The airport was chaos. Cameras flashed like lightning, fans screamed their names, and the barricades looked seconds away from collapsing. The group had been through crowded arrivals before, but today felt different, dangerous.

Bangchan tightened his jaw, pushing his cap lower over his face as he led the way. “Stay close,” he said firmly, voice barely audible over the noise. His usual warmth was gone; his tone was sharp, commanding. He hated seeing his members like this, heads down, flinching with every flash of a camera.

You, the youngest and newest addition to the group, tried to keep up. Your hands gripped the strap of your backpack, knuckles white. You had trained for years to debut, imagining stages and spotlights, not this suffocating crush of bodies.

Security struggled to hold back the crowd, and that’s when it happened. Someone shoved from behind, and a swinging elbow caught you square across the face.

You gasped, stumbling back. Pain shot through your nose, hot and sharp, and then came the blood, warm, sudden, and dripping onto your hand.

“Y/N!”

Chan’s voice cut through the noise. He spun around instantly, eyes blazing, and pushed through the crowd with a force you had never seen from him before.

He was angry—not the kind of anger that lashed out, but the kind that burned cold and protective. “Move!” he barked at the crowd, his usual soft accent replaced by something steel-edged.

Han and Felix flanked you, shielding you from the cameras as Chan pulled off his hoodie and pressed it gently against your face. “Keep pressure on it,” he said, his voice trembling slightly even though he was trying to stay calm.

The members formed a wall around you as security finally managed to push back the worst of the crowd. The flashes didn’t stop, though—if anything, they grew more frantic.

By the time you were inside the van, the adrenaline was wearing off, and your nose was still throbbing. Chan sat across from you, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like he was replaying the whole scene in his head.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his voice quieter now.

You nodded, though your voice wavered. “I’m fine.”

He looked up, and for the first time you saw how shaken he really was. “You’re not fine,” he said. “None of us are. This can’t keep happening.”

No one argued with him. The van was silent except for the hum of the engine, each of you processing how close it had all come to being worse.