Stray Kids Ship Oneshots (BOOK 2 !)

151-Minchan: Until He Can't

Title: Until He Can't

Ship: Minchan

//based of an old fic I wrote but I'm making it Minchan

CW ANGST ANGST ANGST

*posts a gazillion short oneshots

—

Minho always tried to watch out for Chan. He knew he couldn't take away the burdens of being leader, or produce songs in his place because he simply didn't have the experience to do so, but easing him into bed when he stayed up too late was always something he tried to do when they were in a dorm together.

They hadn't shared a dorm in years, and Minho always wondered how well Chan took care of himself when he wasn't around. Was he drinking enough water? Was he eating well? Was he getting enough sleep or trying to at the very least?

Minho had to answer to that when Jisung called him in tears. Sobs wrecked through the phone, making it nearly impossible to make out what he was saying. He could practically hear the way he struggled with the amount of saliva his mouth was secreting as he cried.

"Jisung. Deep breaths." Minho instructed. "I cannot understand you if you can't even breath."

Jisung took audible breathes on the other end, and even though he was still falling apart, he spoke a bit more clearly. "Chan Hyung collapsed. I—I heard it from my room. He's on the floor in the kitchen."

Minho's eyes widened as he jumped off his bed. "Is he breathing?"

"I—I don't know."

"Okay. Stay there with him, okay Sungie? Hyung will be there soon." Minho ended the call and immediately dialed for an ambulance as he slipped on his shoes.

Goddamnit Bang Chan.

—

Minho stood outside the room with his arms crossed, looking through the blinds into Chan's hospital room where the rest of his group members huddled inside. Felix was crying uncontrollably into Changbin's arms, a sniffling Jisung beside him. Jeongin didn't have a smile on his face for once, and he clearly fought tears like his hyungs by the way his lips sat in a pout. Seungmin stood in the corner, his own tears on his face. Hyunjin sat next to Jeongin as he cried too, but quietly.

And god, Chan. Chan looked awful. He hadn't been looking too good the past few weeks to begin with, but this was different. He was pale, dark bags hanging under his closed eyes. His eyebrows rested inward, making him look like he was stuck in pain even unconscious. An oxygen mask sat over his face, fogging up more with each breath he took.

Minho turned to the doctor. "Is he okay?"

"We expect recovery." The doctor smiled. "Chan clearly lacks lots of sleep and it seems he's suffering from a bit undernourishment. All of this caused him to go to cardiac arrest. It's good a thing you got him here in time."

Yeah, Minho put that together. Performing CPR on his leader was the last thing he ever expected to do. Getting the damned man to fucking breathe again made his heart race like it was stuck in a marathon with his life on the line.

"When can he go home?"

The doctor let out a breath as he glanced back into the room. "We'd like to keep him for a few weeks and help build his strength back up. We understand he's an idol—one of the top idols at that, but we're a bit worried about him going into cardiac arrest again with his current vitals. And we're not even sure his body would willingly take food at his current state."

Minho shifted his feet. "Okay. Is that all?"

"For now. You can go in and see him again, but visiting hours do end in an hour." He gave a nod before shuffling off as he flipped through the binder in his hands.

Minho didn't move to go back inside yet. He knew he was left in charge without Chan, and that scared him a little bit. Everyone looked distraught, and as much as he wanted to cry, he knew he couldn't. He had to be strong for the rest of them. He was fill-in leader until Chan was back on his feet. He had to be their pillar. He couldn't cry.

Minho waltzed back in quietly. All his members glanced at him, some staring a bit longer, waiting for more information.

Minho crossed his arms again as he took in his only hyung. This wasn't fair. It really wasn't.

"He's going to be fine." He finally said. A series of relieved breaths passed through the room. "But he's going to stay here for another week or two. We'll work hard while he's in recovery."

—

Minho came alone today.

It was early, nearly five am when visiting hours began. The rest of the members were asleep at home in the dorms. They had practice later, but he couldn't keep his mind off the older. It had been three days since the incident and he still hadn't woken up.

As Minho clicked the door closed behind, a heavy breath sounded through his ears, a familiar voice—a voice that he had missed so damn much—finding him in the room. "Min?"

Minho snapped his head to the bed where Chan lay. His eyes were open, and the oxygen mask had disappeared. He looked slightly less pale than yesterday, but not nearly back to his normal color. He had a small, tired smile plastered on his face.

Minho's phone slipped from his hand and it hit the floor.

Chan's smile fell. "Are you. . . Minho, are you crying?"

"Yes!" Minho cried as shuffled his feet over to the bed. He slumped halfway, laying his head against Chan's chest when he reached him. He couldn't stop the sobs, the very loud sobs that wrecked his body as he cried with an open jaw. He was awake. And he wrapped his arms around to his neck to pull himself closer. God, his hyung was awake.

He wouldn't have to remember him longer than he had known him.

"Minho. . ." Chan wrapped his arms around Minho's waist as he sat up, shifting so the two could hug properly. A hug he had only ever gotten once from the younger. Five years ago, all the way back he was eliminated from his team. "It's okay."

"It's not." Minho sobbed. "You almost fucking died!"

Chan's arms tightened ever so slightly. "I know. I'm sorry."

"It should've been me." Minho muttered. "If it was me, they'd still have you in that dance room. In the studio. They'd have their leader, hyung. I'm not. . . I need you."

"Okay, okay. Shhh." Chan pressed his head against Minho's gently. "It was me because I was too focused on work, okay? Don't beat yourself up, Minho."

Minho's sobs turned high pitched, the strength no longer there but the pain still wrecking him. He had no clue how much he needed this. He had tried so hard to be okay for the others that he just couldn't find himself to be okay for Chan.

"I'm so proud of you."

Minho's eyes popped open. What?

"I can tell you're taking care of them well for me. I'm glad you're taking of yourself—doing what I so stupidly didn't." Chan nestled closer. "I love you, Min. You're doing so well."

Minho tightened his arms behind Chan's neck as he squeezed his eyes shut. Tears still broke past the walls he built. His fingers clawed into Chan's skin, but his short nails didn't leave any marks. He still cried, but he cried silently. He cried for Chan. He cried for himself. He cried for the pain. He cried for the stress. He cried for his members.

He cried because Chan was proud of him when he couldn't be.