**Leader’s Broken Memories**
Prompt: ATEEZ FanFiction: Leader’s Broken Memories
The sound of rain pattered softly against the windows of the practice room, creating a soothing rhythm that filled the air with a sense of calm. The members of ATEEZ were scattered around the space, some stretched out on the floor, others huddled together on the couch, all deep in conversation or lost in their own thoughts. However, the leader, Hongjoong, sat alone at the far end of the room, his brow furrowed in concentration as he stared out into the gray sky.
Lately, he had been feeling different—disconnected, as though a veil had descended over his mind. Memories that once flowed freely from him were now obscured, like pages torn from a book. It was concerning; he worried that he was drifted away from himself, and, by extension, from the boys.
“Hyung!” Wooyoung called out, breaking through the haze that enveloped Hongjoong. “You’re missing out on our debate. We’re talking about the best horror movies!”
Hongjoong offered a weak smile, pushing down the unease that twisted in his gut. “I’m okay. You guys have fun,” he replied, his voice barely carrying across the room.
The rest of the members exchanged glances, clearly concerned about their leader. Yunho approached and knelt beside him, his expression softening with empathy. “You sure? We can take a break if you need to talk?”
“No, really, I’m fine,” Hongjoong insisted, though the words rang hollow even to him.
As the hours stretched on, and laughter filled the air, Hongjoong found it increasingly difficult to engage. Flashes of memories flickered behind his eyes—moments spent with the other members, energy shared during performances, instances that should have been rich and vibrant but now felt muted, like static on a television screen.
After practice, the other members slowly trickled out, leaving Hongjoong alone to face the storm outside. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and just as he was about to leave, a streak of lightning illuminated the darkening room. Something caught his eye—an old, crumpled notebook tucked away beneath a pile of discarded papers.
Curiosity piqued, Hongjoong pulled it out and opened it. The pages were filled with his handwriting, sketches, and song lyrics—snippets of his thoughts and emotions from previous years. But as he scanned the pages, a skeletal fear gripped him. Certain entries were faded, words barely legible, as if they were vanishing with each passing day. One entry, in particular, caught his attention: it described a dream he had one rainy evening, filled with a sense of loss and confusion.
A flash of memory jolted through him—a moment shared with the members, a performance under the lights, the warmth of their camaraderie—but then it slipped away as quickly as it came, leaving an empty ache in its wake.
Suddenly, he felt a presence behind him. Mingi approached, peering over his shoulder at the pages. “Hyung, is that…?”
“It’s nothing, really,” Hongjoong replied hastily, closing the notebook and turning away. But Mingi’s expression softened with concern.
“Sometimes ‘nothing’ can mean a lot, you know?” Mingi said quietly, taking a seat beside him. “You’ve been distant lately. We’re worried about you.”
Hongjoong inhaled deeply, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing against his chest. He felt a wave of gratitude wash over him for having Mingi by his side, someone who didn’t shy away from the truth. “I don’t want to burden you all. You have your own worries. We’re on this journey together, and I should be strong for everyone.”
“Being strong doesn’t mean pretending everything is okay,” Mingi replied gently. “You can lean on us, Hongjoong. We’re a team.”
Their conversation lingered in the air, and Hongjoong felt the cracks in his armor beginning to show. “I just… I feel like I’m losing pieces of myself,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “It’s terrifying. Memories that I should have, moments with you guys—I can’t grasp them.”
Mingi was silent for a moment, considering his words carefully. “Maybe it’s all the pressure we put on ourselves? Sometimes, we forget to just live in the moment, to enjoy the ride instead of worrying about every little detail.”
Hongjoong absorbed Mingi’s words, realizing the truth in them. He had always pushed himself to be the perfect leader, to keep everything seamless. But perhaps in focusing too much on perfection, he had lost sight of the beauty of their journey together.
“Let’s make new memories,” Mingi suggested with a spark of enthusiasm. “How about we create something together? A song, a story, whatever inspires us?”
A flicker of excitement ignited in Hongjoong’s heart. He liked the idea of channeling his confusion and fear into something tangible. “You’re right. I need to focus on creating rather than worrying about what’s lost.”
In the days that followed, ATEEZ became wrapped in a creative whirlwind. They transformed the practice room into a makeshift studio, and Hongjoong, fueled by collaboration and passion, dove headfirst into writing new lyrics inspired by their shared experiences. They laughed, shared stories, and slowly, piece by piece, he began to mend the fractures in his memory.
As Hongjoong watched the members pour their souls into the music, he felt a warmth spreading within him—a realization that the memories they created together were just as significant as those from the past. With every note, every harmony, the new memories began to fill the void that had lingered in his mind.
By the time the song was complete, the rain had dissipated, leaving a clear sky overhead. Hongjoong stood in front of his members, a hint of a smile breaking through the clouds of doubt that had shrouded his heart. Maybe he was still grappling with the remnants of his broken memories, but they were no longer a burden; they were merely parts of him he didn’t have to carry alone.
And in that moment, in the laughter and joy shared with his brothers, Hongjoong realized that every day was a new chance to create, to remember, and to truly live. As long as they were together, he would never forget again.
