The emergency room was too bright, too sterile, too cold.
Minho sat on the edge of a plastic chair, his hands clenched into fists so tight his nails dug into his palms. Jisung was still in surgery.
The others were scattered around the waiting room. Silent. Restless. Furious.
Chan paced back and forth, running his hands through his hair. Felix sat beside Hyunjin, shaking, his eyes wet. Changbin had his head in his hands. Seungmin and Jeongin kept looking toward the hallway, as if waiting for a doctor to walk through with good news.
Minho? He hadn't moved since they arrived.
His mind kept replaying it.
The punches. The kicks. The blood.
The way Jisung collapsed.
His fingers tightened around the fabric of his jeans. If he had just been stronger—if he had fought harder—if he had protected Jisung better…
Bangchan
“Minho,” Chan’s voice cut through his thoughts.
Minho barely looked up.
Bangchan
Chan sat down next to him, sighing. “Jisung’s strong.”
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