Chapter Text
It all started with a glance. Glances could mean anything- interest, annoyance, or that you were drawing too much attention. But this glance, the one directed at Minho from Mr. Jang, the choreographer, was different. It was a full-body sweep, and it made Minho feel sick.
Chan led the group into a bow, a respectful greeting, but Minho could still feel Jang’s eyes burning into him. His stomach tightened. He was going to throw up.
'Stop looking at me,' Minho thought. He held his breath until the gaze shifted to the person beside him- Jisung.
'Shit. Wait. Don’t look at him. Look at me again.'
The day passed, and after hours of rehearsal the members had to peel themselves off the floor just to stand. Sweat glued their clothes to their skin; Minho’s black top clung to him, damp and translucent at his shoulders. His chest rose and fell heavily as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
Then- clap.
Mr. Jang’s hands echoed in the room. Minho looked up.
God. He’s still looking at me. At least he’s moved on from Jisung. If that bastard even glances at Jeongin-'
The day passed, and after hours of rehearsal, the members had to peel themselves off the floor just to move. Sweat clung to their skin, their clothes sticking uncomfortably. Minho’s black top was soaked, molding to his chest and shoulders. He forced himself to take deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Mr. Jang’s eyes still lingered on him.
“Good work today,” Jang said, his voice smooth, almost predatory. “Especially you, Minho.”
Chan glanced over nervously. “We’ll keep improving, sir.”
“Some of you already have,” Jang replied, his smile slow and deliberate.
Minho’s hands curled into fists behind his back.
Don’t. Not here. Not in front of them.
“Minho,” Jang called, eyes locked on him. “Stay behind for a moment. The rest of you can go.”
Jeongin looked up, confused and breathless. “Hyung? You coming with us?”
Minho forced a smile. “Yeah. I’ll catch up. Just… go shower before Han passes out.”
Han groaned from the floor. “Too late for that.”
One by one, the members gathered their bags and drifted out. Chan lingered at the door, hesitation clear in his eyes.
“You sure?” he murmured.
“I’m fine,” Minho said.
Please just go.
Chan exhaled and stepped out. The door clicked shut. Silence stretched across the room.
Jang didn’t move. He just watched.
Minho kept his head low, listening to the sound of his own heartbeat.
Just me. As long as he doesn’t touch them…
“You’re learning well,” Jang said quietly, stepping closer. “More obedient than I thought.”
Minho swallowed. “Can we make this quick?”
Jang’s smile widened, deliberate and slow. “Turn off the lights.”
Minho hesitated only a moment before obeying.
Immediately, Jang swung Minho into the wall, pinning his wrists above his head. Minho’s vision fluttered with black spots, panic rising in his chest. He struggled, heart hammering.
Then came the sharp sting in his arm. He hissed, looking down to see a thin needle, a bead of blood trailing down his skin. His vision blurred, and the last thing he registered before everything went dark was Jang’s sardonic grin.
....
When Minho woke, the room was empty, but the oppressive tension lingered. His wrists ached where he’d been held, and a lingering haze clouded his thoughts. Sweat and blood coated his skin, and he struggled to remember how long he had been out.
I can’t let them know… he thought, forcing himself upright. Not a word. As long as they’re safe.
His reflection in the studio mirror caught his attention. Dark bruises and smears of blood made him look like a ghost of himself. Minho swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter for support. Every nerve screamed at him to collapse, but he had to keep moving, had to act normal.
His breath hitched when he saw something white drip down his leg.
The members’ voices drifted down the hallway. Jeongin laughed at something Chan said, Han called out, oblivious to what had just happened. Minho clenched his jaw.
I survived. They don’t have to understand.
He wiped his face with a towel, trying to scrub away both the blood and the fear. But deep down, he knew the mark of this night would stay with him- and so would the price he had paid to protect them.