When it's YOU || minsung

The hallway felt colder than usual.

Minho stood just outside the living room where the others had gathered, fingers clenched at his sides, jaw tight with the tension that hadn't left him since the night at the club. Since he'd seen Jisung crumple in Changbin's arms like all the strength had been sucked out of him.

The image haunted him. The way Jisung's body had gone limp. The sound of his sobs against Changbin's chest. The fury in the eyes of his packmates as they shielded him from view.It had been days since that night, and yet, a wall remained firmly in place. Thicker than before. Made of sharp words and wounded silence.

He stepped forward, making his way slowly through the threshold.

Jisung was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, surrounded by a half-built nest of blankets and old hoodies, eyes fixed on the flickering screen of the TV—but Minho knew he wasn't watching. He looked pale, his usually vibrant features dulled, lips slightly chapped. Sleepless. Distant.

Minho's chest ached at the sight.

"Jisung," he said gently.

The omega's head didn't even turn.

Minho took another step.

"Can we talk? Please?"

There was a shift—Jisung's shoulders tensed. But before he could get closer, a firm hand landed on Minho's chest.

Felix.

The younger alpha's expression was unreadable—somewhere between fierce and disappointed.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"He's not a prisoner," Minho said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I just want to talk."

"He doesn't want to talk to you," came a voice from the stairs—Seungmin. Arms crossed, leaning against the banister, eyes narrowed in a way that was almost protective to the point of venomous. "Not after you let him fall apart."

"Seungmin," Hyunjin warned softly, but no one moved to stop the wall forming between them.

Minho looked past them, to the still, small form on the floor. Jisung hadn't moved, but now his hands were fisting the blanket in his lap. His eyes stared blankly at the screen, but there was a tremble in his bottom lip. A shallow hitch in his breath.

"Sungie, please—" Minho's voice cracked, and he took a step forward.

This time it was Changbin who blocked him "That's enough."

"I need to explain—"

"And he needs to heal," Changbin cut in, voice calm but steel-edged. "Every time you're near, it throws him back. Can't you see that?"

Minho's hands curled into fists.

"You think I don't know what I did? You think I haven't punished myself every goddamn night for it? I'm trying, alright? I'm trying to fix this."

No one answered. Not right away. Only the sound of Jisung's breathing, too shallow and too fast.

"He almost collapsed that night," Felix said after a pause, softer now. "We thought—God, we thought we'd lose him. And I can't..." he swallowed, eyes shining, "I can't let him break again, Minho. I won't."

Minho felt the sting behind his eyes. He swallowed it down.

His gaze dropped to Jisung once more, just in time to see the omega slowly rise to his feet.

He turned—not toward Minho, but toward the stairs. He moved like his body didn't belong to him anymore. Like the strings holding him together were unraveling.