Being part of Stray Kids wasn’t just your dream — it was your home. The bond between you and the boys had grown into something sacred. Dance practices that turned into sleepovers. Late-night food fights, laughs that echoed off studio walls, tangled limbs on dorm couches, and music that stitched your souls together. You loved them like brothers. And you loved Chan in a way no one else could. It was secret — shared glances backstage, quiet nights with his head on your shoulder, soft smiles that said I’m yours. The others knew, and they protected it like they protected you. But fame wasn’t all glitter and spotlights.

Some fans loved too hard. The sasaengs followed your vans, hacked your schedules, snapped photos of you through hotel windows. You were careful. Staff was careful. Still, they lingered — the kind of danger that wore a fan’s face. After a sold-out concert, you were breathless and happy, laughing with the others as you climbed into the van. Han was humming. Hyunjin kicked off his shoes. Chan sat beside you, brushing your hand like always. But the driver didn’t greet you. He wore a cap and sunglasses, and the air in the van smelled… wrong. Chan’s phone buzzed. He checked it. Froze.

“Van delayed. Sending it in 5.” – Manager

Your blood turned to ice. If that was true… what van were you in now? Before anyone could speak, the doors were thrown open. Screaming girls. Masks. Cameras. Hands. You struggled, but something sharp pricked your skin, and the world blurred into darkness. You woke on silk sheets. Your wrists were tied in pink ribbon. A costume hugged your body — glittery, wrong. Beside you, Chan lay unconscious in a velvet prince’s suit. The others were scattered around the room, dressed like characters from a twisted fairytale, still asleep, still bound. Then the door creaked open.

They entered — wide-eyed girls, trembling with excitement. They gasped when they saw you awake, whispered and giggled, circling like you were dolls in a dream. One stroked your hair. Another adjusted a crown on Hyunjin’s head. Everything was delicate. Beautiful. Sick. Chan stirred. His eyes met yours. He saw everything. But neither of you spoke. And then, one girl stepped forward. Hands clasped over her chest, teary-eyed, smiling like she’d just won the world.

"You don’t ever have to leave us now," she whispered. Smiling sickly at the boys and you.