Fated trip

The camera was propped up on the dashboard, the lens capturing the golden hour light that filtered through the windshield. Jeongin was grinning, his eyes crinkling into those familiar feline crescents as he pointed the lens toward Seungmin.

"We are officially two hours into the Vocal Racha road trip," Jeongin announced to the future viewers of their vlog. "Seungmin-hyung is being a very focused driver today. Say hi, Hyung."

Seungmin spared a quick, soft glance at the camera, one hand steady on the wheel as they navigated the winding, desolate mountain pass. "I have to be focused. These roads are narrow. But I’m glad we’re doing this. Just the two of us."

"Just us," Jeongin echoed, feeling a swell of affection.

The peace shattered in a heartbeat.

Rounding a sharp bend, a pair of headlights suddenly blinded them, swerving wildly into their lane. Seungmin didn't even have time to scream; his instincts took over, pulling the wheel hard to the right to avoid a head-on collision. The tires screeched, losing grip on the loose gravel at the edge of the cliff.

The world turned upside down. The sound of crunching metal and shattering glass was deafening. Jeongin felt the violent jolt of the car rolling, over and over, until a final, bone-jarring thud silenced everything.

When Jeongin opened his eyes, the world was tilted. Smoke curled from the dashboard. His head throbbed, and his arm felt like it had been put through a meat grinder, but he could move.

"Hyung?" he croaked, his voice trembling. "Seungmin-hyung?"

Seungmin didn't answer. He was slumped over the steering wheel, which had bent under the force of the impact. His nose was clearly broken, blood coating his lips and chin. His left leg was pinned, crushed between the crumpled door and the seat.

"Seungmin!" Jeongin scrambled to unbuckle his seatbelt, falling onto the roof of the car. He crawled over, his hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. It was there—thready and fast.

Jeongin reached for his phone, his heart hammering against his ribs. *No Service.* He tried Seungmin’s phone. *No Service.*

They were down a ravine, hidden by dense foliage, on a road no one traveled at night.

By the second day, the situation turned dire. Jeongin had managed to pull Seungmin out of the wreckage and onto a makeshift bed of car mats and jackets, but Seungmin’s breathing had become a wet, shallow rattle. One of his four broken ribs had punctured his lung, and a fierce fever had taken hold of his body.

"Jeongin-ah," Seungmin whispered, his eyes glazed with delirium. "It’s cold."

"I know, Hyung. I’ve got you." Jeongin pulled him closer, despite the pain in his own bruised ribs.

The nights were the worst. In the pitch black of the mountain, they weren't alone. The scent of blood had drawn predators—wolves or mountain lions, Jeongin couldn't tell—but he could see the glint of eyes in the darkness. He stayed awake for four days straight, clutching a jagged piece of metal from the car, shielding Seungmin’s shaking body with his own. He didn't sleep. He couldn't. If he closed his eyes, he was sure they would both be eaten alive.

When the rescue teams finally found them on the fourth day, Jeongin didn't even cheer. He just clung to Seungmin’s shirt, screaming at the paramedics not to take him away.

***

Two months later, the physical wounds had begun to scar, but the mental ones were gaping wide.

The dorm was quiet, a rarity for Stray Kids. Chan, Minho, and the others had been called to a mandatory choreography meeting that Seungmin and Jeongin were still excused from due to their ongoing physical therapy.

"We'll be back in three hours," Chan had said, his face etched with worry. "The managers are staying in the office downstairs if you need anything."

The moment the door clicked shut, Jeongin felt the familiar tightening in his chest. He reached out, his fingers instantly finding Seungmin’s hand. They were sitting on the sofa, their bodies pressed together so tightly there was no light between them.

"I'm here," Seungmin whispered, though his own breath was hitching.

Suddenly, the door opened. It wasn't their members. It was two of their junior managers, looking stern.

"The psychologists suggested exposure therapy," one of them said, stepping into the room. "You two are becoming too dependent. It’s affecting the group's schedule. We’re going to try an hour of separation."

Jeongin’s eyes widened, his grip on Seungmin tightening to a point that must have hurt. "No. No, please. Don't."

"It's for your own good, Jeongin-ah," the other manager said, reaching for Seungmin’s arm.

"Don't touch him!" Seungmin barked, his voice cracking. He tried to stand, but his healing leg buckled.

The managers were firm. They separated their interlaced fingers by force. Jeongin let out a sound that didn't sound human—a high-pitched, desperate wail. He was dragged into his and Hyunjin’s room, while Seungmin was locked into his own.

The click of the locks was like a gunshot.

Inside his room, Jeongin collapsed against the door. The walls felt like they were closing in, turning into the crumpled metal of the car. He could hear Seungmin in the other room, screaming his name, thumping against the wood.

"Hyung! Hyung, I can't breathe!" Jeongin sobbed, clawing at his own throat. "The wolves, Hyung! They're coming!"

In the other room, Seungmin was losing his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the headlights. He felt the car rolling. He felt the cold mountain air.

"Jeongin! Open the door! He's alone! He's going to die alone!" Seungmin screamed until his throat felt like it was bleeding. He threw his body against the door, ignoring the sharp pain in his mending ribs. He was convinced that if he couldn't see Jeongin, Jeongin was being hurt.

By the time the other members returned three hours later, the dorm sounded like a war zone.

Chan didn't even wait for an explanation from the pale-faced managers in the hallway. He slammed his shoulder into the door to the hallway, Minho right behind him.

"What did you do?" Minho hissed at the managers, his eyes flashing with a terrifying rage.

Felix and Jisung ran to the bedroom doors, hearing the muffled, hysterical sobbing from within.

"Jeongin! Innie, it's me, Lixie!" Felix cried, his own voice trembling as he fumbled with the spare key Chan had produced.

When the doors were finally opened, the scene was devastating. Jeongin was curled in a fetal position in the corner of the room, his fingernails bloody from scratching at the floorboards. Seungmin was slumped against his door, hyperventilating so hard his skin was turning blue.

The moment they were free, they didn't run to the members. They crawled toward each other in the hallway.

"Seungmin!"

"Jeongin-ah!"

They collided in the middle of the hall, sobbing violently. Jeongin buried his face in Seungmin’s neck, his entire body shaking with tremors. Seungmin wrapped his arms around Jeongin, burying his face in the younger boy's hair, chanting "I've got you" over and over like a prayer.

"Get out," Chan said, his voice low and dangerous as he turned to the managers.

"Chan, we were just trying to—"

"Get out before I make you leave," Changbin growled, stepping up beside the leader, his usual loud personality replaced by a cold, protective fury.

Hyunjin was already on the floor with the two youngest, his dramatic flair gone, replaced by genuine tears as he rubbed Jeongin’s back. "It’s okay, we’re here. Nobody’s taking him away again."

Jisung sat on the other side, holding Seungmin’s hand. "Breath with me, Minnie. Slowly. You're in the dorm. There are no mountains here."

But the damage was done. The "therapy" had backfired into a nightmare.

That night, the members watched in silent heartbreak as the two youngest refused to even be an inch apart. When they went to the bedroom, Jeongin followed Seungmin like a shadow.

"We're going to sleep in Seungmin’s room," Jeongin said, his voice small and hoarse. He wouldn't let go of Seungmin’s shirt.

"Of course, Innie," Minho said softly, bringing them extra blankets. "Do you want one of us to stay?"

"No," Seungmin whispered, his eyes darting to the window. "Just... don't lock the door. Please."

"Never," Chan promised, leaning in to kiss both of their foreheads. "The door stays open. We'll be right outside."

The trauma had evolved into something all-consuming. An hour later, Seungmin felt the familiar pressure in his bladder. He tried to shift, but the moment he moved, Jeongin’s eyes snapped open, filled with sheer terror.

"Where are you going?"

"Just the bathroom, Innie. It's ten feet away."

"No." Jeongin sat up, his breath hitching. "No, don't leave. Please."

Seungmin looked at him, seeing the pale ghost of the boy who had sat awake for four days guarding him from predators. He didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"Come with me then," Seungmin said softly.

They walked into the small ensuite together. Seungmin didn't even close the door. He couldn't. The sound of a door clicking shut was a trigger they couldn't handle yet. Jeongin stood right against the sink, his hand resting on Seungmin’s shoulder the entire time.

The next morning was no different. When it was time to shower, the panic returned.

"I'll be right here behind the curtain," Seungmin promised, his voice trembling as he stepped into the glass stall.

"Keep talking," Jeongin pleaded, sitting on the closed toilet lid, his knees pulled to his chest. "If you stop talking, I'll think you're gone."

"I'm here," Seungmin said, the sound of the water hitting the tiles mimicking the rain from the second night on the mountain. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, trying to wash away the phantom scent of pine and blood. "I'm just washing my hair now. I’m using the citrus soap you like."

"Okay," Jeongin whispered. "I'm still here. I'm not leaving."

When Seungmin stepped out, steam clinging to his skin, Jeongin was immediately on his feet, wrapping a towel around him as if he were made of glass.

They moved to the living room, where the other six were waiting with breakfast. Felix had made pancakes, and the smell usually would have had the dorm buzzing with energy. Today, it was heavy with a cautious silence.

"We moved the twin beds out of Seungmin’s room," Chan said gently, gesturing toward the hallway. "We put a king-sized one in there this morning while you two were in the bathroom. We figured... you'd be more comfortable."

Seungmin looked at Chan, his eyes filling with tears. "Thank you, Hyung."

"We also talked to the company," Minho added, his voice firm. "Those managers won't be coming near you again. And there will be no more 'separation' exercises. You two decide when you're ready to be apart. Not them."

Jeongin leaned his head on Seungmin’s shoulder, his fingers tracing the scars on Seungmin’s left arm. For the first time in months, the crushing weight in his chest eased, if only a little.

"We might never be ready," Jeongin admitted quietly.

"Then you stay together," Changbin said, sitting on the floor at their feet. "If you need to go to a schedule together, we'll make it happen. If you need to be in the same booth to record, we'll move the mics."

"We're a team," Jisung said, reaching out to ruffle Jeongin’s hair. "And teams don't leave people behind on mountains."

Hyunjin leaned over the back of the sofa, hugging them both from behind. "And if anyone tries to lock a door again, they’ll have to go through me. And I’ll be very dramatic about it."

A small, genuine laugh escaped Jeongin’s lips—the first one since the car had left the road. Seungmin squeezed his hand, pulling him closer.

The mountains were far away now. The predators were gone. And though the dark still held terrors, they didn't have to face them alone. As long as they could feel the heartbeat of the other, they were alive. They were safe.

"Don't let go?" Jeongin whispered, so low only Seungmin could hear.

Seungmin pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his grip unwavering. "Never."