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Laptop disaster

The Ghost in the Nursery

The sun rose over Seoul with a cruel indifference, spilling golden light across the hardwood floors of the dorm. In Minho and Hyunjin’s shared room, the curtains were drawn tight, creating a cocoon of artificial twilight.

Seungmin lay on his stomach, his face buried in a plush puppy pillow that was damp with dried tears. His breathing was shallow and hitched, even in sleep. Every few minutes, his small body would jerk, a phantom reflex from a dream of falling or being struck, and a soft, pained whimper would escape his lips.

Minho hadn't slept. He sat on the edge of the bed, his hand resting lightly on the small of Seungmin’s back—careful to avoid the horrific, dark bruising that blossomed across the boy's bottom and upper thighs. The sight of it made Minho’s stomach churn with a mixture of nausea and white-hot protective fury.

A soft knock at the door made Minho stiffen. He turned, his eyes narrowing, ready to snarl if it was Chan.

The door creaked open just an inch. Hyunjin slipped inside, his face pale and his eyes rimmed with red. He carried a small basin of warm water and a fresh tube of medicinal cream. He looked at the small, broken figure on the bed and bit his lip so hard it nearly bled.

"How is he?" Hyunjin whispered, his voice trembling.

"He finally fell into a deep sleep an hour ago," Minho replied, his voice raspy. "But he’s feverish. His body is reacting to the trauma."

Hyunjin set the basin down on the nightstand. He knelt by the bed, looking at Seungmin’s face. The younger boy looked so tiny, his features softened by a regression so deep it felt like he had retreated into a different dimension. This wasn't the sassy, vocal Seungmin they knew. This wasn't even the sweet, three-year-old 'Minnie' who liked to color. This was someone much smaller, someone who had no words left.

"I saw Chan in the kitchen," Hyunjin said, his voice dropping to a ghost of a sound. "He looks like a corpse. He tried to speak to me, and I... Minho, I couldn't even look at him. I just walked away."

"Good," Minho snapped, his eyes flashing. "He doesn't get to explain this away. He didn't just lose his temper; he destroyed the one thing we’re supposed to protect. He’s the leader. He’s the person Seungmin trusted most in this world."

A low moan from the bed cut their conversation short. Seungmin’s head shifted, his eyes fluttering open. For a second, they were blank, glazed over with the fog of sleep. Then, reality rushed back in.

Seungmin’s pupils dilated with terror. He tried to scramble backward, forgetting his injuries. As soon as his weight shifted onto his backside, a sharp, agonizing cry ripped from his throat.

"No! No, no, no!" he shrieked, his voice sounding thin and infantile. He clawed at the sheets, trying to pull himself away from the two figures by the bed. "Minnie be good! Minnie pwomise! No more hurties!"

"Baby, hey, hey, it’s just us," Hyunjin said quickly, reaching out with open palms to show he wasn't holding anything. "It’s Jinnie and Minho-hyung. You’re safe, Minnie. We’ve got you."

Seungmin backed into the headboard, his chest heaving. He was hyperventilating, his small hands shaking so violently he couldn't even ball them into fists. He looked at Hyunjin, then at Minho, his eyes searching for the threat.

"Dada?" he whispered, the word trembling with a desperate, heartbreaking hope that was immediately crushed by fear. "Dada... coming?"

"No, baby," Minho said firmly, moving to sit closer, though he didn't touch him yet. "Chan isn't coming in here. He’s not allowed. It’s just us."

Seungmin’s lip wobbled. "Minnie b-bwoke it. Minnie bad. Dada hit... Dada use the loud belt." He began to sob, great racking heaves that made his whole body shake. "Everything hurt, Jinnie. Everything hot."

Hyunjin felt a tear escape and slide down his cheek. He moved onto the bed, slowly, giving Seungmin every chance to pull away. When the little didn't flee, Hyunjin gathered him into his arms, pulling him into a gentle lap-sit that kept the pressure off his injuries.

"I know it hurts, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry," Hyunjin murmured, rocking him. "We’re going to fix it. We’re going to put some cool water on it, okay? It’ll help the stinging."

Seungmin buried his face in Hyunjin’s silk pajama shirt, his fingers clutching the fabric like a lifeline. "Minnie want to go 'way," he muffled into the cloth.

"Away where, baby?" Minho asked, reaching out to stroke Seungmin’s hair.

"Away from the bad place," Seungmin whimpered. "Minnie want to be... tiny. So tiny nobody can find me to hit me."

The sheer weight of that statement left the two older boys speechless. Seungmin wasn't just regressed; he was retreating. His mind was trying to shrink further and further back to escape the memory of the belt.

"You don't have to hide, Minnie," Minho said, his voice thick with emotion. "We are your new big brothers. We’re your caretakers now. We won't let anyone—and I mean anyone—touch you like that again."

Seungmin looked up at Minho, his big, tear-filled eyes wide. "New Dada?"

Minho hesitated. The title carried so much weight, and after what Chan had done, it felt like a heavy crown to wear. But seeing the desperation in Seungmin’s face, he nodded. "Yeah, baby. Me and Jinnie. We’ll take care of you."

"I'll be your Dada too," Hyunjin added, kissing the top of Seungmin’s head. "We’ll be a team."

Seungmin seemed to relax just a fraction, his body going limp against Hyunjin. "Okay. No hit?"

"Never," Hyunjin promised.

The next hour was a grueling exercise in patience and heartbreak. They had to clean the injuries, which meant removing Seungmin’s pants. The moment the fabric moved, Seungmin began to scream again, a high-pitched, primal sound of pure panic. He thought the punishment was starting over.

"Please! Minnie sowwy! Minnie be quiet!" he begged, trying to tuck his legs under himself.

"We have to, baby," Minho said, his own heart breaking. "We have to put the medicine on so you can feel better. Look at me, Minnie. Look at Minho's eyes."

It took both of them—Hyunjin holding his hands and whispering stories about puppies and bubbles, and Minho working with agonizing slowness—to apply the cream. The bruising was even worse in the daylight; the leather had broken the skin in several places, leaving thin, weeping lines amidst the deep purple swelling.

By the time they were done, Seungmin was exhausted, his face pale and sticky with salt and snot. He didn't have the energy to fight anymore. He just lay there, clutching a pacifier Hyunjin had found in the 'little' box, sucking on it with a desperate, rhythmic intensity.

"He’s so deep," Hyunjin whispered, watching Seungmin’s eyes wander aimlessly around the room. "He’s barely three right now."

"He’s where he needs to be to survive this," Minho replied.

A heavy thud sounded from the living room, followed by the sound of a raised voice. It was Changbin, likely arguing with Chan. The sound of the shouting, even muffled by the door, sent Seungmin into a tailspin.

He bolted upright, his eyes wide and wild. He didn't see the bedroom anymore; he saw the belt. He saw the rage.

"No! No! He coming! He coming for Minnie!"

"No one is coming in, I promise!" Hyunjin cried, trying to catch him, but Seungmin was surprisingly fast.

He scrambled off the bed, his legs buckling as the pain flared, but he didn't stop. He crawled toward the closet, his breath coming in short, terrifying gasps. He shoved himself into the corner of the wardrobe, behind Minho’s long coats, and curled into the smallest ball possible.

"Minnie?" Minho called out, his voice full of alarm.

He and Hyunjin hurried to the closet. They found Seungmin tucked behind a row of jackets, his knees pulled to his chest, his hands over his ears. He was rocking back and forth, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Go 'way," Seungmin whispered, over and over. "Minnie not here. Minnie gone. Don't find me. Please don't find me."

Minho knelt on the floor, his heart shattering. He realized then that the damage wasn't just on Seungmin’s skin. It was in his soul. The regression, which had always been a happy, safe place for Seungmin to relax, had been turned into a bunker.

"Hyunjin, go tell them to be quiet," Minho said, his voice cold and commanding. "Tell Chan if he makes another sound, I will personally throw him out of this dorm. And tell Changbin to help him pack a bag. Chan isn't staying here tonight."

Hyunjin nodded and disappeared.

Minho turned back to the closet. He didn't try to pull Seungmin out. Instead, he simply sat on the floor in the doorway of the wardrobe, leaving the space open but remaining close.

"I'm just going to sit here, Minnie," Minho said softly. "I'm not coming in. I'm just guarding the door. No one can get past me."

A long silence followed, broken only by Seungmin’s shaky breaths. After what felt like an eternity, a small, trembling hand reached out from behind a long black trench coat.

Minho didn't grab it. He simply laid his own hand on the carpet, palm up.

Slowly, inch by inch, Seungmin’s fingers crept forward until they touched Minho’s palm. The contact was light as a feather.

"Dada?" a tiny voice whispered from the darkness.

"I'm right here, baby," Minho said, his voice cracking.

"Is the monster gone?"

Minho closed his eyes, a single tear escaping. "Yes, Minnie. The monster is gone. I chased him away."

"Pwomise?"

"I promise on my life."

The closet door creaked further open as Seungmin slowly uncurled himself. He looked like a ghost—pale, bruised, and utterly fragile. He crawled into Minho’s lap, hiding his face in the crook of the elder’s neck.

Minho wrapped his arms around him, holding him with a fierce, protective grip. He could feel the heat radiating from the bruises through Seungmin’s thin pajamas, a constant reminder of the betrayal.

Hyunjin returned a few minutes later, his expression grim. "Chan’s gone. Changbin took him to the company dorms. He didn't fight. He just... he just cried."

"I don't care about his tears," Minho said, his voice hard. "He doesn't get to be the victim here."

Seungmin shifted, his thumb finding its way into his mouth as he leaned against Minho. His eyes were drooping, the exhaustion finally winning out over the fear.

"Minnie tired," he mumbled, his speech slurring. "Wanna go to the clouds."

"We’ll take you there, baby," Hyunjin said, kneeling down to join them. He reached out and gently stroked Seungmin’s cheek. "We’re going to stay right here. We’ll get some pillows and make a big nest on the floor, okay? We won't make you move."

They spent the rest of the afternoon in the closet-turned-fort. Hyunjin brought in every soft blanket and stuffed animal they owned, creating a padded sanctuary where Seungmin could lay without his injuries being touched.

As the hours passed, Seungmin’s regression seemed to settle. He didn't go back to his usual three-year-old self. He stayed smaller—quieter. He didn't want to play; he only wanted to be held or to have a hand resting on him at all times.

Every time the floorboards creaked outside the room, he would flinch, his eyes darting to the door.

"It's okay," Minho would whisper, squeezing his hand. "It's just the house breathing. You’re safe."

Felix and Jisung came by later in the evening, their faces masks of shock and grief. They had seen the laptop; they had heard the story from Changbin. They brought soft food—mashed potatoes and applesauce—and sat quietly at the edge of the 'nest.'

Seungmin barely looked at them. He was staring at a small, glowing star lamp Hyunjin had plugged in.

"Minnie?" Felix whispered, his voice trembling. "Do you want some juice, baby?"

Seungmin looked at Felix, then slowly shook his head. He pointed to the star lamp. "Star... pretty."

"Yeah, it’s very pretty," Felix said, a sob catching in his throat.

"Dada says... stars watch over us," Seungmin said, his voice airy and distant. He looked at Minho. "You my star?"

Minho leaned down and kissed Seungmin’s forehead, his heart aching with a love so intense it felt like a physical weight. "I'll be whatever you need me to be, Minnie. I'll be the star, the moon, and the whole sky if it keeps you safe."

Seungmin sighed, a long, shaky sound that seemed to release just a tiny bit of the tension held in his small frame. He closed his eyes, his hand curling around Minho’s thumb.

He was safe for now, tucked away in a world of blankets and soft lights. But the bruises were still there, dark and painful under his clothes, and the memory of the belt was etched into his mind.

The path back to the Seungmin they knew was long, and it was shrouded in shadows. But as Minho and Hyunjin exchanged a determined look over the sleeping boy’s head, one thing was certain: they would walk every step of that path with him, and they would never let the monster back into the nursery.