Chapter Text
They’d been 3racha for a while when Chan found out about Jisung’s struggles -- the three had been friends for a few months by then, Chan and Jisung had been working together for nearly a year and a half.
Chan felt it should have been much sooner than then, but Jisung was stubborn and Chan -- regrettably -- was a bit oblivious at times. In his defense -- a defense Jisung would give him, not one he readily accepted -- he’d had a few close friends leave and was passed up (again) for debut. Chan’s main argument against that defense was that he genuinely wanted to be in a group with Changbin and Jisung -- so much so he wasn’t even that disappointed about being passed up again.
Regardless, he probably should have seen it or at least assumed something. But he definitely hadn’t.
Things were very busy. All the trainees had participated in evaluations and their bi-annual talent show yesterday. Which had gone pretty well. One of the young kids had broken down into tears just off stage, a couple looked as though they were going to be ill, Changbin became talkative -- Jisung silent; but no real issues for any of the trainees.
Chan had received his evaluation results, he basically had a book worth of them at this point, from his vocal instructor -- nothing new -- though they did think he was improving. Which was always nice. When you stopped improving, that was when things got real -- you only were given so many chances after you were told you hadn’t improved, and it was never very many.
None of the people Chan had closely befriended had ever fallen into that category. But he’d seen it happen before and he could imagine how horrible it would be. He wasn’t too worried about the others either -- not Jisung or Changbin anyway. Some of the others he had herded together brought a bit more concern.
“Hyung,”
“Oh Changbinnie, have you had a good day? My lessons have been super laid back.”
“Yeah,” Changbin paused -- yawning loudly, “Most of them have been, Except for Lee.”
“Rap instructor Lee or dance instructor Lee?”
“Dance.”
“Oh ~ yeah, he was like that when I had lessons with him too,”
“Yeah, he was angry,” Changbin whistled lowly, “a lot of us didn’t dance as well we could have,”
“Yeah, well. I think you did great, so -”
“Oh, I know I did,” Changbin chuckled, “You heading up then? I gotta head home for a bit, but I can bring dinner at, like, seven?”
Chan nodded along to the question, “sounds great to me. I’m gonna swing by my dorm, shower, message Ji, and head up. So we’d probably only beat you there by twenty.”
“Sounds good,” Changbin bumped fists with Chan, “See you Hyung,”
Changing the order slightly, Chan sent off a message to Jisung as he walked up the four flights to his dorm.
He used to think Korea, the dorms, even JYP Ent would never be normal -- flash forward to now and Chan could've sworn his dorm was a small piece of heaven. Sparsely decorated, but still, it was his -- even if he’d lived in six different dorm rooms to date. The bathroom he shared with the room next door was empty, the shower was hot and relaxing. It had been a pretty easy day.
He opened the window to help the steam escape the small room. The window led to a narrow alleyway in the center of the building; no grass, no trees, nothing pretty except for the sky.
Chan was quick to towel off and redress. Jisung had yet to respond, which was odd, but Chan didn’t think too much of it and sent another.
The small kitchenette was stocked with snacks, instant ramen, and bottled water. Chan grabbed a few of everything before heading out.
The walk was short and uneventful and their small practice studio office was empty -- sometimes they weren’t so lucky.
It was only six-fifteen, being early -- or alone -- used to mean easy progress but Chan found it harder to get into the swing of things since finding Changbin and Jisung. Working with them made things flow better; easier; made things more fun.
The floor was still loud, even with soundproofing, Chan could feel vibrations run through his chest; music pulsing in the dance studios and vocal rooms -- JYP rarely slept.
He made himself busy, effortlessly scattering the snacks and drinks across the table -- making sure to leave room for whatever Changbin might end up bringing -- making sure the chocolates he’d received from his parents were easily within reach from Jisung’s usual spot.
Speaking of his sometimes angry, always hyper, squirrely friend, Jisung still had yet to respond. Meaning he’d either lost or broken his phone -- it had happened twice since they’d met -- or he was busy. Chan mused for a second at the thought of Jisung ignoring him, but ‘ignoring’ anyone was a challenge for the kid -- Chan had seen Jisung ‘ignore’ Hyunjin already -- so he pushed that aside pretty quickly.
Chan was about to send the third message when he heard glass shatter and something extremely large crash to what he assumed was the floor a few doors away.
Between his genuine concern and curiosity, Chan found himself peering into the small practice room moments later. The lights were on and the music faded in and out with static like the tide. The large speaker that was once suspended from the ceiling had broken free -- finally tearing itself from the old rafters -- and swung with dangerous force into the wall-length practice mirror, shattering it, before the cord snapped and the speaker crashed down. The glass was stretched the entire length of the floor, glittering faintly in the swinging light.
Chan whistled lowly, slightly impressed by the carnage and equally relieved he hadn’t walked in on any actual carnage. Thankfully, no poor trainee had been struck by the fifteen-kilo speaker, which should never have been hanging on the ceiling to begin with, “maybe this will make them take ‘em all down.” he muttered softly, heart long since returned to its normal cadence. When he heard a strange gagging gasping sound.
“Hello?” The room was empty, besides the glass and the speaker there was nothing.
The sound was terrifying. Like someone drowning, desperate to breathe and painfully unable to do so. Each gasp seemed more panicked and less successful.
The hallway was also empty, with mostly closed doors and darkened rooms. The desperate gasps were even louder and more painful sounding in the hall. The only door that stood open was the one leading into 3racha’s makeshift production studio.
For as much as Chan wanted that desperate gasping to stop, he was also afraid to see who -- or what -- was inside that room.
“Is everything okay?” Chan questioned hesitantly leaning into the room, but the question died in the back of his throat moments later.
Chan had expected a younger trainee, maybe one of the super young kids who’d just joined or a kid who’d done badly on the evaluations. Or maybe even some gross tar creature ready to kill.
He didn’t expect to see Jisung tightly curled into a ball pressed flat against the back wall, sandwiched painfully between a couch and a standing speaker, desperate to breathe and crying frantically.
“Jisung?” it came out in a sputtered shocked glob, “Hey…” Chan paused caught between uncertainty and a kind of fear he’d never experienced before, “Sungie… What’s… are you okay?” there was no response, just more empty breaths. The sound was making Chan’s hair stand on end and his stomach filled with acid, “Sungie… come on, you gotta breathe -- you gotta listen to me.” his Korean was getting sloppy, he realized as he slowly approached his friend. Kneeling down cautiously, Chan spoke again, far less sure of what he could do, “Sung, I, can you hear me? I don’t know what’s going on? I, should I call an ambulance?” the last word broke angrily.
Nothing changed. Jisung seemed oblivious, becoming less frantic but more exhausted in his fight against his body.
Which only incited more fear in Chan, “Ji, I’m,” his mind was spinning. Spinning between calling for help and pulling Jisung free from his hiding place; maybe both. But he couldn't think that quickly. With uncontrolled desperation; Chan found himself reaching into the small space, the back of his hand rubbing painfully against the rough speaker before latching onto Jisung’s upper bicep, “Sungie, I've got you, okay? Just breathe, I'll pull you out of there and, we will get you taken care of… I promise,” Chan continued to ramble as he carefully pulled his friend from the spot. Jisung offered little resistance and no assistance – though Chan could feel the constant vibration and heat radiate off of him, “There you go. I almost got you out Ji, almost, just breathe.”
It probably took less than three minutes from Chan discovering the broken mirror to when he finally got Jisung into his arms, though it could have been a hundred and it would have felt the same.
“There you go. There you go. I've got you,” Chan fluttered slightly, internally freaking out but trying to logic through the situation as best he could, “you're safe…alright? Can you hear me? Everything is gonna be okay.” he was reassured slightly when Jisung leaned into him, “There you go. You gotta talk to me when you're ready, when you can.” Chan clung to Jisung clumsily, even tighter when it became clear Jisung couldn't quite muster the strength to do so himself.
As Jisung slowly calmed down, as he was finally able to breathe and think clearly, as his body sunk further into Chan’s own – Chan felt the adrenaline filter out of him. Leaving him absolutely terrified and upset. Though he tried to keep the tears at bay.
“I’m okay Hyung…” it sounded tired, cracked a little, but it was Jisung.
And Chan’s tears broke free. He kept his voice steady and buried his face into Jisung’s hair slowly, “That’s a good start, Ji. A good start.”
“I’m really sorry. So sorry – I don’t know what set it off…”
“Shh,” Chan rocked him slowly, more to comfort himself than to help Jisung, “That’s fine, it’s fine really. Just relax okay. Deep breathe. Please,” he managed to pull himself together enough to pull away.
Jisung looked exhausted; face still flushed faintly, forehead damp, eyes rimmed red.
“What on earth did I miss?” Changbin had appeared at the door, eyes wide and obviously concerned, “Should I be worried?” he asked slowly placing the large amount of food onto the open spot on the table.
“Nope!” Jisung popped the ‘p’ sound, “Got too invested in a song is all,” he looked to Chan, waiting and hopeful.
“Yeah. You know us…” it came off honest, but he could see Changbin’s disbelief.
“Yeah, okay. Well, I brought lots of food,” Changbin shifted the topic, “Mom’s certain you two will starve and die and then I’ll crumble or something. And I’m like, ‘Ma, we’re co-dependent but not like really co-dependent.’ And then she was like, ‘Changbinnie… you three are the same person,’” he was changing his voice to mimic his mother’s – obviously embellishing, hoping to lift the mood, “And I was so offended…”
“Aw~~ She loves us!” Jisung stood up quickly – staggering slightly – and leaned over the bagged food, inhaling deeply, “really, really loves us.”
Chan watched for a second before acting along. Jisung would tell him – he’d make him – tonight, but for now, he’d play along. Whatever happened, it was something Jisung understood. Chan just hoped that he’d be able to help once he understood as well.