jaemin tries to steady his heart rate, shaken up from the encounter, as he follows Shiwoo outside.

“Nana, you joined us!” Jeno cheers as Jaemin joins them, and immediately attaches himself to the younger’s side. With the boy by his side, Jaemin can feel the shaking in his hands calm.

-

It’s Friday, and all of NCT are hanging out together. It’s their weekly to biweekly “family” night, no staff controlling their every move. It’s Kun who brings it up.

“So, how have your managers been recently?” He asks, gently smiling. It’s no secret that their managers can be overbearing and less-than-friendly at times, but there have never been any real conflicts or problems. As per usual, the majority of the Dreamies talk up Shiwoo as if he’s the best person they’ve ever met, and Jaemin has to suppress a grimace.

“What about you, Jaemin?” Mark asks him. Jaemin hums thoughtfully.

“I dunno, I’m not a huge fan of him, that’s just me though,” he decides, swirling his cup slowly in his hand.

“What?!” Chenle gawks, “but he’s so nice! What’s there to possibly dislike?” The boy’s voice is loud and attracts the rest of the room’s attention. Jaemin suddenly feels pressured under their gazes.

“I just get a bad feeling from him is all,” he laughs awkwardly, hoping to end the conversation then and there. It’s quiet for a moment, before Donghyuck announces,

“Y’know, you can have your own opinion, that’s alright.” Jaemin silently sends him a thankful look, and tries to ignore the questioning one he receives in return.

The night carries on, the conversation forgotten (seemingly). At some point, they put on a movie, but it’s only background noise to the band’s insistent chatter. Jaemin is taking part in an empty debate on which way eggs are best cooked (it’s obviously poached medium on toast, god) when Donghyuck tugs him away to the couch.

“Hey Hyuckie,” Jaemin smiles. The shorter boy has been staying at the 127 dorm to practice and promote in the unit, so Jaemin hasn’t seen him in a while.

“So,” he begins, “why don’t you like Shiwoo-hyung?” Donghyuck asks innocently, playing with Jaemin’s fingers. He sighs, he should have known this is why his friend wants to talk to him.

“He just likes the others more than me, so I feel a bit, like, alone? When he stays in the dorm, I mean, because the guys always want to be around him and I don’t want to intrude and, agh, it’s stupid,” Jaemin groans, dragging his hands down his face. He purposely leaves everything about the aggressive comments and the incident in the bedroom out. Donghyuck smacks the back of Jaemin’s head.

“You stupid idiot,” he sighs, “maybe if you spent more time around him, he’d like you more. You know, thinking logically.” Jaemin smiles bitterly, rubbing the back of his head.

“Yeah, maybe.” Donghyuck frowns at him, but lets it go.

“Anyways,” Jaemin diverts the conversation, “Mark, eh?” He smiles evilly as Donghyuck squacks.

-

If Jaemin was uncomfortable with Shiwoo before, his discomfort is now on a whole new level. It’s ascended the mortal plane.

Jaemin pretends he doesn’t feel the man’s eyes constantly following him, tracking his every move. He pretends he’s not constantly nervous the man is going to fulfill his threat. Jaemin has no idea what regretting with every fibre of his being entails, and he’s not particularly keen on finding out.

Alas, it was only a matter of time.

It’s stupid, honestly. Jaemin is fooling around with Renjun and Jeno. They all rough house once in a while, and everyone understands that. They never get in trouble for it, it’s what friends do. No one ever gets hurts, they know when to stop, but Shiwoo clearly doesn’t understand that (except, of course, when it’s Renjun and Chenle, or Donghyuck and Jisung, or anyone that’s not Jaemin, really).

So maybe Jaemin accidentally pushes Renjun a little bit too hard, but the older boy just laughs when he falls to the ground. He’s not hurt, that much is obvious when he hops up from the ground without any struggle, yet Jaemin can still see the sharp glare Shiwoo is sending him.

He isn’t surprised when the manager pulls him aside, it’s clear Shiwoo is angry with him, but he doesn’t expect anything particularly bad as he hadn’t disrespected the man at all. Shiwoo gets him alone in a spare room, and Jaemin is thankful that he at least won’t be humiliated in front of his friends.

He’s shocked when, out of nowhere, Shiwoo grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his head backwards. His neck strains and he can’t help a yelp that slips from his throat.

“What were you thinking?” The manager growls. “You could have seriously injured someone, why do you see it as okay to attack your group members?” There’s venom in the man’s words, his eyes narrowed. Jaemin thinks it’s irrational how irked the older is over such a juvenile situation, and he honestly doesn’t know why that anger is taken out on him.

“We were just playing, it wasn’t only me,” Jaemin rasps, the pull on his neck making breathing increasingly difficult. The now violent manager tugs his head back further, making Jaemin gasp in pain.

“Don’t make excuses for bullying, Jaemin, we all know what you were doing,” he taunts, letting go of Jaemin’s hair only to grip the boy’s forearm tightly. Jaemin makes an effort to tug his arm out of Shiwoo’s grasp, to no avail. The man uses his other hand to grab Jaemin’s fighting arm.

“I don’t understand,” Jaemin musters, “I wasn’t bullying them, we were just having fun, we do it all the time,” he tries to explain, but the shorter man is having none of it.

“How do you think Renjun and Jeno feel with you constantly hurting them, or how Chenle and Jisung feel knowing that you’re such a bad person. I bet they don’t feel like they can trust you. Oh,” he laughs, seeming to be getting a real kick out of making Jaemin question himself completely, “I wonder how all of your hyungs would feel knowing you’re taunting and bullying your so-called family?”

Jaemin resists the urge to cry as he struggles against the man’s grip. Is he really that bad? Is he actually bullying them? And it shouldn’t, because he knows what just happened, knows that Renjun wasn’t actually hurt and he isn’t trying to harm them, but Shiwoo’s speech makes him think that he really is a bully. That, Jaemin reasons, is probably why the manager has been watching him so closely; because he’s a threat to the group. He feels terrible that he’s been mistreating his members, and he knows he needs to apologize immediately.

He tries to shake himself out of it, because a part of him is screaming ‘No! Shiwoo is wrong, you’re doing nothing wrong, ignore him!’ but a larger part of him is convinced that he truly is the villain in this situation.

Jaemin’s arms ache from the killer hold Shiwoo has on them, and when he glances down for a second he can see an irritated pink peeking out from under the man’s fingers.

“I didn’t mean to hurt them, I really didn’t,” he tries to defend, but it’s weak and he’s not sure he himself even believes it.

“Sure you didn’t,” Shiwoo says with a curl of his lip, but then his condescending smile drops, “And lying? What did I say about respect?”

Jaemin’s body tenses, straight as a board in a second flat. Seeing as the man clearly isn’t afraid to get physical, the idol is scared to see what the manager might have in store for him. Shiwoo releases his arms, and Jaemin can’t help but take a quick step backwards. The man smiles sadistically.

“Hmm, I think you learned your lesson for today. I’ll be watching you more closely from now on, Na Jaemin,” Shiwoo drawls, a mean glint in his eyes. Jaemin, with his arms and neck still hurting, watches wide-eyed.

“Make sure to go and apologize to your friends. Oh, and don’t mention this little talk, or you’ll get it a lot worse next time,” he says as he walks towards the door and exits.

When Jaemin glances down at his arms, he can tell they’re going to bruise. The pink spots are already darkening, bordering on purple. He has a headache from the pull on his hair, and his neck will probably be sore for days following. He can’t help but notice the way his hands are shaking, and it makes him feel pathetic. Jaemin is strong, self-assured, and happy. This single event shouldn’t be making him feel so scared and hurt, should it?

A few minutes later, he’s out of the room and goes off to find his best friends.

Renjun and Jeno are in their room when Jaemin finds them, as expected. He feels so terrible for hurting them, he never even stopped to consider they might not have as much fun as Jaemin does when they all rough-house. He can’t help his nerves when he knocks on the open door and both heads snap away from their conversation and to him.

“Hey, what’s up?” Renjun asks, smiling and in no way looking scared or annoyed at the youngest in the room.

(Jaemin never stops to consider that Shiwoo could be lying, nor does he stop to question why he immediately believes the man, it’s just something about the way he speaks that’s got Jaemin so utterly convinced).

“I’m sorry for bothering and hurting you guys so much, I never stopped to consider how you feel. I hope I can make it up to you somehow, and you can eventually forgive me,” Jaemin says without warning as he bows in apology.

When he lifts back up, both Renjun and Jeno look very confused.

“What-” Jeno cuts himself off right away, shaking his head, eyes blinking as if not quite processing what was just said, “What do you mean ‘bothering and hurting’ us? You do neither of those things?” He tries to reassure the other boy, but he’s bewildered and it comes out as more of a question than a reassurance.

“I saw the way I shoved you today, Injun, and I could see that it must have hurt. I realized that I do that very often, not only to you, so I wanted to apologize because I’ve been in the wrong,” he speaks formally, calculated. Both of the teens in front of him still wear puzzled expressions.

“Where did this come from, Nana? We always do that, it’s nothing to apologize for,” Renjun tells him, and Jaemin wants to believe it, he really does.

“Uh, okay? Still,” Jaemin eloquently finishes before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.

He doesn’t see the confused and worried glances Jeno and Renjun exchange.

-

The next incident happens only a few days later.

The reasoning this time is beyond Jaemin.

No, seriously, he’s analyzed every thing he’s done down to the way he walks and breathes. There’s not possibly anything Shiwoo could be mad at. All Jaemin was doing was laughing and smiling, and certainly that couldn’t upset their manager. Surely, Shiwoo doesn’t want him miserable.

So, when he’s pulled away for the second time that week, Jaemin is at a complete loss.

Shiwoo spends exactly zero time getting to the point.

“I just thought you needed to be put into your place.” And what in the fresh hell is that supposed to mean?

“Put into my place? I’m sorry, sir, I don’t understand,” Jaemin tries (he hopes, prays, that calling him sir is enough to be perceived as respect, because the bruises from a couple days prior aren’t healed yet and he doesn’t want to add anymore to the collection). Shiwoo’s smile is unnerving, and Jaemin really just wants to run away.

“You’re just so smiley and happy and bright. You act as if you belong here, and it’s honestly rather pathetic,” the manager doesn’t hesitate to say what he’s thinking. Jaemin gawks at him.

“Forgive me if I’m wrong, sir, but is me smiling and acting happy a problem?” Jaemin asks, genuinely perplexed. The man laughs, clapping the idol on the back hard. The teen stumbles forward from the impact of it.

“Of course not. I just want you to know where you stand. Jaemin, I really like you, trust me. But that break of yours, it really put you behind everyone else. You’re the least deserving member in this group, I just want to help you get better,” Shiwoo informs, a (fake) kind smile appearing on his face. That smile makes Jaemin want to shutter.

“That break was because I had an injury,” is the only thing Jaemin can think to respond with. The man’s smile falls, and he steps closer to Jaemin.

(The comment on his break irks him. Shiwoo acts as if Jaemin didn’t spend so many hours in the studio, practicing and improving until he collapsed or had to be physically dragged out kicking and screaming).

“Do you ever learn?” The man asks, punctuating each word with a harsh poke to Jaemin’s chest. The teen brings his hand up to rest on the spot roughly poked at.

“Anyways,” He begins again, a step back and smile already resurfacing, “I offered my help, and you’re going to take it. You’ll belong in no time.”

Jaemin can’t lie- all the talk of him not belonging and not deserving his spot hurts a lot, but he guesses if Shiwoo is going to help him, there’s still some hope left. He sighs silently to himself, because if one person can see that he doesn’t belong, surely everyone can.

“Okay, I’ll take it,” Jaemin tells his manager, “Where do we start?”

Shiwoo’s smile brightens, and he happily clasps his hands together.

“Well,” his voice swings as he talks, and Jaemin is unsettled at how fast this man can switch from one mood to another.

“Extra dancing and vocal practices with me. I’ll record them so we know where you need to improve, and you have to accept my discipline, which shouldn’t be hard,” Shiwoo sounds excited, almost as if he’s plotting something. Jaemin has a terrible feeling about this.

“Remember- I’m giving up my precious time to help you, so you better be grateful, I don’t have to be doing this. It’s all for you,” Shiwoo reminds Jaemin, trying to get it stuck in the boys head that everything is going to be helping and improving him. Jaemin is nodding along thoughtfully.

“Oh, one more thing,” the manager starts, “You don’t tell anyone about this. None of your groupmates, none of the staff, no family, no one. This stays between us.”

“Okay, I can do that. Thank you for helping me,” Jaemin says, but he’s really not sure why it’s so important their arrangement stays private. He also can’t put a finger on why he agreed so easily, nor why Shiwoo’s words seem to get to him without any problem whatsoever.

-

Their first session is not fun.

It’s a Wednesday night, and Jaemin is working his ass off in a studio with Shiwoo critiquing his every move. There are recordings of the dances he’s practicing on his phone, which the manager currently has and is using to perfect Jaemin’s dancing.

Everytime Jaemin gets something wrong, the man shouts and shuts off the music, and makes the boy watch the video again. This would be fine, but Jaemin has been here hours and has redone each dance at least ten times, some far more. He’s long run out of water and his throat is begging him to hydrate, but Shiwoo refuses to let him get a drink before he can perform the dance perfectly (which proves difficult when your body is begging for rest, yet denied it).

At some point, Shiwoo snaps.

Jaemin is practicing Go, which he knows by heart and could probably do in his sleep, but his body is exhausted, so his footwork is lazy and he ends up stumbling. It’s a minor mistake and could can be easily recovered from, but Shiwoo already has the music off and is stomping towards Jaemin. His face shows only irritability, and Jaemin is overwhelmed with sudden anxiety.

The man doesn’t stop his quick pace until he gets in front of Jaemin. He abruptly stops, raises his hand and-

Jaemin is frozen to his spot. He hasn’t even processed the pain, he’s shocked.

Shiwoo slapped him. And hard, at that.

He lifts his hand to his cheek and tries not to wince when it makes contact. When he looks at himself in the mirror past Shiwoo’s head, he sees one of his cheeks is filled with a splotchy dark pink. He lets his eyes drift to the man still in front of him. Not an ounce of regret shows on the angry man’s face.

“You just hit me,” Jaemin states monotonously.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if you just got your shit together,” Shiwoo retorts aggressively. Jaemin ignores him. He looks the man in the eye.

“You just hit me,” he says again, this time incredulity seeping into his voice. Suddenly, Shiwoo looks nervous. It’s not an expression Jaemin has seen the man wear before, it’s refreshing and kind of scary. His hand is still resting on his warm, stinging cheek.

“Listen kid,” Shiwoo begins, uncomfortable, “No one hears about this, okay? It’s just us.”

“Why shouldn’t I,” Jaemin challenges, “Why shouldn’t I tell someone?” He got hit, but he knows he holds the power in the conversation right now. He finds shouldn’t have thought that, though, as he immediately jinxes it.

“You deserved it, face it. Also, I could so easily go and help someone else in this group. You wouldn’t want that, would you? Let’s see, Chenle is pretty cute,” The man says, feigning thoughtfulness at the end of the statement. Jaemin feels a surge of protectiveness overtake him.

“Touch anyone else and I will kill you,” he snarls at the older man. Shiwoo, with all his nerve, laughs at that.

“Great, so I guess that means our deal still stands?” Jaemin is reluctant, but he cares about his friends too much. He doesn’t know he’s being manipulated, it slips over his head completely. How someone’s words can have such impact, skewer other people’s logic, is unbeknownst to Jaemin.

“I suppose that means it does,” Jaemin says quietly.

That’s the moment Shiwoo knows he’s won.

That night, Jaemin is sent home with a brand new bag of full coverage makeup and a few more bruises to accompany the one on his face.

It only gets worse as time progresses. It’s an obvious outcome, but Jaemin never expects it to happen to him.

At first, it’s only hard slaps and pinches. Of course, eventually, the punching and kicking was bound to start.

This time, Jaemin is practicing his rapping and singing. Shiwoo is no vocalist or rapper, but he has basic knowledge, an in-tune ear, and videos of what the music is supposed to sound like, so Jaemin figures it’s good enough.

It’s clear the manager has had a rough day. He doesn’t technically have work today, but he still shows up at the SM building late at night to help Jaemin.

The man is agitated- more so than usual- and snaps at Jaemin for the slightest of things. If he breathes too loudly, he’s punished. A single note is flat, it’s a given that he has some sort of consequence. Shiwoo gets Jaemin, who isn’t even a main vocalist, to sing high notes.

It’s bound to happen. Over the past hour and a half, the man has been getting steadily angrier and angrier. When Jaemin’s voice cracks on a high note, Shiwoo is livid.

The man lunges at the idol, pinning him against a wall and, without warning, letting his fist collide with Jaemin’s stomach. Said boy groans and keels over, only to be pushed back upwards. Shiwoo does it again.

And again.

And again.

Jaemin can’t breathe, not only from the punches, but also the fact that Shiwoo’s other arm is pushed painfully into his neck, holding him to the wall.

“Please,” Jaemin wheezes, tears involuntarily slipping down his face, “Please stop.”

He doesn’t stop, and Jaemin, thoroughly battered, finds himself crumpled on the floor. He thinks it’s done, but he’s proven wrong when he feels more hits, this time a foot, raining down on him. He curls his arms around his face to protect it, and begs for the attack to end. He can hear Shiwoo make a loud, frustrated noise and Jaemin’s sobs worsen.

Before this, Jaemin had never cried in front of Shiwoo, or anyone for that matter. He thinks this time is appropriate for tears, though, and he’s already pathetic enough, what more does he have to lose?

Jaemin nearly throws up twice by the time Shiwoo has finished. The man sits in a chair at the table in the room while Jaemin lays on the floor, sobs wracking his body. With every hiccup and tear his body aches, and he wishes he could stop crying so the pain would lessen, but he can’t.

“Stop being such a baby, suck it up,” Shiwoo scoffs, hands clasped tightly, resting in front of him on the table. His knuckles are bruised, and he’s staring at Jaemin with a look of pure disgust.

“Why- Why would y-you do that?” Jaemin manages to ask through tears and wheezes of pain.

“I had a bad day, you kept on messing up, and I may as well take my negative emotions out on someone who deserves it, right?” Shiwoo explains nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just beaten the living hell out of an innocent teenage boy.

“Why?” Jaemin cries, “Why do I deserve this?” The man doesn’t answer for a minute, just watches the teen curled on the ground, chest heaving and face red from insistent crying.

“You’re selfish, you’re riding off of everyone else’s hard work, simple as that,” Shiwoo says as if it’s nothing, poking at his damaged hands.

(He can’t help but believe the man).

Jaemin lays there for an hour, letting his crying calm before he eventually just sets into an emotionless state. His body still aches, and he has no idea how he’s going to dance, but he’ll figure that out when he gets to it. Shiwoo is still sitting at the table, having moved on from evaluating the damage on his knuckles to scrolling through some form of social media on his phone.

He stands up, pushing the chair back.

“Alright, get up, it’s time to leave,” the muscly man announces, moving towards Jaemin. The dancer wants to move away from him so badly, but it hurts too much. Shiwoo grabs his arm and pulls him up without notice. Jaemin had to suppress a cry as every inch of his abdomen screams for mercy.

His legs shake when he’s placed on his feet. He finds that keeping himself upright is hard, and gets more difficult the longer he’s standing. His body begs to lay back down, but if he passes out in the studio he’s scared Shiwoo would actually murder him.

Shiwoo looks happy again, and Jaemin can’t help but think about how pleased he would be if he could just (safely) scream at the man and cause him the amount of pain he’s put Jaemin through.

When Jaemin makes it back to the dorm, it’s late and everyone is asleep. He shuffles his way into his room and closes the door, slipping his t-shirt off in exchange for a big hoodie (without the strings- his mother had always taught him that the drawstrings in hoodies are a hazard when sleeping). He doesn’t think he can physically handle changing his pants in this state, too much effort and far too painful.

He slips into his bed gracelessly, scrunching his nose at the spike of intense pain that flares when he lays down. He’s completely exhausted, and regardless of pain, he falls asleep within minutes.

The next time he wakes, it’s to screaming (it sounds hauntingly similar to his own) and hands on him. His body reacts before his mind does, and he’s throwing the blankets off and jumping to the opposite end of the bed defensively without even seeing who it is. His heart is beating faster than it ever has before, faster than when he dances for hours straight, faster than his first time on stage. The position he’s in is so vulnerable, knowing that he was just asleep and someone, anyone, is in his room.

When his eyes adjust to the dark, he sees a very flustered looking Renjun. Jeno is stood a couple feet away, eyes wide, and Jisung is in the doorway. The manager staying at the house is nowhere to be seen (all of them have taken up wearing earplugs, the noise teenagers can make keeping them up far too often), and Jaemin can’t help but be grateful. Renjun’s hands are set in a surrendering position. His eyebrows are raised as he searches Jaemin’s eyes. The second youngest in the room heaves a sigh, ignoring the jolt of pain that makes its presence known. Renjun slowly puts his hands down and sits on the edge of the bed, as far from Jaemin as he can.

“You were screaming,” he says. No questions, no bullshit, he just tells it as it is.

“I was,” Jaemin confirms, heart beat slowly decreasing to an almost normal state. They’re silent for a moment, unsure of what to say. Jaemin’s eyes drift to his bedside clock. It reads a quarter after two. He feels guilty for waking the dorm’s current residents.

“Hey Jeno, Jisung, do you mind letting me talk to Jaemin alone?” Renjun asks hesitantly. They agree without any arguing, but both spare uncertain glances on their way out.

Once they’re gone, Jaemin doesn’t give Renjun any time to speak.

“It was just a nightmare,” he explains quickly. Renjun quirks a brow.

“Yeah, no shit, genius. Wanna talk about it?” And, truthfully, Jaemin wishes he could, but that isn’t a possibility and he’ll just have to live with it. His bruises are aching beneath his sweater and track pants, and all he wants to do is pass out again.

“Not really, but, uh, will you stay with me tonight?” He asks, uncharacteristically awkward. It’s risky, considering his bruising, but he doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Renjun laughs, light and airy.

“Of course, you big dork,” the older boy responds, moving to take a spot in the bed and opening his arms. Jaemin shuffles back to his spot, and into one of his best friend’s arms.

“Hey, Injunnie?” He asks, randomly. The boy in question hums in response.

“Do you think I’m selfish?” Jaemin knows the boy is probably confused with the question, but he can’t help but ask.

“No, ‘course not. Why’d you ask?” Renjun inquires. Jaemin shakes his head, and lets out a light breath.

“No reason, no reason at all.”

Jaemin tries to ignore his pain, and eventually falls asleep tangled with his friend.

(Jaemin wants to forget the nightmare he had. He doesn’t want to ever see such a vivid image of Shiwoo beating his groupmates, his family, black and blue. He doesn’t want to see them lying on the floor sobbing, bloody and bruised. He doesn’t want to hear their anguished and agonized screaming and begging. He doesn’t want to hear the man spit insults at them. He can’t get the threat of Shiwoo hurting them out of his head. They don’t deserve any of what he’s dealing with, and he knows, especially after that dream, that he’ll bring this secret to the grave with him if it means keeping his family safe).

-

Hiding the bruising the next day is as hard as Jaemin thought it would be. Moving is painful as is, and dancing is absolute hell. They have a morning dance practice, during which Jaemin wants to die. He can’t move normally, and everyone looks annoyed.

(He can’t ignore the voice in his head that sounds a suspicious amount like Shiwoo, whispering nastily ‘selfish, untalented, useless, a bother’, and such to him until he wants to break down and cry. This is what he’s been spending hours on and yet he’s still as terrible as before).

“Okay guys,” their dance instructor says as he turns off the music, “I think it’s about time we take a little break.” Jaemin feels bile rising, knowing that it’s full well his fault they need to take a rest. He feels as if all of Shiwoo’s actions and words are truly justified now.

(He’s eternally grateful that Shiwoo isn’t working today, and that they didn’t schedule a ‘help’ session).

Jaemin is sitting against the wall, eyes closed when Jeno slides down next to him. He looks tired, and yet again, Jaemin figures it’s his fault. If he hadn’t woken everyone up the night prior, Jeno would have gotten enough sleep.

“You know you can come to me with anything, yeah?” Jeno asks, severing the younger’s train of self-pity. Jaemin knows that he can come to Jeno with anything but this stupid situation he’s somehow gotten sucked into. Nonetheless, he smiles and plays along.

“Of course, you’re my best friend,” he insists, playfully shoving the other boy lightly. His eyes unconsciously drift around, on the lookout for a certain pair of prying eyes. Jeno flashes him his signature smile, hopping up and offering a hand out to Jaemin. The teen accepts it, but winces at the pang that makes it’s presence known when he’s helped up. Jeno stops his movements, eyebrows creasing.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, uncertainty lacing his voice. Jaemin can’t help the sudden panic-filled laugh that breaks from his lips.

“Nothing, just stood on my foot weird,” his voice is strained as he shrugs off the question, chuckling. Jeno doesn’t look as if he fully believes him.

“Okay, if you say so. Be careful,” the teen warns. Jaemin resists the urge to wrap his arms around his torso.

“Aye, aye captain,” he salutes jokingly, leaning back against the wall. Jeno snorts and shakes his head affectionately.

This isn’t the first lie Jaemin’s told, and it certainly won’t be the last.

-

As most unpleasant things do, it carries on.

Jaemin begins to pull further and further away from his group members. It’s for the best, he reasons. He won’t hurt them that way, and Shiwoo won’t either.

Jaemin sits in his room. It’s late, he’s barely slept at all in the past days. He lives by caffeine, the stimulant being the only thing keeping him going. Staying awake, drawing his consciousness out, is by no means fun. Truthfully, Jaemin would absolutely love to sleep for hours, days on end. Any escape from his existence welcome, but it loses its charm when his nights are fraught with never ending nightmares.

He never in a million years thought he would find himself in this situation. He never could have imagined the damage it would do to him, that damage it is doing to him.

After the first physical occurrence, just a slap, Jaemin’s algorithm had been completely thrown off. Only one incident.

Now, weeks later? He feels as if he’s lost himself. With every new mark, every hit, he chips away.

Bruises, he finds, come and go.

Remembering how he got them?

That sticks.

He wonders at what point the scales tipped, when he was handed a battle he doesn’t have the strength to fight.

He desperate to find a clue as to why it’s him, to why he was chosen. Perhaps it was the way he cast his eyes downwards when the choreographer snapped at him for making a mistake, showing a sign of weakness. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was out on injury and vulnerable. Surely, he thinks, it must be his fault.

He figures he’s always been broken, he’s been this way from the very start and it’s only showing now.

Maybe that’s why it’s him.

-

“I little birdie told me you don’t think I like you,” Shiwoo sing-songs one morning when it’s only he and Jaemin in the dorm. The dreamies had been sent out to do various errands while Jaemin is left at home to cook lunch for them.

When he hears what the man says, he mentally curses Lee Donghyuck, the goddamn fool. He obviously had gone to Shiwoo to address the problem Jaemin told him about many weeks prior. Jaemin appreciates the sentiment, but Donghyuck had probably done more bad than good with his actions.

Jaemin is already on edge being left alone with the manager, and every second that ticks past leaves him increasingly anxious.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Shiwoo hums, “You’re my favourite. Why else would I be doing all this for you?” Jaemin cringes, hand trembling around the spatula he’s holding. He tries to ignore the burning of the man’s eyes in his back as he cooks. He can hear the scraping of the chair on the hardwood floors and the heavy footsteps that make their way towards him.

Jaemin’s body goes cold and still when he feels an arm wrap around his waist. He takes a deep breathe, closes his eyes to steady himself, and tries to ignore the weight wrapped around him.

Jaemin snaps when the arm starts moving up and down, dragging along his ribs and down to his hips.

He knows, for his own safety, he shouldn’t, but he’s not thinking straight and his fight or flight instinct kicks in. He grabs a glass of water off of the counter, turns, and dumps it on Shiwoo’s head. Said man freezes, his arm detaches itself from Jaemin, and his face turns stony in near hysteric anger.

Jaemin doesn’t have time to think before he attempts to sprint out of the kitchen. Shiwoo catches him by the wrist, his nails painfully digging into Jaemin’s soft skin.

It’s a quiet (violent) morning when Jaemin decides he completely detests his existence.

-

When the other boys get back, Jaemin has locked himself in his room, more bruised and bloody than he has ever been in his life. He can hear Shiwoo chatting with the new arrivals, friendliness as ever present as usual.

He lays on the floor, a position he’s been in far too many times. Tears silently slip down his face, small sniffles and gasps for air being the only noise present. He lets his eyes slide shut and tries to block out the sound of everyone laughing.

There’s blood laden on his skin, some dry, some not. His head aches terribly, just as bad if not worse than the rest of his body. His lights are off, and he’s scared of the damage he’s going to see when he looks into the mirror.

Nonetheless, Jaemin pushes himself up (slowly and achingly). His body feels like it’s on fire. He suppresses a cry as he stumbles to grab onto his dresser. He flicks the light on, wincing as the newfound brightness stings his eyes.

When he glances in the mirror, he has to actively try not to throw up. His skin is far worse than he could have imagined, and he has yet to even remove his shirt. His head swarms with dizziness. He takes a deep breath and lifts his shirt over his head.

His skin is battered in, black, blue, and red. It seems that nearly every inch of his once blemish-free skin is marred. There’s broken skin in a few places, where blood has gathered over time. He momentarily closes his eyes to try and gather his bearings.

Death would be better than this.

Anything. Anything would be better than this.

He checks that his door is locked, and at one thirty in the afternoon, manages to sleep through to the next day.

-

Jaemin feels like he’s running to his own demise.

His visible bruising and cuts take ages to cover everyday, and all he does is go and collect more.

He really doesn’t want to blame anything on himself, because he’s the one getting hurt, but every time Shiwoo opens his mouth and gives his reasoning, it just makes sense to Jaemin. He hates it. He hates the man and he hates himself but he can’t do anything about it.

Shiwoo is despicable. He screams at Jaemin, pummels him, ruins everything Jaemin once enjoyed, yet completely switches who he is around everyone else. All the idol wants is for someone to notice what’s happening so he doesn’t have to go and tell anyone himself.

Or, he wanted someone to notice.

Don’t get him wrong, he can’t handle anymore of the abuse (improvement, his mind chants. He’s improving Jaemin) Shiwoo is inflicting upon him, but on the other hand he feels like he should be able to take it.

Guys are always portrayed as tough and strong. Jaemin feels like neither of those things. He can’t help but feel that if he tried to get help, he would only face ridicule and mocking. He doesn’t think he could survive that.

(It doesn’t help that one night, Shiwoo has him pinned on the wall, whispering poison words into Jaemin’s ear.

“They’ll never take you seriously,” he whispers cruelly, “They’ll only see you as weak and pathetic. Na Jaemin, couldn’t even hold his own. How depressing.”

The man laughs, sharp and barbaric.

“You brought this on yourself”).

What’s the pointing in asking for help, anyways? Why should he receive help for something that’s his fault in the first place? Not to mention, Shiwoo is doing all this, going to all this effort, only to help Jaemin. How selfish can he be?

Jaemin feels like all control is slipping out of his hands. He grasps for it desperately, holding onto anything that makes him feel more grounded and human.

Before Shiwoo arrived, he grounded himself with his group members. That doesn’t work anymore. For the wellbeing of everyone involved, it’s best if he stays away.

He has to find new ways to be in control. It’s a lot easier than he would have imagined.

Jaemin loves food. He loves to cook, loves to eat, loves anything to do with it. He would not have ever imagined finding his control in it.

At first, it’s not an active choice. He feels too sick to eat. He’s disgusted with himself and sad enough to the point where he gets physically nauseous. He doesn’t think he deserves it.

It spindles into something bigger after a short few days.

Renjun offers him a meal.

He declines.

And he realizes that he made that choice. Just him, not Renjun, not a staff member, not Shiwoo (who seems to be controlling every aspect of Jaemin’s life now). Only him.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he finds power in it. He doesn’t enjoy the pain the hunger brings, but he likes knowing that it was his choice to make himself feel like this.

On one hand, he can’t comprehend that this is what he’s chosen to do to find control, but on the other, he’s already addicted and can’t wait to get his next dosage.

He knows that the others are watching him. He’s not good at hiding his new habit, but no one has said anything, so he takes it as a go ahead. He isn’t weighing himself. It’s not about the number on the scale to him, it’s about the feeling completely depriving his body of it’s needs brings.

(He can’t help but think he’s really lost it now).

He loves and hates how collected he can make himself feel everytime his stomach is hit with a gurgling cry for nourishment. The dizziness and shortness of breath dancing brings, how his eyes have a hard time focussing. Everything that comes with his shortage of food, he cherishes.

It’s unhealthy, that much is obvious, but Jaemin can’t pinpoint the last time he was truly healthy and alright, so he figures that this one dangerous addition is fine.

It’s an endless cycle, he’s walking in circles. Shiwoo breaks him down more and more, he starves for longer and longer, people get more worried, and the cycle repeats.

A downside, Jaemin finds, is how much easier he’s bruising now. Before he developed his new habit, he was already bruised all over, but the bruises now appear faster, are darker, and stay longer. That proves to be a hassle.

It’s not enough to make him stop.

The first time he’s confronted about it, he has no excuses lined up.

Surprisingly, it’s Jeno who brings it up first.

The boy had quickly noticed when Jaemin started to isolate himself. He put effort in to try and hang out around his fellow musician, but the other boy continued to push and push and push until there was a solid brick wall separating the two, too dense for Jeno to even attempt to bust through it.

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t try.

They’ve just finished practice. They’re not preparing for anything upcoming and urgent at the moment, so the atmosphere is calm. It’s clear that Jaemin is not on top of his game. His body seems to vibrate only from the caffeine he’s surviving on, and despite all that energy, his movements are still sloppy and uncoordinated.

By the end of practice, he looks ready to drop.

They get back to the dorm, and usually Jaemin would be the one to cook a post-workout meal for them, but his first move is to head towards his room.

It’s Chenle who stops him. The boy is whining about not getting any attention, and insisting that Jaemin cuddle and watch TV with him. The older simply can’t deny a pouting Chenle (can anyone, though?).

Donghyuck and Mark already have headed back to the 127 dorm to get ready for yet another practice (poor guys are always so overworked, Jaemin can’t help but feel bad for them), which leaves Jeno, Renjun, and Jisung to cook. Considering Jisung is all but useless in the kitchen, he joins Chenle and Jaemin on the couch, leaving the remaining two to cook.

They’re certainly not as good at cooking as say, Taeyong, Jaemin, Kun, or Donghyuck, but they make do.

Their arms are full of five bowls when they leave the kitchen. Jisung and Chenle immediately perk up at the food being brought to them, but Jaemin seems as passive as he usually is these days, spending his life in an almost glazed over state. It’s unsettling, to say the least, and no one can put a finger on why he’s changed so drastically.

He doesn’t reach for the bowl, doesn’t even acknowledge it when it’s placed in his hands. Just stares at the television, eyes unfocused.

“Eat,” Jeno orders out of nowhere after watching the teen not touch his food for numerous minutes. Jaemin turns to him. His eyes don’t hold the same light they used to and staring into them leaves Jeno feeling copious amounts of worry.

“Not feeling too well,” Jaemin mutters quietly, leaning forward to place his bowl on the table. He stands up and starts to walk away. Jeno pops up right after him and follows his friend, a bad feeling settling into his gut.

They’re in the hallway when Jeno grabs Jaemin’s arm to stop him. The younger spins around, arms up and eyes wide (a small voice in Jeno’s head tells him they’re fearful, but maybe he’s just seeing things). He breathes out once he sees who it is.

“You’re starving yourself,” Jeno says, and Jaemin rips his arm out of the other’s grip.

“Am not,” he scoffs and marches off, nothing more to say to defend himself. He needs this, and he’s not going to let Lee fucking Jeno take it away from him.

Jaemin’s door slams.

It’s catastrophic, the damage one person can cause.

It makes him question his own sanity. His own sense of self is no longer a privilege he has. His life has been taken over by a monster, and sometimes he wonders if that monster is Shiwoo, or just himself.

(And logically he knows, he knows so well that Shiwoo is hurting him, so Jaemin himself shouldn’t be blamed, but god, he must being doing something to deserve this, right? It must be on him. It has to be).

He stares at his own frail hands, and he doesn’t know if it’s even him anymore. He doesn’t know who he is anymore, or who he used to be, it’s always just himhimhimhimhim, it’s never Jaemin.

(He tries not to dwell on everything that’s been taken from him, but it’s an impossible task when everything around him is a reminder of what he could have become, what he was).

He wonders if he’s dreaming sometimes. Wonders if his mind created this horrible, twisted reality just to mess with Jaemin’s sanity. He prays that he’ll be woken up soon, maybe calmly, maybe with a scream, but to him it really doesn’t matter. He just needs an escape.

He stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He doesn’t recognize the person he sees. Physically, he looks tired, worn down. He’s lost weight, his eyes are dark and sunken. An array of bruises colour his body; ugly blemishes of blues, browns, yellows, greens, and purples.

Instinctively, he knows who that person is. Knows on a molecular level, it’s him, but at the same time, it really isn’t.

He doesn’t know who the person in the mirror is.

Na Jaemin doesn’t know himself anymore.

-

Life carries on, whether Jaemin wants it to or not.

Over time, he crafts a self-portrait of maturity and indifference, an avalanche of stones thrusted onto his shoulders, only for him to solely bear the weight.

He’s falling apart everyday. Every minute, a stitch snaps or withers, and he figures that, if breaking was a form of art, he could be labelled a masterpiece.

Shiwoo’s masterpiece, his mind bitterly supplies.

Everyday, the manager is getting worse. Every single day he’s alone with Jaemin, he manages to surpass his current record to a new low.

Jaemin tries to operate like a machine. Work perfectly to Shiwoo’s needs, lessen his own pain, and it works sometimes, but not all the time.

It seems like a game to Shiwoo, the idol concludes after observing the man for a while. The manager loves to hurt him, and if Jaemin had the motivation and energy to fight back before (spoiler alert! He didn’t), he certainly doesn’t have it now with his severely malnourished body.

He tries to ignore it. He figures if he ignores the problem enough, pretends nothing is happening, he might be able to convince himself that he has some semblance of courage.

-

Jeno is the first person to witness one of Jaemin’s panic attacks. It’s a terrifying occurrence for both parties involved.

They’re the only ones home when it happens.

Jaemin is in his room, as per usual, and Jeno is in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal sat in front of him. There’s a loud crash that makes Jeno jump to his feet. The sound obviously is from Jaemin’s room, so Jeno’s first thought is to go and check on him.

He’s about to knock when he hears the heavy crying coming from inside. He skips the knocking and swings open the door. He finds Jaemin curled into a ball on the ground, his desk chair fallen onto its side.

The boy is gasping for air, tears rapidly falling down his rosy cheeks. His hands are in his hair, pulling hard. He doesn’t flinch when some strands are forcefully ripped from his head.

Jeno stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do and rather panicked before he springs into action.

He’d never really dealt with panic attacks himself, but he’s witnessed his group-mates have them before so he figures he, at the very least, has decent knowledge on what to do.

His first attempt to help proves futile. He tries to grab Jaemin, as the boy always used to be one for physical contact, but the teen screams and cowers when Jeno’s hands come near him.

Well. That certainly leaves him at a loss.

“Hey, hey, Jaem, c’mon sweetheart, just breathe,” he tries, eyes desperately searching Jaemin’s own for some sort of instruction. He can slightly recall breathing exercises he saw once online in passing, but not enough to actually do any good.

He swiftly pulls his phone out of his pocket and searches for easy anxiety relief.

“Okay, okay, here, breathe with me,” he starts, hoping that he has Jaemin’s attention.

“In for five, hold for four, out for five, you can do it, okay? I’m right here with you. Here, again,” he continues, holding his hands out just in case Jaemin decides he wants contact.

It takes a few minutes before the younger’s breathing has calmed down, but his crying certainly hasn’t. He skips grabbing Jeno’s outstretched hands completely, and straight up throws himself into the other’s arms. Jeno is suddenly thankful he’s been working out, otherwise he would have fallen backward from the impact. Even then, he can’t help but frown while Jaemin is held in his arms. The boy’s sudden weight loss is ever apparent. In fact, Jeno can’t recall the last time he’s seen Jaemin eat. His chest tightens with the thought, mentally vowing to talk to his older group members about it, whether Jaemin likes it or not.

Jaemin continuously apologizes through tears, arms squeezing around Jeno too tightly to be comfortable for either of them, but it’s not mentioned. It’s glaringly obvious the younger needs this.

“Hey, no need to apologize, you’re alright,” Jeno assures the boy in his arms, still a tad frazzled but mostly grateful he has Jaemin at the moment, after months of aversion and pushing away.

-

Confrontation on Jaemin’s eating habits goes about as well as expected.

There’s only a few people who talk to him.

Jeno had hurriedly found Taeyong and informed him of Jaemin’s current physical condition. The leader had immediately set up a time to bring Jaemin in for a discussion, clearly extremely stressed over the well being of the teen.

Most people are cast out of the 127 dorm, or at least cast to their bedrooms, to give the small group privacy.

Jaemin is confused when Renjun and Jeno pull him to the other dorm, his confusion only growing when he’s met with a solemn looking Taeyong and Doyoung.

He can’t help but feel on edge, his mind immediately drifting to the absolute worst scenarios (they found out what’s been going on, they’re going to kick you out of the group for being weak and a nuisance, his mind screams at him).

He clenches his fists in his lap once he’s sat on the couch, the other four sat in various positions around him. His hands tremble every so slightly and despite not knowing what is happening, he can feel his eyes threatening to fill with tears out of pure anxiousness.

“Jaemin,” Taeyong begins, his voice soft and concerned, “I’ve been informed you’ve, ah, not been eating?” The subject is not something he anyone is particularly comfortable with. Jaemin’s eyes snap upwards at the statement, and he laughs loudly, panicked.

“No, no, no, you’re wrong,” he rushes, desperate to keep his coping habit (he can’t see that it’s killing him, but then again, would he even care if he died at this point?).

“I would love to believe you, but the moment you walked in I could see it,” Taeyong continues, his face contorted into one of distress. Jaemin’s eyes, against his own will, gather tears and he finds his breath getting caught in his throat. He thinks he can vaguely feel Renjun grab his hand, but he’s finding it incredibly difficult to focus, his vision hyper focusing on one thing for a few seconds, snapping himself out of it, only for it to happen again. His stress levels have skyrocketed.

“I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replies slowly after a moment. He slightly registers a metallic taste in his mouth from unintentionally biting the inside of his cheek.

“You know you’re not fat at all, right?” Doyoung asks, the question being his first input to the conversation. Jaemin withstands the urge to scoff.

“Of course I do,” he responds, and it’s true. It’s not about what weight he started at, not about what weight he’ll end at. It’s about the control, but he can’t exactly go and outright admit that. He sees, through his watery eyes and unfocused gaze, puzzlement dawning on the faces of the two eldest in the room.

“Okay…” Taeyong says, uncertain. He takes a moment, trying to sort the flurry of thoughts invading his mind.

“So,” he eventually starts again, “If you’re not worried about your weight, why are you doing this?” And by all means, that should be the right thing to ask, but it strikes a nerve in Jaemin and suddenly he’s agitated beyond belief.

“I’m not doing anything,” he manages stubbornly. The room is stuck in a suffocating silence.

“Oh, cut the bullshit Jaemin. You don’t even try to hide it.” Surprisingly, it’s ever-peaceful Jeno who says it. He stands up in front of the boy in question, arms crossed and eyes narrowed in annoyance. Jaemin’s initial reaction is fear of the teen looming menacingly in front of him, but his second response is defiance and adrenaline.

He stands up to match Jeno’s height, pulling his hand from Renjun’s grasp.

“Even so,” he borderline sneers, “that’s none of your business.” Jeno guffaws.

“None of my business?! Jaemin, holy shit,” he laughs incredulously, bitterly, “You’re my best friend and my band mate, of course it’s my business! Just tell me why you’re doing this to yourself!” By now Doyoung is trying to physically pull Jeno back to his seat, but the boy is adamant on getting through to Jaemin. Said boy rocks back a step, the yelling and fear finally kicking in a bit. He’s lost on words.

“I can’t!” He yells eventually, fighting the tremor in his voice. Jeno’s worry-fueled annoyance dies down in seconds, replaced with immense confusion. It’s as if the rest of the room has been blocked out, because right then and there, it’s only Jeno and Jaemin.

“Why?” Jeno asks, chewing the bottom of his lip in a nervous habit.

“I just can’t. You can’t take this away from me, please,” Jaemin begs, “I need this. It’s keeping me sane.”

“Nana, we can help you,” Renjun stresses out of nowhere, making Jaemin jump.

“You can’t, you really can’t,” he murmurs, the tears in his eyes finally leaking over when he tilts his head downwards. He can feel someone, probably Taeyong, try to wrap him in a hug, but his first response is to avoid the contact as fast as he can. He whips the arms off of him and takes a few panicked steps away, breathless.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly, and takes his leave. The others know full well that following him won’t do a thing.

-

Following that conversation, there’s more focus on Jaemin’s eating habits. It’s inexorable that Shiwoo would find out at some point.

The sessions have never stretched this late before, not in the few months the man has been working at SM, but at half past one in the morning, the manager seems to be more interested in small talk than actually working (Jaemin can’t say he’s disappointed- this way there’s a lesser chance of him collecting any new injuries this way). He’d been gone a week, detoxing and relaxing (according to Shiwoo, who knows what relaxing entails for the violent man, probably joining a fight club, Jaemin muses internally), and that week had been the best one in a while. Jaemin had time to heal up and regain his bearings the best he could. Not to mention, his general paranoia was at least the slightest bit better, knowing Shiwoo was gone for a bit (even despite this, he still was worried the man would show up unannounced, and he couldn’t shake that little bit of discomfort off).

He just hopes that bruise-free week would extend.

Alas, nothing ever seems to go Jaemin’s way.

“Heard you’ve been starving yourself,” Shiwoo says, so suddenly and carelessly that Jaemin has to do a double take. The man is standing next to the window, lighting a cigarette. The smell makes Jaemin nauseous, but he’s sure as hell not going to raise any complaints.

“Simply dieting, Sir,” Jaemin lies, on high guard even with the manager’s relaxed state.

“That’s cute,” the man chuckles deeply, flicking the ash of his cigarette out the window before taking a drag. He sighs deeply, letting the smoke naturally trail from his lips. Jaemin is standing stiffly by one of the mirrors.

“Why are you so tense? Come on, sit,” Shiwoo says, and it’s perturbing to Jaemin because this man, this man who has done terrible things to him, is acting like they’re old friends. Still, Jaemin tries to loosen up to keep the man happy, and sits in a chair near the window.

“The reason I took last week off is because my wife took my two youngest girls and left home,” Shiwoo says casually. The teen doesn’t know how to respond, the man has never disclosed such personal details before.

“I’m sorry,” is the only thing Jaemin can think to respond. The shorter man laughs, almost maniacally.

“It’s fine, she was a cheating bitch anyways. Always said I abused her, called the cops on me. Those guys all love me though, could tell she was a delusional cunt. I don’t abuse people, anyone who thinks I do is out of their mind,” He smiles through a puff of smoke. Jaemin can’t help but feel bad for the man, even if he’s done terrible things to him.

“Oh, and my son,” he sounds exasperated, “That kid just turned nineteen, I’m pretty sure he’s a drug dealer. Hope he learns his lesson when he gets himself into some gang shit.” Jaemin keeps quiet, not super keen on getting involved in family drama.

“Everyone always treats me like shit, you know? That’s why I love it here, feels like I’ve found a real family. I don’t know what I’d do without you all,” Shiwoo makes himself sound so sad and Jaemin right then knows he’s absolutely, completely fucked. He feels so incredibly bad for this man that there’s no way he can ruin the temporary happiness he has at this job.

“I dunno, I just think I would kill myself if I lost this little piece of joy,” Shiwoo says completely unprompted, and Jaemin’s body goes tense.

(He misses the manipulative smirk that appears on the manager’s face when he notices Jaemin’s reaction).

“I’m really sorry, Sir, please don’t kill yourself,” Jaemin requests, stress evident in his voice. Shiwoo stubs his cigarette out on the window sill and then tosses it down into the streets.

“Well, I won’t need to if you don’t say anything to anyone,” He smiles at the boy as he wipes his smoke-smelling hands on his jeans. Jaemin feels sick knowing that he could so easily cause this man’s death, knowing that if anyone finds out what’s been happening behind closed doors, he could possibly have a death on his conscience.

“Anyways, let’s go through some songs a few times, and then you can head back,” Shiwoo tells him, walking to start the music up again. Jaemin readies himself into position, yawning. The music starts up and Jaemin zones out, letting muscle memory take the wheel.

He’s a couple songs in when he, unsurprisingly, messes up. He curses himself, frustrated that he can never go one practice without a mistake. Shiwoo doesn’t look angry that he messed up, but the man seems to have an affinity for hurting the teen, no matter his mood. It’s like he gets enjoyment from it. Jaemin mentally shakes the thought off, because why would Shiwoo want him to be as miserable as he is? He wouldn’t put all this effort into helping Jaemin if he just wanted him to be hurt. He’s only helping (yet a small part of Jaemin’s brain is still telling him ‘no, this isn’t right. You’re fine as is, he only wants to hurt you.’ He ignores it).

Shiwoo marches straight up to him, as Jaemin is used to by now, and strikes him on the head. It leaves a mark right away, the ring on the man’s hand marring the boy’s skin. Jaemin hates how used to it he is by now. That, by no means, is saying that he’s fine with it, no, it’s just that it’s expected at this point.

What he doesn’t expect is a heavy kick to his shin and another blow to his head. He finds himself so easily crumpled on the ground, his hand brought up to the newly bleeding wound, and other hand gripping his injured leg.

The manager doesn’t stop there.

“I’ve had such a shitty past few weeks,” he informs, jaw clenched in sudden anger while he deals his damage. Jaemin should have known that this would happen, the man is never truly in a decent mood. Shiwoo’s lips curl into a heinous smile.

“You know,” he drawls, “I consider myself an artist.” Jaemin is sitting on the ground, arms wrapped around his torso and face distorted in pain. The man is standing above him a few feet away, examining his nail beds.

“Sure, lacking in skills and sadistic by nature,” Jaemin grits out in a surge of pain-fueled confidence.

He immediately regrets it.

He doesn’t know why he said it, especially today of all days, but it happened and get can’t take it back. He knows it was one of the dumbest things he could have done, but he still did and all he can think is ‘dear god save me from whatever is about to happen’.

“The fuck did you just say to me?” Shiwoo yells and Jaemin pushes himself back towards a wall. The only emotions he can feel at the moment are soul crushing regret and the foul burn of dread.

“Nothing, I said nothing, I’m so sorry please don’t hurt me,” he begs, pushing his head into his arms for self-defense. Shiwoo laughs coldly as he advances on the dancer. The teenager squeaks when the manager pulls him off the ground. Jaemin pushes and tries to get the man’s iron grip to let go of him, but it’s met with no success.

The first blow comes and somehow, it feels worse than ever before. Maybe it’s because this time, it wasn’t an accident that was met with a consequence, it was Jaemin being mouthy and thinking he had power in a situation, him thinking that he mattered.

Clearly, he was wrong.

Jaemin hates himself.

It’s bloody and horrible. Shiwoo throws him to the ground, bringing his foot up to press on Jaemin’s chest. The boy sobs and pleads for it to stop. He claws at the man as he hurls punches and kicks and all Jaemin can think is ‘why, why me? Please make it stop’, but he knows he wouldn’t transfer this pain to anyone else, no one deserves to go through what he’s going through.

“Just kill me! Please!” Jaemin screams, sobs wracking his frame.

“I can’t do this anymore! What’s the point in keeping me around?” His voice breaks into a whisper as the man stops kicking out of shock. Jaemin pulls himself into a heap on the ground, trying to silence his deafening cries.

He thinks Shiwoo might have officially laid off after he doesn’t hear anything for a moment, but then the man behind him begins cackling. It’s sharp and inhumane, and it spikes more fear in Jaemin than he has ever thought possible. He weeps into his arms, quieter this time, and pleads with the man to stop.

“What fun would killing you off be? I mean, I guess if I got rid of you, I’d be able to start with, I don’t know, Chenle or Jisung? That would fun, but Jaemin, I like you the most,” he says, as if he’s deep in thought. There’s something sinister in his voice, and Jaemin feels paralyzed in fear.

“Please, don’t hurt them,” he whimpers pathetically.

“Get out of my sight before I really do kill you,” Shiwoo says, his eyes holding no signs of a bluff. Jaemin tearfully hauls himself off the floor and attempts to limp-run out of the room, stumbling in pain every few seconds earning evilly amused laughs from the manager each time.

He struggles getting back to the dorm, barely being able to keep upright. By the time he gets there, it’s a bit later than half past two in the morning. He has an arm clamped around his abdomen, trying to trick himself into thinking the pain is lessened because of the pressure he’s applying. He accidentally slams open the door and cringes, praying that he didn’t wake anyone up.

Just his luck, Jisung and Chenle are asleep in a makeshift bed-fort in the living room (something Jaemin totally would have loved to be in involved in). The noise seems to wake both the boys, although they’re still barely conscious.

“Hm, what?” Chenle mumbles sleepily, eyes blinking slowly to get used to the dark. He untangles himself from Jisung’s arms (Jaemin will have to tease him about that later) and rubs his eyes.

“It’s nothing, Chenle, go back to sleep,” He says quietly, crossing his fingers that the teen will follow the order. He doesn’t notice Jisung’s very awake eyes staring at him. Chenle says something akin to an ‘okay’ before crashing face first back into the pillows on the ground. Jaemin’s eyes drift to Jisung, but the boy is already feigning sleep, leaving the older completely clueless.

Jaemin shuts his bedroom door quietly, and that’s when he let’s everything out. He crumples onto his bed in his dirty, relatively bloodied clothing, and cries his heart out.

He doesn’t want to do this anymore.

All he does is cling to his life, his friends, family. It’s like he’s a flicker of fire, a dying light, lonesome in the darkness of a cold winter, surviving only to survive.

Because, is it really considered living when you’re holding on to a single spark?

He can feel an earthquake threatening below his feet. A hairline fracture ruptures beneath his foundation, the structure is crumbling and it’s impossible to know how much longer it will hold out. How much longer he’ll be able to keep himself together. The truth is bound to break open, and it will be sharp enough to kill.

Jaemin doesn’t know that the truth will bare its teeth far sooner than he expected.

-

Dream has a few days off due to schedule problems with 127, giving the boys a well-deserved break. The current residents of the dorm, save for Jaemin who’s still fast asleep in his locked room, are gathered in the living room for breakfast (because who needs a kitchen when they can sit on the couch, right?). Jeno and Renjun are leaning against each other on the couch, while Chenle and Jisung squish together on the armchair.

“This is kind of random,” Jisung says after contemplating for a while, wanting to test the waters, “but Jaemin never tries to hug me or give me affection anymore, and I don’t know, I just find it kind of odd? He seems completely averse to touch now.” He pauses for a moment.

“Not that I like his affection or anything,” he quickly adds with a faux-disgusted face, just in case Jaemin is listening in, “It’s just out of the ordinary, is all.”

“I’ve noticed that too!” Chenle gasps, “He never wants to cuddle anymore.” Jeno and Renjun exchange glances, before Renjun straightens up and rubs his forehead in stress.

“Yeah, he doesn’t do that with us anymore, either. Locks his bedroom door now, too,” he murmurs.

“There’s definitely something wrong, has been for months. I think it’s why he’s not eating,” Jeno adds, pushing his hair back. Jisung nervously plays with Chenle’s fingers.

“Last night, it was really late and Jaemin came back home, I don’t think he thought I was awake, but he was all bruised? I think, it was dark, but I think someone is hurting him, he sounded really shaky and vulnerable, and he didn’t look very good,” Jisung tells them, hoping that he’s wrong and Jaemin is completely fine. The other three in the room look extremely horrified.

“Oh dear god,” whispers Renjun, “that makes so much sense.”

“Do you guys have any idea who could be hurting him?” Jeno cuts in, gnawing on his finger nervously.

“We don’t even know if someone is actually hurting him, but it would make a lot of sense. Actually, that kind of connects all the dots,” Renjun says thoughtfully, “Unfortunately, we can’t just go about throwing accusations around.”

“He just, really looked bad last night. I’m sorry, I can’t help but assume the worst,” Jisung says, his face and voice troubled.

“Don’t apologize, you have every right to be worried. Renjun and I will go check on him, okay?” Jeno tells the two youngest as he pulls himself off the couch and offers a hand to Renjun. The older boy takes it. Chenle and Jisung look hesitant, clearly wanting to see if Jaemin is alright themselves.

“Okay, tell us what happens,” is what Chenle decides on saying after a moment. Jisung nods silently in agreement.

Jaemin’s room is, as expected, locked when the two teens try to get in.

Their first time knocking evokes no response from inside.

The second time they knock, it takes a moment, but they get confirmation that Jaemin is awake.

“Hello?” A small voice asks from behind the door. Renjun warily glances over to Jeno before speaking.

“Hey Jaemin, it’s Renjun and Jeno. Can we come in?” He asks softly, wanting to scope out the situation before he makes any solid assumptions. There’s a pause.

“Uh, not right now,” Jaemin says awkwardly, “Sorry.” Jeno resists the urge to bang his on the wall.

“It’s kind of an emergency,” Renjun responds, and it kind of is, he reasons to himself. Something shifts behind the door, the sound of fabric moving.

“Yeah, okay, can I have five minutes please? Is it that urgent?” Jaemin questions, all other sounds from his side of the door stilling. The older boys contemplate just busting into the room, but it’s a risky move that could possibly harm Jaemin’s trust in them. They settle on giving the dancer his requested time.

A little over five minutes later, the door cracks open and Jaemin sticks his head out. Renjun and Jeno had taken to sitting on the ground at some point, idly chatting in nervous anticipation. Their heads snap up at the sound.

“What’s the emergency?” Jaemin inquires softly, subdued. So unlike himself. Jeno leaves Renjun to do the talking, not trusting his own words in such a delicate situation. Plus, the singer just has an impeccable way with words.

“Can we join you in your room?” Renjun asks while getting up from his spot on the ground. Jaemin looks nervous, more nervous than before.

“I- Sure? Yeah, sure, come in,” he stumbles over his words, nerves getting to him. He curses his racing mind, coming up with every negative possibility of what his band mates could possibly deem an emergency. He swings the door open, stepping back to make walking room.

The boys can’t help but notice the makeup coating Jaemin’s face and the baggy clothes he covers himself with constantly these days. Said idol sits on his bed, hunched over and resembling a child about to get scolded. He holds his hands in his lap, thumbs fiddling. Jeno shuts the door behind himself, and both teens can’t help but notice how Jaemin seems to grow tenser at the sound.

“No need to be nervous,” Renjun smiles as he sits in the desk chair across from the bed. Jaemin releases a shaky breath.

“So what’s the emergency?” He asks after a moment of silence. His eyes widen suddenly. Emergency. What could constitute an emergency? Maybe Chenle or Jisung getting hurt because Jaemin isn’t goddamn good enough for Shiwoo and he needed a new way to punish him. Jaemin feels the air get knocked out of him.

“Are Chenle or Jisung hurt?” He asks while trying to contain the edge of panicked hysteria his voice holds. Jeno and Renjun look confused.

“No?” Jeno says this time, “What in the world made you think that?” Jaemin looks like a five hundred pound weight was just lifted off his shoulders. He laughs uncomfortably, bony hand running up and down his opposing clothed arm. Renjun can’t help but notice the uncovered bruises on his hands and wrists where the fabric just slightly rides up.

“You just said emergency, and- and I could only think of one of our youngest getting hurt and, yeah,” Jaemin says, smiling sheepishly and falsely. His eyes betray him, showing all the exhaustion and anxiety he bottles daily. Renjun bites his lip worriedly.

“Don’t worry, they’re completely fine,” the Chinese boy informs, “It’s you we’re worried about, Nana.” Jaemin doesn’t seem awfully surprised by what he hears. He heaves a tired sigh, his shoulders somehow dropping further than before.

“There’s nothing to worry about guys, I’m just tired,” he attempts to reassure them, but the weak words do nothing on deaf ears.

“Wait, is this about the food thing” He resists visibly cringing at the topic he always tries his best to avoid, “I’ve been eating more, you’ve seen me. I’m fine, it’s all good, okay? I know it’s not perfect but I just need that little bit of control, yeah? Keeps me sane, please can we not bring this up anymore, I get your guys’ concern but it’s really not necessary, I’m not wasting a-” His endless ramble is cut off abruptly by Renjun.

“Jaemin,” he says seriously, stopping the younger teen in his tracks, “That’s a problem but it’s not why we’re here.” Jaemin visibly gulps, eyes darting between Jeno and Renjun.

“...Okay?” He questions slowly, “What’s the problem then, chief?” He can’t even manage a small smile at his try at a joke.

“What’s wrong?” Renjun blurts. Jaemin makes a confused noise, head tilting to the side (both of the boys would swoon if not for the worry eating at their hearts).

“What? Nothing’s wrong, guys. Like I said, I’ve just been a bit tired,” Jaemin smiles, teeth and all. It doesn’t hold the same impact it used to. Renjun reaches for Jeno’s hand as a source of strength and comfort.

“Something’s been going on with you,” the singer states, “ We all see it.” Jaemin’s walls fly up further than they’ve ever been before.

“You guys must be hallucinating, you’re talking nonsense,” he deflects their concern, a certain hardness that wasn’t there before now present in his eyes and posture. He curls his bruised hands into fists and holds them to the side of his thighs.

“Jaem-” Jeno tries, but is interrupted by a short ‘no’ from Jaemin. The three sit, staring at each other for a short moment. There’s a sharpness in the interrogee’s features that scream ‘try me, I dare you’. Unsurprisingly, neither of the older boys know what to do in the current situation.

“Nana,” Renjun says, waiting to be cut off. Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, but not without a tiny pained flinch that does not go over the heads of Jeno or Renjun.

“Hear me out- I know you don’t want to admit anything’s wrong, but we only want to help, okay?” His voice strains as he nears the end of his sentence, eyes tearing up in pure frustration and worry. Over the past months the usually bright boy has dimmed and changed so much, to the point where it’s impossible not to notice.

“I appreciate you guys being worried about me so much, but please, I don’t know how to convince you there’s nothing wrong. You just won’t believe me,” Jaemin says, robotic and forced, as if he’s spent all of his energy.

“Okay, then what happened to your hands?” Renjun raises an eyebrow. Jeno squeezes his hand in a warning to tread lightly. Jaemin pales slightly, glancing down at his hands. It seems his words are caught in his throat, as he only makes a small strangled noise in alarm. He struggles to make an excuse.

“I- uh, who knows? You know me, clumsy and stuff,” he says somewhat frantically, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands.

“Why don’t you take off your sweater then, prove there’s nothing wrong?” Renjun asks, pulling his hand from Jeno’s limp grip.

“Renjun!” Jeno hisses in alarm, “shut up, oh my god.” The blood in Jaemin’s face has drained significantly, and he quickly jumps to his feet.

“Out,” he orders, pointing to the door, “This conversation is over.” There’s a small tremor in his hands as he points. There’s tears in his eyes, now matching the two other emotionally distraught teens in the room.

Renjun gets up and attempts to step towards Jaemin, wanting to apologize.

“No. Out,” Jaemin repeats, voice colder than anything the older boys had ever heard from him before. Renjun stares into his eyes, hurt (but he understands, he knows what he did and he can't help feel terrible for pushing Jaemin’s delicate limits), before he turns away to walk from the room.

Jeno and Renjun hope they’re imagining the hiccuping of cries that come from Jaemin’s room once the door shuts behind them.

-

Mark is known for being overworked. It’s a joke between the fans and the members alike. For this reason, it’s no surprise Mark is at the studio alone on a Saturday evening.

He’s just about to take his leave when it happens.

It’s a quick encounter. He’s walking down the hallway, head down and headphones in, responding to a text.

Before he knows it, a body is slamming into his side. Mark grabs onto the wall to avoid falling, but the other person does not have the same luck.

Mark does a double-take, having at first not realized the boy currently sprawled on the ground is Jaemin. What surprises him more than the sudden collision is the large, quickly-bruising mark on the dazed boy’s face.

Jaemin hops up from the ground and tries to take off again after muttering a quick apology, but before he can, Mark has already wrapped his hand around the younger’s bicep.

“Jaemin? What happened?” He asks, louder than intended. Jaemin recoils at the question.

“Nothing, just fell. No biggie,” He excuses his injury, distressed, tearing his arm from Mark’s grip and shuffling away again. The rapper stares, stunned for a moment. The confident boy’s eyes were large and filled with barely-contained fear when Mark looked into them, leaving him with an uneasy aftertaste.

“Hey, wait!” Mark tries to call after him, but the boy’s already turned a corner and disappeared from sight. The leader breathes out, worried for the boy always so happy to give affection.

He can’t help but wonder where that boy went.

Mark forfeits going to the 127 dorm, rather showing up at the Dream dorm despite him not staying there at the moment. He finds Jeno alone in the living room, ignoring the running TV in exchange for playing on his phone.

“Yo, is Jaemin here?” Mark asks, making Jeno jump slightly at the unexpected noise.

“I don’t believe so, no, why?” He asks, shutting off his phone and hastily pocketing it. Mark takes a seat on the couch with Jeno.

“I just had a really odd experience with him at the studio…” he starts, uncertainty painting his voice.

As he recalls the series of events, Jeno’s frown continues to deepen. He’s turned completely towards Mark, sitting criss-cross on the couch.

“We’re all so worried about him,” Jeno whispers breathlessly after Mark finishes his retelling of the occurrence, “but he won’t let anyone in. He won’t even admit something is wrong.” It’s clear that Jeno’s torn up over everything that’s been going on. Mark pats him on the back encouragingly.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out sooner rather than later,” he tries to comfort the younger.

“That’s the thing, we need to find out now,” Jeno stresses the now, “we don’t have time for a sooner or later. I’m scared we’re gonna lose Jaemin forever.” Only then does Mark notice the near silent sniffling of the younger boy. He sadly smiles and leans to embrace the upset dancer.

“We’ll help him, Jeno, we will,” he assures the younger. Jeno only sniffles and nods.

That same night, Jaemin comes home late thinking he could avoid the rest of the Dreamies.

The plan, for the most part, should have worked. He comes home when, in the past, the majority of the dorms residents are asleep.

He slips in a little past midnight, tip-toeing to make the least amount of noise possible (he could be a spy at this point, he’s mastered the art of silence). The door closes with only the lightest click and he spins around, fully intending to just sneak off to his room without fuss.

Alas, luck never is on Jaemin’s side, because Renjun is leaning against the wall. He looks exhausted, but it’s quite clear he was staying up to wait for the younger.

“Where were you?” He inquires, arms crossed. He pushes himself off of the wall to stand in front of the taller boy.

“Practicing,” Jaemin mutters shortly while slipping off his shoes. His head is hung low, pink hair hanging in front of his eyes and obstructing his vision. Renjun lifts his arm to brush the hair aside, but he moves too fast, and Jaemin out of pure instinct sends himself flying backwards. His hands are poised in a defensive position and he clenches his eyes, preparing for a blow.

When nothing comes, he warily cracks open an eye. Renjun is standing still, completely dumbfounded. His arms hang limply at his sides. He looks uncertain.

“Nana,” Renjun says softly, “baby, please tell me what’s wrong.” The pet name makes Jaemin want to crumble and tell all, but the threat Shiwoo poses is too heavy and he just can’t. He can’t and it kills him everyday, every time he looks at his members.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly, and Renjun has to resist the urge to go and hug him right then and there. He doesn’t, against everything his body is yelling for him to do, he doesn’t want to make the younger boy uncomfortable.

“Don’t apologize,” Renjun tells him, voice quiet, “Can I hug you?” Jaemin nods silently, allowing Renjun to go and wrap his arms around the vulnerable boy.

“I don’t know who hurt you, but I’ll kill them. I swear,” he assures, letting it be known that he’s aware someone is hurting or did hurt Jaemin. Said boy rests his head on the shorter’s shoulder, tears starting to spill from his eyes. He’s been doing a lot more crying than ever before in these last few months, and he hates it. Renjun hugs the boy tighter when he feels him begin to shake.

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to tell me about it, okay? For now, I can just hold you, it’s okay,” he rubs Jaemin’s back, arms still firmly wrapped around him.

Jaemin won’t admit it, but the gentle physical contact is something he’s greatly missed. Generally, all the contact he gets is through violence, and he’s been yearning for something like this. The pain he gets everyday starts to wear on a person. He never wants to let go of Renjun. The boy manages to make him feel a sliver of okay, and for now, that’s all he can ask for.

“Please don’t let me go, Injunnie,” he mumbles to Renjun, who instinctively holds the boy closer protectively. From what Jaemin can tell, Renjun doesn’t know that his abuser (a term Jaemin coined fitting, but is still struggling to find acceptance for) is still here, still in their home under everyone’s noses.

“You’ve changed so much, Nana. What happened?” He asks, sadness soaking his voice. Jaemin shakes his head in a silent rejection of the question. He can feel the older boy sigh, but he doesn’t let go.

“When you’re ready, I’ll be here,” he tells the hurt boy, “I’ll be here and I won’t ever leave you.”

And he means it.

After a good ten minutes, Renjun decides it’s time they head to bed. It’s late and both boys are bone-tired.

“Hey, I think it’s about bedtime,” he says softly. Jaemin makes a noncommittal noise in response. The singer tries to get up off the floor he and Jaemin have ended up on, but is held down by the younger.

“Sweetheart, c’mon. I’ll stay with you,” he reasons with the now-calm teen. Jaemin huffs lightly, but momentarily lets go so the pair can get up.

As soon as they’re on their feet, Jaemin has latched onto Renjun again. The older laughs softly.

“You know, you’ve always reminded me of an over-sized puppy.” Jaemin lightly smacks Renjun’s arm for that, and is hit with immediate guilt.

“I’m sorry for hitting you,” he rushes without much thought. Renjun looks perplexed. He shakes his head in dismissal.

“Don’t sweat it, you’ve got nothing to apologize for,” he tells the Korean boy.

Jaemin’s room is unkempt. His usual ‘organized messy’, as he had labelled it, is all out of whack. Nonetheless, it still looks cozy.

“Aren’t you gonna change into pajamas?” Renjun questions after noticing the boy slip into his bed with his day clothes on. Jaemin shakes his head and burrows into his duvet. If this were any other time and any other person, Renjun wouldn’t have questioned the lack of changing, but all of Jaemin’s behaviour points towards abuse, and this is just another thing to add to the list (he really does keep a list, he figures it’ll be useful). Tonight, though, he chooses not to mention it. The night has been hectic and emotionally draining for both of them.

“Jeno is gonna be so jealous of us tomorrow,” Renjun halfheartedly snickers as he gets into the bed. That seems to pique Jaemin’s interest.

“Jeno will be jealous?” He asks, sounding all too innocent in his drained state. Renjun can’t stop the smile that slips on his face.

“Yeah, you know how much he loves affection, even if he denies it,” the smaller says, hands tangling with Jaemin’s own.

“Will you go and get him?” Jaemin asks, uncertainty in his voice. He waits for Renjun to get mad or annoyed, but the older only laughs and gives a confirmation.

“I’ll be right back, kay?” He asks as he slips out of the bed to go and retrieve Jeno. Jaemin nods, barely visible in the dark, and pushes himself further into the covers.

Renjun returns a few minutes later with a very tired and confused Jeno in his wake.

“Minnie?” Jeno asks, battling a yawn. Jaemin can’t help but smile at the childish nickname. The affection he’s been receiving in the past hour is something that’s grown so foreign to him, and it leaves him feeling dopey and dangerously safe (safety- a feeling he’s nearly abandoned in full. He doesn’t want a false sense of security that can be ripped off any moment Shiwoo decides to waltz in). Jaemin just childishly opens his arms for the two other boys in the room.

That night, Jaemin falls asleep sandwiched between two of his favourite people, feeling safer than he has in months.

-

Jaemin finds that the security he felt the night prior is so easily destroyed that it’s almost humorous.

The trio are woken up the next morning by Shiwoo. In the blur of the night’s events, Jaemin had completely forgotten that the man took the next day’s shift.

He feels his blood run cold when he opens his eyes to the manager shaking their legs in means to wake them up. Renjun and Jeno just groan tiredly and try to roll away, but Jaemin is immediately awake with a racing heart. He can see the coldness in Shiwoo’s eyes, and he just knows he’s in deep shit. He doesn’t know why, but it’s probably something to do with the fact that he let himself into such close quarters with two other people, two people that could potentially get Shiwoo fired if they so pleased, at that.

He’s up and out of the room, shut in the washroom and breathing heavy. They have a busy schedule for the majority of the day, which means he’ll be with his members and safe from Shiwoo’s wrath for a while. He can only hope that the manager’s anger simmers out through the day.

The day flies by, and Jaemin wishes it hadn’t, because now he’s alone with Shiwoo, and the man is growing increasingly livid every second that passes.

“Do you have any idea how you could have hurt me?” He seethes, fingers digging painfully into Jaemin’s shoulders. Those are the first bruises of the day. “If they saw anything, suspected anything, you could have ruined my life, Jaemin. This is all I have left, and you could have taken that all away from me.” His voice is like stone, gritting and assaulting the idol’s ears. Jaemin has tears running down his face already. He gave up on not crying long ago, it seems it’s the only thing he’s good at these days.

Shiwoo slaps him when he doesn’t respond.

“I asked you a question,” the man laughs cruelly, letting go of Jaemin and shoving him into the mirrored wall painfully, “do you know how badly you could have fucking hurt me?” Jaemin cries out, his breath being knocked out of him.

“I know, sir, I’m so sorry. I won’t let it happen again,” he gasps, trying to get air into his lungs. Shiwoo only laughs, strolling over to the boy as if he’s going to lend a hand to Jaemin. Instead, he kicks him. Jaemin holds in a scream as the man kicks particularly hard.

“You know, they always say not to kick someone when they’re down, but you’re so pathetic this way, it’s fun,” the laughing doesn’t cease, and in his pain muddled mind, Jaemin can’t help but compare Shiwoo to a mad villain in a blockbuster movie. He tries to block out the pain by thinking long and hard, about anything at all, just not the damage being dealt to his body.

It doesn’t work.

Jaemin’s cries don’t stop, but he tries not to beg for an end. From what he’s observed, the manager likes the begging and crying, and it seems to motivate him.

The man above him is red in the face with anger, the thought of being outed as an abuser giving him near murderous intent. He lowers to the ground and straddles Jaemin. His hands wrap around the teens neck and push.

Jaemin’s eyes widen as his already weak air supply is completely cut off. This is new. He makes small, desperate mewling noises. His nails claw at the man’s hands, arms, and face. His body is flailing without means under Shiwoo. Jaemin’s face makes a quick transition from red to blue, and suddenly he can see his vision start to darken.

He’s alone, completely at the mercy of Shiwoo, and he’s probably going to die.

He finds he doesn’t care anymore.

His body stops trying to break free and his arms go limp. Above him, Shiwoo smiles maniacally.

He’s going to die.

But right before he can lose consciousness, the man gets off of him. Jaemin gasps for air and coughs violently as his hands fly up to his neck in desperation. He still can’t breathe. He lays on the floor, ignoring the amused manager watching him struggle and suffer like a fish out of water. He’s too preoccupied by the way his head feels like it’s floating and his throat is on fire.

“Didn’t think I’d let you go that easy, did ya kid?” Shiwoo laughs, an evil glint in his eyes.

Jaemin’s abuse doesn’t end.

It’s an hour later when he limps out of the studio, wounded severely. Bruises litter his abdomen, legs, arms, and face. Worst of all? The large bruise that paints a crescent on Jaemin’s neck.

He’s too tired to go any further, and drops himself into the most isolated room he can find.

-

Dream’s schedule had ended two hours ago, and Jaemin was missing. All of the dreamie’s found themselves anxious, the absence of Jaemin weighing heavily on everyone. This, however, allowed them to call a group meeting.

Renjun starts it, as he does most things.

“Someone is hurting or did hurt Jaemin,” he lays it all out on the table, but it’s information everyone knows well.

“I agree,” Mark says, “But how do we know for sure, and how do we help him? And who could possibly want to hurt him?” They sit stumped, frustration burrowing itself within their skin.

“Well, uh, there was that one time he came home bruised and shaken up,” Jisung surprisingly is the first one to start. Donghyuck squacks in horror.

“Why did no one tell me about this?! Oh god, what else is there?” He’s already clearly shaken up and obviously hurt he wasn’t kept up to date with the situation. Mark wraps an arm around him as comfort.

“I helped him out of a panic attack once,” Jeno says, “he freaked out when I tried to touch him to help, too. I think it was set off by a loud noise or something.”

The conversation is quick after that, recounting instances where signs of abuse were clear. Renjun finds the list he’s been keeping very handy.

Out of nowhere, Donghyuck gasps and shoots upright. Everyone looks remotely startled, but he doesn’t take a breath to apologize. It’s as if a light bulb has gone off in his head.

“Do you guys know where Shiwoo is when Jaemin’s missing? Like, even right now, he’s supposed to be here and he’s not,” Donghyuck is breathless, looking sick.

“You’re… You’re not implying what I think you are, right?” Renjun asks slowly. They all know it’s true, it’s the only explanation, and Renjun feels himself growing nauseous at the thought of the person hurting their precious Jaemin slipping right under their noses.

“Months ago, when Shiwoo-hyung was really new, Jaemin told me that he never thought Shiwoo liked him or something. I just remembered.” No one looks comfortable. Renjun can feel a stress-induced headache coming on.

“But he’s so nice…” Chenle whispers, “It would make the most sense though.” The second youngest is curled alone on the armchair, looking cross.

“It would explain the eating thing, too. He always said he needs it for control, and that, you know, kind of connects the dots. Plus, he’s never really comfortable when Shiwoo is around. Not to mention his aversion to touch,” Renjun mutters, barely audible to most people in the room.

“Guys, we have to tell the others. This is too big for just us,” Mark decides. No one objects, knowing it’s the right thing to do. He pulls out his phone and presses Taeyong’s contact.

The phone rings for a couple seconds before Taeyong picks up.

“Hi, Mark. What’s up?” Taeyong greets him casually, blissfully unaware of the bomb that’s about to be dropped on him. Mark wastes no time getting to the point.

“We think Jaemin is being abused,” he informs, urgency seeping into his voice. There’s silence on the other end of the call for a moment.

“I’m sorry, what?” Taeyong says in disbelief, having stilled from whatever he was doing.

“Jaemin. We’re positive he’s being abused,” Mark repeats, chewing his fingernails. Taeyong seems to contemplate his words for a moment before speaking.

“You can’t just go throwing accusations around, you could seriously ruin someone’s life with those. Do you have proof?” He asks, not wanting to believe what the younger is saying.

“Of course, I wouldn’t blindly accuse anyone,” Mark informs his elder. All the occupants of the room are watching, their nerves buzzing.

“Okay, tell me everything,” Taeyong orders. And Mark does.

A good ten minutes later, Taeyong is completely convinced.

“Where is Jaemin right now?” He asks, horror in his voice. He’s shaking, quickly gathering the other members to tell them what’s been going on.

“That’s the thing,” Mark says shakily, “We have no idea, he’s been missing for two hours.” He swears he can hear Taeyong gasp through the phone.

“Okay, I’m sure he’s fine,” the older tries to reason to calm the nerves of everyone involved, “You guys go and start to look for him, alright? I’m going to tell the others what’s going on and we’ll all go and search too, yeah? Just keep us updated in the group chat, and vice versa.” At the instruction, all of the teenagers jump up to go and throw their shoes on.

“Of course,” Mark agrees before hanging up the phone.

-

Yukhei and Jaemin have never been the closest of friends, especially considering the isolation Jaemin’s been facing in the past few months, but they still care deeply for each other.

When Yukhei hears the news, he’s livid and shocked, just like everyone else. His first response is to find that cursed manager and bash his face in, to make him experience every ounce of pain Jaemin had to, but multiplied by ten. His second response is to try to find Jaemin and make sure he’s okay. He figures the second is the most important at that current moment.

Out of seventeen people, he’s the one that finds Jaemin, and he could never have prepared himself for the sight he’s greeted with.

Yukhei is rushing through the SM building, one of the eight members searching in that area, checking every room he can. As he starts to get to the more isolated areas, he becomes unsettled. On one hand, he doesn’t see why Jaemin would be around here, but on the other, it’s the perfect place for a bad situation.

He finds he’s lucky that he continued to search the empty rooms because he soon stumbles across a tiny, dusty studio, and sure enough, in that studio is Jaemin.

The boy is curled up against one of the walls. The light illuminating the room is dim, and the windows provide nearly no light in the late evening. Jaemin is sniffling and cradling a specifically bad wound on his stomach. It had started off as a bruise, but was cut by one of Shiwoo’s rings, creating an open bleed. Yukhei feels a surge of protectiveness overcome him (and a surge of murderous rage towards the man who would dare to do this).

He feels so many emotions at once, that the only coherent thoughts he has are ‘well, fuck’, and ‘fight whoever did this’. Despite this, he finds himself at the boy’s side. Jaemin is too weak to try and get away (because really, being alone in a room with a man, albeit a gentle giant, is not something his brain can process without fear after what he’s just been through), so he just sits there, eyes closed as tears silently slip down his reddened cheeks.

Yukhei’s hands float aimlessly around, unsure of what to do.

“Can I touch you?” He eventually asks, eyes wide and concerned. Jaemin cracks his glassy eyes open, and stares Yukhei straight in the face. He doesn’t say anything, not quite trusting his voice. He knows, by all logic, that there is no way in hell Yukhei would ever purposely hurt him, but he still is hesitant.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Yukhei says softly, softer than Jaemin has ever heard him speak before.

“I know,” Jaemin croaks, his voice low and gravelly. Only then does Yukhei notice the large bruise decorating the dancer’s neck.

“Holy shit…” he mumbles in English, eyes shining with disbelief. He shakes himself out of it quickly.

“I don’t know the extent of what’s happened to you, but we all know what your manager has been doing to you, and we’ll never let him hurt you again,” Yukhei says, thinking it will console the boy in front of him.

It’s the contrary. Jaemin’s body jerks up and he suppresses a scream at the daggers of pain that impale him.

“No, no, no, no,” he repeats over and over again, “No, please, please tell me this is a dream.” He’s crying harder now and Yukhei has absolutely no idea what to do.

“He’ll kill himself if we take away this job, or he’ll hurt Chenle or Jisung!” Jaemin shouts in panic, trying to push himself up, “I can deal with this! I can deal with this alone, please, please, please don’t tell anyone! I’m fine, I’m fine, I swear I’m okay…” He breaks off, crying. His attempts to push himself up fail, and he ends up tumbling into Yukhei’s waiting arms. His breathing is rapid, and he’s shaking like a leaf. His vision swarms in and out of focus, going through periods of hyper-focusing and being completely unaware of his surroundings. The one constant is his insistent crying and begging.

He grapples at Yukhei’s arms as if they’re an anchor, and begs him to leave the situation alone.

Yukhei is generally viewed as dumb; a tall, handsome airhead, but in all actuality, he doesn’t get nearly enough credit for how smart and capable he really is. He fully pulls the hysterical boy into his arms, cradling Jaemin’s head and shushing him quietly.

“I know you don’t want us to get involved, but we really have to, okay? It’s going to be okay, it’s all gonna be okay. We’re gonna make sure everyone is safe, you included. No one else is gonna get hurt, we’ve got this, okay?” He quietly tells the distraught teen in his arms. Jaemin’s body is limp as he sobs into Yukhei’s chest.

“He’s got it so hard though. He’s so sad, this job, this job is- is all he’s got to bring him happin-happiness. If he kills himself I’ll have a death on my hands. And, and he was only trying to help me be better, he just wanted to help- to help me belong” Jaemin cries, hands grabbing fistfuls of the older’s shirt. Yukhei scowls, knowing that the man manipulated Jaemin into thinking these thoughts, manipulated him into feeling sympathy for the villainous abuser.

“No, no that’s not true. He was manipulating you, Nana, you can’t believe whatever he told you, okay? Don’t worry about him, we have to worry about you,” He tries to comfort the traumatized boy. He’s never used Jaemin’s nickname before, but now seems like a better time than ever. The younger only gives a choked sob in response.

He hates that he has to do this, but Yukhei quickly pulls out his phone texts the group that he’s found Jaemin and will be bringing him back to the 127 dorm.

Getting Jaemin out, as it seems, proves to be a lot more difficult than he’d first expected. For one, the boy is still very visibly injured and upset, not to mention all the trainees around that could spread rumours, and the looming threat that Shiwoo is still around.

He ends up having to text for backup.

The few members still in the building, Jaehyun, Yuta, and Sicheng, all quickly make their way to the two.

With their help, they get Jaemin relatively calm. Jaehyun gives up his sweatshirt to cover all of the damage from prying eyes. It takes a while, but they eventually get back to the dorm.

Everyone is waiting when they arrive. In retrospect, they should have probably predicted that the whole group would be a tad overwhelming for Jaemin.

As soon as he steps into the room, everyone’s eyes turn to him. He can vaguely hear gasps, but his ears are ringing and he’s terribly anxious all of a sudden. He tries to step backwards out of the room, but he bumps straight into Jaehyun. He can feel himself start to shake again, after barely having gotten over his last panic attack.

He turns back to the room with round, scared eyes. He glances, panicked, at the person closest to him. It’s Sicheng, and he doesn’t seem to get what Jaemin’s trying to get across. He spots Renjun and Jeno across the room, the two he’s closest with, and gives them the same look. They know him too well and can tell without a hitch that he needs space. Jeno leans over and whispers to Taeyong who very quickly bans everyone from the room.

It’s a major throwback to the time he was confronted about his eating habits in the same fashion, only this time he feels a hundred times sicker. Taeyong tries to hold his hands, but Jaemin pulls his arms away. Hurt briefly flashes across the leader’s face, before it’s quickly replaced with understanding. Jaemin can already feel himself getting teary again.

“I can deal with this on my own,” he whispers breathily, his voice already damaged enough at the moment. Taeyong looks like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, and Jaemin feels incredibly guilty.

“No, you can’t, and that’s okay. We just want to help, okay? We’re gonna keep everyone safe,” Taeyong tells him gently. Jaemin shakes his head, making a small strangled noise as his neck gets further irritated.

“I’m not safe,” he says, tears overflowing for the umpteenth time that day. He can hear sniffling, and he lifts his head slightly to see the only other two he allowed in the room, Renjun and Jeno, crying. He hangs his head, tears dripping off his chin and nose. The two strongest people he knows are crying, and because of him at that. Maybe there really is something wrong. He steadies his breathing.

“You’re right, you’re right, I need help. I’m sorry. He just,” he pauses for a moment to collect his bearings, after admitting what he’s known but kept to himself for months, “he’s gonna kill himself, or hurt one of the members and, and, and I just can’t, can’t comprehend or deal with the fact that I could have a death on my conscience, or someone could get hurt because of me.” Taeyong frowns.

“No one is going to get hurt because of you. Even if someone got hurt, it wouldn’t be on you, Jaemin. That’s Shiwoo’s own choice, not yours. Everything is his fault, try not to blame yourself,” Taeyong tells him, wishing he could hold the boy, anything to make him feel better.

“I just wanna go to sleep,” Jaemin whimpers, wiping at his eyes.

“Okay, you can go to sleep, but we need to check your injuries first, alright?” Taeyong informs, getting up to fetch the first aid kit. Jeno and Renjun have taken to sitting on the ground, looking worse for wear. Jaemin wants to die for making them feel this way.

When Taeyong returns, Jaemin is forced to strip. He feels uncomfortable, laying all the damage out.

“Oh no, oh god, Nana,” Jeno whispers when Jaemin pulls the hoodie and T-shirt off. His bruising is a pallet of all different colours, from nearly healed yellow, to bright reds and purples, some even black. Taeyong winces when he sees the damage.

“We have to get you to a real doctor tomorrow,” he says as he cleans the cuts that Shiwoo managed to inflict. Jaemin doesn’t even wince at the pain, and it makes everyone question how much he’s been through to just stop caring.

The cleaning process isn’t long, there’s not an awful lot a household first-aid kit can do for injuries like Jaemin’s.

“I want Chenle and Jisung to sleep with me,” the hurt boy informs as he pulls his clothing back on, not free from struggle.

“What? I mean, that’s alright, but why?” Taeyong asks, packing up his first aid kit. Jaemin shifts from one foot to the other nervously.

“Shiwoo said that he would hurt Chenle or Jisung if anyone found out, or if I wasn’t good enough,” he tells the other three in the room. They all look sick to their stomachs.

“I’m sure they’ll be happy to sleep with you. You guys can take my room if you want, I don’t want anyone staying at different dorms tonight. We’re gonna have to talk about everything he did to you tomorrow. I’ll go and get beds prepared,” Taeyong says to the youngest in the room. He exits quickly, dialing a number on his phone (it’s the police, but Taeyong knows that if he told Jaemin that, the boy would be buzzing with more anxiety than he already is).

It’s only Jaemin, Renjun, and Jeno left in the room. Jaemin lets go of a shaky breath, wringing his hands together. His posture is stiff and he won’t look the other two in the eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says, small. Out of nowhere, he feels arms wrap around him. His first instinct is to jerk away, but he soon recognizes that the people hugging him mean no harm, and he allows himself to relax into the hug (as much as possible, given the circumstances).

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Renjun whispers. Jaemin shakes his head.

“No, I really do. I pushed you guys away, you knew something was wrong, and you tried to help, and I just deflected and deflected and deflected. It was for the best though, I couldn’t live with myself if someone got hurt because I can’t keep my mouth shut,” Jaemin rants in self-deprecation. Jeno shushes him softly.

“None of that, Nana. We understand why you didn’t tell us, we just wish it didn’t get this bad before we noticed,” Jeno tells him. Jaemin hastily wipes a tear off of his cheek, whispering a small ‘okay’ in response.

The three only separate when Chenle and Jisung walk into the room, looking grim. Jaemin rushes over and takes the boys into his arms almost desperately.

“I’m so happy you guys are okay,” he murmurs, “He never touched either of you, right?” When he pulls back to look the youngest members in the eyes, there’s a fearful look on his face. They’re both quick to reassure him that no, Shiwoo never laid a hand on them. He exhales deeply in relief, bringing his hand up to ruffle their hair. He tries to keep some sense of normalcy, whether that be for himself or the others, he doesn’t know.

They settle down to sleep in Taeyong’s room (Chenle is adamant on attaching himself to Jaemin, near tears with guilt. Jaemin is quick to assure him that none of what happened was the young singer’s fault), though Jaemin has no intent to sleep. He would much rather stay awake and on guard, just on the off chance Shiwoo somehow gets to them in the middle of the night. He knows it’s illogical, and that no one would ever let the manager near any of the trio again, but his mind is still on high alert.

Chenle and Jisung fall asleep rather fast, their chests rising and falling with soft breaths. Jaemin admires them, they can peacefully sleep without constant nightmares and anxiety. He doesn’t remember what it felt like to be able to do that.

He shifts his eyes back up to the ceiling, trying not to let his thoughts get too loud. His body is aching with every tiny movement. Even laying perfectly still is painful, though the pain medication he was offered is starting to kick in.

His eyes begin to get heavy despite his habit of battling sleep. He’s just about to slip into unconsciousness when he hears the door open. His body goes rigid and he barely cracks his eyes open, wanting to feign being asleep. He relaxes slightly when he notices who it is. Donghyuck is quietly creeping into the room. He takes a seat on the end of the bed and wipes his cheeks (he’s crying, but why?). Only then does Jaemin notice Mark standing in the doorway, looking worse for wear.

“I’m so sorry, Nana, I should have known. I knew you felt weird about him, I really should have seen it. I’m sorry, I’m endlessly sorry,” Donghyuck’s voice cracks as he talks. He pauses for a moment.

“I know you’re asleep, but I just needed to say this. I’m sorry,” he continues on, running his hands up and down his thighs.

“Hyuck, he’s not going to blame you. He never would, you know that. I’m sure the thought hasn’t even crossed his mind,” Mark butts in, and Jaemin wants to thank him. It’s true, he could never blame Donghyuck for anything, and he feels terrible that the boy would ever even consider that possibility.

“Now c’mon, let’s let him sleep,” the eldest says. Donghyuck casts a longing glance at Jaemin once more before he stands up to leave.

Jaemin’s body betrays him, and he falls asleep soon after.

-

The next day is hellish for Jaemin.

He wakes up later than usual, and neither Jisung nor Chenle are in the room. His first emotion of the day is pure, unadulterated panic. Perfect.

He pries the blankets off of himself and rushes from the room, then bumps straight into Jungwoo. The taller man steadies the younger, looking lost.

“Jaemin? What’s wrong?” He asks, concern clear in his tone.

“Chen-Chenle and Jisung,” Jaemin tells him breathlessly. Jungwoo is confused for a moment, before understanding dawns upon his face.

“They’re safe, they’re in the kitchen,” he assures the panicked boy. Jaemin lets out a deep breath, hand coming up to clutch at his chest.

“Oh, okay. Er- Thank you, sorry about that,” he says awkwardly, letting his panic calm. Jungwoo smiles brightly, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

“No problem! I think Taeyong-hyung wanted to talk to you about something too, by the way.” Jaemin knows what he wants to talk about, and he’s not looking forward to it.

Sure enough, when Jaemin reaches the kitchen, Chenle, Jisung, and Taeyong are occupying the space. They beckon him in when they notice his presence. He doesn’t mention the mini panic attack he just had, preferring to keep it under wraps and between him and Jungwoo only.

“I heard you wanted to talk to me?” He says quietly. His voice is rather rough, both from getting strangled and crying. He thinks it’s a miracle his voice isn’t completely gone, but he can’t say he’s not grateful. He mindlessly taps the pads of his fingers against the wooden table he’s taken a seat at, eyes downcast. Taeyong clears his throat.

“Yeah, there’s a few things. If you’re comfortable, can you tell me what’s been happening?” Taeyong asks, not skirting around the subject. Jaemin can’t blame him, it’s not exactly an easy topic to talk about. Better to get it over with than delay.

It takes a long time, but Jaemin relays everything Shiwoo’s done to him. He bursts into tears numerous times throughout, launching into a full-fledged panic attack at least once. His entire body shakes while he speaks, and his words are sometimes choked out by his crying. His mind screams at him about how pathetic he is the entire time, and it makes Jaemin cry harder. It’s not a small task to tell someone about months of abuse you’ve endured, so Taeyong doesn’t judge the boy for his emotions.

The whole time he holds the upset boy’s hands, gently rubbing his thumbs over Jaemin’s bruised knuckles. He struggles to contain his own tears, knowing what this boy, someone that he considers family, has been suffering through. It seems almost unrealistic, the fact that a man could so easily hurt another person, let alone someone so innocent and sweet. He wants to hug Jaemin and go and kick Shiwoo all at once.

They take a break once Jaemin finishes up, letting them both collect themselves. Taeyong makes food for them, noting the boy hasn’t eaten that day. Jaemin only pushes it around in his bowl.

“You have to eat,” Taeyong says softly. Jaemin furrows his brows sadly, but takes a slow bite. Taeyong considers it a success in his books.

“The other thing I wanted to talk about is good news,” the leader says. Jaemin looks at him questioningly, letting his actions portray his words rather than upsetting his voice more than he has to.

“Last night I called the police and reported Shiwoo,” he informs. Jaemin looks cross for a moment, one side of him happy that the man was reported, the other absolutely terrified about the consequences.

“He’s being detained and tried. His wife and kids also filed an abuse report with proof. The authorities need to talk to you though, and take photos of your injuries. Is that alright? They think it’ll be enough to get him locked up for, at the very least, a year or so” Jaemin is hesitant, a part of him just wanting to separate himself from the situation completely, but he knows it’s for the best. He nods shortly in confirmation.

“Just, one more thing - They might need you to go on trial along with his family. Not for sure but it’s looking likely,” Taeyong says this quieter, as if the volume of his voice will lessen the blow of the statement. Jaemin’s eyes are wide and his hands grow sweaty.

“I-” he takes a moment, “trial? They want me to… to go up in front of a bunch of people and talk about what he did to me?” He sounds mildly horrified. He stops eating completely, dropping his chopsticks.

“What if they don’t believe me? What if we don’t have enough proof? Oh god, that means I’ll have to see him again,” Jaemin laments, holding his head in his hands.

“You don’t have to if you really don’t want to, but it would help the case. And the police went to the SM building earlier this morning, they got security footage of you and Shiwoo alone in the halls together when you should have been at the dorm. Not to mention, you have aliases that can say you and Shiwoo were missing at the same time. It’s a super solid case. The police can tell you the same things. Plus, Shiwoo won’t be able to get you in court, he’ll be handcuffed,” Taeyong tells him all of the details he can think of, trying his best to calm the boy before his emotions get the best of him again. Jaemin runs his hand through his hair, contemplating his options for a minute.

“And no one else will get hurt?” He asks, his voice impossibly small.

“No one else will get hurt,” Taeyong confirms.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” Jaemin declares quietly. They’re quiet for a moment, not knowing how to fill the silence in such a tense situation.

“He said he’d kill himself,” the teenager mumbles. Taeyong acknowledges it with a small hum.

“You said that last night, I told the police when I called them. They’re keeping a close eye on him, I wouldn’t worry.” He gets up, offering to take Jaemin’s nearly empty bowl.

Jaemin can’t help the uneasiness that still sits in his gut.

-

The authorities are gentle with him, but their kindness doesn’t make the situation any easier. He has to sit alone with them and retell everything he’s already told Taeyong, but without the support and comfort of someone he trusts.

He manages to keep his tears to a minimum this time. That doesn’t mean much when he has a near endless supply, though.

He’s asked to strip to his underwear so they can take photos of his injuries. The room they have him in is cold, so he sits there shivering for a hefty ten minutes before he’s allowed dress again.

He finds the whole experience mentally draining, and all he wants to do afterwards is nap. Alas, that’s impossible as he’s immediately taken to a doctor to professionally check over his injuries.

He sits through x-rays and poking and prodding. He figures it’s okay, because he at least gets to have Taeyong with him while it all happens.

The doctor is a kind young women. She’s soft spoken and very professional, but holds a certain warmth that makes Jaemin feel far more comfortable than the policemen did. She orders him to take at the very least a month off of strenuous exercise, and to eat more. He solemnly agrees.

It turns out he got rather lucky, as none of Shiwoo’s kicks caused any significant damage, especially considering the power of them. It’s as if a weight is lifted off of the chests of both Jaemin and Taeyong. The boy’s clearance from the doctor allows them to breathe just a bit better.

The rest of the day is spent in and out of meetings with the staff at SM and searching for therapists that best fit Jaemin’s situation. He still feels rather pathetic, especially knowing that all this effort is having to be put into making sure he’s okay. Logically, he knows that for someone’s who’s been through so much he’s holding up quite well, yet he can’t shake the feeling of helplessness and the need to deal with it better.

He wants to pretend nothing happened.

He knows that’s not how it works.

He hates it.

He’s offered a break, a rest period where he can go home and recover, but he denies it. He knows he would go crazy if he were surrounded by his overbearing parents, alone, for a month or two. Everyone seems confused as to his refusal, but it’s not openly questioned.

Jaemin would much rather stay around the people who keep him sane, and always have.

-

The case doesn’t go to trial, much to everyone’s delight, and Shiwoo gets sentenced 28 months in prison with a chance of parole. It’s not the longest sentence, but considering the lack of offenders that are imprisoned for abuse, it’s a success.

Jaemin decides to call his parents and tell them what’s been going on. His mother cries and his father demands he comes home. The phone call is by no means pleasant, but it’s a first step towards recovery. He feels accomplished.

Life isn’t easy after Shiwoo is gone. No, sometimes Jaemin still feels like the man is a puppeteer with full control over his life. He still wakes up screaming some nights, still shies away from touch, still worries over the man coming back into his life.

It’s months later, and Jaemin still sometimes feels like the man has a death grip on his him.

His therapist tells him that this is normal. She teaches him ways to gain a healthy sense of control over his own life without starving (that proves to be an issue once again. Jaemin doesn’t eat for a week and ends up collapsing. No one finds him for an hour. Afterwards, his meals are much more closely monitored).

He still gets panic attacks, and his insecurities still pick at him, but he tries to remind himself that it’s okay, that he’s improving and anything is better than where he was months prior (sometimes it’s difficult, but he’s learning positive thinking techniques and he’s reminding himself that everything will be fine).

Every once in awhile, he gets overwhelmed by his thoughts. He refuses to acknowledge that talking about them will make him feel better, and so he sits alone and thinks. It’s nice sometimes, but he soon realizes that he much prefers the company of others. He’s spent too much time isolated and lonely.

(It’s night when Renjun finds him. He’s sitting alone, outside on the grass. Jaemin tells him about how, no matter how much he’s recovered, he still sometimes feels worthless and pitiful. Renjun doesn’t agree.

“Jaemin,” Renjun starts, sadness in his voice, “you are so much more than the battles you’ve lost and the wars you’ve won. Your worth is infinite, regardless of what you’ve been told.” Jaemin tears up, casting his gaze towards the night sky. He leans all his weight on his arms, heaving a tired sigh.

“I want to believe everything you’re saying, I really do, but I just… can’t. I know I shouldn’t say this but,” he closes his eyes, “I feel like this- everything that has happened to-” his voice catches, and he has to take a moment to breathe.

“Everything that has happened to me defines who I am now. It’s not something I can just put in the past, I have to live with this forever.” The chilly night air stings his skin, but he feels like he could sit here with Renjun for an eternity. It’s unthinkably difficult, he feels pathetic, but allowing his truths to come spilling out to someone who isn’t being paid to listen, is freeing.

“Just know that in the end, you, Na Jaemin, are everything, and he is nothing,” Renjun hums from beside, moving his hand to rest on top of the younger’s).

Jaemin often finds himself thinking that, as the bruises faded, his feelings about the situation should have, too. He can’t help but feel that his physical markings should be the only memory of what he went through, but they’re not. Even months into his recovery, he still is reminded of Shiwoo all the damn time, and it’s exhausting. He knows that this is normal, and it will take far longer than a few months to feel one hundred percent okay again, but he’s frustrated.

(When he tells Jeno this one night, the older boy fondly calls him a dummy, but holds him in his arms, even after Jaemin says he’s feeling alright again).

One day, Chenle stays at the studio far longer than he said he would. No one questions when he’s twenty minutes late, not thirty, not even forty.

An hour in, Jaemin gets antsy. There’s an alarm blaring in his head, screaming the threats Shiwoo would use at him. He feels irritation prickling at his skin, and he resists the urge to go and find the boy. Everyone assures him that Chenle is fine, but he worries nonetheless.

Eventually, the singer walks through the door. Jaemin is up and in front of Chenle within seconds of his entrance. He frets over the younger boy, and checks him for injuries.

At first, Chenle is confused, but it clicks in his head after a moment. He attempts to assure the teen that he’s alright, and he just lost track of the time. It makes Jaemin back off a little bit, but the older still insists that Chenle sleeps with him for the night. The singer is quick to agree.

Recovery is a slow, difficult process. At times, it seems like Jaemin is taking leaps and bounds forwards, getting better and better, but other times it’s as if he’s plateaued. Jaemin finds these times much worse than the others do, but he gets over them eventually. Some days his progress is akin to taking two steps forward and one step back, but he’s getting there. They all are.

It’s not easy, but everything is worth it when Jaemin starts to get the pieces of himself back.