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The room was warm, bathed in the soft glow of a nearby lamp, and filled with the gentle hum of a guitar. Six-year-old Jisung sat cross-legged on the floor, a small, worn guitar resting in his lap. His father, seated on a chair next to him, strummed the strings with careful ease, showing Jisung the basics of rhythm and melody.
“Alright, Jisung,” his father said, offering him an encouraging smile. “Try following along. Just let the music guide you.”
Jisung nodded, focusing on the strings beneath his fingertips and feeling the vibrations through his small hands. He strummed softly, trying to match the rhythm his father played. But no matter how hard he tried, the notes didn’t sound right, and his frustration mounted with each failed attempt.
"Don’t worry about it, son," his father reassured him, his voice calm and steady. "Music takes time. You just have to—"
A sharp, high-pitched note slipped from Jisung’s fingers, a dissonant sound that made him wince. It was as if the music itself was mocking him, and the frustration boiled over. His chest tightened with emotion—guilt for failing, embarrassment for not getting it right, and a deep sense of disappointment that he couldn’t live up to the expectations, even his own.
As the wave of emotion surged through him, something inside Jisung snapped. The storm inside him wasn’t just his frustration anymore—it was something raw, uncontained, a powerful force that demanded release. The air around him thickened, heavy with energy.
And then, it happened.
A gust of wind surged through the room, blowing the curtains violently. The guitar in Jisung’s hands trembled as though caught in the same turmoil. His breath hitched as a sharp crack of thunder echoed through the walls, louder than anything he had ever heard. His heart raced, his chest tightening with the rawness of his own power. The wind outside howled, rattling the windows and pushing against the house with an unrelenting force. The temperature in the room dropped, a sharp chill seeping into the air.
His father’s eyes widened with concern, and he stood quickly, trying to move closer to Jisung. The storm outside was growing, the wind howling louder, and Jisung could feel it inside him—the weather, the storm, everything was building up, and it was all because of him. His emotions had triggered something inside him, something dangerous and wild. But he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t stop it.
“Jisung?” His father’s voice trembled as he knelt next to his son, but it wasn’t enough to break through the chaos Jisung was feeling. Jisung’s eyes glowed an eerie red, the color pulsing, as if fueled by his emotions. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his hands gripped the guitar with trembling fingers.
"I—I didn’t mean to!" Jisung cried, his voice breaking. The storm was raging around him, louder than any sound he’d ever known, and his small body was shaking uncontrollably. The wind pushed against the walls, shaking the entire house. The pressure built with every passing second.
His father could see it—he could feel it—the storm wasn’t just outside anymore. It was inside Jisung, an extension of his own turmoil. He reached out instinctively, his own ability flaring to life in an attempt to shield his son. His special power was energy manipulation—the ability to absorb, redirect, and control various forms of energy. His father had used it to protect his family countless times, but this… this was different. Jisung’s emotional storm was like an uncontained energy surge, far beyond what he had anticipated.
He tried to extend his ability, focusing on the energy that swirled around Jisung, attempting to absorb and stabilize it. But the energy was erratic and wild, and he could feel it slipping away from his control just as his son was slipping deeper into panic. It was too chaotic, even for him.
“Jisung, please, listen to me,” his father pleaded, his voice desperate but filled with love. "You have to focus. I’m here to help, son."
But Jisung’s emotions swirled uncontrollably, the storm inside him escalating. His father’s attempt to calm him only seemed to intensify the pressure, as though his own ability wasn’t enough to counterbalance Jisung’s power. Jisung’s gaze met his father’s, his red eyes glowing brighter, the pull of the storm amplifying with every moment of panic.
The air crackled with energy as another blast of lightning lit up the room. Jisung’s father’s heart raced, but he refused to give up on him. He stretched his hands out to absorb some of the raw, uncontrollable power of the storm, trying to redirect it, but it was like trying to hold onto a flame in a hurricane. The storm wasn’t just about wind and rain—it was alive, shifting in unpredictable ways, feeding off of Jisung’s fear and frustration.
"Jisung, please," his father whispered, his voice trembling. "You can control this. I know you can. Trust me. You have the power within you. Let me help you."
But Jisung’s power surged, his emotions so strong that they felt like an unyielding torrent of energy. The wind outside howled, the thunder cracked with terrifying force, and Jisung’s father could feel his energy field slipping, overwhelmed by the intensity. He couldn’t absorb or redirect all of it. Jisung’s power was too much.
"I can’t!" Jisung sobbed, his voice barely audible over the roaring storm. "I don’t know how to stop it!"
His father, heart aching at the sight of his son’s distress, moved closer, placing his hands gently on Jisung’s shoulders. His ability flickered in a final attempt to stabilize the situation—he absorbed as much of the chaotic energy as he could, drawing it into himself to lessen the impact on Jisung. But even his well-honed ability couldn’t entirely shield them from the storm.
"Jisung, focus on me," his father whispered urgently. "Calm your heart. Focus on me. I’m here."
For a moment, Jisung’s breath caught, the overwhelming panic in his chest momentarily stilled by his father’s words. The red glow in his eyes flickered, dimming slightly as he focused on the sound of his father’s voice, steady and loving.
The storm outside finally began to lose some of its intensity. The wind slowed, the thunder lessened, and the temperature in the room returned to a more normal chill. The energy crackling in the air began to dissipate, and Jisung’s breathing slowly steadied.
Jisung’s glowing eyes faded to their normal color, his body's frantic pulse of energy finally quieting. He slumped forward, exhausted, and collapsed into his father’s arms. His father held him tightly, brushing a hand through his damp hair. There was a deep sense of relief despite the chaos and the fear of what had just happened.
“You’re okay,” his father murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “We’ll figure this out, Jisung. Together.”
But as the storm outside continued to fade into a gentle drizzle, both father and son knew that this was only the beginning. Jisung’s powers had awakened—wild and untamed—and they had no choice but to face the challenges ahead.
****
Jisung stood at the entrance, his small hand gripping his father’s, his heart pounding in his chest. He had heard the stories, the whispers of what happened to people like him, and the unknowns that awaited inside those cold walls. His father had tried to reassure him, but nothing could calm the tightening fear in his chest.
“Dad, do we have to go?” Jisung asked quietly, his voice small despite the sharp edge of panic threading through his words. His eyes flickered nervously toward the entrance, still a little bloodshot from the night before. The thoughts swirling in his mind—of what might happen, of being tested like some kind of lab rat—overwhelmed him.
His father looked down at him, his hand gently brushing Jisung’s dark hair back. “I know it’s scary, son. But this is important. We need to make sure they understand what happened... what you’re capable of.”
Jisung bit his lip, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to spill. He didn't want to do this. He didn’t want to be tested, didn’t want to face people who might look at him like something to be fixed or contained.
"Remember, I'll be right here," his father said, kneeling down to meet Jisung's eyes. His face was soft, his voice steady. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
But nothing could prepare Jisung for what lay inside. The cold, unfeeling atmosphere of the facility, the harsh fluorescent lighting, the people in white lab coats walking briskly with no expression—they all felt suffocating. Jisung felt small and exposed, like a piece of glass under a microscope.
They were led into a sterile room where the testing would take place. A tall, thin man in a lab coat stood at the front of the room, his expression neutral as he gestured for Jisung to sit. His father squeezed his hand one last time before stepping back to the observation area behind a glass wall.
"Alright, Jisung," the lab technician said in a clipped, emotionless tone. "We’re going to run a few tests today. Don’t worry. Just relax and focus on controlling your abilities."
Jisung's eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar equipment, the machines that seemed to hum with an unsettling energy. He felt trapped like he was already a prisoner to the fear that consumed him. The man gestured to a chair in the center of the room, indicating that Jisung should sit.
But Jisung couldn’t move. His heart was hammering in his chest, the familiar weight of anxiety creeping in. His breathing quickened, shallow, and ragged. He could feel his energy stirring within him—an undercurrent of power that was never far from the surface. And right now, it was trying to break free, fueled by the overwhelming fear and panic that had gripped him the moment they entered the building.
"No," Jisung whispered, his voice shaking. "I can’t—"
The man’s cold eyes narrowed as he took a step forward. "We need you to comply, Jisung. Please sit."
The command sounded final, and Jisung froze his pulse quickening. The world around him started to spin, the edges of his vision blurring as his emotions surged out of control. The tightness in his chest increased, his hands trembling, and he could feel the familiar crackle of energy rising, his powers stirring just below the surface.
His father’s voice echoed in his mind, trying to break through the fog of panic: “Focus, Jisung. You can do this. Calm down. I’m right here.”
But Jisung couldn’t focus. The pressure was building, the fear suffocating, and suddenly, the room felt too small. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as the wind outside began to pick up, pushing against the windows with the force of a storm. His eyes—his red, glowing eyes—flickered with the same intensity of the energy building up inside him.
He felt a shift—a violent, uncontrollable surge. A flash of lightning cracked outside, but it felt like it had come from inside him. Jisung’s chest constricted, and he gasped, trying to catch his breath. The temperature in the room plummeted, and the lights flickered. The lab technician’s eyes widened, and he stepped back, alarmed by the sudden change in the air.
“Jisung, calm down,” his father’s voice came through the intercom, desperate. “You have to calm down. It’s okay, just breathe. I’m here.”
But the words didn’t reach him. The storm inside him was building, fed by his fear and his inability to control it. His breathing was shallow, his mind racing, and he couldn’t stop the power inside him from spiraling out of control.
“I... I can’t...” Jisung’s voice cracked, barely a whisper.
The wind began to howl, rattling the windows. Papers on the desk in front of him were lifted into the air, caught in the powerful gusts of wind. The temperature dropped drastically, and the lights above flickered erratically, buzzing as though about to go out.
The technician’s voice became sharp, frantic, “Someone stop this! Get him under control!”
But Jisung couldn’t hear them anymore. His mind was clouded with the roar of his emotions, the red glow in his eyes pulsing with the uncontrolled energy threatening to break free. His father rushed to the door, his ability flaring, trying to create a barrier between Jisung and the chaos he was unleashing, but the storm inside him was too much.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash. The glass on the windows shattered, sending shards of glass tumbling to the floor. A blast of wind pushed against the walls, and Jisung’s power finally reached its breaking point.
Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the storm inside him died down. His energy, his emotions—everything just… stilled. Jisung collapsed to the floor, exhausted, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His father was by his side in an instant, kneeling down and pulling him into a tight embrace.
“It’s okay. It’s over,” his father whispered, his voice hoarse, both relieved and heartbroken. “You’re okay. You’re okay.”
Jisung’s hands were trembling, his entire body drained from the emotional and physical toll of the panic attack. He didn’t know how to feel—ashamed, terrified, or relieved that it was finally over. The testing had failed, and he had failed.
But as his father held him, steadying him, Jisung could feel a warmth spreading from within—the energy his father had absorbed, the calming force he had used to shield him.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” his father murmured, brushing his hair back gently. “We’ll figure it out.”
Jisung’s breath slowed, but the fear lingered, and he knew this was just the beginning of a much harder journey ahead. The government would want to test him again—this time, they would be more prepared. But in that moment, all that mattered was that he wasn’t alone.
****
At thirteen, Jisung had come to terms with one undeniable truth: his powers weren’t just a freak accident. They were growing, evolving, becoming something far more dangerous than he ever expected.
What once had been chaotic bursts of uncontrollable storms now felt like a living, breathing force inside him, responding to every emotion with terrifying accuracy.
It started with the rain.
One evening, while studying alone in his room, frustration gnawed at his patience. No matter how hard he tried, the words in his textbook blurred together. The pressure to excel, to meet expectations, to prove to the world that he wasn’t just some unstable weather anomaly—it all pressed down on him like a suffocating weight.
A low rumble of thunder rolled through the sky.
Jisung didn’t notice at first.
But as his frustration built, the rain intensified, tapping against the windows like insistent fingers demanding attention. The sky outside darkened unnaturally fast, and when he finally felt the shift in the air, his breath hitched.
It’s happening again.
Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes and tried something new.
Instead of resisting, he focused. He reached for the storm within himself, grasping at the threads of energy, trying to weave them into something he could mold instead of fear.
And for the first time, the rain didn’t spiral into a full-blown downpour.
Instead, it slowed. The thunder softened.
He wasn’t controlling it perfectly, but he was influencing it.
And that meant there was hope.
He didn’t tell his father about it—he wasn’t ready for another round of government tests. Instead, he trained himself in secret, figuring out how to shift the temperature around him, how to call on a breeze without turning it into a hurricane. But the problem remained—his emotions were still the key. And no matter how much he practiced, some days, they got the best of him.
****
At eighteen, Jisung had a better grip on his abilities—or at least, that’s what he told himself.
Stray Kids had debuted only a few months ago, and everything was moving at a relentless pace. Practice, performances, interviews—his life had become a whirlwind of schedules, and somehow, he was expected to keep up.
And yet, no matter how much he tried to push his abilities to the back of his mind, they had grown alongside him, becoming sharper, more reactive. He didn’t have the same wild outbursts he did as a kid, but there were moments when his control slipped—just enough for the others to notice.
It started subtly.
The first time was during a dance practice. He was exhausted, frustrated that he wasn’t nailing a particular move. As the irritation built inside him, the temperature in the room dropped—just slightly, but enough for the others to shiver.
“Why is it so cold all of a sudden?” Seungmin muttered, rubbing his arms.
Jisung forced a laugh. “Maybe the AC’s too strong?”
They didn’t question it further, but Felix shot him a look—not suspicious, just thoughtful. Jisung avoided his gaze.
Then, there were the nights it rained.
It had been happening more frequently. After long, exhausting days, when doubt crept in—was he good enough? Was he really meant to be here?—the sky would open up, and the rain would fall like it was mourning with him.
One night, he sat by the dorm window, watching droplets race down the glass, his mind clouded with worries he couldn’t shake. He didn’t even notice when Bang Chan walked into the room until he spoke.
“You feeling okay?” Chan’s voice was soft, concerned.
Jisung tensed. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Chan didn’t push, but he glanced out the window, watching the rain for a moment before nodding slowly.
It wasn’t just Chan. Over time, the others noticed too.
When Jisung was confident, the air around them felt lighter. When he was anxious, the wind outside turned restless. When he was overwhelmed, the sky darkened, clouds forming where there had been none before. No one said anything directly. Maybe they weren’t sure if they were imagining it. Maybe they didn’t want to make him uncomfortable.
But the silence didn’t mean they were blind.
And Jisung knew—sooner or later, they’d start asking questions.
Jisung had spent years keeping his ability a secret from most people, but there were two people he had never been able to hide it from—Chan and Changbin.
They had been there during his early days, when his control was even worse than it is now. They had seen how his emotions could stir the air, how his panic could summon sudden storms, and how his excitement could clear a sky in seconds.
They had kept his secret without question. But now, as Stray Kids was steadily rising, Jisung knew it was only a matter of time before the others started noticing.
And he wasn’t ready for that.
It was nearly two in the morning when he slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Jeongin. The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. He didn’t need to check to know where Chan was—he was always awake at this hour, either working on music or lost in his thoughts.
Sure enough, when Jisung knocked softly on his door, he heard a tired but familiar voice.
“Come in.”
Jisung stepped inside to find Chan sitting at his desk, headphones around his neck, fingers idly tapping against his knee. He barely looked surprised to see Jisung there.
“You okay?” Chan asked, studying him.
Jisung hesitated. “Where’s Changbin?”
Chan raised an eyebrow but reached for his phone. “Probably drooling on his pillow, but let’s find out.”
It took three tries before Changbin finally picked up the call, his voice groggy and irritated.
“What.”
“Come to my room,” Chan said simply.
There was a grumble of protests, a few barely coherent complaints about sleep deprivation, but a few minutes later, Changbin trudged in, rubbing his eyes. “This better be important.”
Jisung shifted uncomfortably. “It is.”
That got Changbin’s attention. His expression sobered as he looked between Jisung and Chan. “What’s going on?”
Jisung took a deep breath, forcing himself to say it outright. “I can’t keep my ability hidden much longer. I need help.”
Changbin blinked before sighing, ruffling his hair. “Damn. I was wondering when you’d say something.”
Chan leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’ve been struggling, haven’t you?”
Jisung exhaled sharply. “Yeah. It’s getting stronger. It reacts to everything—I barely even have to think about it, and it just happens.” He glanced at the window. “The others haven’t said anything yet, but I know they’ve noticed. Felix, especially.”
Chan hummed thoughtfully. “That’s fair. He picks up on things fast.”
“I just—I don’t want them to find out until I can actually control it.” Jisung clenched his fists in his lap. “Right now, if I get too emotional, it’s over. I need to get ahead of this before it spirals.”
Changbin stretched, cracking his neck. “Alright, so what’s the plan? Training montage? Do we throw you in stressful situations and see what happens?”
Jisung shot him a glare. “That’s literally the opposite of what I want.”
Chan chuckled. “We’ll start slow. Figure out where your limits are, what triggers the strongest reactions. You’ve been dealing with this your whole life, but now we can actually focus on refining it.”
Jisung let out a shaky breath. “So, you’ll help?”
Chan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Of course.”
Changbin grinned. “Obviously. What kind of friends would we be if we let you destroy Seoul by accident?”
Jisung groaned, but despite himself, he felt lighter. He had spent so long dealing with this ability, like it was something to fear and hide. But now, for the first time, it felt like something he could actually face—with them by his side.
The following night, after schedules wrapped up and the others had gone to bed, Jisung found himself on the rooftop with Chan and Changbin. The city lights stretched out below them, flickering like stars, while the cool night air wrapped around them.
“This should be a good spot,” Chan said, stretching his arms above his head. “Not a lot of people around, and we can stop anything from getting out of hand before it does.”
Jisung shifted on his feet, exhaling slowly. His hands felt clammy despite the chill in the air. “And what if I can’t stop it?”
“Then we stop it for you,” Changbin said simply, leaning against the railing.
Jisung swallowed hard but nodded.
“Alright,” Chan said. “Let’s start with the basics. You said your ability reacts when you get emotional, right?”
Jisung snorted. “Yeah. That’s kind of the problem.”
“So instead of fighting that, let’s use it,” Chan continued. “Try to summon something small. Just a breeze.”
Jisung frowned. “And if it turns into a hurricane?”
“Then we’ll die together,” Changbin said cheerfully.
Jisung shot him a deadpan look. “Wow. So reassuring.”
“Just try,” Chan encouraged. “Close your eyes if it helps.”
Jisung inhaled deeply, letting his eyes flutter shut. He focused on the feeling he always got before the weather shifted—that tug deep in his chest, like something waiting to be unleashed.
He reached for it. At first, nothing happened. Then, slowly, he felt the air around him shift. A faint breeze stirred, ruffling his hair and grazing over his skin like a whisper.
His eyes snapped open. “Did I—”
A sudden gust blasted past them, strong enough to make Chan and Changbin stumble.
“Woah!” Changbin yelped, gripping the railing. “Okay, that was a little more than a breeze.”
Jisung’s heart pounded as he clenched his fists. “I didn’t mean to do that much.”
“Which is why we’re here,” Chan said, brushing his curls back from his face. “It’s fine. Let’s try again, but this time, keep it steady.”
Jisung swallowed hard but nodded. He closed his eyes again, focusing, trying to control the flow rather than letting it take over. The wind stirred once more, gentler this time. It rippled through the air around them but remained steady, not chaotic.
When Jisung opened his eyes, the relief was evident on his face. “I… I think I got it.”
Changbin grinned. “Not bad. We might actually survive this training after all.”
Jisung let out a breathless chuckle, tension easing from his shoulders. It was a small step, but it was a start. And for the first time, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he could actually control this part of himself.
Over the next few weeks, Jisung, Chan, and Changbin made rooftop training a routine. Late at night, when the rest of the members were asleep, they would sneak up to the roof and push Jisung’s limits—testing how much he could control, what triggered the worst reactions, and how to bring himself back when things got out of hand.
And things did get out of hand.
Like the time, Jisung accidentally created a small whirlwind in the practice room when Changbin cracked a joke that sent him into a fit of laughter. Or the night he got frustrated with himself, causing a downpour that soaked the entire rooftop.
But there were also moments of progress.
He learned how to steady his emotions before they spiraled. He discovered that breathing exercises helped him keep the wind from surging when he was nervous. He even figured out how to summon a breeze intentionally rather than just reacting to his emotions.
Still, it wasn’t enough. Not when his ability was getting stronger.
One night, after an exhausting day of schedules, Jisung was more drained than usual. The exhaustion made it harder to regulate his emotions, and his ability felt like it was teetering on the edge of control.
Chan and Changbin noticed immediately.
“Hey,” Chan said carefully, watching how Jisung’s shoulders were tense and how the air around them felt off. “You okay?”
Jisung swallowed hard, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s like—it feels like something’s building up, but I can’t stop it.”
Chan and Changbin exchanged a look. They had seen this before.
A storm was coming.
“Alright,” Changbin said, stepping closer. “Breathe. Try to ground yourself.”
“I am breathing,” Jisung snapped, but the wind around them told another story. It picked up, swirling faster, sharp against their skin.
“Jisung.” Chan’s voice was calm but firm. “Listen to me. You can stop this. You’ve done it before.”
Jisung’s breathing turned shaky. “I—I don’t think I can this time.”
His eyes flickered red.
And then—a loud crack split the air as a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky. The wind surged, nearly knocking them off their feet.
“Jisung, stop!” Changbin yelled, shielding his face.
“I can’t!” Jisung’s voice was raw, panicked.
Chan didn’t hesitate. He grabbed Jisung’s wrist, squeezing tightly. His touch was grounding, steady. “Yes, you can. Focus on me.”
Jisung’s breath hitched, his heart hammering in his chest. He could feel the storm raging inside him, begging to be released.
But then—Chan’s voice cut through the chaos. “Breathe. Now.”
Jisung sucked in a shaky breath. Then another. He focused on Chan’s hand around his wrist, on the weight of the moment. Slowly—painfully—the wind began to die down. The storm above them flickered, then faded.
By the time Jisung opened his eyes, the red glow was gone. His entire body trembled with exhaustion.n“I almost lost control,” he whispered.
“But you didn’t,” Chan said gently. “You pulled it back.”
Jisung exhaled shakily, his knees nearly giving out. “I don’t know how much longer I can hide this from the others.”
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Changbin said. “We’ve got you.”
Jisung looked between them, his chest tightening—not with fear this time, but with something else. Relief.
**
Despite Chan and Changbin’s reassurances, Jisung knew he was running out of time.
The other members weren’t oblivious. They might not have said anything directly, but Jisung had caught the lingering stares, the questioning glances. Felix, especially, was watching him more closely than usual. Seungmin had started making little comments about how the air felt weird when Jisung was anxious, and even Hyunjin had joked about how storms seemed to follow them whenever Jisung was in a mood.
It was getting harder to hide. Then, one particularly stressful night, everything nearly fell apart.
The boys had just wrapped up a long day of practice. They were behind schedule for their next comeback, and the pressure was suffocating. Even after rehearsing hours, their performance wasn’t up to par.
“Again,” Chan ordered his voice tight.
No one argued, but Jisung could feel the exhaustion weighing on everyone. His own frustration gnawed at him, his body aching, sweat dripping down his back. His head pounded, his emotions running high.
He felt it before it happened. The pressure in his chest, the way the air thickened around him. His heart rate spiked. No, no, not here—
A sharp gust of wind shot through the room, rustling clothes, knocking over a water bottle. It was subtle, barely noticeable—but Felix noticed.
Jisung saw the way Felix’s eyes flickered toward him, brows knitting together. “Did you feel that?” Felix murmured, looking around.
Jisung’s stomach twisted. His breath hitched, and the air shifted again—just a flicker, but enough that he saw Hyunjin frown.
His control was slipping. He had to get out of there.
“I need a break,” Jisung blurted, backing away before anyone could protest. He barely heard Chan call after him as he pushed out of the practice room, rushing down the hall.
His pulse pounded in his ears. His breath came too fast. The walls felt like they were closing in, and the pressure in his chest only grew stronger.
The hallway lights flickered. No, no, no—not now. He stumbled into a storage room, slamming the door shut behind him. His hands trembled as he gripped his head.
The air was crackling. His eyes burned.
And then—a firm hand landed on his shoulder.
“Jisung.”
Jisung jerked back, his vision swimming, but the presence in front of him was solid, steady.
Chan.
Jisung sucked in a breath, his body still shaking. “I—I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Chan interrupted, gripping both his shoulders. “You’ve got this.”
The storm inside Jisung screamed to be released, but Chan’s presence anchored him. He focused on the warmth of Chan’s hands and his eyes' steadiness.
Slowly—painfully—the air settled. His hands stopped shaking. His breathing evened out, and the storm faded. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, in a broken whisper, Jisung said, “They’re going to find out.”
Chan sighed, squeezing his shoulder. “Maybe. But not tonight.”
Jisung exhaled shakily. He wasn’t ready. Chan stayed with Jisung in that storage room for a while, and neither of them spoke at first. The air was still thick with leftover tension, but the storm—both inside and out—had finally quieted.
Eventually, Chan sighed, running a hand through his sweat-damp curls. “You need a better way to manage this, Jisung.”
Jisung swallowed hard. “I know.” His voice was hoarse. He was exhausted.
Chan hesitated, then lowered his voice. “I think… it might be time to tell the others.”
Jisung’s stomach twisted. “No.”
“Jisung—”
“No, hyung,” Jisung said more firmly, shaking his head. “Not yet.” He knew Chan meant well, but the thought of the others knowing—of seeing their reactions, their judgment, their fear—was too much.
Chan studied him for a long moment, then exhaled. “Alright. But you can’t keep running off like this. They’re already noticing.”
Jisung shut his eyes briefly. He knew Chan was right. Felix had definitely noticed.
Jisung lay awake in his bunk that night, staring at the ceiling. The practice room incident had been too close, and Felix’s reaction kept replaying in his mind.
Did you feel that?
Felix had always been perceptive. Too perceptive. It was only a matter of time before he put the pieces together.
And Jisung wasn’t sure what terrified him more—Felix finding out or Felix confronting him about it. When he finally drifted off to sleep, his dreams were restless.
The next day, the tension hadn’t faded.
Felix wasn’t acting differently, but there was something about how he kept watching Jisung that made his skin crawl as if Felix was waiting for him to slip up. Jisung avoided him as much as possible. He avoided all of them except Chan and Changbin, who kept their usual knowing, concerned glances to a minimum.
But avoiding Felix was easier said than done. Later that evening, after dinner, Felix cornered him in the dorm hallway. “Hey, can we talk?”
Jisung’s pulse jumped. He forced a casual smile. “What about?”
Felix tilted his head slightly. “I think you already know.”
Jisung’s stomach twisted. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Felix didn’t buy it. “Something’s going on with you, Jisung. And don’t say it’s nothing—I felt it.”
Jisung’s heart pounded. Shit.
Felix took a step closer, voice softer now. “You don’t have to tell me everything. But if something’s wrong, I want to help.”
Jisung wanted to tell him. He really did, but the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, he forced a laugh, stepping back. “Seriously, Lix, you’re overthinking. I’m just tired. Don’t make it weird.”
Felix frowned, eyes flickering with something—hurt? Frustration?
But he didn’t push. “…Alright.”
Jisung knew Felix didn’t believe him, which scared him more. He barely reached Chan’s room before his breathing started spiraling. His chest was tight. His hands trembled. His mind wouldn’t stop racing. Felix knew.
Maybe he didn’t have the full picture, but he knew something, and it was only a matter of time before he started asking more questions. And then the others would find out, and they’d look at him differently, and what if they were scared of him? What if they thought he was dangerous?
He could feel the air shifting around him. The walls of Chan’s room felt smaller than usual, closing in. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to slow his breathing. Not now. Please, not now.
“Jisung?” Chan’s voice pulled him back, firm but gentle.
Jisung forced himself to look up, barely registering the concern in Chan’s expression before the words came tumbling out.
“I can’t do this anymore, hyung.” His voice shook. “I can’t keep hiding it. They’re going to find out anyway.”
Chan’s eyes softened. “You’re sure?”
Jisung hesitated—just for a second—then nodded. “I need to tell them before it gets worse. Before they think I’m lying to them.” His throat tightened. “I just… I don’t want to keep lying to them. I trust them to keep this secret.”
“I understand,” Chan said, resting a hand on Jisung’s shoulder.
Jisung let out a shaky breath, nodding again.
“Alright,” Chan said. “Let’s get everyone together.”
It took some convincing, but eventually, all eight of them gathered in the living room. Most of them looked confused.
“Why do we all have to be here for this?” Hyunjin asked, sprawled across one of the couches.
“Did someone get in trouble?” Seungmin added. His eyes flickered toward Jisung. “If it was Jisung, I’m not surprised.”
Jisung shot him a glare, but his stomach was in knots. His hands curled into the fabric of his jeans, his leg bouncing uncontrollably.
Changbin, sitting next to him, nudged him lightly. “Breathe, bro.”
Jisung exhaled slowly.
Chan cleared his throat. “We need to talk. About… us.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“What do you mean, ‘us’?” Lee Know asked, leaning back with his arms crossed.
Chan glanced at Jisung, silently giving him the choice to start.
Jisung swallowed hard. His mouth was dry, but he forced himself to speak. “I have an ability.”
Silence.
Hyunjin frowned. “An ability?”
Jisung nodded, his heart pounding. “I can… control the weather. Kind of. It’s tied to my emotions, and I suck at controlling it.” He hesitated, fingers twisting in his hoodie. “And I think some of you have noticed.”
A heavy pause.
Then—
“That makes sense,” Felix said simply.
Jisung whipped his head toward him. “What?”
Felix shrugged. “I already figured something was up. But weather control? That’s pretty cool.”
Jisung blinked at him, trying to process how casual he was being about it.
Seungmin let out a quiet hum. “I knew something was weird about you, but I thought you just had bad vibes.”
Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”
“So…” I.N hesitated. “Is this a thing now? Are we all just admitting we have abilities?”
A ripple of unease passed through the group.
Then, Hyunjin let out a small laugh. “Well, if Jisung’s saying it, I guess I might as well.” He smirked slightly. “I can make my drawings come to life.”
Jisung’s jaw dropped. “Wait—what?”
Lee Know sighed, shaking his head. “I manipulate shadows.”
Changbin cracked his knuckles. “Earth control.”
Felix grinned. “Technopathy and technokinesis.”
Seungmin raised a hand lazily. “Mind reading and control. And no, I don’t listen to your thoughts all the time. That would be exhausting.”
I.N fidgeted slightly. “Well this may be disappointing, but I am still normal, no abilities here.”
Jisung’s mouth opened and closed, struggling to process what he was hearing. He turned to Chan.
Chan gave him a knowing look. “Well, Jisung and Changbin already know, but it's sound manipulation for me.”
Jisung ran a hand down his face. “So we’re all just… superpowered?”
Seungmin snorted. “Almost all of us.”
I.N rolled his eyes at the statement.
Hyunjin stretched out on the couch. “This is kind of insane, but it makes sense.” His expression turned more serious as he looked at Jisung. “But why now? Why tell us?”
Jisung hesitated. “I was scared.” His voice was quiet. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought you guys would look at me differently.”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “You’re dramatic.” Then, softer, “But you’re still Jisung. We’re not going anywhere.”
Jisung exhaled, some of the tension finally leaving his shoulders.
Felix smiled. “You know, if you need help figuring things out, we can work on it together.”
Jisung hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
The initial shock was fading, replaced by something steadier—acceptance and understanding. It was a lot to process, but nobody looked scared. Nobody looked like they wanted to run away from him.
Jisung exhaled slowly, his fingers finally unclenching from the fabric of his hoodie.
“So,” Changbin said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “What now?”
Jisung blinked. “Huh?”
Changbin gestured loosely. “You told us. We all know. But your ability is still unstable, right? You came to Chan earlier because something was wrong. What do you need?”
Jisung hesitated, glancing at Chan, who gave him a small nod of encouragement.
“I… I need help controlling it,” Jisung admitted. “I can hold it in when I’m calm, but if I get too emotional, things get bad fast. And now that I know pretty much all of us have abilities too…” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t want to be the one who loses control first.”
“You’re not the only one struggling,” Hyunjin muttered. “Sometimes my drawings don’t listen to me.”
Lee Know crossed his arms. “Shadows have a mind of their own, too.”
Jisung stared. He wasn’t the only one dealing with this?
Felix leaned forward, resting his chin on his palm. “Maybe we should start training together.”
Seungmin made a face. “Like a boot camp?”
“More like a support group,” Felix corrected.
Chan chuckled. “Not a bad idea.”
Jisung chewed on his lip, hesitating before speaking. “I don’t know if I’m ready to train in front of everyone.” His voice was quiet. “I don’t want to mess up and make things worse.”
Chan gave him a reassuring look. “You don’t have to rush. But you do have to start somewhere.”
Jisung glanced at Changbin, then back at Chan. These two had known about his ability the longest—he trusted them. He nodded slowly. “Can I start with just you two first?”
“Of course,” Chan said without hesitation.
Changbin grinned. “We’ll whip you into shape in no time.”
Jisung rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips.
Hyunjin stretched. “Well, if we’re doing this, we should make it fair. Everyone should get help with their abilities, not just Jisung.”
Felix nodded. “Yeah, that way nobody has to figure it out alone.”
Seungmin sighed. “I guess that means I should help Hyunjin with focus.”
Hyunjin nudged him. “What, no snarky comment this time?”
Seungmin gave him a dry look. “Would you like me to take it back?”
Hyunjin huffed but didn’t argue.
Felix grinned. “So we’re doing this, huh? A superpowered idol group?”
Lee Know rolled his eyes. “If we weren’t already weird enough.”
Chan smiled. “It’s not weird—it’s just us.”
**
The practice room was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. The usual sounds of music, dancing, and joking around were absent. Instead, tension filled the air—charged and electric.
Seven of them stood in a circle, their eyes shifting from one person to another. This was the first time they had actively used their abilities together, not just let them slip out on accident or keep them locked away. I.N. still accompanied everyone as a lookout in case management or other staff tried to get close to the practice room during the training session.
Chan exhaled. “Alright. We all know why we’re here.” His voice was steady and commanding, like a leader readying his team before battle. “We can’t keep pretending our abilities don’t exist. We need to learn how to use them—control them—before something happens and we expose ourselves.”
“Right,” Changbin added, arms crossed. “And before you start freaking out, Jisung, we’ve already been hiding your little storms for years, so this isn’t much different.”
Jisung scowled. “I haven’t had an incident in a while, thank you very much.”
“Yet,” Seungmin muttered.
Felix grinned. “No need to argue. We all suck at control—except for the three over there.” He gestured toward Lee Know, Hyunjin, and Changbin.
The three of them stood relaxed, comfortable in their abilities in a way the others weren’t.
Lee Know rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t say suck, but… yeah, you guys have a long way to go.”
Hyunjin smirked. “At least it means we get to watch you struggle.”
I.N scoffed. “Glad you find this funny.”
“You’ll be fine,” Changbin assured him. “Just don’t destroy the place.”
Hyunjin stepped forward first. He grabbed a notebook from the floor, ripped out a page, and pulled a pen from his pocket. Within seconds, he sketched a raven in swift, confident strokes.
The ink shimmered. Then, the raven twitched.
It lifted its head, flexed its wings, and, with a sharp cry, burst from the paper entirely. The inky black of its feathers turned into real feathers. It flapped up to the ceiling, circling them with a piercing gaze.
Felix let out a low whistle. “That’s insane.”
Hyunjin smirked. “And this is control.” He flicked his wrist, and the raven suddenly split into three identical birds, their forms seamlessly duplicating mid-flight.
Jisung groaned. “Of course you’re stupidly good at this.”
Hyunjin bowed. “Why, thank you.”
Next, Lee Know stepped up. He didn’t say anything; just took a single step forward. The shadows around them twitched.
Then, they moved. Not just shifted with the light—moved. His shadow detached from his feet, stretching toward the center of the room, curling up like a living creature.
I.N shivered. “That’s kinda creepy.”
Lee Know smirked, and his shadow split into multiple tendrils in an instant, slithering across the floor like dark vines. One shot toward Jisung, who yelped and jumped back.
“Relax,” Lee Know said. “I wouldn’t actually hurt you.” The shadows retracted with a flick of his wrist, snapping back into place.
Jisung eyed him warily. “Yeah, well, remind me not to piss you off.”
Changbin was next. He stomped his foot, and the ground beneath them shuddered. Small cracks formed on the tiles as jagged rocks jutted upward, breaking through as if the earth itself was responding to him. He clenched his fist, and the rocks crumbled back into dust.
Felix’s eyes widened. “Dude, I thought you needed actual ground to do that?”
“I’ve been practicing,” Changbin said smugly. “Turns out, even man-made floors have a little bit of earth in them.”
Seungmin sighed. “Great, now I have to deal with you breaking the dorm floor too.”
Changbin grinned. “No promises.”
Felix stepped up next. He held out his hand, and instantly, every single electronic device in the room flickered. The speakers buzzed, the studio lights dimmed, and the phones in their pockets vibrated wildly. Felix turned his palm up, and his phone floated out of his pocket, hovering above his palm as if held by invisible strings.
“I can do a lot more than I thought,” he admitted. “I used to get overwhelmed by hearing different device’s voices, but now? I command them without much interference.”
Seungmin nodded. “That’s powerful. But I think I can top it.”
Without warning, his voice slipped into their heads.
You’re all idiots.
They all jumped.
Jisung groaned. “I hate that.”
Seungmin smirked. “Get used to it.”
“You can force people to listen now?” Hyunjin asked, impressed.
Seungmin shrugged. “I don’t force, even though I could if I wanted. I just make sure you hear what I want you to.”
Last was Jisung. He took a shaky breath. He knew his ability was dangerous—unpredictable—but if everyone else could do this, so could he.
He exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. Feel it. The air stirred. A gust of wind curled around them, starting soft and then howling like an invisible storm. Dark clouds rapidly formed outside, swirling like an omen above their building. Thunder rumbled louder than before. The others tensed as the wind picked up, rattling the mirrors and sending loose papers flying.
“Jisung,” Chan called over the wind. “Breathe!”
Jisung’s eyes glowed red. He couldn’t stop it.
Until a hand clapped his shoulder. Changbin.
Jisung sucked in a sharp breath—and the wind vanished. The storm outside halted, the thunder fading into nothing.
Jisung staggered, chest heaving. “Crap.”
Changbin smirked. “You were holding back.”
Jisung scowled. “Because I don’t wanna kill anyone.”
Chan stepped forward, his voice calm. “Then we’ll work on that. Together.”
The room was silent for a moment. Then, slowly, Jisung nodded.
This wasn’t just about them having powers anymore. This was about them learning to use and control them before the world found out.
****
Three years later…
The practice room was unusually quiet, except for Jisung’s fingers tapping against his knee. He sat cross-legged on the floor, watching as the others settled in. Over the years, this had become a routine for them—checking in, testing limits, and ensuring they were progressing secretly. Even though their lives as idols were more demanding than ever, they couldn’t afford to let their abilities slip.
Shortly after their first meeting about their abilities three years ago, I.N’s ability awakened unexpectedly in a fiery blaze. Since then, they all agreed to practice individually and with each other, with the group of eight only coming together to train if necessary.
Chan clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get started. It’s been a while since we checked in, so I want to see where we all stand.” His gaze landed on Jisung. “You first.”
Jisung rolled his shoulders, a confident grin playing on his lips. “Oh? Saving the best for first, huh?”
Changbin snorted. “Let’s see if you’re actually the best before you start talking.”
Jisung smirked, but truthfully, he was eager to show them how far he had come. He’d worked hard to master his ability, especially after struggling so much as a kid.
He raised his hand, palm facing up. The air around him shifted, and within seconds, a small, perfectly formed cloud swirled above his palm. It was soft and white, with vapor curling at the edges. As he concentrated, tiny flashes of lightning flickered inside it, accompanied by a barely audible rumble of thunder.
Hyunjin leaned in, impressed. “Still cool every time I see it.”
Jisung grinned. “Wait, wait, let me show you something new.”
He rolled his fingers, and the cloud began to spin, forming a tiny cyclone above his palm. The lightning stopped, the vapor thinning until it was nothing but a whisper of mist. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he dissipated it entirely.
Seungmin raised an eyebrow. “Fancy.”
“Oh, it gets better,” Jisung said, tilting his head toward the window.
Moments ago, the weather outside was perfectly clear, but now the sky darkened as clouds gathered in the distance. A single rumble of thunder rolled across the city.
I.N exhaled. “Still freaky.”
Jisung flexed his fingers, and, with a concentrated effort, the clouds dispersed, revealing the sun once more. He turned back to the group, feeling the buzz of power beneath his skin. “I can change the weather outside at will now, no problem. It took me forever to get that level of control, but I think I’ve got it locked in.”
Chan studied him for a moment, then asked, “And what about the parts you haven’t mastered?”
Jisung winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… yeah, so that’s the less fun part.”
He took a breath and lifted both hands, palms facing outward. The room shifted, and the air became noticeably colder—not freezing, but enough for the others to feel the drop. The humidity changed, making the air feel crisp, like a winter morning.
Then, snowflakes began to fall.
At first, they were tiny, delicate, and barely noticeable. But as Jisung tried to focus, they became bigger—too big. The light snowfall quickly turned into thick, swirling flurries, and the air froze even more. The temperature plummeted faster than he expected.
Lee Know shivered. “Jisung—”
“I know, I know, I got it.” Jisung clenched his fists, trying to rein it in. He exhaled, forcing the snowstorm to slow, but he could feel it—his grip on it wasn’t perfect. The air refused to warm back up as quickly as he wanted, and the snow didn’t disappear as effortlessly as his smaller-scale tricks.
It took a few extra seconds—more effort than he liked to admit—before he finally managed to disperse it all, the temperature returning to normal. He let out a breath, shaking out his hands. “See? That’s what I’m still working on.”
Felix frowned. “So you can start the storms, but stopping them is harder?”
Jisung sighed. “Yeah. Small stuff, I got it. Room-sized storms? Kinda got it. But the second I try to shift something too fast, it’s like my power gets stuck and doesn’t wanna cooperate.”
Hyunjin crossed his arms. “So… if you make it snow outside, what happens?”
Jisung made a face. “Uh. That’s worse.”
Chan narrowed his eyes. “Define ‘worse.’”
Jisung scratched his cheek. “So… when I change the weather in a room, it eventually goes back to normal on its own if I don’t fix it right away. But when I change the weather outside, I have to wait for it to wear off naturally or the entire system gets weird. Like, one time, I made it snow in July, and when I tried to reverse it too fast, it turned into a full-on thunderstorm instead.”
I.N blinked. “That sounds dangerous.”
Jisung laughed nervously. “Yeahhh, tell me about it.”
Just as he said that something crackled overhead, and everyone tensed. Jisung’s stomach dropped.
He looked up just in time to see the lights flickering—the overhead bulbs buzzing as electricity crackled faintly through the air. Then, a sharp boom of thunder echoed outside, rattling the windows.
“Jisung,” Chan said carefully.
Jisung cursed under his breath, closing his eyes. I didn’t mean to do that—
He inhaled, focusing, reeling the power back in before it could spiral further. The lights steadied. The distant storm outside rumbled once more but didn’t grow worse. Jisung exhaled slowly, his pulse racing.
Changbin let out a breath. “You sure you got control over this?”
Jisung groaned, rubbing his temples. “I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. It just… slipped.”
Felix, who had been watching him closely, tilted his head. “You’re stressed.”
Jisung flinched. “What?”
Felix’s gaze was knowing. “Your powers react to your emotions, right? Maybe you’ve got control when you’re calm, but the second you get nervous or overwhelmed, it starts slipping.”
Jisung wanted to argue—but he couldn’t because Felix was right.
He sighed. “Yeah. That’s probably it.”
Seungmin, who had been quiet up until now, spoke up. “So… what’s the plan, then?”
Jisung hesitated. “I need to practice more. The big stuff—the parts that still feel out of control.”
Chan nodded. “Then that’s what we’ll focus on next.”
Jisung looked around at them, at the unwavering support in their faces despite all the chaos he had just caused. He felt a tightness in his chest that wasn’t from panic this time but something warmer.
Even after all this time, they still had his back.
He grinned. “Alright, then. Who wants to help me make a controlled indoor hurricane?”
Lee Know immediately pointed at him. “Not in the dorms.”
Jisung laughed, and despite everything, he felt lighter.
He still had work to do. But at least he didn’t have to do it alone.