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skzoologist · 5 months

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Ok so I have another idea,

So bae is having a bad day and struggling with something, feeling insecure making him feel really stressed and down and he considers harming himself to cope with it thankfully one of the members notice him (Feeling in a minho or chan mood rn so if you could write it as them that would be amazing) and check up on him right before he was about to and stops, him comforting bae

P.S You don't have to write it if you aren't comfortable writing something like this. Ngl I dunno what came over me with this, maybe I am self projecting?

-🐿️

word count: ~2.1k

warnings: self-harm, self-deprecating thoughts

genre: heavy angst, hurt/comfort

a/n: I know I got another ask from a different follower a day ago, but this is just activating my own spidey senses, so this enjoys priority. Also I'm alright writing this, because it touches on a part of Bae's lore that I haven't revealed yet, so don't worry about that. But 🐿️ anon, my sweetie, if you ever really have these thoughts, talk to someone. Anyone. A friend, family, heck, even me or another online person! This isn't a long-term solution, but it can help tremendously. This goes for everyone too: if talking to me or requesting something like this helps, never hesitate to do so! Life is hard and we sometimes need some time and help to recuperate and get back to our feet. There's no shame in it.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

As soon as Bae opened his eyes, he felt the air heavily pressing onto his skin, as if a weight was fused onto the upper layer. His limbs felt sluggish, as if his own blood and bones were cast out of pure steel and misery. The light that successfully seeped through the thick curtains felt too bright, earning a low hiss from the male.

Mornings after a migraine were always hard to bear.

The one he’d had the previous day was particularly harsh, rendering him useless as he’d been just carried away by his bandmates to the dorms in urgency. All schedules’s been cancelled for him immediately, Chan telling him how it was alright, how he should only ever focus on his own health.

It made his stomach churn.

Everyone was working themselves to the point of exhaustion every single day, yet here he was, laying in bed once again, causing inconvenience for everyone. He hated it with every fibre of his being, the feeling seeping deep inside and nestling there.

Yet, Bae put a lock onto the gate this monstrous being hid behind, forcing his limbs to move, the motion cumbersome and difficult. What would have only taken him a few minutes now took ten or twenty, an obscuring fog settling over most of his mind. Nothing felt right, yet he powered through it, refusing to leave out another day of work.

Not even Chan could stop him.

After his morning routine was done and his horribly pale skin was hidden behind makeup, he went out of his room at his own, slow pace, knowing fully well no one else was at the dorms anymore. They were all already at the company, busy with their solo schedules and practices. He himself had to be at a photoshoot in an hour, or at least according to his original, filled out schedule. His hyungs adamantly gave him not only yesterday off, but two other days as well, not leaving him any room for argument.

Little did they know he’d told his own manager to reschedule those two days amidst head-splitting pain and blurry vision. It was an arduous task, but he’d managed.

Once he was down in the lobby and ready to go, his driver was surprised, safe to say, the expression obvious as it sat out onto his face. But he’d been working with Bae for long years now, thus that was the only indication about the idol’s unexpected appearance. No words were exchanged, the two acknowledged the other with a respectful nod and off they were to their destination.

The drive wasn’t long, leaving Bae no time to sink into his thoughts as he watched the scenery fly by through the window. Even the weather was feeling down, the skies grey and melancholic. It felt as if in the next minute the clouds would start weeping, openly pouring their heart out in a silent farewell.

Once the car was parked, he slightly nodded at the driver who was looking back at him, opening the door and stepping out onto still dry pavement. His legs automatically took him into the company, something he was grateful for with his hazy mind. The only thoughts that were coherently formed in there were about his bandmates and how he wished he wouldn’t run into them accidentally. He really didn’t have the energy to hear what they had to say and berate him over not resting.

It seemed like his prayers were heard, nobody noticing him as he was silently walking through the halls, as if he was a ghost tied to them for eternity. The moment the staff saw him enter the room they bowed and greeted him, something he reciprocated silently with a bow of his own.

He was soon whisked away to a chair, his makeup and hair professionally done. Even if the workers noticed the bags under his eyes or his unnaturally pale complexion, none of them acknowledged it, opting to instead silently work away with precise movements.

The different array of powder snugly stuck to his skin, just enough to make him feel like the idol he was supposed to be, not a smidge more. The colours were vibrant, the exact opposite of what he felt like under the mask he’d put up, something that fit his idol self only. His bleached, white hair was gently clipped up, a few chosen strands taken out and purposefully left hanging down, framing his face elegantly. A glint caught his eye, the dangly earring in his left ear catching light and shining brightly.

The man who looked back at him in the mirror felt like someone else.

Tearing his gaze away, he let the stylists choose his outfit and got into position, everyone’s eyes on that stranger who he was supposed to be. With a cold gaze he did his job, perfectly executing everything that was expected of him. Even after the sixth outfit change, the final one, and endless photos taken over the course of hours, his expression remained unchanged, focus solely on the camera that was pointed directly at him.

The way back home felt like a blur to him. Stripped of the branded clothes and sheltering makeup on his face, he felt vulnerable, something those dark, swirling thoughts started taking advantage of. He tried to think of anything else, of food or even a favourite TV show.

None of it worked.

They all circled back to how he shouldn’t be skipping the group’s dance practice, how miserable he looked and how he felt nauseous, even though he hadn’t eaten anything all day. Horrendous scenarios played through his head, worsening with every passing second, each ending with him being forced to leave the group.

He really should cook something. If not for himself, then his bandmates, who no doubt would be hungry by the time they got back to the dorms.

But what if… What if they wouldn’t want to eat it? Why would they? After all, he was someone undeserving of their love, to be in the group, useless with a malfunctioning body. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of them finally would have had enough of his constant migraines and the hassle that always came with it, the constant darkness and hushed voices as he was carried away, unmoving.

He also didn’t have an amazingly unique voice like Felix, or dance moves like Minho. Hell, he didn’t even know how to produce music, like 3RACHA.

He was useless.

The knife in his hand glinted, surrounded by half-chopped vegetables. A thought ran through his head, one that would solve all his problems, permanently ending them.

Pale skin drew him in, dark veins peeking through. It felt inviting, as if it somehow grew a mouth itself and called the knife’s name, inescapably alluring.

“Bae?”

His eyes were drawn from the freshly drawn blood, only a few droplets escaping and coating the surface of the blade in a bittersweet vermillion colour. Chan just stood there, frozen, hand stopped midair, no doubt in the process of taking off his bag. Their eyes met, dull ones with pure panic, darting between the knife and Bae’s eyes, as if no matter how hard their owner tried, he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The thud of the bag was loud in the heavy silence, unsure footsteps soon following it.

Bae just watched as the older walked towards him, steps wobbly and out of their usual, steady rhythm. Shaking hands reached towards his own ones, gently prying them apart and away from the stained, sharp object.

An even shakier breath left Chan’s lips as he just stood there, still holding the other’s hands in his gentle hold, blood now painting his skin in small rivers. Their eyes couldn’t meet this time, no, the leader’s own gaze focused on their conjoined hands, expression hidden from the younger.

Not a sound could be heard as Bae was led towards the bathroom, Chan’s hands quietly working away on taking care of the fresh wound. Bae similarly didn’t say anything, not even hiss left his lips when the alcohol touched open skin, or when it was finally sealed off, left to heal in peace.

The two remained there for a while, one standing, the other sitting, until the silence was broken by quiet sniffles, the older’s lip wobbling and eyes shining with unshed tears.

“What were you thinking?” - his voice was a broken little thing, as if he himself got hurt by the knife instead of Bae.

The younger stayed silent, numb and unwilling to burden anyone with his worthless thoughts. He didn’t deserve being cared for like this, something the voices whispered to him relentlessly.

“Bae, why did you do it? Do you hate being with us this much?”

His head snapped up from where he was observing the tiles underneath his feet, wide eyes staring into Chan’s tear-filled ones. Those obsidian orbs were filled with sorrow, the usually bright nebulas now hidden in darkness. The sight alone broke something in Bae, as if he was pulled up onto the surface of an alaskan lake from its deep, imprisoning depths.

A sound left the younger’s lips, something that vaguely resembled a word, yet no one could tell. It was quiet, broken, much like the male himself. More soon followed its wake, finally donning the form of a word and adamantly denying Chan’s question with their sole existence. His head shook as tears finally fell down upon shaking hands, ones that were raised in a sad attempt of hiding away. Chan didn’t hesitate to hug the unravelling boy in front of him, his standing form easily engulfing Bae’s small, sitting one.

“Then why?” - the question was careful, as if a single wrong word could shatter Bae into irreparable pieces.

“I don’t feel worthy to be here.” - that was the simple answer he got.

The grip on the younger tightened impossibly, Chan’s form rigid and unbreathing. It prompted Bae to snake his hands further up, clinging onto the fabric there desperately, hold more secure on his hyung. His head was buried in Chan’s stomach, afraid to be seen like this.

“My moonlight, look at me.” - it was a gentle request, one that was accompanied by tender hands, holding onto tear-stained cheeks and leading them out of their hiding.

Thumbs softly swiped the droplets away from underneath dark, confused eyes.

“You’re one of the hardest working people I’ve ever met, and I’ve been in this demanding industry for longer than anyone should have. There’s a passionate fire burning inside you, one that you never let lose its intensity. Not only do you practise and work relentlessly, you also have amazing talent in everything you do. Your singing is wonderfully soft, perfectly harmonising with anyone you sing with. You know every single one of our dances to the point where if I were to start a song from any point, you would know what dance move goes with it. And you always look amazing, no matter what you wear or do. On top of all that, you never fail to help us or listen to our problems. Never once have you turned us away in all these years.”

Chan’s eyes held a soft light, a gentle smile dancing on his lips. It stole the breath out of Bae’s lungs, his eyes stinging as a fresh wave of tears started forming.

“You can ask any of us, we would only sing your praises. Because they’re true, baby. You might get migraines often, but then what? That doesn’t make you any less of us. You work hard enough already, a little rest won’t take away from that.”

He stopped for a moment, as if a fond memory appeared in front of his eyes.

“Did you know? I love the little snacks you sneak into my bag that I take to the studio with me. I also love the little notes you always give me with it and the silly little drawings on them. I’ve never thrown one out ever since you started giving them to me.”

The look on Chan’s face was entirely too fond, something that Bae couldn’t possibly look at for too long, lest his chest burst into loved pieces. No, hiding into the fabric of his hyung felt better, unwilling to think about the way the man’s lips curved up, dimples peeking through, or the way his eyes were just slightly crinkled, holding the warmth of a star itself even through those crystal droplets.

“You’re loved, Bae. Never forget that.”

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