Chapter Text
Finally, you're all back at Incheon International Airport. Your legs ache from the fourteen hour flight, and the weight of your backpack digs into your shoulders. But the adrenaline of seeing some familiar faces through the glass barrier keeps you upright. The chaos outside is a wall of sound screams, camera shutters clicking like rapid gunfire, and the desperate chanting of names.
You walk close to Bang Chan at the end of the group, feeling the protective heat radiating from his muscular frame as he scans the crowd with sharp, hawk like eyes. His jaw seems tight with anxiety- or maybe stress. Both would be quite valid.
Chan's hand brushes against yours briefly, a silent reassurance before he steps closer to block your path from the most aggressive fans. "Stay close to me," he murmurs, his Australian accent thick and rough from exhaustion. His dark eyes flick toward the security team, his lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval at how quickly the crowd is surging against the ropes. Beside you, I.N clutches the sleeve of Hyunjin's hoodie, his fox like eyes wide and darting around nervously as the noise swells to a deafening crescendo.
The transition from the controlled hallway to the exit tunnel happens in a blur of motion. The moment the doors swing open, the sensory overload hits like a physical blow. You stumble slightly on the uneven tile, but manage to stay upright.*
But through the gaps in the sea of outstretched hands and flashing phones, a figure moves with unnatural speed. A woman, her face covered by a mask, slips between two distracted bodyguards. She isn't screaming like the others. She's is silent and focused. You feel a sudden, sharp pressure against your abdomen. It's not really a punch or a shove, but something cold and invasive that punches the air out of your lungs. The blade sinks deep into your stomach, twisting with a sickening precision.
It's like time is running in slowmotion as your knees buckle. The first thing you see is the dark blood, spreading rapidly across your shirt like an ink stain. Your hands fly to your stomach and your lips part in shock. Your fingers scrabble against the wet fabric, trying to staunch the flow that slips through your grasp. A strangled gasp escapes your throat as you crouch into a little ball in reflex. The screams of the fans transform from adoration to horrified shrieks.
"Y/N!" Chan's voice tears through the air. The protective leader vanishes, replaced by a man watching his entire world shatter. His hands, usually so steady and gentle when he's cooking for you or holding your hand, are now shaking violently as he presses them against your wound, trying to stop the life leaking out of you. "No, no, no stay with me, look at me!" he pleads, his voice cracking as tears immediately spill down his cheeks, his dimples nowhere to be seen.
Around you, the other members freeze in various stages of horror. I.N drops to his knees beside you, his face pale as snow. Changbin and Han rush forward, their faces twisted in fury and fright as they attempt to push back the crowd that has begun to swarm even closer to see the spectacle. The security team finally descends, tackling the assailant to the ground, but the violence of the arrest feels miles away. All that exists is the sharp pain in your belly, the wetness of your blood staining Chan's expensive jacket, and the desperate, terrified sobbing of the man who refuses to let you go.
The airport terminal transforms into a theater of chaos as security personnel finally breach the inner circle, their boots thudding against the floor with urgent authority. Black clad guards form a human wall around you and Chan, their shoulders squared as they physically shove back the encroaching crowd, their voices booming over the cacophony as they order everyone to disperse. "Back away! Everyone get back now!" a security chief shouts, his face stern as he waves his arms, directing the panicked fans toward the emergency exits while the airport staff begins a forced evacuation of the immediate area.
Every breath you take feels like swallowing broken glass. The pain in your feels like a living, breathing thing that pulses in time with your heartbeat, each throb forcing a broken whimper from your lips. You refuse to close your eyes, terrified that if you do, you will never open them again. Your fingers twitch against Chan's forearms as you try to find purchase, your knuckles white from the effort of holding yourself upright against the overwhelming waves of nausea. "It hurts... Chan, it hurts so much," you manage to choke out, your voice barely a rasping whisper that dissolves into another whimper when you try to shift position.
Chan finds it almost unbearable to look at your struggle, but he can't look at anything else but you. His palms are slick with your blood, warm and viscous as he maintains the crushing pressure against your stomach. "I know, Y/N, I know. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Just look at me, don't look at anything else," he pleads, his Australian accent cracking under the strain of his terror. His breathing is ragged, mirroring your own as he rocks you gently despite the obvious danger of movement. "The medics are coming. They're right here, I promise."
The distant wail of sirens grows louder before the rapid footsteps of the airport's emergency medical team echo down the corridor. Two paramedics burst through the barricade, their orange uniforms a stark contrast to the white airport tiles. They slide onto the floor beside you with practiced urgency, their movements precise and controlled in a way the members' movements are not. One paramedic immediately begins assessing your vitals while the other prepares a trauma kit. Their hands move swiftly to establish a new, more professional grip over Chan's shaking fingers to apply proper wound dressing. "We need a gurney here immediately!" one of them barks into a radio, their voice clear and professional.
Hyunjin has collapsed against a nearby pillar, his long hair falling over his face as he buries his head in his hands, his body shaking with silent sobs. Felix is standing close to Han, both of them frozen like statues, their eyes fixed on the blood spreading across the floor. Changbin's fists are clenched so tight his knuckles look like bone through his skin, his jaw working as he stares at the security team dragging the sasaeng away in handcuffs.
"We're going to administer pain medication now, but we need to move quickly," the lead paramedic announces, their hands working to stabilize your core as they prepare to lift you onto the stretcher. The sudden shift in position sends a fresh scream tearing from your throat, your back arching involuntarily before Chan's arms wrap around you again, trying to anchor you. "It's okay, it'll all be okay," Chan sobs, his voice breaking completely as he allows the medics to take over. His hands hover near you as if he can still protect you from the pain. His fingers leave bright red streaks across your skin as he watches them lift you, his eyes never leaving yours even as the paramedics begin the frantic process of stabilizing you for transport.