Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The air in the Pledis Entertainment meeting room was thick with unspoken tension. Usually, these full-group meetings, especially those involving the higher-ups, meant either significant milestones being announced or difficult conversations needing to happen. Given the weary slump in the shoulders of some of their younger members seated around the large, polished table, Seungcheol knew instinctively it wasn't the good kind of meeting.

Six years. It had been six years since SEVENTEEN had burst onto the scene, a vibrant, self-producing group of thirteen hopefuls. Now, they were global stars. Their popularity had skyrocketed in the last couple of years, far exceeding the most ambitious initial projections. Albums sold millions, tours sold out stadiums worldwide, their faces were everywhere. It was a dream come true, the culmination of years of relentless hard work, sweat, and sacrifice.

But with the blinding light of unprecedented success came shadows. The pressure was immense, a constant, suffocating presence. Every move was scrutinized, every performance had to surpass the last, every moment in the public eye demanded perfection. For thirteen distinct personalities, thirteen nervous systems wired differently, this level of sustained, high-stakes pressure took a toll.

Seungcheol, as the leader, felt the weight of it on his shoulders constantly. He tried to shield his members, to be a steady anchor, but he could see the cracks forming. He looked around the table. To his left, Jeonghan sat with his usual serene expression, but his eyes held a quiet concern. Joshua beside him looked calm but was gripping his hands together under the table. Junhui was unusually still, his vibrant energy muted.

And then there were the others. The ones the company had referred to, gently but with underlying seriousness, as the "more sensitive" members. Hoshi, whose boundless energy could sometimes turn inward into frantic anxiety. Woozi, whose intense focus and perfectionism often left him emotionally drained and susceptible to panic when things felt out of his control. Seungkwan, the group's mood maker, whose genuine emotions, both high and low, were amplified by the pressure. Seokmin, the perpetual ray of sunshine, whose deep empathy meant he absorbed the stress of those around him, sometimes buckling under the collective weight. And Chan, their maknae, weathering the storms of growing up under the harshest possible spotlight, his moments of youthful exuberance increasingly punctuated by periods of withdrawal or anxiety.

Seungcheol felt a familiar pang of worry constriction in his chest as he looked at them. They were his members, his family. Seeing them struggle, despite all their achievements, was the hardest part of his job.

Mr. Han, one of the senior directors, cleared his throat, his voice cutting through the low hum of anticipation. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice. As you know, SEVENTEEN's success over the past six years has been... phenomenal. Truly historic. The company is immensely proud, and we know how hard you've all worked to achieve this."

He paused, his expression shifting from congratulatory pride to grave concern. "However, we are also acutely aware of the cost. The pace of your growth, the demands placed upon you, they have exceeded what any of us, perhaps even yourselves, were fully prepared for. We've invested heavily in physical health, ensuring you have the best medical care, nutrition, training... But the psychological toll is becoming increasingly significant."

Another pause, heavier this time. "We've observed... worrying trends. Increased reports of anxiety, difficulty sleeping, moments of... distress that go beyond normal stress reactions. We've provided access to therapy, relaxation techniques, adjusted schedules where possible, but frankly, it hasn't been enough." He looked directly at Seungcheol, then swept his gaze across the table, lingering briefly on Hoshi, Woozi, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Chan. The mentioned members avoided his gaze, looking down at their hands or the table surface. The air grew colder.

"Specifically," Mr. Han continued, "the frequency and severity of panic and anxiety attacks among certain members – Hoshi, Woozi, Seungkwan, Seokmin, and Chan – have become a primary concern for their well-being and, inevitably, for the group's stability."

Seungcheol nodded slowly. It wasn't news, but hearing it stated so plainly, so formally, in front of everyone, felt stark and painful. He glanced at the five 'kids'. Hoshi was picking at the seam of his trousers, Woozi was staring intently at the grain of the wood table, Seungkwan had pressed his lips into a thin line, Seokmin had gone pale, and Chan had his arms wrapped tightly around his own torso. His heart ached for them.

"The company has been exploring every possible avenue to provide more effective support," Mr. Han stated, his voice dropping slightly, becoming softer, almost... preparatory. "Traditional methods are proving insufficient against this level of sustained pressure. We needed to think... outside the box. We consulted with leading medical professionals, psychologists, and specialists in stress-related conditions."

He gestured to a woman seated beside him, who looked like a researcher or a doctor. "Dr. Lena Hanson has been advising us. She's part of a research team that has been exploring novel physiological interventions for severe, chronic stress and anxiety. What she is about to present is... unconventional. It's a method that has shown significant promise in clinical trials for patients with severe, treatment-resistant anxiety and PTSD, by tapping into the body's own biological calming mechanisms."

Dr. Hanson spoke next, her voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere. "Thank you. Gentlemen. We understand that the environment you operate in is unique, and the stress is profound. Our research has focused on the body's innate responses to comfort and safety, specifically the neurohormonal pathways associated with early life experiences that promote bonding, security, and profound relaxation."

She paused, looking at their bewildered faces. "One of the most powerful biological mechanisms for inducing a deep state of calm, reducing cortisol levels, and promoting the release of oxytocin – the 'bonding' or 'love' hormone – is lactation and the process of nursing or being nursed. This is a fundamental biological response, hardwired into mammals."

A ripple of confusion went through the members. Lactation? Nursing? Where was this going? Seungcheol saw Mingyu exchanging a wide-eyed look with Wonwoo. Joshua raised an eyebrow slightly.

Dr. Hanson continued, unfazed. "Our team has developed a protocol involving a short-term, reversible hormonal treatment. Administered via a simple injection, this treatment stimulates the pituitary gland to produce prolactin, the hormone responsible for milk genesis. It also increases sensitivity in the nipple area. Within a relatively short period, typically 14-16 hours after administration, the individual can begin to produce milk. This state can be maintained with follow-up treatments for as long as deemed necessary and is fully reversible once treatment stops."

She let that sink in. The silence was absolute. Every member was staring at her, shock etched on their faces. Seungcheol felt his mind reel. Lactation? In... in them?

"The application in your specific context," Dr. Hanson said, addressing the elephant in the room directly, "is based on the premise that the act of providing or receiving milk, leveraging these powerful hormonal responses, can act as a profound physiological intervention for severe anxiety and panic. For the members experiencing these attacks, being nursed could provide an immediate, biological anchor of safety and calm that other therapies haven't achieved. For the members providing the milk, the act of lactation and nursing also releases oxytocin, which can foster feelings of tenderness and connection, potentially further strengthening group bonds and providing a constructive outlet for stress."

Mr. Han took over again, trying to bridge the gap between the clinical explanation and the human reality in the room. "We understand how... extraordinary this sounds. It is revolutionary treatment. But we wouldn't be proposing this if we didn't believe, based on Dr. Hanson's research and our consultations, that it offers a genuine, potentially highly effective path to alleviating the severe distress some of you are experiencing."

He looked at the five 'kids' again, his expression pleading. "Your health, your happiness, your ability to continue pursuing your passion without this constant, debilitating struggle – that is our absolute priority. This isn't about performance; it's about well-being."

He then turned his attention to the rest of the members, particularly those who weren't explicitly named as struggling with severe attacks, though none of them were untouched by the stress. "This protocol requires volunteers. Members who are willing to undergo the treatment to lactate and provide this support for their brothers."

The air was thick with unspoken questions, with disbelief warring with concern for their friends. Seungcheol swallowed hard. This was... unprecedented. But he looked at Woozi, his gaze unfocused, at Seungkwan, tears welling in his eyes, at Chan, trembling slightly, and a fierce protectiveness surged through him. Whatever it took to help them...

Mr. Han continued, laying out the proposed structure. "To manage this process, to ensure consistency, privacy, and dedicated support, we believe establishing a clear dynamic will be most effective. We are proposing a 'family unit' structure within the group, specifically for the purpose of implementing this treatment and providing ongoing care."

He projected a slide onto the screen. It was simple, just text, listing the proposed groupings.

DADS OF THE GROUP: Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Vernon

MOMS OF THE GROUP: Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Minghao

Seungcheol felt a jolt of surprise as he saw his name listed alongside Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon. 'Dads'? He looked at Jeonghan, whose name was listed right next to his under 'Moms'. Jeonghan met his gaze, a flicker of surprise and something unreadable in his eyes.

Mr. Han explained the pairings and responsibilities. "Based on observed dynamics, complementary personalities, and discussions with the members involved who we've consulted with on the initial concept..." (Seungcheol realized this meeting was the formal proposal, after some initial, perhaps vague, discussions with certain members). "...we propose the following care units:"

Seungcheol and Jeonghan will be in charge of Chan. Jeonghan will be the member receiving the treatment to lactate and will primarily breastfeed Chan when needed.
Wonwoo and Junhui will be in charge of Woozi and Hoshi. Junhui will receive the treatment and breastfeed both Woozi and Hoshi.
Vernon and Joshua will be in charge of Seungkwan. Joshua will receive the treatment and breastfeed Seungkwan.
Mingyu and Minghao will be in charge of Seokmin. Minghao will receive the treatment and breastfeed Seokmin.
As Mr. Han read out the groupings, a stunned silence fell over the room again. The sheer intimacy implied by the assignment, the reversal of typical roles, the explicit detailing of who would nurse whom... it was overwhelming.

Seungcheol's mind reeled. Him and Jeonghan... together, caring for Chan? And Jeonghan... Jeonghan would be the one... The thought was so foreign, so unexpected, it short-circuited his usual logical processes. He looked at Jeonghan again. Jeonghan was staring at the slide, a mixture of shock and apprehension clouding his face.

He glanced at the others designated as 'Moms'. Joshua looked okey, but his knuckles were white where he gripped under the table. Junhui had blinked slowly, his eyes wide, absorbing the information. Minghao's eyes were fixed on Mingyu, who was looking equally stunned.

"This structure," Mr. Han continued, trying to regain momentum, "provides a clear support system. The 'Dad' members will provide emotional support, logistical management, and be a point of contact. The 'Mom' members will provide the direct physiological intervention as needed. This isn't about reinforcing traditional gender roles, obviously," he added quickly, "it's about creating dedicated care units using a framework that, while unusual in this context, can leverage existing bonds and provide clarity. The 'kids' will have consistent caregivers they trust."

Seungcheol finally found his voice, though it was raspy. "Mr. Han... This is... a lot to take in. The injection... the lactation... It's... unexpected."

"We know, Seungcheol," Mr. Han said gently. "It's a drastic measure. But tell me, what alternatives are truly working for the level of anxiety we are seeing? We've exhausted conventional methods. This is a frontier treatment, yes, but one with a solid scientific basis in calming physiological responses."

Wonwoo spoke up. "The injection... are there side effects? Is it painful? How long does it last?"

Dr. Hanson answered. "The injection itself is a simple intramuscular injection, no more painful than a flu shot. The primary physical sensation experienced by the 'Mom' members will be chest sensitivity and fullness as milk production begins. This can range from mild discomfort to tenderness. These sensations subside over time as the body adjusts. Milk production can be stimulated by pumping or nursing, or suppressed partially if not needed, though full cessation requires stopping the treatment. The hormonal effects are temporary; reproductive function is not impacted long-term. We would, of course, provide comprehensive medical monitoring and support throughout the process."

Hoshi finally spoke, his voice small. "So... I would... be nursed?" He looked bewildered, vulnerable.

Junhui immediately looked at him, his expression softening with concern despite his own shock. "Hoshi-yah..."

Seungkwan bit his lip, looking away, clearly distressed by the thought.

Mingyu addressed Mr. Han directly. "And the privacy? How is this managed? This is... incredibly private."

"Absolute discretion is paramount," Mr. Han assured him. "This protocol, the treatment, the care units – none of this leaves this room or is documented outside of confidential medical files. Designated safe spaces will be created at the company building for nursing sessions. Schedules will be managed sensitively. The 'Dad' members in each unit will assist in ensuring privacy and creating a supportive environment."

Seungcheol felt a knot in his stomach. Managing this logistics, protecting his members' privacy and dignity in the face of such an unconventional treatment... it would be a monumental task. But the image of Chan looking lost and scared, or Woozi retreating into himself, or Seungkwan struggling to breathe during a panic attack flashed in his mind. Was this... the only way?

"Why... why us for the treatment?" Joshua asked with a tremor of apprehension. He was looking at Jeonghan, Junhui, and Minghao.

Mr. Han looked at them. "As Dr. Hanson mentioned, this relies on volunteers. We discussed this possibility, in preliminary terms, with the four of you individually a few weeks ago, gauging your potential willingness to explore unconventional methods to support the group. You all expressed a desire to help, even if the specifics weren't initially clear. You were selected for this role because you are perceived, both by the company and perhaps yourselves, as having strong emotional resilience, nurturing qualities, and deep bonds with the members who are struggling. This is not a burden, but a significant responsibility based on your capacity for empathy and care."

Seungcheol remembered Jeonghan mentioning a strange, vague meeting about 'new support strategies'. He hadn't thought much of it at the time.

"So... we just... agree to this?" Woozi asked, his voice barely above a whisper, looking up for the first time. He looked tired and clouded with anxiety. "We just... accept this... very strange thing?"

Seungcheol's heart twisted. Woozi, the fiercely independent, incredibly talented producer, reduced to this quiet vulnerability. It cemented his resolve.

"Woozi-yah," Seungcheol said, leaning forward. "Nobody is forcing anyone. This is… this is a radical solution, I know. It’s overwhelming. It’s strange. Mr. Han,” he looked towards the company representative, “Dr. Hanson,” then to the medical professional, “they presented this because… because we are struggling, Woozi. Because you are struggling. Hoshi is struggling. Chan is struggling. Seungkwan, Seokmin. Our family is hurting.”

He gestured to the younger members who had been identified as needing the specific support. “And we, the hyungs, the company… we’ve tried everything else. Therapy, medication, adjusted schedules, time off… and it helps, yes, but it’s not enough to cut through the level of anxiety you’re facing right now. Your dreams are being impacted, your health is suffering. Your ability to just… be yourselves without this weight on your chests is diminishing.”

His gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of each member. “This proposal… it’s not an order. It’s an option. A deeply unconventional one, I won’t pretend it’s not. But it’s born out of desperation, out of a desperate need to find something that can truly help you calm down, feel safe, feel grounded again when the world feels like it’s crashing in.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “The ‘Moms’ – Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Minghao – they weren’t told they were doing this. They were approached, tentatively, weeks ago, about potentially being open to unconventional support roles. They agreed to hear the specifics. They are volunteering for this, because they love you, and they want to help alleviate your suffering.”

He looked back at Woozi, whose eyes were still wide held a flicker of understanding now. “So, no, Woozi. You don’t have to accept this. But we are asking you, the members who are struggling the most, to consider it. To consider if, in a moment of extreme panic, having a source of physical comfort and connection like this might be something you’d be willing to try.” He turned to the room again. “And for us, the ‘Dads’ and ‘Moms’… this is a commitment to providing that support, if it’s what’s needed. To create a safe space. To protect your privacy. To navigate this… together.”

A heavy silence fell again, different from the stunned silence before. This one was filled with contemplation, the murmur of unspoken fears and cautious hope.

Hoshi now seemed to be processing Seungcheol’s words, his expression shifting towards a complex mix of apprehension and tentative curiosity. He glanced towards Junhui, who was looking at him with unwavering softness.

Seungkwan lifted his head, his eyes red-rimmed but meeting Vernon’s gaze steadily for a moment before looking away again, still clearly uncomfortable but maybe listening more intently now.

Seokmin fiddled with his fingers in his lap, but he leaned slightly towards Minghao, who was watching Seungcheol intently, a resigned expression on his face.

Chan, the maknae, looked smaller, nestled slightly behind Seungcheol, his gaze fixed on Jeonghan. Jeonghan met his eyes, offering a small, reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his own anxious eyes.

Wonwoo observed the scene from the side. His eyes moved from Woozi, his concern palpable, to Junhui, a strange mixture of respect and something unreadable beginning to stir within him. Junhui, feeling his gaze, offered a faint, hesitant smile back before looking away.

Joshua spoke again. “It’s… a lot to take in. It’s… unexpected.” He paused, then added, “But if it can truly help… if it’s a path towards finding peace for our members… then I understand why we were asked. Why we… volunteered.” He looked at Jeonghan, Junhui, and Minghao, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Woozi finally broke the silence again, his voice gaining a little strength. “It’s just… so weird. So… intimate.”

“It is,” Seungcheol agreed immediately, not trying to minimize the strangeness. “It’s incredibly intimate. And that’s why the privacy aspect, the safe spaces, the sensitivity… that’s paramount. It’s not about making this… normal. It’s about using a biological response as a therapeutic tool, within a context of absolute trust and care between members who are already family.”

“Think of it like this,” Dr. Hanson interjected, sensing the need to reframe the medical aspect outside of the initial shock. “In different cultures and historical contexts, the act of nursing has held profound significance beyond mere nutrition – it’s a symbol of comfort, security, and bonding. While this is an induced biological response, its therapeutic potential in this context lies in leveraging that innate human connection, the calming physiological effects of nursing – the hormonal release of oxytocin in both the ‘giver’ and the ‘receiver’ – to counteract the severe effects of stress and anxiety. It’s not about reducing anyone to a state of infancy; it’s about accessing a deeply ingrained biological pathway for comfort and regulation that might be uniquely effective when other methods are failing in your specific situation.”

Mr. Han stood up, signaling the meeting was drawing to a close. “This is a pilot program. It will be intensely monitored by Dr. Hanson and his team. There will be regular psychological evaluations for all members involved, as well as the physical monitoring for the ‘Mom’ members. Your dorm layouts will be adjusted to create these private care spaces. Schedules will be managed to allow for this, potentially reducing overall loads slightly in other areas if necessary, though we are still in a peak period of popularity.” He looked at the four designated 'Moms'. "Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, Minghao. If you are still willing, the medical team is ready to administer the injection now. The rest of you can wait outside. We will reconvene afterwards to discuss the initial adjustments and scheduling."

The air crackled with tension. Seungcheol watched Jeonghan take a deep breath, his eyes briefly flickering towards Chan before nodding slowly. Joshua gave a small, resolute nod. Junhui exchanged a quick, nervous glance with Wonwoo and Hoshi, then nodded with determination. Minghao’s expression remained calm, almost serene, as he also nodded.

They rose from the table, the four ‘Mom’ members gathering their things quietly. As Jeonghan passed Seungcheol’s chair, Seungcheol reached out instinctively, his hand briefly touching Jeonghan’s arm. “Are you okay?” he murmured, his voice low, for his ears only.

Jeonghan met his gaze, a complex mix of anxiety, resolve, and something else Seungcheol couldn’t quite decipher swirling in his beautiful eyes. “I… I don’t know, Cheol-ah,” he admitted softly. “It’s… it’s a lot. But… Chan… and the others…” He squeezed Seungcheol’s arm briefly before pulling away. “We’ll be okay. We have to be.”

Seungcheol watched him walk towards the door with the others, a swell of protectiveness and admiration rising in his chest. Jeonghan’s willingness to embrace such a bizarre, uncomfortable role for the sake of their members solidified something Seungcheol had been slowly realizing – that this angelic façade hid a core of immense strength, empathy, and sacrificial love. Caring for Jeonghan, supporting him through this… the desire felt suddenly incredibly important, more than just a leader’s duty.

The remaining members filed out into the sterile hallway. The tension didn’t dissipate; it merely shifted, settling into the quiet space outside the meeting room. Seungcheol stood near the door, eyes fixed on it as if trying to project support through the wood. The others clustered awkwardly, talking in hushed tones or simply lost in thought.

Within minutes, the first sign of renewed anxiety appeared. Woozi began to fidget, his foot tapping rapidly against the floor. His breathing grew shallower, his eyes darting nervously around the empty hallway. His hands clenched and unfurled repeatedly.

Wonwoo was the first to notice, his face etched with concern. He moved subtly closer to Woozi. “Jihoon-ah?” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

Woozi didn’t respond immediately, his focus seemingly narrowed to an internal struggle. He hugged himself tighter.

Then, across the hallway, Chan let out a small, choked gasp, his eyes wide with panic. He backed away from the wall, shaking his head. “Hyung… I don’t…”

Seungcheol was instantly by Chan’s side, pulling him into a gentle hug. “Hey, hey, Chan-ah, breathe. Just breathe with me.” He held the maknae close, murmuring reassurances, feeling the rapid beat of Chan’s heart against his chest. This was it. The reality of the anxiety they were trying to combat. It wasn’t theoretical; it was here, now, raw and terrifying.

Wonwoo was trying to soothe Woozi, his deep voice a low rumble of comfort. “Jihoon-ah, look at me. It’s okay. You’re safe. Just focus on my voice.”

The hallway, moments ago quiet with anticipation, was suddenly thick with distress. Hoshi looked torn between wanting to help Woozi and processing his own feelings. Seungkwan wrapped his arms around himself, looking pale. Seokmin just watched, wide-eyed.

Mingyu moved towards Seokmin, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Dokyeom-ah. We’re here. Just take deep breaths.” He looked towards the door where Minghao was. A silent plea. Hurry.

Vernon, seeing Seungkwan’s struggle, moved to his side. He didn’t say anything at first, just stood close, a grounding presence. He wished Joshua were here already. He didn’t know how to fix this, how to make Seungkwan less scared.

Seungcheol held Chan tighter, his own heart aching. He wanted Jeonghan back. He wanted the calm, steady presence of the person who had just volunteered for something so difficult. He needed that partnership, that shared burden, now more than ever. The idea of facing this level of panic with Chan without Jeonghan felt suddenly daunting. The family unit, bizarre as it was, already felt like a necessity. He looked towards the closed door, a desperate hope building that this strange, uncomfortable solution might actually work.

Meanwhile, inside the clinical room, Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao sat on separate chairs, quiet anticipation mixing with professional efficiency. Dr. Hanson and a nurse prepared the injections.

Jeonghan swallowed, his throat feeling dry. He remembered the meeting, the explanation, the logical arguments. He remembered seeing Chan's fear, hearing Woozi's quiet desperation, the visible stress on the others. He had agreed. Fully and wholeheartedly. But the reality of it… the physical intrusion, the biological change… it was surreal. He thought of Chan, his maknae, vulnerable and scared. The thought fueled his resolve. If this could help Chan feel safe, feel loved, feel calm… then it was worth any discomfort, any awkwardness. He felt a strange sense of purpose, a deep, maternal instinct he hadn't known he possessed rising to the surface.

Joshua watched the nurse fill the syringe, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He thought of Seungkwan, so easily overwhelmed by anxiety. Seungkwan’s distress was palpable even through his attempts to hide it. Joshua’s heart went out to him. He had always tried to be a steady presence, a listening ear. Now he would be… this. A source of physical comfort. The thought was bewildering, slightly embarrassing, yet also filled with a quiet determination. He trusted the doctors; he trusted Mr. Han that this was medically sound. And he trusted in the bond he shared with Seungkwan. He just hoped he could do this, could provide the comfort Seungkwan needed. He briefly thought of Vernon outside. He hoped Vernon would be able to navigate this strange new dynamic with him.

Junhui’s mind was a whirlwind. Woozi. Hoshi. Woozi’s vulnerability was heartbreaking. Hoshi’s bewildered question – So… I would… be nursed? – echoed in his ears. His heart ached for them. He had always felt a responsibility for the younger members, a desire to protect them, especially the ones who seemed most affected by the pressures of their job. The concept of nursing felt so alien, so far removed from his image of himself. But the image of Woozi’s clouded eyes, of Hoshi’s lost look… He would do anything to bring back their sparkle, their passion, their peace of mind. He looked at the syringe, his breath catching slightly. It was happening. He wondered how Woozi and Hoshi were reacting outside right now. He hoped Wonwoo was with Woozi, grounding him. Wonwoo… who had been assigned as his partner in this bizarre endeavor. He felt a strange mix of nerves and anticipation about working so closely with Wonwoo.

Minghao sat calmly but his mind was racing. Seokmin, sometimes dimmed by overwhelming anxiety. Minghao often found himself in a supporting role for the more outwardly distressed members. This was a new level of support. Nursing Seokmin… The image felt strangely tender and awkward at the same time. He felt a quiet surge of resolve. He wanted to help Seokmin laugh freely again, sing without a catch in his throat, just be himself without the fear. He trusted the process, trusted the intention. He just needed to be strong enough, open enough, to fulfill this role. He thought of Mingyu, his assigned partner. He felt a quiet gratitude for Mingyu’s protective presence.

Dr. Hanson spoke gently. “Alright. We’ll start with…” She indicated Jeonghan’s chair.

Jeonghan nodded, squaring his shoulders. The nurse cleaned the area on his arm, and the needle went in, a brief sting. He focused on breathing, on thinking of Chan. For Chan.

Then it was Joshua. He flinched slightly but held still. For Seungkwan.

Junhui was next. He closed his eyes for a moment as the needle pricked his skin. For Woozi and Hoshi.

Finally, Minghao. He watched the process calmly, a faint, unreadable expression on his face. For Seokmin.

It was over quickly. A small piece of gauze taped to their arms.

Dr. Hanson looked at them. “Okay. The initial effects will likely start within the next hour or two. You may feel a tingling sensation, a fullness in your breasts, and potentially some soreness or tenderness. This is normal as the mammary glands activate. It will likely be most noticeable tonight or tomorrow morning. We’ll provide you with pads and information on managing any discomfort. Remember, milk production is stimulated by demand – nursing or pumping. If there IS demand, production will increase. If not, it will remain minimal until stimulated. Don’t be alarmed by any sensations. Contact us immediately if you have concerns or unexpected symptoms.”

They nodded, absorbing the information. The reality felt heavier now that the injection had been given.

They stood up, feeling slightly unsteady, a strange new awareness of their own bodies settling in. They thanked the medical staff and Mrs. Han, then walked back towards the door.

As the door opened, the sounds of distress from the hallway immediately reached them. Chan’s choked breathing, Woozi’s quiet whimpers. The four ‘Moms’ exchanged a look, their earlier apprehension replaced by a sharp pang of concern and a renewed sense of urgency. This wasn’t just a strange experiment; it was a potential lifeline for their struggling members, and the struggle was happening right outside their door.

Seungcheol looked up as the door opened, his eyes locking onto Jeonghan. Relief washed over him, quickly followed by a fresh wave of anxiety as he registered the sounds of panic escalating behind him. He had wanted Jeonghan back, but not like this – not to immediately face this.

“Jeonghan-ah!” he called out, leaving Chan for a moment in Vernon’s supportive presence, and rushing towards him. “Are you okay? How was it?” He lowered his voice as he reached him.

Jeonghan gave a weak smile. “It was… fine. Just a shot.” He glanced past Seungcheol, his eyes wide with concern as he saw Chan clutching Vernon, and Woozi curled slightly against the wall with Wonwoo kneeling beside him. “Oh no… It’s getting worse.”

Joshua went straight towards Seungkwan, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch his arm. “Seungkwan-ah? It’s okay. We’re back.”

Junhui moved towards Woozi and Hoshi, his face full of worry. “Jihoon-ah? Soonyoung-ah?”

Minghao walked calmly towards Seokmin, offering a small, gentle smile. “Seokmin-ah.”

The return of the four members shifted the dynamic in the hallway. Their presence, even before any physical effects of the injection were present, seemed to have a stabilizing effect, a reminder that the ‘family units’ were now formed, that help was here, even if it was help of a bizarre nature.

Seungcheol guided Jeonghan closer to Chan, who was now starting to hyperventilate slightly. “Chan-ah, look, Jeonghan hyung is back. Your hyung is here.”

Chan peeled himself away from Vernon slightly, his tear-filled eyes finding Jeonghan. He looked lost and scared, a stark contrast to his usual confident stage persona.

Jeonghan’s heart clenched. He crouched down slowly, getting closer to Chan’s level. He didn’t know what to do yet, how to start. The medical effects hadn't begun. All he had was his presence, his voice, his love for his maknae. He reached out, taking Chan’s shaking hands in his. “Chan-ah. It’s okay. I’m here now. We’re all here. Deep breaths, okay? Copy hyung.” He demonstrated, taking in a slow, deep breath, holding it, and exhaling.

Chan tried to follow, his breath still hitched.

Wonwoo was speaking softly to Woozi, his voice barely audible, a deep, comforting rumble against the sounds of the maknae line’s distress. “Just listen. My voice. Focus on my voice. You’re not alone. Junhui is here too. We’re both here.” He glanced up at Junhui, who was kneeling beside him, his hand hovering uncertainty near Woozi’s back. Wonwoo gave him a small, encouraging nod.

Junhui tentatively reached out, placing his hand gently on Woozi’s shoulder. Woozi flinched initially but didn’t pull away. Junhui began to rub small, slow circles there, a simple gesture of presence and comfort. It felt awkward, this new physical dynamic starting. He looked at Wonwoo, whose focus was entirely on Woozi, his expression one of gentle strength and unwavering patience. A silent understanding passed between them – they were in this together, for Woozi, for Hoshi. The earlier awkwardness of their ‘Dad’ and ‘Mom’ pairing in the meeting room felt less significant now, replaced by the immediate, shared responsibility.

Joshua sat on the floor next to Seungkwan, not touching him yet, just being close. “Seungkwan-ah,” he said softly. “It’s alright to be scared. We’re all a little scared right now. But we’re going to figure this out. Together. Vernon is here, I’m here. Whenever you feel overwhelmed, just find one of us, okay?”

Vernon nodded, his gaze on Seungkwan. He felt a sense of relief having Joshua back. He knew Joshua would navigate this with grace and kindness. He trusted him completely.

Mingyu didn’t kneel or sit; he stood beside Seokmin. He kept his hand on Seokmin’s shoulder. He looked at Minghao, who was now standing close by. Mingyu felt a surge of warmth for Minghao’s quiet courage. This was so strange, Mingyu thought, yet, looking at Minghao, standing there ready, Mingyu felt something settle within him. It wasn't just about taking care of Seokmin; it was about navigating this impossible situation together. The warmth he felt wasn't just for Minghao's courage, but a deeper, unfamiliar pull towards him, a nascent feeling blooming amidst the chaos.

Slowly, painstakingly, the waves of panic began to recede.

Jeonghan’s steady repetitions of breathing exercises, paired with Seungcheol’s grounded presence, helped Chan’s hyperventilation ease into shaky, ragged breaths. Wonwoo’s low, constant murmur, combined with Junhui’s gentle, rhythmic circles on his shoulder, drew Woozi back from the edge of his internal storm, his whimpers fading into silent shudders. Joshua’s quiet empathy and Vernon’s solid reassurance allowed Seungkwan to unfurl from his tight ball of anxiety, his tear-streaked face now just looking utterly drained. And Mingyu’s support, along with Minghao’s calm proximity, seemed to draw the frantic energy out of Seokmin, leaving him slumped but no longer frantic. Hoshi had thankfully not spiralled this time, perhaps catching himself on the initial tension, but he looked visibly shaken, sticking close to Woozi and Junhui. Dino, though primarily in Seungcheol and Jeonghan's care, had been swept up in the general anxiety of the hallway, clinging to Vernon earlier, but was now leaning against Jeonghan's side, quiet and exhausted.

The hallway slowly emptied of screams and gasps, replaced by the sounds of sniffles, tired sighs, and the quiet rustle of fabric as members shifted positions. The air, thick moments ago with palpable fear, now only held the heavy scent of lingering anxiety and exhaustion.

“Are you guys… okay?” Seungcheol asked, his voice rough with concern, looking collectively at the five 'kids' now huddled close to their designated 'Moms'.

Woozi lifted his head from where it had been resting against Wonwoo's side. His eyes, usually sharp and overflowing with creative fire, looked dull and weary. "Yeah, hyung. Just… tired."

"Same," Seungkwan mumbled, burrowing closer to where Joshua was now sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Chan nodded, not trusting his voice yet, his hand still tightly holding Jeonghan’s. Seokmin gave a weak thumbs-up. Hoshi just leaned his head against Woozi's shoulder, eyes closed. Dino rubbed his eyes.

The four 'Moms' looked equally exhausted, but a different kind of tension held them. The injection. The strange, unprecedented implications of it. They had just faced the immediate impact of the stress they were meant to alleviate, but the method itself felt surreal.

Jeonghan gently squeezed Chan’s hand. "Let's go back to the dorms, okay? Get some rest, eat something."

Getting up was a slow and deliberate process. The kids were unsteady on their feet, leaning heavily on their dads and moms. And the usual boisterous energy of SEVENTEEN was noticeably absent, replaced by a somber quiet.

Chapter Text

The walk towards the elevator was strange for the group members who had received the injection. An odd sensation began to ripple through them. It was subtle at first, like a faint warmth spreading across their chests, centered around their nipples. Then came a heightened sensitivity, a slight ache, a feeling of fullness that wasn't quite discomfort, but definitely new.

Jeonghan subtly adjusted his shirt, a frown creasing his brow. He glanced at Joshua walking beside him, who met his gaze and gave a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, confirming he felt it too. Behind them, Junhui walked stiffly, a hand unconsciously hovering near his chest. Minghao, though his expression remained calm, shifted his weight slightly, a private acknowledgement of the unfamiliar sensation.

Seungcheol, walking slightly ahead, holding the elevator door open, couldn't see the subtle shifts, but he felt the change in atmosphere. It was like a new layer of awkwardness had settled onto them. He looked back at Jeonghan, his worry evident. "You sure you're okay, Hannie?"

Jeonghan forced a smile. "Yeah, Cheol-ah. Just… gettig used to the quiet I guess. The hallway was intense."

The elevator ride back down felt incredibly long. Thirteen people packed into a small metal box, weighed down by the day's events and the unspoken strangeness of their new reality.

The ‘Kids’ leaned against their designated protectors, some already dozing off from emotional exhaustion. The ‘Dads’ stood stoically, providing physical support and quiet presence. The ‘Moms’ stood a little apart from the others, each lost in their own thoughts and the nascent physical changes happening within their bodies.

Joshua leaned against the cool metal wall of the elevator, Seungkwan slumped against his side. He felt the odd warmth intensifying, the tenderness spreading. It wasn't painful, but it was undeniably there, a constant, physical reminder of what they had agreed to, what they were now capable of. He looked down at Seungkwan’s sleeping face, soft and vulnerable in slumber. This was for him. This was for all of them. The initial anxiety about the injection itself began to fade, replaced by a growing resolve. If this could help alleviate the suffering he just witnessed in the hallway, then it was worth it. He glanced across at Vernon, who was watching Seungkwan with a gentle gaze. Their pairing, initially just numbers and names on a company sheet, suddenly felt real, weighted with responsibility and a shared purpose. And looking at Vernon, quiet and steady, Joshua felt a sense of partnership, a comfort in knowing they would face this together.

Junhui stood between Woozi and Hoshi, both leaning against him slightly. The strange sensation in his chest was becoming more pronounced, a subtle pressure, a thrumming warmth. He felt a shiver, not of cold, but of something else entirely – vulnerability, anticipation, perhaps a touch of fear. He glanced at Wonwoo, who was standing close by, eyes scanning over Woozi and Hoshi with a quiet vigilance. Wonwoo caught his eye and offered a small, reassuring smile. It was a simple gesture, but in that moment, it felt significant. They were bound together now, by the needs of these two young men and by this bizarre agreement. The quiet intensity in Wonwoo’s gaze felt like a promise of support, a shared burden. Junhui returned the smile, feeling a strange mix of gratitude and a burgeoning affection for the calm, steady man beside him.

Minghao stood near the back of the elevator, Seokmin leaning against the paneling behind him. He focused on regulating his breathing, trying to understand the swirling sensations in his chest. It was a sensitivity he'd never experienced before, a tingling, a subtle ache. He kept his expression placid, but internally, his thoughts were racing. How would this work? How quickly? What would it feel like? He felt Mingyu shift beside him, his presence a warm, solid mass. Mingyu didn’t ask about the injection directly, sensing his need for quiet processing, but his hand rested lightly on the railing between them, a silent offering of support. Minghao appreciated his sensitivity, his quiet strength. Their pairing felt surprisingly natural, a balance of Mingyu’s outgoing energy and grounding presence with Minghao’s introspective calm. He found himself leaning, just slightly, into Mingyu’s space, finding a strange comfort there.

As the elevator dinged and the doors opened, a wave of relief washed over them. They spilled out into the familiar, though currently quiet, lobby of their building. The silence felt deafening after the emotional turmoil of the hallway.

The walk back to their dorms was subdued.

Upon entering the dorm, the usual vibrant chaos was muted. The members instinctively split into their unofficial units, though the lines were a little blurry as everyone still felt the residual shock of the panic attacks. Seungcheol and Jeonghan guided Chan towards the main living area. Wonwoo and Junhui ushered Woozi and Hoshi towards their rooms, suggesting they rest for a bit before dinner. Vernon and Joshua helped Seungkwan settle onto a couch, while Mingyu and Minghao steered Seokmin towards the kitchen, deeming food the best immediate next step.

Dinner preparation was a quiet, collaborative effort, albeit with clear roles emerging. The 'Dads' seemed to naturally take on the more practical tasks – Mingyu heating up leftovers (a quick, easy choice tonight), Wonwoo setting the table, Vernon getting drinks. The 'Moms', despite the strange physical sensations they were experiencing, helped where they could, but there was a subtle hesitancy in their movements, a new self-consciousness. Jeonghan was unusually quiet, his eyes often drifting to Chan, who was watching TV with Seungcheol, still looking fragile. Joshua moved calmly but seemed a little withdrawn, a hand occasionally pressing lightly against his chest. Junhui was trying to maintain his usual cheerful demeanor, but his smiles didn't quite reach his eyes, and he kept adjusting his shirt collar. Minghao was his usual composed self, but Mingyu noticed a faint tension in his jaw, a tightness around his eyes.

The strange sensations were definitely intensifying now. A mild ache, a feeling of fullness, a tingling that seemed to migrate from their nipples outwards. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was undeniably present.

Dinner was a quiet affair. The energy levels were low. The 'Kids' ate slowly, punctuated by occasional sighs. The 'Dads' tried to initiate conversation, talking about mundane things, anything to fill the silence, but the underlying tension was palpable. The 'Moms' were even quieter, hyper-aware of the sensations in their bodies, the potential implications of what was happening.

Jeonghan found himself watching Chan as he ate, a protective instinct swelling in his chest. This was happening. Soon, maybe very soon, he would be able to offer Chan something tangible, something physical to soothe his distress. It felt overwhelming, bizarre, but also… right, in a deeply unsettling way. He glanced at Seungcheol across the table, who was watching him with a worried frown. Seungcheol’s concern felt like a warm blanket in the midst of this strangeness. He was the anchor, the leader, the one who seemed to absorb everyone else’s stress and try to carry it. And looking at him, seeing the lines of worry etched around his eyes, Jeonghan felt that protective instinct extend to his leader too. He wanted to reach out, to tell him it would be okay, even though he wasn't sure himself. The feelings he was developing for Seungcheol were confusingly intertwined with this new role and responsibility, a warmth that went beyond friendship, a desire to comfort and be comforted.

Junhui watched as Woozi picked at his food, his usual focused intensity replaced by a listlessness that tugged at Junhui’s heart. Hoshi, beside him, ate a little more readily, but kept glancing nervously at Woozi. The feeling in Junhui’s chest was becoming more noticeable, a pressure, a tenderness that made him subtly shift in his seat. He felt Wonwoo’s gaze on him. There was no judgment in Wonwoo’s eyes, only quiet support. Wonwoo reached out and placed his hand on Woozi’s back, a simple gesture that seemed to offer silent strength. Junhui felt a pang of admiration for Wonwoo. Their forced pairing for Woozi and Hoshi felt increasingly less like a chore and more like a shared mission, a partnership. He felt drawn to Wonwoo's unwavering focus on the members they were meant to protect. This felt like something more than just a working relationship, a connection forming in the quiet spaces between their words and actions.

Joshua quietly ate his dinner, acutely aware of Seungkwan beside him. Seungkwan hadn’t said much since the hallway, just seemed withdrawn and tired. The strange physical sensation in Joshua’s chest was a constant, low hum beneath his awareness. It felt foreign, alien, yet also… strangely connected to the protective feelings he had for Seungkwan. He glanced at Vernon sitting across from him, who gave him a small, encouraging nod. Vernon’s presence was a quiet comfort. Joshua felt a growing appreciation for Vernon’s calm maturity, his steady reliability. He realized he was starting to rely on Vernon, to feel a quiet thrill whenever their eyes met or they shared a small smile. This partnership, this strange family unit, was forging a bond between them that felt unexpectedly deep and meaningful.

Minghao ate slowly, processing the day. The physical sensations were now undeniable – a subtle throbbing, a feeling of engorgement, a heightened sensitivity that made his shirt feel rough against his skin. This was real. The injection was working. He glanced at Seokmin, who was eating listlessly. Taking care of Seokmin felt important, a concrete task in a world that suddenly felt very abstract and strange. He felt Mingyu’s presence beside him. Mingyu hadn’t said much about the injection itself, sensing Minghao's need for quiet space, but his unspoken support was a tangible thing. Mingyu’s energy channeled into a quiet protectiveness. Minghao appreciated it more than words could say. He felt safe beside Mingyu, grounded by his presence. The feeling of warmth he felt for Mingyu, initially just an appreciation of his character, was deepening, evolving into something softer, warmer, something that felt like… falling.

After dinner, the focus shifted to getting the 'Kids' ready for bed. The exhaustion from the day’s emotional turmoil had caught up with them.

Seungcheol helped Chan brush his teeth, the routine a comforting anchor in the strange evening. Jeonghan watched them, a soft smile on his face. He knelt beside Chan's bed, helping him get comfortable. Chan instinctively leaned into him, burying his face against Jeonghan’s side. Jeonghan wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. He felt the gentle pressure of Chan's head against the area that felt most sensitive, and a strange, almost electric sensation sparked through him. It wasn't pain, but an intense awareness. He held his breath, waiting, but nothing more happened. Not yet. Seungcheol sat on the edge of Chan’s bed. He watched Jeonghan and Chan, the scene before him stirring something deep within his chest. The protective tenderness Jeonghan showed, the quiet strength under the day’s stress. Seungcheol reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from Jeonghan’s forehead. "You did good today, Hannie," he murmured, his voice low. Jeonghan looked up at him, his eyes soft and vulnerable. "We did," he corrected softly. In the quiet intimacy of the room, the bond between them, forged through years of leadership and friendship, felt like it was deepening, taking on a new dimension. Seungcheol wanted to pull him closer, to hold him, to shield him from the strangeness they were facing.

In another room, Wonwoo sat reading quietly while Junhui helped Woozi and Hoshi get ready for bed. Junhui was trying to keep the mood light, talking about silly things, but the underlying weariness in his voice was evident. He tucked Woozi into bed, pulling the blanket up chin. Woozi’s eyes were heavy-lidded. "Hyung… thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible. Junhui felt his heart clench. He reached out tentatively, stroking Woozi’s hair. "Always, Jihoon-ah," he said softly. He then moved to Hoshi's bed, who was already half-asleep. He sat on the edge, just being there. Wonwoo closed his book and stood up, walking over to them. He stood beside Junhui, looking down at the two sleeping forms. "They're safe," Wonwoo said quietly. Junhui looked up at him, meeting his eyes. In that moment, he felt a profound sense of relief, a shared responsibility lifted, if only momentarily. Wonwoo reached out, resting a hand briefly on Junhui’s shoulder. The simple touch sent a jolt through Junhui. It was grounding, supportive, and held an unspoken warmth that made Junhui’s chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the injection. He felt a deep connection with Wonwoo, a quiet understanding that transcended their new roles.

Joshua watched Seungkwan fold his clothes slowly, moving with a heavy weariness. He didn’t rush him, just sat on the bed, a quiet, calming presence. Seungkwan finally finished, climbing into bed with a sigh. Joshua pulled the covers up. Seungkwan looked up at him, his eyes still slightly red-rimmed. "Hyung… it was really scary before," he admitted quietly. Joshua reached out naturally, stroking Seungkwan’s hair away from his forehead. "I know, Seungkwan-ah. It was scary for all of us. But you were so brave. And we're here now. Always." He felt the strange physical sensations intensify slightly with the intimacy of the moment, a familiar protective instinct now coupled with this bizarre new physiological response. He glanced towards Vernon, who was tidying up a few things in the room, keeping a quiet eye on them. Vernon caught his gaze and offered a small smile. Joshua returned it, feeling a warmth spread through him that wasn't just the physical sensation. Vernon had been so reliable. Joshua felt a growing affection for him, a desire to lean on his strength, to share the burden of this strange new reality.

Mingyu helped Seokmin finish his water and take some calming supplements the company doctor had recommended. Minghao watched them from the doorway, giving them space. Mingyu finished with Seokmin and guided him to his bed. He sat beside him until Seokmin’s breathing evened out into sleep. He then walked back into the hallway where Minghao was waiting. Mingyu leaned against the wall, letting out a long breath. "He's asleep," he said, his voice tired. Minghao hesitated for a moment, then nodded, though the movement was slight. Mingyu wanted to ask, to understand, to offer comfort, but the hesitation felt so delicate, so incredibly private. The concern he felt was rapidly deepening, evolving into a possessiveness he hadn't anticipated. He wanted to protect Minghao from the strangeness, to shoulder some of this burden with him.

One by one, the 'parent' members retreated as the 'Kids' settled into sleep, their breathing evening out into the soft sighs of exhausted youth. Woozi, curled tight in his blanket, Hoshi gripping a plush toy, Seungkwan huddled under his duvet, Seokmin sprawled with one arm covering his eyes, and Chan tucked neatly with his cheek resting on the pillow – they were finally still. Their quiet, however, felt fragile, a temporary reprieve purchased at the high price of a bizarre, unprecedented intervention.

But for Seungcheol and Jeonghan, Wonwoo and Junhui, Vernon and Joshua, and Mingyu and Minghao, the day wasn't quite over.

They gathered in the common room again, the remaining members. The couch felt too big, the space too quiet. The air conditioning hummed, a mundane sound in a room where the very fabric of their lives felt irrevocably altered.

Seungcheol sat heavily on the main sofa, rubbing the back of his neck. Wonwoo was in an armchair, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. Mingyu perched on the edge of the coffee table. Vernon leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking out the window at the city lights blurring in the distance.

The four 'Moms' sat closer together on the other sofa – Jeonghan, leaning back with his eyes closed for a moment, Junhui, sitting upright but radiating a quiet tension, Joshua, hands clasped tightly in his lap, and Minghao, staring down at the floor, tracing patterns on the rug with his toe.

No one spoke for a long time. The silence was laced with unspoken questions, anxieties, and the sheer, mind-boggling absurdity of the situation.

Finally, Seungcheol let out a deep sigh. "So," he started, his voice rough, "That... happened."

An inadequate summary, maybe, but it cracked the dam.

"That certainly happened," Wonwoo echoed dryly. "Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu murmured, shaking his head. "Injections... milk... family units... it's like... a very strange fever dream."

Joshua finally looked up, his eyes tired. "It's not a dream, though. Is it?" His voice was soft. He shifted slightly, a subtle movement, but it drew Vernon's gaze immediately.

Vernon uncrossed his arms, taking a step closer to the sofa. "Josh, are you okay? Are... are you feeling it?" His voice held a note of tight concern.

Joshua pressed his thighs together, avoiding eye contact. "Just... weird. Aching. Tingly." He hugged himself lightly, hands pressing against his ribs, just below his chest.

Jeonghan opened his eyes, a tired smile on his lips. "Vernon's right. 'Weird' covers it pretty well. It's like... my body suddenly remembered something it never knew how to do." He shifted too, a hand unconsciously hovering near his chest. "Pressure. Fullness."

Junhui nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor. "Sensitivity. More than usual." He spoke barely above a whisper. "And... a strange warmth."

Minghao finally looked up, meeting Mingyu's worried gaze. He gave a small, uncertain smile. "Yeah. Like... something is preparing to bloom inside you. But... not in a pretty way. More... functional."

Mingyu immediately stood up and moved to sit beside Minghao on the sofa, placing a hand lightly on his knee. "Are you in pain, Hao?" His voice was gentle, laced with a specific concern that wasn't just for a dongsaeng, but for his dongsaeng, his assigned 'Mom'.

Minghao shook his head. "Not exactly pain. Just... this intense awareness of... there." He gestured vaguely towards his chest. He looked at Mingyu, his expression softening slightly. "It's just... a lot to process."

Seungcheol watched these interactions, a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. Relief that the company was doing something, anything, for the kids. Bewilderment at the drastic, almost sci-fi nature of the solution. And a growing, protective warmth towards Jeonghan, who sat there, radiating a strange blend of vulnerability and quiet strength. He found himself noticing Jeonghan's slight discomfort, the way he held himself, the tired set of his shoulders, with a focus he hadn't allowed himself before. This forced dynamic, this 'Dad' and 'Mom' pairing for Chan, it felt... surprisingly natural, unsettlingly quickly.

"The company doc said it could take a few hours for the full effect," Seungcheol said, trying to bring some structure to the conversation. "She said to expect... leakage... by midnight, maybe?"

"Leakage," Wonwoo repeated, a flicker of dark humor in his eyes. "Sounds... efficient."

"Wonwoo, seriously," Junhui said quietly, finally looking at him. There was no rebuke in his tone, just a plea for understanding. "It's... it's not easy. Knowing your body is about to... do this."

Wonwoo's expression softened instantly. "I know, Junnie. I'm sorry. Just... trying to cope with the sheer... surrealism of it all." He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly. "Are you okay? You've been so quiet."

Junhui met Wonwoo's gaze, and for a moment, the strange, forced roles seemed to fade, leaving just two tired people navigating a difficult situation. "I will be," Junhui said softly. "As long as it helps Woozi and Hoshi. That's... that's the point, isn't it? To help them."

His words cut through the awkwardness, recentering their purpose. It wasn't about them, not really. It was about the kids who were struggling so deeply.

"Right," Seungcheol said, his voice firmer now. "That's the point. This is... weird. More than weird. It's... unprecedented. But if it works... if it helps them feel safe, feel comforted, feel less alone with their panic... then it's worth it."

He looked at Jeonghan, who was watching him with that knowing look. It felt like Jeonghan understood the weight Seungcheol carried, the burden of leading a group through this kind of storm. And in that look, Seungcheol felt a strange, unexpected pull, a sense of being seen and supported by this person who was now, officially, his co-parent for their youngest.

"They called us Dads and Moms," Vernon said, breaking the moment. He sounded hesitant, almost embarrassed by the term. "It feels... strange."

"It is strange," Joshua agreed, managing a small, wry smile. "Like we're in some kind of reality show gone very, very wrong."

"It's just a framework," Mingyu offered. "To make sure everyone has specific people looking out for them. Like... designated caregivers." He looked at Minghao again. "And you're assigned Seokmin. You okay with that, Hao?"

Minghao nodded slowly. "Yeah. Seokminnie... he tries so hard to be bright for everyone else. But I see how much it takes out of him." He paused. "I just... I hope he's not uncomfortable with it."

"They won't be," Jeonghan said. "They're kids, yes, but they trust us. And they're hurting. If this... if this helps them feel better, feel safe... they'll accept it." He looked at Seungcheol. "Chan... he was so scared today. Seeing him like that..." His voice trailed off, the memory of Dino's panic attack painting a shadow over his face.

Seungcheol reached out, his hand gently resting on Jeonghan's knee. "He got through it," he said softly. "And you were there. We were there." His touch lingered just a moment longer than necessary before he pulled his hand back, feeling a warmth spread up his arm that had nothing to do with the room temperature.

Wonwoo was watching Junhui. "Woozi and Hoshi... they feed off each other's energy sometimes. When one gets anxious, the other one can too." He looked at Junhui. "Are you... okay taking on both of them? That's a lot Jun."

Junhui nodded. "They're my younger brothers. If I can help, I will. Two is fine." He managed a small, reassuring smile for Wonwoo. "Don't worry so much, Wonwoo-ya."

Wonwoo didn't explicitly respond, but his gaze lingered on Junhui, a silent promise of support in his eyes. He would worry, of course. That was his nature. But he would also be there, for Junhui, for Woozi, for Hoshi.

Vernon cleared his throat. "So... how does this... practically work?" He gestured vaguely between the 'Moms' and the concept of feeding. "Like... do we... gather 'round when someone's stressed? Is there a... schedule? A designated room?"

Silence fell again. These were the questions that felt too real, too awkward, too... domestic, in a completely alien way.

Joshua spoke up with clarity. "The company said... when one of the Kids is having a difficult time. When they need comfort. It's not like... scheduled meals. It's more... responsive care." He took a deep breath. "They said... find a private space. Somewhere quiet. And just... offer."

"Offer," Minghao repeated, the word feeling strangely heavy. "Offer comfort. Through... this." He gestured down at his chest again.

The implications hung in the air. Intimacy. Vulnerability. Providing a primal form of comfort usually associated with literal parenting.

"It's going to be awkward," Jeonghan stated matter-of-factly. "For them, for us. For everyone."

"Probably," Seungcheol agreed. "But we'll get through it. Like we get through everything else." He looked around the room, making eye contact with each of them in turn. "This group... we're family. We've always said that. Maybe... maybe this is just taking that idea... to a whole new level." He hesitated, then added, "Even if it's... a really, really weird level."

A few hesitant smiles flickered across faces. Weird was an understatement. But 'family' felt right, even in the face of this bizarre reality.

"And the Dad part?" Mingyu asked, looking back at Minghao. "What are we supposed to do? Just... stand by and look supportive?"

Minghao chuckled softly, a sound that broke some of the tension. "I don't know, Gyu. Maybe just... make conversation? Distract them? Hold my hand so I don't freak out?" He looked at Mingyu, a genuine smile now on his face. "Or maybe just... be there. Be a grounding presence."

Mingyu smiled back, relieved to see Minghao lighten up a little. "I can do that. I can definitely do that for you, Hao." The implication felt clear: he could be that grounding presence for Minghao, not just Seokmin.

Vernon looked at Joshua, a similar unspoken sentiment passing between them. "I'll be there too, Shua-Hyung. Whatever you need."

Joshua's smile widened slightly, a silent thank you in his eyes. "Thanks, Vernon-ah."

Wonwoo met Junhui's gaze again. "And I'll be there for you, Junhui. For both of them. Don't hesitate to call me."

"Okay, Wonwoo-ya," Junhui replied, a sense of quiet reassurance in his tone.

Seungcheol found his eyes drifting back to Jeonghan. "Same here, Hannie. For Chan. For you."

Jeonghan nodded, a small, tired but grateful smile playing on his lips. "Thank you, Cheol."

The conversation circled for a while longer, touching on anxieties about managing schedules, potential questions from the other members who weren't part of the core discussion, and the sheer drain this system might put on the 'Moms'. They talked about setting up a quiet corner, maybe one of the smaller practice rooms or a designated space in the dorm, for when a Kid needed comfort. They discussed the need for discretion, both within the company and externally, though the company had assured them this was a highly confidential, therapeutic approach.

As the hour grew later, the conversation started to wind down. Fatigue was setting in, layered over the day's emotional rollercoaster.

"Maybe we should... try and get some sleep," Seungcheol suggested, standing up. "It's been... a long day. And tomorrow... well, who knows what tomorrow brings."

They all agreed, standing up slowly, the air of solemnity still clinging to them. There were quiet goodnights, a few tired pats on backs. The 'Dads' sent lingering looks of concern towards their respective 'Moms' before heading towards their own rooms.

Seungcheol paused at the entrance to the hallway, looking back at Jeonghan. "Get some rest, Hannie."

"Trying to, Cheol," Jeonghan replied, giving another small, weary smile. "You too."

Seungcheol hesitated, wanting to say something more, something comforting or reassuring, but the words felt inadequate. He just nodded and turned away, the image of Jeonghan's tired, beautiful face imprinted on his mind. He couldn't shake the feeling of protectiveness that had surged within him, a feeling that now seemed irrevocably linked to this strange, new role.

He went to his room, the quiet space feeling empty tonight. He changed into sleeping clothes, his thoughts racing. Chan. Jeonghan. This system. The sheer strangeness. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the weight of leadership heavier than ever, compounded by the bewildering warmth he felt whenever his thoughts landed on Jeonghan. He drifted towards sleep, the last coherent thought being a silent promise to himself: he would look after Chan, and he would look after Jeonghan. He would make sure they were okay.

In their own rooms, the other members settled into uneasy sleep. Wonwoo lay awake for a long time, thinking about Junhui. He pictured him earlier, sitting quietly on the sofa, subdued by the seriousness of what he was undertaking. Two kids. Woozi and Hoshi. A heavy responsibility, especially combined with the physical changes Junhui was experiencing. Wonwoo mentally cataloged ways he could support Junhui, things he could do to lessen his burden, to show him he wasn't alone in this. His mind replayed Junhui's soft "Okay, Wonwoo-ya," and a quiet resolve settled over him.

Mingyu, in his room, found himself thinking about Minghao, the way his hand instinctively went to his chest. He pictured Minghao's hands tasked with providing this fundamental, biological comfort. He felt a surge of fierce protectiveness. Minghao was strong, resilient, but this was something completely new, completely vulnerable. He vowed to be Minghao's steady presence, just as Minghao had described. He would make sure Minghao never felt alone or overwhelmed by this.

Vernon sat by his window for a while longer, just watching the city lights. He thought about Joshua. Joshua was usually the calm in the storm. But tonight, he had looked vulnerable, a little scared. Vernon had seen the subtle shifts, the way Joshua held himself, the way his gaze had been downcast. The thought of Joshua experiencing physical discomfort, of his body undergoing this change, stirred something deep within Vernon. He wanted to shield Joshua, to ease his burden, to simply be there for him in a way that went beyond their friendship. This 'Dad' role to Seungkwan, with Joshua as the 'Mom', felt less like a role and more like a confirmation of an unspoken connection he was only now beginning to understand.

And in their beds, the 'Moms' tried to find sleep, their bodies buzzing with unfamiliar sensations. Jeonghan shifted, trying to find a comfortable position, but the subtle aching and fullness in his chest made it difficult. He thought of Chan, his small, trembling body during the panic attack. If this could stop that, if this could bring him peace, then Jeonghan would endure any discomfort. Still, the thought of it, the reality of what was coming, sent a shiver down his spine. His body felt alien.

Joshua lay on his back, eyes wide open in the dark. The tingling sensation was spreading, becoming more distinct. It felt... weirdly sensitive. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing, trying to push down the rising anxiety. What if he couldn't do it? What if it hurt? What if Seungkwan was freaked out? He pictured Seungkwan's bright face, and his resolve hardened. Seungkwan needed this. He needed someone to be able to offer this kind of comfort. And the company had chosen him. He would do it. He had to.

Junhui lay on his side, knees pulled slightly towards his chest. The warmth in his chest was undeniable now, a growing pressure. It was a strange, heavy feeling, unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He thought of Woozi and Hoshi, his two very different but passionate dongsaengs, brought low by stress. He felt a fierce protectiveness towards them. He would be their safe harbor. He just hoped his body would cooperate, that this wouldn't be too difficult, too painful. His mind drifted to Wonwoo. Knowing Wonwoo was his partner in this, that he would be there beside him for Woozi and Hoshi, brought a small measure of comfort.

Minghao lay on his stomach, pressing his chest gently into the mattress, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. The sensitivity was intense. Even the fabric of his shirt felt strange against his skin. He felt a mix of nervousness and resignation. This was his new reality. He would be the one providing this comfort to Seokmin. He thought of Seokmin's smile, which often masked inner turmoil. He wanted to help ease that. He thought of Mingyu. Knowing Mingyu was his partner, the designated 'Dad' for Seokmin, felt... unexpectedly comforting. He felt a flicker of warmth that wasn't just physical.

Hours passed in the quiet dorm. The city outside hummed its nighttime symphony. The 'Kids' slept on, hopefully finding a few hours of peace. The 'Dads' turned restlessly in their beds, their minds full of concern for their partners and the task ahead.

And the 'Moms' felt the strange, internal process reach its zenith. The aching intensified, a deep throb in their breasts. The sensitivity was almost overwhelming, every slight movement or contact sending a jolt. It felt like their bodies were stretching, filling, culminating in a strange readiness.

Then, just as the clocks in the dorm rooms quietly clicked past midnight, it happened.

Chapter Text

Then, just as the clocks in the dorm rooms quietly clicked past midnight, it happened.

Jeonghan was the first to stir, roused not by an alarm, nor by the subtle shifts of the city outside, but by a strange, cool dampness spreading across his chest. His eyes fluttered open, disoriented in the dark. A faint, sweet scent, unfamiliar yet distinct, permeated the air around him. He shifted slightly, and the dampness intensified, a trickle, then a slow, steady drip.

His breath hitched. It's happening.

He sat up abruptly, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The pressure in his chest was immense now, a heavy, aching fullness that demanded release. He fumbled for his phone on the bedside table, the soft glow illuminating his shirt. Dark, wet patches bloomed across the fabric, centered over his nipples, the liquid glistening faintly in the dim light. Milk. His own milk.

A flush spread across his face, hot and immediate. It was one thing to intellectually understand the concept, to agree to it for the sake of Chan and the others. It was another entirely to experience it, raw and undeniable, in the quiet solitude of his room. The sheer, visceral reality of it was staggering.

He needed to get up, to clean himself, to figure out what to do. The thought of Seungcheol, asleep in the next room, just a wall away, made his cheeks burn even hotter. He couldn't let Seungcheol see him like this, not yet. Not before he had processed it himself.

Carefully, he swung his legs out of bed, wincing slightly as the movement exacerbated the pressure in his chest. He padded silently towards the bathroom, trying to move with the stealth of a ninja, acutely aware of every creak of the floorboards. The mirror showed him a reflection he barely recognized: wide, slightly panicked eyes, flushed cheeks, and the undeniable evidence of his body's new function. He felt a wave of profound strangeness, a disconnect between his mind and this new, lactating body.

He turned on the faucet, letting the cool water run, and began to gently wash away the milky stickiness. The sensation of the water against his sensitive nipples was unexpectedly intense, a strange mix of relief and a heightened, almost painful awareness. He worked quickly, efficiently, trying to minimize the time spent confronting this new reality in the mirror.

As he dried himself, he heard a faint rustling from the hallway. His head snapped up, heart leaping into his throat. Had he woken someone? He held his breath, listening.

A soft, almost inaudible whisper drifted from the direction of the kitchen.

"…are you feeling it too?"

It was Joshua's voice, hushed and laced with a hint of bewilderment.

Jeonghan let out a silent breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He wasn't alone. The others must be experiencing it too. A strange sense of camaraderie, even amidst the awkwardness, settled over him. He quickly pulled on a fresh, clean shirt, one that felt a little looser, less restrictive against his now incredibly sensitive chest. He grabbed a small hand towel, just in case, and padded towards the kitchen, drawn by the quiet murmur of voices.

As he entered, he saw Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao gathered around the sink, illuminated by the soft glow of the under-cabinet lighting. They were all in various states of disarray, hair tousled from sleep, eyes wide and a little dazed. And, unmistakably, each of them had damp patches on their shirts, or were in the process of wiping away traces of milk.

Joshua was hunched over the sink, rinsing a cloth, his face flushed. Junhui was standing a little stiffly, a hand pressed to his chest. Minghao was calmly wiping his chest with a tissue, though a faint blush colored his cheeks.

"Jeonghan-ah!" Joshua whispered, his eyes widening in relief and shared embarrassment. "You too?"

Jeonghan nodded, a wry, tired smile touching his lips. "Looks like we're all in the same leaky boat."

Junhui let out a small, nervous laugh. "Leaky boat is right. I woke up feeling like I'd spilled a whole glass of water on myself." He gestured vaguely at his chest. "And the pressure... it's insane."

"Mine too," Joshua murmured. "It's not painful, exactly, but it's... overwhelming. Like my body is screaming for something to happen."

Minghao, finished with his self-cleaning, folded his arms across his chest, though the gesture seemed more for comfort than defiance. "The doctor said it would be noticeable by midnight. She wasn't wrong." His voice was calm, but his eyes held a flicker of something akin to awe, and a deep, private embarrassment. "It's... a lot."

"A lot is an understatement," Jeonghan sighed, leaning against the counter. "So, what now? Do we just... keep dripping? This is going to be a nightmare for laundry." He tried to inject a bit of humor, but the underlying anxiety was clear.

"I don't know," Joshua admitted, looking around helplessly. "I tried to just... press on it, but it just made it worse. More came out."

Junhui groaned. "Tell me about it. I swear, I have double the production. It's like my body knows I have to feed two people." He looked utterly overwhelmed, his hands now pressing firmly against his chest, trying to stem the flow. A fresh damp patch was already forming on his shirt. "This is going to be a problem. What if it overflows? What if we're just... constantly leaking?"

The thought hung in the air, a collective wave of mortification washing over them. The idea of constantly dripping milk, of having to hide it, of the sheer mess and discomfort, was daunting.

"We need to figure out how to stop it, or at least manage it," Jeonghan said, his voice firming with a leader's resolve, even in this bizarre situation. "Did the doctor say anything about... how to relieve the pressure without actually... nursing?" He trailed off, the word hanging awkwardly between them.

"She mentioned pumping," Minghao supplied, his voice quiet. "To stimulate production, but also to relieve engorgement. But I don't know how to use a breast pump. Do we even have one?"

"I think the company sent some over," Joshua said, remembering vaguely. "They were in those boxes that came this afternoon. In the storage room, maybe?"

"Oh god, breast pumps," Junhui muttered, burying his face in his hands. "This is really happening, isn't it? We're actually going to be... pumping milk." He lifted his head, his eyes wide and a little wild. "This is so weird. So, so weird."

"It is," Jeonghan agreed, a faint blush returning to his cheeks. "But if it helps the kids... that's the main thing. We can figure out the 'how' later. For now, we just need to stop this... flood." He glanced down at his own shirt, another damp patch appearing.

"Maybe we should try to find those pads she mentioned," Joshua suggested, running a hand through his already messy hair. "The ones for... leakage."

"Good idea," Minghao agreed, already moving towards the storage room. "I'll go look."

As Minghao slipped out of the kitchen, the remaining three 'Moms' continued their hushed, anxious conversation.

"I just hope the kids are okay," Jeonghan whispered, his voice tinged with concern. "Imagine waking up to this. It's bad enough for us, but for them to be... relying on it."

"They're asleep now, at least," Joshua said, trying to reassure himself as much as Jeonghan. "Hopefully, they'll sleep through the night. We can deal with this in the morning."

"But what if one of them has a panic attack tonight?" Junhui asked, his voice low. "Woozi or Hoshi... what if they wake up scared? I'm supposed to be able to help them, but I'm just... leaking everywhere." He looked genuinely distressed.

Jeonghan put a comforting hand on Junhui's shoulder. "Hey. It's okay. We'll figure it out. One step at a time. First, stop the leaking. Then, we learn how to use these... contraptions. Then, we help the kids. We're in this together."

Their quiet whispers, however, were not as quiet as they thought.

In the living room, just beyond the kitchen, Seungcheol had been stirring restlessly. The silence of the dorm felt different tonight, heavier, punctuated by a faint, unfamiliar scent that he couldn't quite place. He had been half-asleep, his mind still replaying the day's events, the image of Jeonghan's tired but resolute face flashing behind his eyelids.

Then, he heard it. A faint rustling, followed by a hushed whisper. He sat up, straining his ears. It was coming from the kitchen. Joshua's voice, then Junhui's, and Jeonghan's.

He frowned, pushing himself off the couch. What were they doing up at this hour? He padded silently towards the kitchen, his leader instincts kicking in. He paused just outside the doorway, hidden by the wall, listening.

"...leaky boat." Jeonghan's voice, sounding tired but also... something else. Embarrassed?
"...double the production. It's like my body knows I have to feed two people." Junhui's voice, sounding utterly overwhelmed.
"...constantly leaking?" Joshua's question, laced with mortification.

Seungcheol's eyes widened. Milk. They were talking about the milk. The injection. He felt a sudden, fierce pang of sympathy and protectiveness. This was the reality of what they had volunteered for, the physical manifestation of their sacrifice. He wanted to go in, to offer help, but something held him back. Their voices were so raw, so vulnerable. This felt like a private moment, a shared burden among the 'Moms'. He hesitated, listening, feeling like an intruder but unable to pull himself away.

A moment later, he heard another door creak open, and then a soft thud. He glanced over his shoulder. Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon were also standing in the hallway, drawn by the same hushed voices. Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. They were all here, listening, unable to intervene just yet, but united in their concern.

"Did you hear that?" Vernon whispered, his voice barely audible. "Joshua... he sounds so... distressed."

Mingyu nodded, his jaw tight. "Minghao too. He just went into the storage room." He looked towards the kitchen, his eyes filled with a worried intensity. "They're talking about the milk. About how to stop it."

Wonwoo's expression was grim. "Junhui sounds like he's in agony. Double the production... that's a lot." He closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Junhui's usually bright face contorted in discomfort.

Seungcheol held a finger to his lips, urging them to stay quiet. This was important. They needed to hear what the 'Moms' were going through, what they were planning. It would help them understand how to support them.

Inside the kitchen, Minghao returned, holding a small box. "Found them. Breast pads. And... some pamphlets. About managing engorgement and... pumping." He held up a small, sterile-looking package.

"Thank god," Joshua breathed, taking a pad and awkwardly trying to apply it to his shirt. "This is so strange. It feels like... a foreign object."

"It's going to be for a while, I guess," Jeonghan said, taking a pad himself. He peeled off the backing and pressed it against his chest, feeling the immediate, albeit slight, absorption of the dampness. It was a small relief, but a relief nonetheless. "We need to read these pamphlets. Figure out the pump situation."

"But what if we pump too much?" Junhui asked, his voice still laced with anxiety. "Won't that just make us produce more? The doctor said demand stimulates supply."

"That's true," Minghao mused, already flipping through one of the pamphlets. "It says here... 'pumping to relieve engorgement without establishing a full supply requires careful management. Pump only enough to feel comfortable, not to empty the breast completely. This signals to the body that less milk is needed.'" He read aloud, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Only enough to feel comfortable," Joshua repeated, trying to visualize it. "So, just a little bit. Not a full session."

"But how do you know what 'a little bit' is?" Junhui groaned. "And how do you even use these things? Are they manual? Electric? Do we have to sterilize them? This is so much." He was clearly overwhelmed by the practicalities.

"It says here there are different types," Minghao continued, still reading. "And yes, sterilization is important. For hygiene. Especially if the milk is for consumption." He paused, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Which it is."

A fresh wave of silence, heavier this time, descended upon the kitchen. The unspoken reality of their situation, the purpose of this milk, hung in the air. This wasn't just about personal discomfort; it was about providing comfort, sustenance, and a strange form of healing to their 'kids'.

Outside the kitchen, the 'Dads' exchanged another look. The mention of "consumption" and "sterilization" made the reality of the situation hit them even harder. This was beyond just an injection; this was a fundamental shift in their lives, in their relationships within the group.

Seungcheol felt a tightening in his chest, a mixture of awe and profound concern. Jeonghan, his Jeonghan, was going through this. He was volunteering his body, his comfort, for Chan. And for him. The thought sent a jolt through Seungcheol, a feeling that transcended leadership, a deep, protective tenderness that was rapidly becoming love.

Wonwoo’s gaze was fixed on the kitchen doorway, his mind racing. Junhui was right; double the production meant double the discomfort, double the burden. He needed to help. He needed to understand how these pumps worked, how to sterilize them, how to support Junhui through this. He felt a fierce, almost possessive urge to shield Junhui from this discomfort, to take on some of his burden. The quiet affection he had felt for Junhui was blossoming into something far deeper, a desire to protect and cherish.

Mingyu’s hands clenched into fists. Minghao was talking about sterilization and consumption, his voice quiet but resolute. Mingyu felt a surge of pride, but also an overwhelming need to be there for him, to make this easier. He imagined Minghao struggling with a breast pump, feeling awkward and vulnerable, and his heart ached. He wanted to be the one to figure it out for him, to take care of him. The warmth he felt for Minghao was now an undeniable pull, a yearning to be closer, to share everything.

Vernon felt a knot of anxiety in his stomach. Joshua was in there, dealing with this strange, intimate reality. He heard the slight tremor in Joshua's voice, the underlying discomfort. Vernon wanted to sweep him up, to tell him it was okay, to take away the awkwardness and the pain. He remembered Joshua's tired smile earlier, his quiet resolve. Vernon felt a profound admiration, and a growing, tender love that made him want to protect Joshua from everything difficult in the world.

Inside the kitchen, Jeonghan picked up a small, sleek device from the box Minghao had brought. It was compact, with a soft, silicone cup at one end and a small motor unit. "This must be it," he murmured, turning it over in his hands. "It looks... complicated."

"The pamphlet has diagrams," Minghao said, pointing. "And instructions. It looks like it's electric, with different suction levels."

"Electric," Joshua repeated, a faint tremor in his voice. "So it's not just... us. It's a machine." The thought was both a relief and another layer of strangeness.

"Well, let's try it," Jeonghan declared, his voice firm. "We can't just stand here leaking all night. And we need to get comfortable with this. For the kids." He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. "Who wants to go first?"

Silence. The three 'Moms' looked at each other, each equally hesitant. The idea of attaching this foreign device to their bodies, of actively drawing out milk, felt incredibly intimate and exposing, even among themselves.

"I'll go," Junhui said, his voice surprisingly steady despite his earlier distress. "I have the most pressure. And if I can figure it out, maybe it'll be easier for you guys." He squared his shoulders, a flicker of his usual brave, determined self returning.

Jeonghan nodded gratefully. "Okay, Junnie. We'll help you."

Minghao quickly found the relevant page in the pamphlet, guiding Junhui. "It says to make sure the flange size is correct for your nipple, to ensure a good seal. And to start with a low suction level."

Junhui fumbled with the parts, his fingers slightly trembling. He assembled the pump, his face flushed with embarrassment. He positioned the silicone cup over his breast, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Okay. Here goes nothing." He pressed the 'on' button.

A soft whirring sound filled the quiet kitchen. Junhui flinched, his eyes squeezing shut. A strange, tugging sensation began, a gentle pull on his nipple, then a rhythmic suction. He opened his eyes, watching with a mixture of horror and fascination as a thin stream of milky white liquid began to appear in the collection bottle.

"Oh my god," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's... it's actually working."

Jeonghan and Joshua leaned closer, their expressions a mix of curiosity and shared awkwardness. "How does it feel?" Joshua asked, his voice hushed.

"Weird," Junhui admitted, his cheeks still flushed. "Like... a baby. But not. It's just... pulling. And it feels like... relief. Already." He watched the milk slowly fill the bottle, a strange sense of accomplishment mixing with the overwhelming oddness of the situation. "It's definitely relieving the pressure."

Outside the kitchen, the 'Dads' heard the soft whirring sound, and then Junhui's whispered exclamation. They exchanged wide-eyed glances. It was happening. They were actually doing it.

Seungcheol felt a surge of pride for Junhui's courage, and then his thoughts immediately went to Jeonghan. He was next. He would be next to experience this. The thought made his chest ache with a desire to protect him, to make it easier.

Wonwoo's gaze softened as he heard Junhui's voice, the relief evident in his tone. He imagined Junhui, his face flushed with embarrassment, yet bravely tackling this new, intimate task. Wonwoo felt a profound tenderness, a desire to be there, to offer his hand, to simply witness and support.

Mingyu's jaw tightened. He could practically feel Minghao's quiet determination, his willingness to face this head-on. He wanted to be in there, by his side, helping him, learning with him. He felt an almost unbearable urge to be Minghao's rock, his constant support through this bewildering journey.

Vernon closed his eyes for a moment, picturing Joshua. He imagined Joshua's quiet dignity, his slight flinch, his eventual resolve. He wanted to hold Joshua's hand, to tell him how brave he was, to ease his discomfort. The affection he felt for Joshua was deepening, becoming a powerful, protective force.

Inside, Junhui continued to pump, a small stream of milk steadily filling the bottle. He watched it, mesmerized, the initial awkwardness slowly giving way to a strange sense of purpose. This was for Woozi. This was for Hoshi. This was their comfort, their peace.

After a few minutes, Junhui pulled the pump away, feeling a significant reduction in pressure. "Okay," he breathed, a genuine sigh of relief escaping him. "That's... much better. It actually works." He looked at the small amount of milk in the bottle, a strange pride swelling in his chest.

"My turn," Joshua said, taking the pump from Junhui, his expression still nervous but resolute. Minghao quickly wiped down the parts with a sterile wipe from the box, as instructed by the pamphlet.

Joshua positioned the pump, his hands a little less steady than Junhui's. He pressed the button, and the whirring started again. He closed his eyes for a moment, a faint flush spreading across his face as the familiar tugging sensation began. He opened his eyes, watching the first drops of milk appear. "Wow," he whispered. "It's... really something."

Jeonghan watched Joshua, then looked at the pump, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. His turn was coming. He could feel his own chest aching, the pressure building, demanding release. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

Minghao, meanwhile, was still reading the pamphlets, his brow furrowed. "It also talks about breast massage, to help with flow and prevent clogs. And warm compresses."

"Warm compresses?" Joshua asked, pulling the pump away after a few minutes, feeling the relief spread through him. "So, like, a warm towel?"

"Yes," Minghao confirmed. "Before pumping or nursing, to help with let-down."

"Let-down," Jeonghan repeated, the terminology feeling increasingly surreal. "This is a whole new vocabulary."

"It really is," Junhui agreed, looking at the small bottle of milk he had collected. "What do we do with this now?"

"The pamphlet says to store it in sterile containers in the fridge," Minghao instructed, pointing to a section. "It's good for up to four days in the refrigerator, or longer in the freezer."

"So we have to label it too?" Joshua asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "With dates and times?"

"Yes," Minghao said, a small, apologetic shrug. "It's... like a science experiment, I guess."

Jeonghan finally stepped forward. "Okay. My turn. Let's get this over with." He took the pump from Joshua, his hands steady despite the internal tremor. He positioned it, took a deep breath, and pressed the button.

The whirring began, and Jeonghan closed his eyes for a moment, a small gasp escaping him as the suction began. It was intense, more so than he had anticipated, a deep, aching pull that resonated through his entire chest. He opened his eyes, watching the first few drops of milk appear, then a steady stream. His face was flushed, but his jaw was set with determination. This was for Chan. Every drop.

Outside, Seungcheol heard Jeonghan's small gasp, and his heart clenched. He wanted to go in, to comfort him, to tell him he was doing great, but he knew he couldn't. Not yet. This was their private moment, their initiation into this strange new world. He just leaned against the wall, listening, a silent pillar of support.

After a few minutes, Jeonghan pulled the pump away, a shaky breath escaping him. "That's... something," he whispered, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. The pressure was significantly reduced, a profound relief washing over him. He looked at the small amount of milk in the bottle, a strange mix of pride and disbelief.

"My turn now," Minghao said, taking the pump. He was the calmest of them, his movements precise as he assembled the pump and positioned it. He pressed the button, his expression unreadable as the whirring began and the milk started to flow. He watched it with a quiet intensity, absorbing the new sensation, processing the reality of it.

The 'Dads' listened as the whirring continued for Minghao's turn, then finally stopped. A collective sigh of relief, faint but audible, drifted from the kitchen.

"They're done," Vernon whispered, his voice tight with a mixture of relief and lingering concern.

"We should go in," Mingyu said, his voice firm. "They need us."

Seungcheol nodded. "Okay. But act normal. Don't make a big deal out of it. Just... be there." He pushed away from the wall, taking a deep breath, and walked towards the kitchen doorway.

As he entered, he saw the four 'Moms' gathered around the counter, looking tired but also a little relieved. Small bottles of milk stood on the counter, a stark, undeniable testament to what had just transpired.

"Everything okay in here?" Seungcheol asked, trying to keep his voice casual, though his eyes immediately went to Jeonghan, scanning him for any sign of lingering discomfort.

Jeonghan looked up, his eyes widening slightly as he saw Seungcheol, followed by Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon. A faint blush returned to his cheeks, but he managed a small, tired smile. "Yeah, Cheol-ah. Just... getting acquainted with our new equipment." He gestured vaguely at the breast pump on the counter.

Joshua quickly moved to put the pump away in its box, as if to hide the evidence. "We just needed to relieve some pressure. It was getting a bit much."

"Yeah," Junhui added, running a hand through his hair. "It's... a lot more intense than I thought it would be." He avoided Wonwoo's gaze.

Minghao nodded. "The pamphlets were helpful. We figured out how to use the pumps. And how to store the milk." He gestured to the small bottles.

Seungcheol walked further into the kitchen, his gaze sweeping over each of them. "Are you guys okay? Any pain?" His voice was gentle, laced with genuine concern.

"Not pain, exactly," Jeonghan said, rubbing his chest subtly. "More like... intense fullness. And sensitivity. But the pump helped. A lot."

"It's just... a very strange feeling," Joshua admitted, finally meeting Vernon's gaze, a small, embarrassed smile on his face. "Like my body isn't my own anymore."

Vernon immediately moved closer to Joshua, his hand hovering, wanting to offer comfort but unsure how. "I can imagine," he said softly, his voice filled with empathy. "You guys are so brave for doing this."

Mingyu walked straight to Minghao, placing a hand gently on his arm. "Are you sure you're okay, Hao? You look exhausted."

Minghao leaned into Mingyu's touch, a silent acknowledgment of his weariness. "I'm fine, Gyu. Just... a lot to process, as I said." He offered a small, grateful smile.

Wonwoo stood near Junhui, his gaze fixed on him. "Junhui-ah. Are you really okay? You said you had double the production. Is it still painful?"

Junhui finally looked at Wonwoo, and the raw vulnerability in his eyes was heartbreaking. "It's... better now. The pump helped. But yeah, it's a lot. I feel like... a cow." He tried to joke, but his voice cracked slightly.

Wonwoo's heart ached. He reached out instinctively, his hand gently resting on Junhui's shoulder, then sliding down his arm, offering a comforting squeeze. "Hey. Don't say that. You're doing something incredible, Junhui. For Woozi. For Hoshi. You're amazing." His voice was low, earnest, filled with a warmth that made Junhui's breath catch.

Junhui looked at Wonwoo, truly looked at him, and saw not just concern, but a deep, unwavering respect and something else, something tender and protective, in his eyes. A quiet warmth spread through Junhui, eclipsing the physical discomfort. "Thanks, Wonwoo-ya," he whispered, a genuine smile finally gracing his lips.

Seungcheol watched the interaction between Wonwoo and Junhui, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. The pairings were working. The bonds were deepening. He turned back to Jeonghan, who was watching him with a similar thoughtful expression.

"So, what's the plan now?" Seungcheol asked, trying to bring some order to the chaotic night. "Do you think you can get some sleep now that the pressure is relieved?"

"Hopefully," Jeonghan sighed. "We'll put these in the fridge." He picked up the small bottles of milk, the sight of them still feeling utterly surreal in his hands. "And then try to get a few hours of rest before the kids wake up."

"We'll help you with that," Seungcheol said immediately, taking two of the bottles from Jeonghan. "And we'll be here if you need anything else. Don't hesitate to call, okay? No matter the time." His gaze lingered on Jeonghan's face, a silent promise in his eyes.

Jeonghan met his gaze, and in the quiet intimacy of the kitchen, surrounded by the evidence of their strange new reality, he felt a profound sense of gratitude and a warmth that spread through him, deeper than any physical sensation. Seungcheol was always there, always reliable, always protecting them. And now, he was protecting Jeonghan too, in this utterly bizarre and vulnerable situation. The love he felt for Seungcheol, a slow-burning ember for years, felt like it was suddenly igniting, fueled by this shared, unprecedented burden. "Thank you, Cheol," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

Mingyu helped Minghao label the bottles and put them in the fridge, their hands brushing occasionally, sending small sparks through Minghao. Vernon stood quietly by Joshua, a comforting presence, his silent support a balm to Joshua's tired soul.

As the 'Moms' finally headed back to their rooms, the 'Dads' lingered for a moment in the kitchen, the lingering scent of milk in the air, the quiet hum of the refrigerator a testament to the night's events.

"They're incredible, aren't they?" Seungcheol murmured, looking at the closed doors of their rooms.

"They really are," Wonwoo agreed, his voice soft. "To do this... for us. For the kids."

"It's going to be a long journey," Mingyu said, his gaze still on Minghao's door. "But we'll be there for them. Every step of the way."

Vernon nodded, a quiet determination in his eyes. "We have to be. They're doing something amazing."

The four 'Dads' stood there for a moment longer.

They knew this was just the beginning. The first physical manifestation of the injection. The first step in learning how to manage this new reality and how to actually breastfeed the kids.

The dorm settled back into a fragile quiet, but it was a different quiet now, one imbued with the scent of milk, the hum of a breast pump, and the unspoken promises of a family irrevocably changed.

Chapter Text

The first rays of dawn filtered through the dorm windows, painting the common room in hues of soft grey and pale gold. The air, still faintly carrying the sweet, metallic scent of milk from the night before, felt different. It was a new day, but the world had irrevocably shifted.

Seungcheol was the first of the ‘Dads’ to stir, his sleep having been restless and fragmented. He found himself in the kitchen, drawn by the quiet hum of the refrigerator. He opened it, his eyes falling on the small, labeled bottles of milk – a sight that still felt utterly surreal. He touched one, cold and solid, a tangible reminder of their shared, bizarre new reality. He closed the fridge, a sigh escaping him. He hoped Jeonghan had managed to get some real sleep.

Soon after, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon also emerged, drawn by the faint sounds of morning activity. They exchanged tired but knowing glances. No one needed to ask how the night had been for the ‘Moms’; the quiet exhaustion in their eyes spoke volumes.

“Morning,” Mingyu mumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Anyone else feel like they dreamt the whole thing?”

“If it was a dream, it was a very vivid one,” Wonwoo replied, pouring himself a glass of water. His gaze, too, drifted to the refrigerator.

Vernon just nodded, leaning against the counter, a thoughtful expression on his face. He was thinking of Joshua, wondering if he was still asleep, if the discomfort had eased.

A few minutes later, the ‘Moms’ began to appear. Jeonghan was first, moving slowly, a faint, almost imperceptible stiffness in his shoulders. He was wearing a loose-fitting shirt, and Seungcheol noticed his hands instinctively hovered near his chest.

“Morning, Hannie,” Seungcheol said, his voice soft with concern. “Sleep okay?”

Jeonghan managed a small, tired smile. “As well as can be expected. The pads helped. And the pump, briefly.” He gave a small, self-conscious shrug. “Still feels… weird.”

Joshua followed, looking a little more rested than Jeonghan, but still with a quiet weariness in his eyes. He offered a small wave to the others. “Good morning.”

Junhui entered next, his usual bright demeanor slightly dimmed, though he was trying to project cheerfulness. “Breakfast time! Who’s hungry?” His voice was a little too loud, a little too forced.

Minghao was the last, his movements as graceful and composed as ever, but his eyes held a deep, reflective quality. He nodded a greeting to everyone.

The ‘Kids’ slowly trickled out of their rooms, rubbing sleep from their eyes, thankfully unaware of the silent, momentous shifts that had occurred overnight. Chan, still a little subdued, leaned against Jeonghan’s side. Hoshi bounced into the kitchen, though he seemed a little quieter than usual. Woozi, half-asleep, stumbled towards Wonwoo. Seungkwan clung to Joshua. Seokmin was quiet, his smile tentative. Dino, who had been clinging to Jeonghan earlier, now clung to Seungcheol.

Breakfast was a subdued affair. The ‘Dads’ tried to keep the conversation light, asking about their schedules for the day. The ‘Moms’ ate carefully, still acutely aware of the sensations in their chests, the subtle pressure that was already beginning to rebuild.

“Okay, so, today’s schedule,” Seungcheol announced, trying to bring some normalcy to the morning. “Joshua, Mingyu, and Jeonghan, you have that magazine photoshoot this morning, right?”

“Yeah, 10 AM call time,” Joshua confirmed, taking a sip of his coffee. “It’s for ‘Idol Style’ magazine. Just a few solo shots, then some unit shots.”

Jeonghan nodded, a faint sigh escaping him. “And I’m in the unit shots with Joshua, apparently. And a few solo concepts.” He felt a pang of apprehension. A photoshoot, with all its precise movements and tight clothing, was not ideal for his currently sensitive state.

“Performance team rehearsal for Junhui, Minghao, Hoshi, and Dino,” Wonwoo added, looking at the four. “Full run-through of the new choreography for the comeback. You guys are at the company practice rooms all day.”

Junhui nodded. “Yep. Gotta make sure it’s perfect.” He glanced at Hoshi, who was already tapping out a rhythm on the table with his fingers.

“Seungcheol hyung and I have the CEO meeting,” Wonwoo continued. “It’s about the next album concept and tour dates.”

Seungcheol nodded grimly. “Another long one. Probably all morning.”

“Vernon and Woozi are in their studios, right?” Mingyu asked.

Vernon nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got some new beats I’m working on. Trying to finish up the demo for the next album.”

Woozi, who had been quietly eating his cereal, looked up. “Yeah, I’m in my studio. Got a melody line stuck in my head I need to lay down.” His voice was still a little raspy from the previous day’s anxiety, but his eyes held their usual focused intensity.

“So everyone’s at the company today, just in different places,” Jeonghan summarized. “Good. Easier to find each other if… if anything happens.” He glanced pointedly at the ‘Kids’, a subtle warning in his eyes.

The ‘Kids’ either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the implication. They were just focused on the day ahead.

After breakfast, the dorm emptied out. The members piled into their vans, heading to the Pledis Entertainment building. The usual chatter was muted, replaced by a quiet sense of anticipation, especially among the ‘Dads’ and ‘Moms’. They knew this was the first full day operating under their new, unconventional reality.

At the company building, they dispersed. Joshua, Mingyu, and Jeonghan headed to the photoshoot studio, a large, brightly lit space filled with cameras and equipment. Junhui, Minghao, Hoshi, and Dino made their way to the dance practice room, the familiar thud of music already echoing from within. Seungcheol and Wonwoo went to the executive floor for their meeting with the CEO. Vernon and Woozi disappeared into their respective soundproofed studios, the creative hubs where their music came to life.

Woozi’s studio was his sanctuary. It was a small, meticulously organized space, filled with keyboards, monitors, and sound equipment. The walls were lined with soundproofing panels, making it a quiet, insulated world of his own. He liked it that way. It allowed him to focus, to lose himself in the intricate world of melodies and beats.

He sat down at his main workstation, pulling up a new project file. He had a specific melody in mind, a haunting, melancholic tune that had been swirling in his head since yesterday. He started to hum, then to play it out on the keyboard, his fingers dancing over the keys with practiced ease.

But something felt off.

The melody, usually a source of comfort and creative flow, felt… disjointed. His fingers stumbled over a few notes. He frowned, shaking his head. He tried again, but the rhythm felt wrong, the harmony elusive.

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Focus, Jihoon. Just focus.

He tried to ignore the subtle, insidious feeling that had been creeping up on him since he woke up. A tightness in his chest, a faint tremor in his hands, a buzzing beneath his skin. It was the familiar prelude to an attack, a sensation he had come to dread. He pushed it down, tried to bury it under layers of concentration. He had work to do. He couldn’t afford to break down now.

He pulled up another track, a more upbeat, energetic song he was producing for a junior group. Maybe something simpler, something less emotionally demanding, would help him get back into the groove.

He hit play, and the vibrant, pulsing beat filled the studio. But instead of energizing him, it felt jarring, overwhelming. The bass thumped against his chest, echoing the frantic beat of his own heart. The bright synths felt like sharp needles pricking his skin.

He slammed his hand on the stop button. The sudden silence was deafening.

He closed his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms against them. The tightness in his chest was growing, a vise-like grip squeezing the air from his lungs. His breathing became shallow, ragged. He tried to take a deep breath, but it felt like he was inhaling through a straw.

No. Not now. Not here.

He stood up, pacing the small studio. His mind raced, a chaotic whirlwind of thoughts. Deadlines. Expectations. The new album. The pressure. The meeting yesterday. The injection. The milk. The sheer, overwhelming strangeness of it all. He felt a wave of nausea.

He stumbled, catching himself on his desk. His hands were shaking uncontrollably now. His vision blurred, a sheen of tears coating his eyes. He felt a sob building in his throat, a desperate, guttural sound trying to escape.

He fought it, fought it with every fiber of his being. He was Woozi. He was strong. He was the producer. He didn’t break down. Not like this.

But the panic was a relentless tide, rising higher and higher, threatening to drown him. His chest burned, his throat constricted. He gasped, trying to pull in air, but it felt like his lungs were refusing to expand.

He slid down the wall, collapsing onto the floor, pulling his knees to his chest. He buried his face in his arms, desperate to shut out the world, to make the terrifying sensations stop.

A quiet sob escaped him, then another, and another, quickly escalating into full-blown, body-wracking sobs. He cried, he gasped, he choked, trying to breathe, but the air wouldn’t come. His body convulsed with the force of his distress.

He was alone. Completely alone in his soundproofed sanctuary, trapped with his own escalating terror. He needed help. He needed… he didn’t even know what he needed. He just needed it to stop.

Meanwhile, in the photoshoot studio, Joshua, Mingyu, and Jeonghan were navigating the demands of the shoot. The bright lights, the constant adjustments, the need for perfect poses – it was always taxing, but today, for Joshua and Jeonghan, it was compounded by the subtle, insistent physical changes in their bodies.

Joshua maintained a serene expression for the camera, but his mind was a little preoccupied. The subtle ache in his chest was a constant companion, a low thrum beneath his awareness. He had managed to pump a small amount of milk that morning, just enough to relieve the most intense pressure, but the sensation was still very much present. He found himself subtly adjusting his pose, trying to alleviate any pressure on his sensitive nipples. He was acutely aware of the pads he wore, hoping they wouldn’t show through the thin fabric of his styled clothes. Every movement felt amplified, every brush of fabric against his skin a heightened sensation. He focused on the photographer’s instructions, on the lens, on projecting the image of effortless cool, but beneath it all, a quiet tension hummed.

Mingyu, on the other hand, was his usual boisterous self, laughing and joking with the photographer, striking confident poses. But every now and then, his gaze would drift to Joshua or Jeonghan, a flicker of concern in his eyes. He knew both of them were going through it. He had seen the small, almost imperceptible movements Joshua made, the way his hand would occasionally brush against his chest. And he noticed Jeonghan’s slightly more reserved demeanor, the way he held himself with a subtle stiffness. He wanted to ask, to offer comfort, but they were in the middle of a high-stakes shoot, surrounded by staff. He kept his concern hidden, but his awareness of their discomfort was constant.

Jeonghan found the photoshoot particularly challenging today. The stylist had chosen a fitted shirt for his first solo concept, and the fabric felt almost abrasive against his hypersensitive chest. He had applied extra pads, hoping they would be enough, but the subtle dampness that occasionally seeped through was a constant source of anxiety. He forced a bright, captivating smile for the camera, his eyes sparkling with practiced charm, but internally, he was battling a rising tide of discomfort. During breaks, he would subtly adjust his shirt, pressing a hand against his chest, trying to find some relief. He caught Joshua’s eye once, and Joshua gave him a small, knowing nod, a silent acknowledgment of their shared predicament. It was a strange comfort, knowing they were both enduring this, together. Jeonghan tried to focus on the task at hand, but a part of his mind was always aware of his body, of the milk that was steadily, undeniably, being produced.

In the dance practice room, Junhui was leading the performance team through a particularly intricate section of the choreography. He moved with his usual fluid grace, but his mind was not entirely on the steps. The pressure in his chest was building again, a familiar ache that was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He had pumped a significant amount that morning, more than the others but it seemed his body was already replenishing. He felt a slight dampness against his shirt, a familiar, mortifying sensation. He tried to ignore it, to focus on the dance, but it was hard. He found himself subtly adjusting his movements, trying to minimize friction against his sensitive chest. He longed for a break, a moment to slip away and relieve the pressure, but the choreography was demanding, requiring his full attention.

Minghao, dancing beside him, noticed. Minghao was always observant, always attuned to the subtle shifts in those around him. He saw the slight stiffness in Junhui’s movements, the way his eyes occasionally darted downwards, the faint blush on his cheeks. Minghao himself felt the familiar fullness, though his own production seemed less aggressive than Junhui’s. He wondered if Junhui was okay, if he needed to excuse himself. He made a mental note to check on him during their next break.

Hoshi, completely engrossed in the dance, was oblivious. Dino, too, was focused on getting the steps right.

On the executive floor, Seungcheol and Wonwoo were deep in discussion with the CEO. The meeting was intense, filled with numbers, projections, and strategic plans for the group’s future. Seungcheol, despite his focus, felt a low hum of anxiety beneath the surface. He kept thinking of Jeonghan, of Joshua, of the other ‘Moms’, of the kids. He wondered if any of them were struggling, if the new system was working, if they were truly okay. He glanced at Wonwoo, who seemed focused, but Seungcheol knew him well enough to see the subtle tension in his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow. Wonwoo, too, was worried. He was thinking of Junhui, of the intense pressure he was likely feeling, especially with his higher production.

Back in his studio, Woozi’s panic had reached a terrifying crescendo. He was curled into a fetal position on the floor, gasping, sobbing, his body shaking violently. His throat was raw, his lungs screaming for air. He felt like he was suffocating, like the walls were closing in, crushing him. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. All he could feel was the overwhelming, suffocating terror.

He desperately tried to reach for his phone, to call someone, anyone, but his hands were too shaky, his fingers too numb. He couldn’t even see through the blur of his tears.

He heard a faint knocking, then a muffled voice from outside the soundproofed door. It sounded distant, distorted, like it was coming from another world. He couldn’t make out the words. He tried to respond, to call out, but only a strangled choke escaped his lips.

The knocking grew more insistent, louder, accompanied by more voices.

Outside Woozi’s studio, Wonwoo was growing increasingly concerned. His meeting with the CEO had just ended, and he had decided to check on Woozi first. He had knocked, but there was no answer. He knocked again, louder. Still nothing. A cold dread began to creep into his stomach. Woozi never ignored his knocks, especially when he knew Wonwoo was checking on him.

He tried the door handle. Locked.

“Jihoon-ah?” Wonwoo called out, his voice laced with concern. “Are you in there? Are you okay?”

Silence. A terrifying, absolute silence from within the studio.

Wonwoo’s heart began to pound. He knew that silence. He had heard it before, too many times. It was the silence of a panic attack, of Woozi retreating into himself, unable to respond.

He immediately pulled out his phone, calling Seungcheol. “Hyung, it’s Woozi. I think he’s having an attack. He’s locked himself in his studio, and he’s not responding.”

Seungcheol, who was just leaving the CEO’s office, felt a jolt of ice shoot through him. “What? Okay, I’m coming. Where are you?”

“Outside his studio,” Wonwoo replied, his voice tight with urgency. “I’ve tried the handle, it’s locked.”

“Damn it,” Seungcheol muttered. “Okay, I’m almost there. Call Junhui. Tell him to come here immediately. And Jeonghan, Joshua, Minghao, Vernon. Everyone. Tell them it’s an emergency. Woozi.”

Wonwoo immediately hung up and started making calls, his fingers flying over the keypad. He then began pounding on the door again, harder this time. “Jihoon-ah! It’s Wonwoo hyung! Open the door! Please!” He pressed his ear against the wood, trying to hear anything, any sound of movement, any sign that Woozi was still conscious. He heard faint, muffled gasps, choked sounds that sent a fresh wave of fear through him.

Within minutes, Seungcheol arrived, his face grim. He immediately joined Wonwoo, pounding on the door. “Woozi! It’s Seungcheol hyung! Let us in! You’re not alone!”

Soon after, Junhui and Hoshi arrived, breathless, their faces pale with alarm. Minghao and Mingyu followed, their eyes wide with worry. Joshua and Vernon were close behind them, their expressions etched with concern. Jeonghan, looking utterly drained from the photoshoot, appeared last, his eyes immediately scanning the group for the source of the distress. He had rushed over as soon as he got the call, still in his photoshoot attire, a faint sheen of sweat on his brow.

“What’s happening?” Jeonghan asked, his voice strained. He saw the looks on Seungcheol and Wonwoo’s faces, the frantic pounding on the door. “Woozi?”

“He’s locked himself in,” Wonwoo explained, his voice tight. “He’s not responding. I can hear him… he’s struggling to breathe.”

Junhui’s eyes widened in horror. “Jihoon-ah!” He rushed forward, joining the others, pounding on the door. “Woozi-yah! It’s Junhui hyung! Please open the door! We’re here!”

Hoshi, seeing his best friend in distress, felt a surge of panic himself. He started to tremble, his eyes darting wildly. Minghao immediately put a hand on Hoshi’s shoulder, trying to ground him.

Mingyu, seeing Minghao, felt a flicker of relief. He then turned his attention to the door, his jaw tight.

Joshua moved closer to Jeonghan, a silent question in his eyes. Jeonghan just shook his head, his own chest aching with a different kind of pressure now–concern, and the subtle, insistent throb of his body’s new function, exacerbated by the stress of the photoshoot and the sudden rush.

Vernon stood by, his face etched with worry. He wished he could do something, anything, to help.

Seungcheol stepped back, his mind racing. “We need to get this door open. Now.” He looked at the security camera mounted above the door. “Is there a master key for these studios?”

Wonwoo was already on his phone, calling building management. “They’re sending someone with a key. But it’ll take a few minutes.”

The muffled sounds from inside the studio grew more desperate. Woozi’s gasps were becoming weaker, his sobs more ragged. He was losing air.

Junhui, hearing the sounds, felt a surge of desperation. He looked at Wonwoo, then at the door. “We don’t have a few minutes. He’s suffocating.”

His eyes landed on the small, reinforced window in the door, designed for observation. It was thick, but not impenetrable.

“Move!” Junhui yelled, surprising everyone. He took a step back, then lunged forward, slamming his shoulder into the door, aiming for the lock. The door shuddered, but held. He tried again, grunting with effort.

“Junhui, stop! You’ll hurt yourself!” Seungcheol yelled, rushing forward to pull him back.

But Junhui was beyond listening. He was focused only on Woozi, on the desperate sounds coming from inside. He remembered the doctor’s words: “The act of providing or receiving milk… can act as a profound physiological intervention for severe anxiety and panic.” He was the ‘Mom’ for Woozi. He had to get to him.

He pulled back, then kicked the door near the lock, his powerful dancer’s leg slamming into the wood. A loud crack echoed through the hallway. The door still held, but it was weakened.

“Again!” Mingyu yelled, seeing the crack. He stepped forward, ready to assist.

“Wait!” Wonwoo shouted, his phone still pressed to his ear. “Building management said they’re almost here with the key. Just another minute!”

But Junhui couldn’t wait. He looked at the door, then at his hand, then at the small observation window. He balled his hand into a fist, then, with a desperate yell, he punched the reinforced glass of the window.

The glass shattered with a loud crash, sending shards scattering across the floor. Junhui cried out, a sharp gasp of pain, as a piece of glass sliced across his knuckles. Blood immediately welled up, but he ignored it. He reached through the broken window, fumbling for the lock on the inside.

“Junhui! Your hand!” Minghao cried, rushing forward, his face pale.

Seungcheol and Wonwoo were immediately by his side, pulling him back, assessing the damage. “Are you crazy?!” Seungcheol exclaimed, seeing the blood.

But Junhui had already found the lock. With a click, the door unlatched.

He pushed the door open, stumbling into the dark studio, ignoring the pain in his hand, ignoring the shattered glass on the floor. The air inside was heavy, thick with the sound of Woozi’s desperate, choked sobs.

Woozi was a crumpled heap on the floor, his body convulsing, his face tear-streaked and pale, his eyes wide and unfocused with terror. He was gasping, clawing at his throat, desperate for air.

“Jihoon-ah!” Junhui cried, rushing to him, dropping to his knees. He pulled Woozi into his arms, holding him tight. “It’s okay, it’s okay, Junhui hyung is here. Breathe with me, Jihoon-ah. Please, breathe.” He held Woozi’s head against his shoulder, rocking him gently, murmuring reassurances.

The other members flooded into the studio, their faces etched with horror at the sight of Woozi.

Wonwoo was immediately beside Junhui, his hand on his back. “He’s losing consciousness,” he said, his voice grim. “He needs air.”

Seungcheol was already on the phone, calling the company doctor. “Woozi’s having a severe attack. We need a medic here, now!”

Jeonghan rushed to Junhui’s side, seeing the blood on his hand, but his focus was on Woozi. He saw Junhui’s face, pale and strained with effort, holding Woozi close. He saw the desperate struggle for air.

“Junhui,” Jeonghan said, his voice firm. “You need to… you need to try. Now.” He gestured subtly to Junhui’s chest, to the purpose for which they had received the injection.

Junhui looked at Jeonghan, then down at Woozi, who was going limp in his arms, his gasps fading into shallow, rattling breaths. His eyes were rolling back.

Panic surged through Junhui. This was it. This was what they had prepared for. This was what he had volunteered for.

He pulled Woozi closer, his heart pounding. He felt the intense pressure in his own chest, the aching fullness. He knew what he had to do.

He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, his bloodied fingers clumsy. He managed to unbutton the top few, exposing his chest. He then gently, carefully, guided Woozi’s head towards his breast.

Woozi, semi-conscious, weakly resisted, his head lolling. He whimpered, a faint sound of protest.

“Jihoon-ah, please,” Junhui whispered, tears streaming down his own face now. “Please, just try. It’ll help. It’ll make you feel better. I promise.”

He positioned Woozi’s mouth against his nipple, gently pressing his head closer. He felt a sharp, intense sensation as Woozi’s mouth closed around him, a deep, pulling suction. It was startling, almost painful, but then a profound relief washed over him as his body responded, and he felt the milk begin to flow.

Woozi, instinctively, began to suckle. It was weak at first, a shallow, desperate suckling, but then, as the warm milk filled his mouth, a subtle change came over him. His gasps began to ease, his breathing slowly, shakily, evening out. The frantic tremor in his body lessened. His eyes, still unfocused, seemed to soften slightly.

The other members watched in stunned silence. Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, Vernon, Joshua, Minghao, Hoshi, Seungkwan, Dino – they all watched, transfixed, as Junhui nursed Woozi. The sight was raw, intimate, and utterly, profoundly, effective.

Woozi continued to suckle, his breathing growing steadier, deeper. The tension slowly drained from his small frame. The sobs subsided, replaced by soft, contented sighs. His grip on Junhui’s shirt, initially desperate, became loose, almost languid.

Junhui held him close, his eyes closed, tears still silently falling down his face, but now they were tears of relief, of profound tenderness. He felt the milk flowing, felt Woozi’s body relaxing against his. This was what it was for. This was the purpose.

After several minutes, Woozi’s suckling slowed, becoming sporadic, then stopped altogether. His body went completely limp in Junhui’s arms, his head heavy against Junhui’s shoulder. He was deeply, profoundly asleep.

Junhui looked down at him, his heart overflowing. Woozi was safe. He was calm. He was finally at peace.

Wonwoo, who had been kneeling beside Junhui the entire time, reached out, gently stroking Woozi’s hair. “He’s out,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Completely out.” He looked at Junhui, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe, concern, and a deep, overwhelming tenderness. “Junhui-ah… you did it. You saved him.”

Junhui just nodded, unable to speak, still holding Woozi close, savoring the feeling of his peaceful, sleeping form.

Seungcheol, who had been on the phone with the doctor, finally hung up. “Medic’s on the way. But… he looks okay.” He looked at Junhui, then at Woozi, a profound sense of relief washing over him. “Junhui… you were incredible.”

Joshua and Minghao moved closer, their faces reflecting a mixture of shock and admiration. Hoshi, who had been trembling, now looked at Woozi, then at Junhui, a dawning understanding in his eyes. Seungkwan and Dino were wide-eyed, absorbing the scene.

Mingyu, seeing Junhui’s bloodied hand, immediately sprang into action. “Hyung, your hand! We need to clean that.” He grabbed a sterile wipe from a nearby first aid kit.

Junhui finally loosened his grip on Woozi, carefully shifting him so that Wonwoo could gently take him. Wonwoo cradled Woozi in his arms, holding him close, his gaze never leaving the younger man’s peaceful face.

Mingyu gently took Junhui’s hand, cleaning the cut. It was deep, but not severe. “You really went for it, huh?” Mingyu said, his voice gentle. “You were so brave.”

Junhui just nodded, his eyes still on Woozi. “I had to. He was… he was suffocating.”

Jeonghan knelt beside Junhui, his hand resting on his shoulder. “You were amazing, Junhui-ah. Truly. That was… incredible to watch.”

The medic arrived then, assessing Woozi’s condition. He confirmed that Woozi was stable, just deeply asleep from the emotional exhaustion and the calming effects of the nursing. He also cleaned and bandaged Junhui’s hand.

As Woozi was carefully moved to a couch in the studio, still deeply asleep, the other members gathered around, a quiet sense of awe and relief settling over them.

“He just… went limp,” Hoshi whispered, still a little shaken. “Like… all the fear just drained out of him.”

“It’s the oxytocin,” Minghao explained softly, remembering the doctor’s words from the meeting. “The bonding hormone. It induces profound calm and relaxation.”

“It was like… magic,” Seungkwan murmured, his eyes wide.

Seungcheol looked at Junhui, then at Wonwoo, who was still sitting beside Woozi, gently stroking his hair.

He looked at Jeonghan, Joshua, and Minghao. “It worked,” he said, his voice filled with a quiet wonder.

“It really worked.”

Chapter Text

The aftermath of Woozi’s panic attack hung heavy in the air of Seventeen’s designated room for team meetings, a stark reminder of the escalating stakes. The relief that flooded through the ‘Dads’ and ‘Moms’ was immense, a profound gratitude that the unconventional intervention had worked, had brought Woozi back from the terrifying brink. Yet, beneath that relief, a new layer of anxiety had settled, a chilling awareness of the fragility of the ‘Kids’ and the immense responsibility now resting on their shoulders.

Seungcheol, still reeling from the sight of Woozi’s struggle and Junhui’s desperate, brave act, made an immediate decision. The schedule, the carefully planned day of photoshoots, rehearsals, and meetings, suddenly felt utterly insignificant. Their members’ well-being, their mental and emotional stability, superseded everything else.

“That’s it,” Seungcheol announced, his voice firm, cutting through the quiet hum of the room. He looked around at the tired, pale faces of his members. “We’re cutting the schedule short. All of us. We’re going back to the dorms, right now.”

A collective sigh, almost imperceptible, rippled through the group. The ‘Kids’, who had been listening with wide, subdued eyes, seemed to relax slightly. The ‘Dads’ nodded in immediate agreement, their expressions mirroring Seungcheol’s resolve. But for the ‘Moms’ – Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao – a different kind of tension tightened their shoulders.

Jeonghan’s eyes darted to Chan, who was still looking a little shell-shocked, clinging to Seungcheol’s side. The thought of leaving him, even for a moment, after witnessing Woozi’s terrifying episode, sent a shiver of fear down his spine. The increased instability of the attacks, the speed with which they could escalate, was a chilling reality. He felt the subtle ache in his chest, a constant reminder of his new capability, and a fierce, protective instinct flared within him. He wanted to keep Chan close, to be ready, to ensure he never had to experience such terror. He glanced at Joshua, whose gaze was fixed on Seungkwan, a similar unspoken worry in his eyes.

Joshua felt a cold knot form in his stomach. Seungkwan, though not as visibly distressed as Woozi had been, was still fragile. The thought of them being separated, of not being immediately available if another attack struck, was terrifying. He tried to keep his expression neutral, to not show the depth of his concern, but his hands unconsciously clenched under the table. He knew the others felt it too – this new, heightened sense of vigilance, this fear of leaving their designated ‘Kids’ alone.

Junhui, sitting beside Wonwoo, felt a profound unease. Woozi was still asleep in the private room, but the memory of his labored breathing, his limp body, was seared into Junhui’s mind. He couldn’t bear the thought of him waking up alone, or of Hoshi, who was sitting quietly suddenly spiraling. His bandaged hand throbbed, a physical testament to his desperation to reach Woozi. He vowed, silently, that he wouldn't leave Woozi's side for a second. The idea of returning to the dorms, where they could control the environment, where they could be constantly present, was a relief, but also a terrifying acknowledgment of the severity of the situation.

Minghao felt the tremor of anxiety deep within him. Seokmin, though seemingly recovered from the general anxiety of the hallway earlier, was still vulnerable. Minghao had seen the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the way his bright smile could mask a deeper turmoil. The thought of leaving him, even for a short while, felt irresponsible, dangerous. He kept his face impassive, but his mind raced, calculating risks, trying to anticipate how they could maintain constant vigilance without appearing overly anxious.

Seungcheol, oblivious to the silent anxieties of the ‘Moms’, was already on his phone, contacting their manager. “Cancel everything. We’re heading back to the dorms. Woozi had a severe attack. He’s stable now, but we need to prioritize their rest and recovery. Yes, everything. Reschedule whatever you can. We need to be home.” His voice was clipped, leaving no room for argument.

The manager, having been informed of the general situation by the company CEO, didn’t argue. The gravity of the situation was clear.

“Okay,” Seungcheol said, hanging up. “Vans will be here in fifteen minutes. Let’s gather our things. Woozi is still asleep, so Wonwoo and Junhui, you’ll need to carry him.”

Junhui’s heart gave a lurch. Carrying Woozi. The thought was both daunting and filled with a strange tenderness. He looked at Wonwoo, who nodded, his expression serious.

“We’ll go get him now,” Wonwoo said, rising. He glanced at Junhui, a silent question in his eyes. “You okay to help?”

Junhui nodded immediately, pushing himself up despite the throbbing in his hand. “Of course. I’m not leaving him.”

As Wonwoo and Junhui headed towards the recovery room, the remaining members began to gather their belongings. The atmosphere was somber, the usual chatter replaced by quiet movements and hushed whispers. The ‘Moms’ tried to act natural, but their eyes constantly swept over their designated ‘Kids’, a silent, watchful presence.

Jeonghan subtly positioned himself closer to Chan, who was now leaning against his side, eyes half-closed with exhaustion. He felt Chan’s small hand instinctively reach for his, and he squeezed it gently. I won’t leave you, Chan-ah, he thought, a silent promise.

Joshua walked beside Seungkwan, his hand resting lightly on the younger man’s back. He felt the subtle tremor in Seungkwan’s body, a lingering anxiety from the morning’s events. He wanted to wrap him in a protective bubble, to shield him from all the stress.

Minghao found himself walking slightly behind Seokmin, his gaze fixed on the younger man’s back. He felt a quiet, unwavering resolve to be there, to be ready, no matter what. Mingyu, sensing Minghao’s quiet intensity, walked a little closer to him, his shoulder almost brushing Minghao’s, a silent offering of support.

Fifteen minutes later, the two vans pulled up to the company building. The members piled in, the ‘Kids’ looking utterly drained, some already dozing off.

Wonwoo and Junhui carefully carried Woozi out of the building. Woozi was a small, almost weightless bundle in their arms, his head resting against Wonwoo’s shoulder, his face pale but peaceful in sleep. Junhui, despite his bandaged hand, kept a protective arm around Woozi, his gaze never leaving the younger man’s face.

As they settled Woozi gently into one of the vans, Junhui immediately climbed in beside him, positioning himself so that Woozi’s head could rest comfortably on his lap. He gently stroked Woozi’s hair, his eyes filled with a tenderness that surprised even himself. Wonwoo sat on the other side of Woozi, his hand resting lightly on Woozi’s arm, a silent guardian.

Seungcheol, seeing Junhui’s unwavering devotion, felt a surge of warmth. Junhui, usually so vibrant and outgoing, was now a picture of quiet, protective strength. He looked at Jeonghan, who was settling Chan beside him, his hand already reaching for the maknae’s. The sight solidified Seungcheol’s growing affection for Jeonghan.

The ride back to the dorms was quiet. The exhaustion was palpable. The ‘Kids’ slept, their breathing even and deep, a stark contrast to the frantic gasps of earlier. The ‘Dads’ watched over them, a silent, vigilant presence. And the ‘Moms’, though physically tired and still acutely aware of the strange sensations in their chests, felt a profound sense of purpose, a fierce determination to protect their charges.

Junhui, as promised, did not leave Woozi’s side. He sat in the van, Woozi’s head heavy on his lap, his fingers gently tracing patterns on Woozi’s forehead. He felt the subtle warmth of Woozi’s skin, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He had saved him. The thought was overwhelming, humbling. His bandaged hand throbbed, a dull ache, but it was a small price to pay for the peace he now saw on Woozi’s face. He glanced at Wonwoo, who was watching Woozi with a soft, almost reverent expression. Their eyes met, and Wonwoo offered a small, tired smile, a silent acknowledgment of their shared triumph, their shared burden. Junhui returned the smile, feeling a deep, quiet connection with the man beside him.

Back at the dorm, the atmosphere was different from the previous night. The lingering scent of milk was still faintly present, but now it was associated with relief, with a terrifying success. The ‘Kids’ were gently guided to their rooms, most of them still half-asleep, collapsing into their beds the moment they touched the mattress.

Woozi was carefully carried into his room by Wonwoo. He gently laid him on his bed. Junhui immediately sat on the edge, his hand still resting on Woozi’s arm. Wonwoo, after a moment, stood up, his gaze sweeping over Woozi, then towards the door.

“He’s still out cold,” Wonwoo murmured, his voice soft. “Good. He needs the rest.” He looked at Junhui. “I’m going to check on Hoshi. Make sure he’s doing alright after all this.”

Junhui nodded, his eyes never leaving Woozi’s face. “Okay, Wonwoo-ya. I’ll stay here with Jihoon until he wakes up.”

“I know you will,” Wonwoo said, a small, knowing smile touching his lips. He gave Junhui’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before quietly leaving the room to check on Hoshi.

And so, Junhui sat alone, a silent guardian, watching over the sleeping producer. The quiet hum of the air conditioning filled the room, a stark contrast to the chaos of earlier.

Hours passed in the quiet of the dorm. The afternoon sun streamed through the windows, painting warm stripes across the floor. The other members moved quietly, respecting the fragile peace that had settled over the ‘Kids’. The ‘Moms’ were still acutely aware of their bodies, the subtle pressure and sensitivity, but the immediate crisis had passed, allowing for a moment of quiet reflection.

Eventually, a faint stirring came from Woozi’s bed. His eyelids fluttered, then slowly opened. His eyes, usually sharp and intense, were still a little hazy, disoriented. He blinked, looking around the room, then his gaze landed on Junhui.

“Hyung?” he whispered, his voice raspy, a faint frown creasing his brow. “What… what happened?”

Junhui leaned closer, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and apprehension.

“Jihoon-ah,” Junhui said softly, his voice gentle. “You… you had a panic attack. A really bad one. At the company.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “You were… struggling to breathe. We couldn’t get into your studio.”

Woozi’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of memory returning. He remembered the suffocating terror, the inability to breathe. He felt a fresh wave of shame wash over him. “Oh.” His voice was small.

Junhui nodded. “Yeah. We were really scared. But… you’re okay now. You’re safe.” He hesitated, then took a deep breath. “Do you… do you remember anything else?”

Woozi frowned, trying to recall. “I… I remember feeling really scared. And then… it felt like… like I was suffocating. And then… a warmth. A really calm, soft warmth. And… a taste. Sweet.” He looked at Junhui, his eyes searching. “What was that?”

Junhui took a deep breath. “Jihoon-ah,” he began, his voice a little shaky but firm. “Do you remember the meeting yesterday? About the new… treatment?”

Woozi’s eyes widened again, a dawning comprehension in their depths. “The… the injection? The… milk?” He looked down at Junhui’s bandaged hand, then back at Junhui’s face, a flush spreading across his cheeks. “Did… did you…?” He couldn’t finish the sentence.

Junhui nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. “Yes, Jihoon-ah. I did. You were… you were really struggling. We couldn’t get to you. And… and I knew that this… this was meant to help. To calm you down. To make you feel safe.” He swallowed hard. “I… I nursed you, Jihoon-ah. It was the only way to help you breathe, to bring you back.”

Woozi stared at him, a mixture of shock, embarrassment, and a strange, understanding warring on his face. He remembered the overwhelming sense of peace, the sudden ability to breathe, the warmth that had enveloped him. It had been like a lifeline in the midst of his terror.

“It’s… it’s okay, Jihoon-ah,” Junhui said gently, sensing Woozi’s internal struggle. “It’s to help you. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I… I did it because I love you, and I wanted to save you.” He then added, "And remember, this is for Hoshi too. He's also under our care, and we'll be there for him just the same."

Junhui reached out, gently taking Woozi’s hand, his bandaged knuckles brushing against Woozi’s skin. “It’s true, Jihoon-ah. I would do anything to make sure you’re okay. And this… this is just a way to help you when things get too much. It’s a source of comfort. Like… like a really strong hug, but from the inside.” He tried to lighten the mood slightly, offering a small, reassuring smile.

Woozi looked at their joined hands, then back at Junhui’s face. He saw the genuine concern, the unwavering affection, the quiet strength in Junhui’s eyes. He saw the love. And he remembered the undeniable calm that had washed over him. The embarrassment was still there, a faint blush on his cheeks, but it was overshadowed by a deep, overwhelming gratitude.

“Thank you, hyung,” Woozi whispered, his voice thick with emotion. Tears welled in his eyes again, but these were tears of relief, of profound appreciation. “Thank you for… for saving me.”

Junhui squeezed his hand. “Always, Jihoon-ah. Always.”

“Now, how about we get you something to eat? You must be starving.”

Woozi managed a weak nod. “Yeah… I think so.”

“Good,” Junhui said, a small smile touching his lips. “Let’s get you downstairs.”

Woozi nodded again, slowly pushing himself up. He felt weak, drained, but also strangely light, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He looked at Junhui, this hyung who had been there for him, who had literally brought him back from the brink.

As they walked out of the room, Junhui still kept a protective arm around Woozi, guiding him gently. The quiet conversation continued.

When they reached the living room, the other members looked up, their faces etched with concern. Seungcheol immediately rose, his eyes scanning Woozi’s face.

“Woozi-yah! You’re awake!” Seungcheol exclaimed, relief flooding his voice. He rushed forward, pulling Woozi into a gentle hug. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?”

Woozi leaned into the hug, feeling the familiar comfort of his leader’s embrace. “Better, hyung. Just… tired.” He glanced at Junhui, a silent acknowledgment passing between them.

Jeonghan, Joshua, and Minghao also came forward, their faces filled with worry and relief. Seungkwan, Seokmin, Hoshi, and Dino, seeing Woozi awake and seemingly calmer, also gathered around, their earlier anxieties easing.

“We were so worried, Woozi-yah,” Hoshi said. “You really scared us.”

“I’m sorry,” Woozi murmured, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize,” Jeonghan said firmly, reaching out to gently pat Woozi’s back. “It’s not your fault. We’re just glad you’re okay now.”

Mingyu and Vernon, too, expressed their relief. The dorm was filled with the quiet murmur of concern and comfort, a palpable sense of family.

After a light meal, Woozi, still feeling the lingering effects of the attack and the profound emotional release, was ready to go back to sleep. Junhui stayed with him, sitting quietly by his bedside, a comforting presence. Wonwoo returned to the living room, a relieved expression on his face.

The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. The decision to cut the schedule short had been the right one. The dorm, usually a hub of activity, was subdued, allowing the ‘Kids’ to rest and the ‘Dads’ and ‘Moms’ to process the day’s events.

Around evening, the dorm began to stir with the familiar rhythms of dinner preparation. Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao, despite their own fatigue and the lingering sensations in their bodies, took charge in the kitchen. Minghao began to chop vegetables for a simple stir-fry, while Joshua prepared rice. Jeonghan warmed some of the milk he had pumped earlier, a small, experimental amount, just in case. Junhui, his bandaged hand carefully protected, helped set the table. The air filled with the comforting sounds of cooking, a stark contrast to the day’s earlier turmoil.

One by one, the ‘Kids’ emerged, drawn by the scent of food. The ‘Moms’ moved with a quiet, almost practiced grace, serving them, ensuring they ate well. Jeonghan coaxed Chan to finish his vegetables, a gentle hand on his back. Joshua sat beside Seungkwan, offering quiet encouragement. Junhui made sure Woozi and Hoshi ate a good portion, while Minghao subtly nudged Seokmin to eat more. There was a new, unspoken intimacy in these domestic moments, a heightened awareness of their protective roles.

After dinner, the process of tucking the ‘Kids’ into bed began. It was a ritual of comfort, each ‘Mom’ attending to their charges with a tenderness that had deepened profoundly since the morning. Jeonghan sat with Chan, reading a short story, his voice soft and soothing until Chan’s breathing evened out into sleep. Joshua sang a quiet lullaby to Seungkwan, stroking his hair until the younger boy drifted off. Junhui gently pulled the blankets up around Woozi, murmuring reassurances, and then moved to Hoshi’s bed, sitting quietly until Hoshi’s restless movements subsided. Minghao simply sat by Seokmin’s side, a calming presence, until Seokmin succumbed to sleep. The dorm finally settled into a deep, peaceful quiet.

With the ‘Kids’ finally asleep, Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao gathered in the living room. The overhead lights were dimmed, casting soft shadows across the room. They settled onto the comfortable sofas, a small table in front of them laden with their breast pumps, sterile bottles, and a few pamphlets. The atmosphere was one of shared vulnerability and quiet determination.

“Okay,” Jeonghan said, letting out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Deep breaths. We made it through the day.” He picked up his pump. “Might as well get this over with.”

One by one, they began to pump, the soft, rhythmic whirring filling the quiet room. There was less initial awkwardness than the night before, replaced by a weary familiarity. The milk flowed steadily into the bottles, a visible testament to their bodies’ new function.

“Junhui,” Joshua began, his voice soft, as he adjusted his pump. “About… the experience with Woozi. What was it like? What should we expect?”

Junhui paused his pumping, looking at them. “It was… terrifying. He was really struggling. I thought… I thought he was going to lose consciousness.” He swallowed hard. “But when he… when he latched on… it was immediate. The change. It was like all the fear just drained out of him. He went from gasping to calm, just like that.” He gestured with his free hand. “The sensation… it’s intense. A strong pull. But then… relief. And something strange.”

“Strange?” Minghao asked, his brow furrowed in thought as he continued to pump.

“Yeah,” Junhui confirmed. “Like… a really deep bond. It’s hard to explain. But you feel… incredibly close to them. And you know, without a doubt, that you’re helping.” He looked at his hands. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

Jeonghan nodded slowly, absorbing Junhui’s words. “So, the immediate effect is real. That’s… reassuring. And terrifying. It means we have to be ready, always.” He looked at Joshua and Minghao. “What if they hide it? What if they’re too embarrassed to come to us?”

Joshua’s pump whirred softly. “That’s my biggest fear for Seungkwan. He’s so sensitive about showing weakness.” He sighed. “We need to make sure they know it’s okay. That this is for them. Not for us to feel… weird about.”

“And what if they don’t want the milk?” Minghao asked, his voice quiet. “What if they resist? Woozi was semi-conscious, so it was instinctive. But what if they’re fully aware and refuse?”

“That’s a concern,” Jeonghan admitted, his gaze troubled. “The doctor said it’s a biological response, but it still requires their cooperation. We need to talk to them more. Reassure them. Make them understand it’s medicine, it’s comfort, it’s love. Not… something to be ashamed of.”

Junhui nodded. “Woozi looked embarrassed when he woke up. But then… he looked grateful. I think if they feel safe, and they trust us, they’ll accept it. We just have to be gentle. And patient.”

They continued to pump in silence for a few minutes, the whirring a steady backdrop to their anxious thoughts. The bottles slowly filled, a growing collection of their comfort.

Meanwhile, in Seungcheol’s studio, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon were gathered around a laptop. The studio, usually a place of creative energy, was now a temporary command center.

“Okay, so the manager cleared our schedules for the next few days,” Seungcheol said, scrolling through his phone. “No public appearances, no major rehearsals. Just internal meetings and rest. We’ll use this time to monitor the kids and support the Moms.”

“Good,” Wonwoo murmured, leaning back in his chair. “That’s a start. But we also need to address the practicalities. The milk.” He gestured vaguely. “Jeonghan just texted me. They’re all pumping. There’s going to be a lot of it.”

Mingyu nodded. “My thoughts exactly. We have a few bottles from last night, and now more. What do we do with the excess? We can’t just… keep it all. And what if they don’t need it all the time?”

Seungcheol pulled out his phone, dialing the company doctor’s number. “That’s exactly what I’m calling about. We need a plan for storage, and for what happens if there’s a surplus. And if there are ways to manage production if it gets too high.”

He put the call on speaker. “Dr. Lee, it’s Seungcheol. We’re at the dorm. The kids are resting. Woozi is stable. But we have some questions about the milk production.”

Dr. Lee’s voice, calm and professional, came through the speaker. “Ah, yes. I anticipated this. For storage, continue using the sterile bottles and refrigerate immediately. It’s good for four days in the fridge, or up to six months in a deep freezer. The company will arrange for a dedicated medical-grade freezer to be installed in the dorm tomorrow, to handle larger quantities.”

“And for excess production?” Vernon asked, leaning closer to the phone. “If the kids don’t need it all, or if the Moms are producing more than is needed?”

“That’s a common concern,” Dr. Lee replied. “The body regulates supply based on demand. If the milk isn’t consistently removed, production will naturally decrease over time. However, for immediate relief of engorgement without encouraging more supply, the ‘Moms’ should pump only until they feel comfortable, not to empty the breast completely. This signals to the body that less milk is needed. We can also discuss medication to help suppress lactation if it becomes excessive and is causing discomfort, but we prefer to let the body adjust naturally first, as the hormonal benefits are tied to the lactation process itself.”

“So, no dumping it, right?” Mingyu asked, a strange note in his voice.

“Ideally, no,” Dr. Lee said. “Human milk is incredibly valuable. If there’s a consistent surplus, we can explore other options, but that’s a conversation for later. For now, focus on managing their comfort and ensuring the kids receive what they need.”

Seungcheol thanked Dr. Lee and hung up. He looked at the other ‘Dads’, a thoughtful expression on his face. “So, we’re getting a freezer. And they need to pump just enough for comfort.”

“It’s still a lot to manage,” Wonwoo observed, his gaze distant. “Not just for them, but for us. Supporting them through this. Making sure they’re okay, physically and emotionally.” He thought of Junhui, his quiet courage, his bandaged hand.

“We’ll figure it out,” Seungcheol said, his voice resolute. “That’s our job now. To support them. To protect them. All of them.” He looked at each of the ‘Dads’ in turn, a silent understanding passing between them. This was their new reality, their new mission.

After their call with Dr. Lee, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon quietly made their way from Seungcheol’s studio towards the living room.

The soft whirring sounds of the breast pumps were audible as they approached, a clear sign that the ‘Moms’ were still up, engaged in their new, intimate routine. Seungcheol paused at the entrance to the living room, taking a deep breath. He glanced at the others, a silent question in his eyes. They nodded, a shared understanding passing between them. It was time to check in on the moms.

Chapter Text

The soft, rhythmic whirring of the breast pumps filled the living room, a strange, intimate soundtrack to the late-night hours. Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao sat on the plush sofas, their expressions a mixture of weary concentration and quiet vulnerability. The small collection bottles steadily filled with the pale, milky liquid, a tangible representation of their bodies’ profound, unprecedented shift. They were deep in conversation, sharing their fears and anxieties about this new reality, their voices hushed, almost conspiratorial.

Suddenly, the whirring sounds seemed to alter, then stopped altogether. Four pairs of eyes snapped up, wide with surprise and a flush of immediate embarrassment. Standing at the entrance to the living room, illuminated by the dim overhead lights, were Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon. The ‘Dads’ stood there, a silent, watchful presence, their faces etched with concern.

A wave of heat rushed through Jeonghan’s cheeks. He instinctively tried to cover his breast pump with his free hand, as if the device itself was something shameful. His heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had been so engrossed in the conversation, so focused on the strange task at hand, that he hadn’t heard them approach. The sudden appearance of the ‘Dads’, especially Seungcheol, felt like an invasion of a deeply private moment. He felt exposed, vulnerable, and utterly, ridiculously mortified.

Joshua, beside him, gasped faintly, his hands freezing on his pump. A deep blush spread across his face, mirroring Jeonghan’s. He quickly, almost frantically, disconnected the pump from his breast, pulling his shirt down to cover himself. He avoided eye contact, his gaze fixed on the floor, wishing the earth would swallow him whole. The serene calm he usually exuded had completely evaporated, replaced by a flustered awkwardness.

Junhui, caught mid-pump, let out a small, choked sound of surprise. His eyes, already wide from the intensity of the pumping, widened further as he saw Wonwoo’s gaze fixed on him. He felt a hot flush creep up his neck and across his face. He quickly pulled the pump away, milk still clinging to the silicone flange, and fumbled to cover himself. His bandaged hand felt like a glaring symbol of his current vulnerability. He wanted to disappear.

Minghao felt a faint blush rise to his cheeks. He slowly, deliberately, disconnected his pump, his movements precise despite the internal flutter of embarrassment. He placed the pump carefully on the table, then calmly pulled down his shirt. His eyes met Mingyu’s for a fleeting moment, and he saw a flicker of concern, but also something else, something warm and unreadable, that made his blush deepen slightly. He was embarrassed, yes, but also, strangely, not entirely surprised by their presence. He had anticipated this.

Seungcheol, seeing the immediate, mortified reactions of the ‘Moms’, felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t meant to startle them, to intrude on their private space. He had just wanted to check in, to offer support. But the sight of them, caught in such a vulnerable act, sent a strange jolt through him. Jeonghan’s flushed face, his quick, almost frantic movements to cover himself – it stirred a powerful mix of tenderness and protectiveness within Seungcheol. He quickly stepped forward, trying to break the awkward silence.

“Hey,” Seungcheol said, his voice soft, almost a whisper, trying to convey reassurance. “Everything okay in here? We just… we wanted to check in on you guys.” He tried to keep his gaze neutral, not lingering on their flushed faces or the abandoned pumps on the table.

Wonwoo, seeing Junhui’s mortification, felt his heart clench. He wanted to tell Junhui it was okay, that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but the words felt inadequate. He just stood there, his presence hopefully conveying his unwavering support. His gaze softened as he looked at Junhui, a silent apology for the intrusion, and a profound admiration for what he was doing.

Mingyu, too, felt a surge of protectiveness for Minghao. He saw the faint blush on Minghao’s cheeks, the quiet dignity with which he had handled the situation. Mingyu wanted to reach out, to offer a comforting touch, but he held back, respecting Minghao’s need for space.

Vernon sensed Joshua’s deep embarrassment. He wished he could make it disappear. He just offered a small, gentle smile, hoping it would convey his empathy and support.

Jeonghan finally managed to find his voice, though it was still a little shaky. “Yeah, Cheol-ah. Everything’s… fine. Just… getting some relief.” He gestured vaguely at the pumps. “The pressure was building again.” He still felt a deep blush, but he tried to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, forcing a small, tired smile.

“Are you guys doing okay?” Wonwoo asked, his eyes filled with concern.

Joshua, still avoiding direct eye contact, mumbled, “Just… tired. And the sensations are still… intense.”

Junhui finally looked up, meeting Wonwoo’s gaze. He saw the genuine concern, the lack of judgment, and a small measure of his embarrassment eased. “Yeah, it’s… a lot. My body feels like it’s constantly working overtime.” He managed a weak, self-deprecating chuckle. “Like a factory.”

Minghao added, “The engorgement is definitely real. We were just discussing how to manage it without overstimulating production.”

Seungcheol nodded, walking further into the room and sitting on the edge of the coffee table, facing them. “Dr. Lee mentioned that. We just got off the phone with her. She said the company is arranging for a dedicated medical-grade freezer to be installed tomorrow for the surplus.”

This piece of news, though practical, felt strangely significant. A dedicated freezer.

“A freezer?” Joshua repeated, a faint note of disbelief in his voice.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol confirmed, his voice gentle. “For storage. She said it’s good for up to six months in a deep freezer, or four days in the fridge.”

A stunned silence fell over the ‘Moms’. The reality of long-term storage, of this being a sustained part of their lives, settled in.

“It means it’s valuable,” Mingyu said, trying to frame it positively. He sat down beside Minghao, close enough that their knees almost touched.

“But what if… what if the kids don’t want it?” Joshua finally voiced a fear that had been gnawing at him. He looked at Vernon, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Seungkwan… he’s so sensitive. What if he’s embarrassed? What if he refuses?”

Vernon immediately moved closer, sitting on the armrest of Joshua’s sofa. “He won’t,” he said, his voice firm and reassuring. “He trusts you, Shua-Hyung. And he’s hurting. If this helps him, he’ll accept it. We just have to make sure he knows it’s okay.”

“Woozi was semi-conscious,” Junhui added, looking at Wonwoo. “So it was instinctive for him. But what if he’s fully aware and he’s… freaked out? What if Hoshi is?” His voice was laced with genuine anxiety. “I don’t want to make them more uncomfortable.”

Wonwoo reached out, placing a comforting hand on Junhui’s knee. “They trust you, Junhui. They know you’re doing this for them. And if they’re in distress, they’ll be looking for comfort. This is the most comfort you can offer them right now.” His gaze softened. “They know you’ll protect them.”

Minghao spoke up. “My concern is… the long term. What if this changes us? What if it changes our relationships with the kids? Or with each other?” He looked at Mingyu, a silent question in his eyes. “This is… a very deep bond. It’s not just a physical act. It’s emotional.”

Mingyu met his gaze, his hand instinctively reaching out to cover Minghao’s on the sofa. “It will change things, Hao,” he admitted, his voice soft but firm. “It already has. But change isn’t always bad. Look at what happened today. Junhui saved Woozi. Because of this. Because of what you all are doing.” He squeezed Minghao’s hand gently. “It’s about deepening our understanding of what family means. What support means. We’re already family. This is just… a new dimension to it.”

Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan, who was listening intently, his own fears and concerns mirrored in his eyes. “Mingyu’s right,” Seungcheol said, his voice resonating with his leader’s conviction. “We’ll figure it out, step by step. We’ll learn. We’ll adapt. And we’ll make sure the kids are okay. That’s our priority.”

He paused, then added, his gaze lingering on Jeonghan. “And we’ll make sure you guys are okay too. This isn’t just about the kids. It’s about supporting each other through this. You’re carrying a heavy burden, physically and emotionally. Don’t hesitate to lean on us. That’s what we’re here for.”

Jeonghan met Seungcheol’s gaze, and in his eyes, Seungcheol saw a flicker of gratitude, a deep appreciation for his unwavering support. “Thank you, Cheol,” Jeonghan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “That… that means a lot.”

They talked for a while longer, the initial awkwardness slowly dissipating as they delved deeper into their shared anxieties and hopes. They discussed the need for clear communication with the ‘Kids’, to reassure them, to normalize this unconventional form of comfort.

As the conversation wound down, the exhaustion of the day, compounded by the emotional intensity of their discussion, began to weigh heavily on them all. The rhythmic whirring of the pumps was no longer a source of embarrassment, but a quiet, almost comforting hum in the background.

“I think we’ve covered a lot for tonight,” Seungcheol finally said, letting out a deep sigh. “You guys should try to get some proper sleep now that the pressure is relieved. We’ll deal with the rest tomorrow.”

The ‘Moms’ nodded in agreement, gathering their pumps and bottles. The ‘Dads’ helped them put the collected milk into the refrigerator, carefully labeling each bottle with the date and time, a silent ritual that marked the passage of this strange new reality.

Jeonghan, Joshua, Junhui, and Minghao retreated to their rooms, the subtle ache in their chests now lessened. They changed into fresh, loose-fitting clothes, applied new breast pads, and finally, gratefully, collapsed into their beds. Sleep, though still elusive for some, promised a temporary reprieve from the physical sensations and emotional weight of the day.

The ‘Dads’ also returned to their rooms, their minds still buzzing with the night’s conversations.

The dorm settled into a fragile quiet, punctuated only by the soft hum of the refrigerator.

Hours passed. The moon climbed higher in the sky, casting long, silver shadows through the windows. The ‘Kids’ slept soundly, their bodies finally at peace. The ‘Dads’ drifted into a restless slumber, their dreams filled with fragmented images of their partners and their charges.

Then, just as the clocks quietly clicked past 3 AM, a sound pierced the silence.

A faint whimper.

It was soft at first, barely audible, but it quickly escalated into a ragged gasp, then a choked sob, followed by a desperate, tearing cry.

Seungkwan.

The sound ripped through the quiet dorm, sharp and agonizing.

Jeonghan was already awake. He had been stirring restlessly for a while, the subtle ache in his chest returning, a familiar pressure building. He had just gotten up to change his soaked nipple pads and his damp shirt, the milk already beginning to leak again, a stark reminder of his body’s relentless new function. He was pulling on a fresh, loose t-shirt when he heard it – the unmistakable sound of Seungkwan’s distress. His heart leaped into his throat.

Junhui, in his own room, was also awake. His body, too, was signaling the return of fullness, the pressure building to an almost unbearable level. He had just finished changing his own soaked clothes, wincing at the tenderness in his chest. He was reaching for a fresh set of pads when Seungkwan’s cry tore through the silence. His eyes widened in immediate panic.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Jeonghan and Junhui burst out of their rooms, their faces etched with alarm. They met in the hallway, their eyes wide with shared fear. The sound of Seungkwan’s crying was now clearer, more desperate, punctuated by gasps for air.

“Seungkwan!” Jeonghan whispered, his voice tight with urgency. He didn’t wait, immediately running towards the ‘Kids’ room, his bare feet slapping against the cool floor.

Junhui was right behind him, his heart pounding. “Oh god, Seungkwan!” He followed Jeonghan, his mind racing, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him despite his exhaustion.

Minghao, in his room, was jolted awake by the sudden, piercing cries. He sat bolt upright in bed, his heart pounding. Seungkwan. He immediately threw off his covers and swung his legs out of bed.

Jeonghan reached the room first, pushing the door open frantically. The sight that greeted him sent a fresh wave of terror through him. Seungkwan was curled into a tight ball on his bed, his body shaking violently, his hands clawing at his chest. He was gasping, choking, his face pale and tear-streaked, his eyes wide and unfocused with terror. He was clearly in the throes of a panic attack, slowly getting worse.

“Seungkwan-ah!” Jeonghan cried, rushing to his side, dropping to his knees beside the bed. “Seungkwan-ah, it’s okay, hyung is here! Breathe with me, baby, please!” He reached out, pulling Seungkwan into a gentle but firm embrace, holding him close, trying to ground him.

Junhui arrived a second later. He saw Jeonghan holding Seungkwan, saw the severity of Seungkwan’s distress. His mind immediately went to Joshua. Joshua was Seungkwan’s ‘Mom’. He needed to be here.

“Jeonghan-hyung, I’ll get Joshua!” Junhui yelled over Seungkwan’s sobs, already turning and running towards Joshua’s room.

Minghao, hearing Junhui’s shout, picked up his pace, rushing towards the ‘Kids’ room. He saw Jeonghan holding Seungkwan, heard the desperate gasps for air. His heart ached for the younger boy.

Junhui burst into Joshua’s room, not bothering to knock. Joshua was deep in sleep, his breathing even. Junhui didn’t hesitate. He rushed to the bed and began frantically pushing Joshua’s shoulder.

“Joshua-hyung! Hyung, wake up! It’s Seungkwan! He’s having an attack! A bad one!” Junhui’s voice was urgent, laced with barely controlled panic.

Joshua stirred, groaning softly, disoriented by the sudden intrusion. “Wha… what?” he mumbled, trying to blink the sleep from his eyes.

“Seungkwan! He’s crying! He’s suffocating!” Junhui repeated, shaking Joshua’s shoulder harder. “You need to come! Now!”

The urgency in Junhui’s voice finally cut through Joshua’s sleep-addled mind. His eyes snapped open, wide with alarm. Seungkwan. Panic. He was instantly awake, adrenaline flooding his system. He scrambled out of bed, not even bothering to grab a shirt, his chest already aching with the familiar fullness.

“Oh god,” Joshua whispered, his voice tight with fear. He rushed out of the room, Junhui right behind him, both of them running towards the sounds of Seungkwan’s escalating distress.

Minghao reached the ‘Kids’ room, seeing Jeonghan desperately trying to soothe Seungkwan, whose sobs were now almost continuous, his body wracked with tremors. Minghao immediately went to the other side of the bed, placing a calming hand on Seungkwan’s back. “Seungkwan-ah, breathe. Focus on my touch. You’re safe.”

Joshua burst into the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Seungkwan. The sight of his baby in such profound distress sent a jolt of pain through him. He rushed to the bed, pushing Jeonghan aside gently.

“Seungkwan-ah! I’m here, baby! Joshua-hyung is here!” Joshua cried, pulling Seungkwan into his arms, holding him tight against his bare chest. He felt the younger boy’s frantic heart beating against his own, felt the desperate gasps for air. His own chest ached, not just with the milk, but with a profound, empathic pain for Seungkwan’s suffering.

The sound of Seungkwan’s cries, now amplified by the open door, had also woken the ‘Dads’.

Seungcheol was the first to stir, jolted awake by the piercing sound. He sat up, his heart pounding, immediately recognizing the distress. Seungkwan. He threw off his covers and rushed out of his room, his leader instincts kicking in.

Wonwoo, too, was instantly awake, his mind already racing. Seungkwan’s cries were unmistakable. He quickly got out of bed, his eyes wide with concern, and followed Seungcheol into the hallway.

Mingyu and Vernon also emerged from their rooms, their faces pale with alarm. The dorm was no longer quiet. It was filled with the sounds of desperate crying, hurried footsteps, and hushed, anxious whispers.

Seungcheol reached the room, his eyes immediately taking in the scene: Joshua, bare-chested, holding a convulsing Seungkwan, Jeonghan and Minghao beside them. Junhui was standing at the foot of the bed, his bandaged hand clenching and unclenching, his face a mask of worry.

“What happened?!” Seungcheol demanded, his voice rough with concern.

“Panic attack,” Jeonghan replied, his voice tight. “He just… woke up crying. It escalated so fast.”

Seungcheol saw the urgency in Joshua’s eyes, the way he was holding Seungkwan, the desperate need for comfort. He knew what had to happen. He looked at Joshua, a silent question in his eyes.

Joshua met his gaze, then looked down at Seungkwan, who was still gasping, his body shaking. He nodded, a silent, resolute affirmation. He knew what he had to do.

He adjusted Seungkwan in his arms, pulling him closer, guiding the younger boy’s head towards his breast. He felt the intense pressure, the aching fullness that demanded release. He took a deep, shaky breath, and gently, carefully, positioned Seungkwan’s mouth against his nipple.

Seungkwan, in his terror, weakly resisted for a moment, whimpering, but then, as the warm, sweet milk filled his mouth, an instinctive response took over. His gasps began to ease, his body slowly, almost imperceptibly, relaxing. He began to suckle, weakly at first, then with more purpose, drawing the milk, drawing the comfort.

The room fell silent, save for the soft sounds of Seungkwan’s suckling and his gradually evening breaths. The ‘Dads’ watched, transfixed, a profound sense of awe and relief washing over them.

Seungcheol felt a lump form in his throat. Joshua was doing this. The sight was incredibly intimate, incredibly vulnerable, and Seungcheol felt a surge of love so powerful it almost brought him to his knees.

Vernon, seeing Joshua nursing Seungkwan, felt a wave of relief so intense it almost made his knees buckle. His initial fear for Seungkwan, then his fear for Joshua, slowly receded, replaced by tenderness. He watched Joshua, his partner in this strange new family, providing comfort in the most intimate way possible. Vernon felt a deep, unwavering love for Joshua, a love that transcended words, a love that was forged in the crucible of this shared, extraordinary experience.

As Seungkwan’s suckling grew steadier, his breathing evening out, his body going limp with relaxation, Seungcheol made a decision. The ‘Moms’ were handling the immediate crisis. Their focus needed to be on the other ‘Kids’.

He turned to Wonwoo, Mingyu, and Vernon. “Okay,” he whispered, his voice firm but low. “They have Seungkwan. Let’s go check on the others. Hoshi, Woozi, Seokmin, Chan. Make sure they’re okay. Make sure they weren’t startled by the crying.”

Wonwoo nodded immediately, his gaze still lingering on Joshua and Junhui for a moment before he turned and quietly left the room.

Mingyu followed, his eyes sweeping over Minghao, a silent promise of support in his gaze, before he, too, slipped out.

Vernon gave Joshua one last, lingering look, a silent message, before he also turned and followed Seungcheol out of the room.

The ‘Dads’ moved quietly through the dark dorm, their hearts still pounding with the residual fear of Seungkwan’s panic attack.

Seungcheol went to Chan’s room first. He pushed the door open silently, peering into the darkness. Chan was stirring, a soft whimper escaping his lips, his eyes fluttering open. Seungcheol’s heart clenched. He immediately went to the bedside, gently scooping Chan into his arms. Chan, still half-asleep and disoriented, instinctively buried his face against Seungcheol’s shoulder, letting out a soft, sleepy fuss. Seungcheol began to hum a low, comforting tune, gently swaying from side to side as he walked slowly around the room. “It’s okay, Chan-ah,” he murmured, his voice a soft rumble against the younger boy’s ear. “Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep, baby. Hyung’s here.” He continued to walk and hum, feeling Chan’s small body gradually relax against him, his breathing evening out. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Chan was deeply asleep again, a peaceful weight in his arms. Seungcheol carefully lowered him back into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He then settled into the armchair by Chan’s bed, a silent guardian, watching over him.

Vernon went to Woozi’s room. He opened the door, his eyes immediately scanning the bed. Woozi was shifting restlessly, a faint frown on his sleeping face, disturbed by the distant cries. Vernon moved to his side, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “Jihoon-ah, it’s okay. Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.” He murmured soothing words, rubbing Woozi’s back gently. Woozi, still mostly asleep, settled back down, his breathing evening out. Vernon then quietly pulled a chair to the bedside, settling in to watch over him.

Wonwoo opened Hoshi’s room. Hoshi was beginning to stir, a soft groan escaping him as he shifted. Wonwoo immediately went to his side, his voice a low, calming rumble. He gently placed a hand on Hoshi’s forehead, stroking his hair back. “Soonyoung-ah, it’s okay. Just go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.” He murmured soothing words, staying by his side and gently rubbing Hoshi’s back until Hoshi settled back down, his breathing evening out into deep sleep. Wonwoo then pulled up a chair and sat beside Hoshi’s bed, his presence a quiet anchor.

Mingyu could hear Seokmin stirring inside the room, he opened the door, a soft sigh escaping him. He saw Seokmin’s eyes blinking open slowly. Mingyu immediately went to his side, gently patting his back, murmuring soft, comforting words. “Go back to sleep, Seokmin-ah. You’re safe, hyung’s here. Just sleep.” Seokmin’s body relaxed against his, his breathing becoming deep and even. It took a few minutes, but Seokmin was soon soundly asleep again. Mingyu then settled onto the floor beside Seokmin’s bed, leaning against the wall, a watchful presence.

Meanwhile, back in Seungkwan’s room, the atmosphere was a complex blend of profound relief and lingering exhaustion. Joshua still held Seungkwan close, the younger boy’s head heavy and peaceful against his chest. Seungkwan’s breathing was deep and even now, the last vestiges of his panic attack completely gone, replaced by the soft sighs of contented sleep. Joshua’s own body, though still aching slightly from the fullness, felt calm. The flow of milk had eased, and with it, the intense pressure. He gently stroked Seungkwan’s hair, his eyes fixed on the younger boy’s serene face, a quiet, protective love radiating from him.

Jeonghan sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze unwavering on Joshua and Seungkwan. He reached out, gently patting Joshua’s shoulder. “You were amazing, Shua-ya,” he whispered.

Joshua looked up at Jeonghan, a tired but grateful smile touching his lips. “We all did,” he whispered back, glancing at Minghao and Junhui. “We’re a team.”

Minghao, who had moved to the other side of the bed, nodded slowly, his eyes still wide with the aftermath of the scare. He watched Seungkwan, then Joshua, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s… it’s really powerful, isn’t it?” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “The way it just… calms them instantly.” He thought of Seokmin, and the quiet resolve strengthened within him. He was ready.

Junhui stood quietly at the foot of the bed, his earlier panic replaced by a deep sense of awe and relief. He watched Seungkwan’s peaceful face, then Joshua’s weary but determined expression. “It really is,” he whispered, his voice still a little hoarse. “Like magic.”

Jeonghan sighed, a shaky breath escaping him. “It’s terrifying how quickly it can escalate. And how helpless we feel until… until this.” He gestured subtly to Joshua and Seungkwan. “We have to be so vigilant. Always.”

Joshua nodded, his gaze still on Seungkwan. “He was so scared. My heart was breaking for him.” He pulled Seungkwan a little closer, as if to shield him from any lingering shadows of fear. “I just hope he doesn’t remember the panic, only the comfort.”

“He’ll remember the comfort,” Minghao said softly, his voice firm.

Just then, a soft whimper echoed from Woozi’s room, followed by a low, distressed murmur. Junhui’s head snapped up, his eyes widening. That was Woozi. He looked at Joshua. “Shua-hyung, I’ll take a look at Woozi. Can you stay here with Seungkwan?”

Joshua nodded, his gaze still on Seungkwan. “Go, Junhui. We’ll be fine here.”

Junhui didn’t hesitate. He rushed out of Seungkwan’s room and towards Woozi’s. He pushed the door open to find Vernon already by Woozi’s side, gently patting him, but Woozi was beginning to fuss more actively, his small body twisting in the bed.

Junhui quickly scooped Woozi into his arms. Woozi, still half-asleep but clearly distressed, instinctively buried his face against Junhui’s shoulder, letting out a small, muffled cry. “It’s okay, Jihoon-ah,” Junhui murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “Hyung’s here. Let’s go see Wonwoo-hyung.” He turned to Vernon. “Vernon-ah, you can stay with Joshua in Seungkwan’s room, he needs you. We’ll be fine.”

Vernon nodded, his face etched with concern for Woozi, but then he turned and quietly made his way back to Seungkwan’s room. He entered softly, his eyes immediately going to Joshua, who was still holding the sleeping Seungkwan. Vernon moved to Joshua, settling in quietly caressing Seungkwan’s face.

Jeonghan, seeing Vernon return to, looked at Joshua and Vernon. “I’ll go to Chan. Just to make sure.”

Joshua nodded. “Go, Hannie. We’re good here.”

Jeonghan quickly left Seungkwan’s room and made his way to Chan’s. He opened the door quietly to find Seungcheol already settled in the armchair, watching over a peacefully sleeping Chan. Jeonghan moved to the other side of the bed, gently stroking Chan’s hair. He felt a wave of profound relief seeing his ‘kid’ so calm. He then pulled up a chair and sat beside Seungcheol, a silent, shared vigil.

Minghao, seeing the others move, knew his place. He quietly left Seungkwan’s room and went to Seokmin’s. He opened the door to find Mingyu already settled on the floor beside Seokmin’s bed, his hand gently patting Seokmin’s back. Seokmin was still deeply asleep, his breathing even. Minghao moved to the other side of the bed, kneeling down, his presence a quiet reassurance. He reached out, gently caressing Seokmin’s forehead.

Back in Hoshi’s room, Wonwoo looked up as Junhui entered, carrying a fussing Woozi. His eyes widened slightly in understanding. “He’s still worked up?” Wonwoo asked softly.

“Yeah,” Junhui whispered, gently swaying Woozi. “He just started fussing again.” He moved to the other side of Hoshi’s bed, settling into the space. Wonwoo instinctively reached out, gently patting Woozi’s back as Junhui continued to hum and sway. Between the two of them, Woozi slowly began to settle, his fussing subsiding into soft whimpers, then quiet breaths as he drifted back to sleep in Junhui’s arms. Wonwoo continued to gently pat Hoshi’s back, ensuring he remained undisturbed by Woozi’s brief fussing.

The dorm, once filled with cries of distress, was now bathed in a profound, almost sacred quiet. The only sounds were the soft, even breaths of the sleeping members and the soothing voices of the parents.