A Little Help from My Friends

The afternoon sun streamed through the large windows of the Cortis practice room, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. The five members had been rehearsing their new choreography for hours, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they moved in perfect sync. James counted the beats aloud, his voice steady despite the exhaustion creeping into his muscles. Juhoon led the formation with sharp, precise movements, while Martin, Keonho, and Seonghyeon followed close behind. Everything was going smoothly until—

Keonho stumbled. It was a small misstep, barely noticeable, but his ankle twisted awkwardly, and he let out a sharp gasp. The music stopped as the others turned to him, concern flickering across their faces.

"Keonho? You okay?" James asked, rushing over. Keonho waved a hand dismissively, but the wince that followed betrayed him. "It's nothing. Just twisted my ankle a little. I'll be fine."

"Sit down before you make it worse," Juhoon said, his tone firm but gentle. He guided Keonho to the edge of the practice mat, where Martin was already grabbing a first aid kit from the corner. Seonghyeon knelt beside him, peering at the ankle with worried eyes.

"Let me see," Martin said, carefully rolling up Keonho's pant leg. The ankle was already starting to swell, a faint redness spreading around the joint. Keonho hissed when Martin gently palpated the area. "Does that hurt?"

"N-no, it's fine," Keonho insisted, though his voice wavered. James let out a small laugh. "You're such a bad liar. Admit it, you're in pain."

"Maybe a little," Keonho admitted, his cheeks flushing. Seonghyeon patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you. Hyung? What do we do?"

James, being the eldest, took charge. "First, ice. Martin, can you get an ice pack from the fridge? Juhoon, grab some bandages. Seonghyeon, prop his leg up on those cushions." Everyone scrambled to follow orders, and soon Keonho was surrounded by pillows and a cold pack wrapped in a towel, resting on his ankle.

"You really don't have to fuss over me," Keonho mumbled, but he couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. The care from his members warmed him more than he wanted to admit.

"You're our maknae-ish. We have to fuss," Martin teased, using the affectionate term for the youngest member, even though Seonghyeon was technically the youngest. Keonho was the second youngest, but they often treated him like the baby. Seonghyeon pretended to pout, but he was too focused on making sure Keonho was comfortable.

"So, no more dancing today," Juhoon declared. "You're benched. And we're going to get you something to eat. Anything you want."

"Anything?" Keonho's eyes lit up. "Fried chicken?"

"You just got injured, and you want greasy food?" James raised an eyebrow, but he was already pulling out his phone to order. "Fine, but you're also having some veggies. And no soda only water."

"Deal," Keonho agreed happily. The others settled around him, and soon the mood shifted from worry to laughter. Martin told a story about his failed attempt to cook ramen that resulted in a small kitchen fire. Juhoon added details that made it even more ridiculous, and soon the whole room was roaring with laughter. Even Keonho forgot the dull throb in his ankle as he joined in.

As the afternoon turned to evening, the delivery arrived. They ate together, sitting on the floor around Keonho, making sure he had the best pieces of chicken. After the meal, Seonghyeon insisted on doing Keonho's chores for the day, much to Keonho's protests. "You're injured! Rest. I'll do the laundry and dishes," Seonghyeon said with a grin.

"I'm not that helpless!" Keonho tried to stand, but Juhoon gently pushed him back down. "Yes, you are. For today, at least. Accept it."

Keonho surrendered, a warm feeling spreading through his chest. He looked around at his members, his brothers, who had dropped everything to care for him. Even in the lighthearted teasing, their love was evident. He knew that no matter what happened, he had a place here, safe and cherished. And that, he thought, was worth a little twisted ankle.

"Thanks, guys," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. James ruffled his hair. "Anytime, little brother. Now, who's up for a movie marathon? Someone carry Keonho to the couch, he can't walk."

"I can hop!" Keonho insisted, but Martin and Juhoon had already hooked their arms under his, lifting him with exaggerated care. "We've got you, don't worry," Martin said, and they all laughed as they made their way to the living room.

The night ended with the five piled onto the couch, a comedy playing on the screen, and the air filled with warmth and camaraderie. No fancy destination, no grand adventure—just a simple evening of rest and recovery, and the unbreakable bond of their little family.