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It was almost midnight when the call came.

Jisung had been working late again. The studio lights buzzed softly above him as he struggled to finish a verse. He wasn’t home much anymore — always at the studio, always exhausted. You had grown used to waiting.

But that night changed everything.

His phone rang. He picked up, voice tired. A few seconds later, his world shattered.

“There’s been an accident… your parents didn’t make it.”

Jisung froze. His jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. His eyes burned, but only a single tear slipped down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away. He couldn’t break — not now, not in front of you. He had to look strong. He had to be the older brother, even when his chest felt like it was caving in.

When he came home, you saw it instantly. His pale face, the way his hands shook.

“Jisung?” your voice trembled.

He didn’t explain. He just pulled you into his arms, holding you tight. You could feel his heart pounding against your shoulder. He was crying — not much, not like you — but just enough for you to know the truth. His tears were silent, hidden, quickly brushed away. He didn’t want you to see how broken he was.

“They’re gone,” he whispered. His voice cracked, but he didn’t sob. He forced himself to stay steady, to carry the weight for the both of you.

The days after blurred together. The apartment felt emptier than ever, the silence unbearable. Jisung kept pretending to be fine, cracking weak jokes and giving you small smiles. But at night, when he thought you were asleep, you heard the muffled sound of him crying alone.

Soon, he made a decision.

“You can’t stay in the apartment alone,” he said firmly. “From now on, you’ll stay with me.”

And just like that, your life changed again.

You moved into the dorm — the place Jisung shared with his members. At first, it felt overwhelming: all those unfamiliar faces, the noise, the mess. But the boys welcomed you gently, each of them aware of what had happened. They gave you space when you needed it, and comfort when the loneliness became too much.

Jisung tried to act normal in front of them, laughing, teasing, putting on that same tough mask. But you noticed how his hand always found your shoulder when you looked nervous. You noticed how he checked in with you before bed, whispering, “Are you okay?” even if he was the one falling apart inside.

He didn’t cry much. Not in front of you, not in front of anyone. But you knew. You could see it in his tired eyes, in the way his laughter didn’t quite reach his heart anymore.

And maybe that was why you cried harder — because he wouldn’t. Because he needed to be strong for you, and you couldn’t stop wishing he’d just let himself break.

Still, even with all the grief, there was one unshakable truth: you weren’t alone anymore.

You had lost your parents. But you still had Jisung. And now, in the crowded dorm full of boys who slowly began to feel like family, you were both learning how to survive the pain together.