Chapter Text
Daniel was around thirteen the first time he noticed that there might be something wrong with him. He remembered walking into drugstores and supermarkets with his mom and blushing when they passed the baby section, avoiding looking at those items, and he remembered feeling confused as to why he was so embarrassed to just pass by that aisle.
It made no sense to him. Whenever they were near the baby section, he felt his eyes drawn to all that; the pacifiers, the diapers, the sippy cups, everything grabbed his attention. But he never looked much, soon blushing and looking away, embarrassed about staring at it without knowing why. In the back of his mind, a little voice always whispered to him that yes, he knew why he stared so much. Daniel ignored it.
Daniel was sixteen when he first decided to try and figure out what was wrong with him. He remembered opening a private navigation tab on his computer, late at night, and typing out some of the things he felt - he had buried the memory of typing 'why do I want to buy everything in the baby section of the market' very deep in his mind. He remembered not finding anything useful at first, and then finding something with the tittle 'types of littles', and then he remembered the uneasy feeling on his stomach when the words on the forum felt familiar to him. He remembered reading article after article, forum after forum, each one of them making him more and more panicked, but being unable to tear his eyes from the descriptions.
He remembered finally closing the tab and turning off his computer after a long time, then lying awake at night, mind running wild, trying to wrap itself around the things he’d just read. Trying to come to terms with the fact that he’d identified himself with some - many - of those explanations, with the fact that the word ‘little’ and it’s description had so, so much appeal to him. He remembered closing his eyes tightly. ‘I’m not like that. It’s late, and I’m confused. I’m not like that’ was what he told himself, until he fell asleep.
After that night, he locked all of that away. He couldn’t be like that. He just couldn’t. It wasn’t normal. He wanted to become a singer, to debut in a group. He had to practice all day everyday to get to where he wanted. How would he do that if he was too busy playing with rattles and toy cars? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would eventually have to share a dorm with other people. How would he explain that to them?
So when he woke up again, he promised himself he’d never look into that again. And he kept his promise. He passed by the baby section on stores with his eyes fixed on the floor, he refused to look at the TV if there were cartoons playing. He ignored the way his heart beat faster and his cheeks reddened when someone told him he was being childish and he didn’t let people take care of him.
Sometimes he slipped. He remembered once passing a toy store and simply stopping, staring at all of those toys until his friends noticed he’d stopped and called him, joking about him wanting something from the store. He’d forced himself to laugh, then said something like ‘yeah, sure, I’m dying for one of those plastic dinosaurs’ in the most sarcastic voice he could. He’d ignored the weight on his heart as he walked away from the store.
But despite some incidents, his resolve lasted a long time. He spent a lot of time at his company, training and training and training, and he didn’t have that much time to think about anything that wasn't dancing or rapping. He sometimes felt the stress of it all getting to him, and a passing thought about wanting to curl up with some sort of stuffed animal crossed his mind, but then he just forced himself harder until there were no more thoughts of anything in his mind.
And then he was chosen to participate on Produce 101.
If asked about his experience with Produce, Daniel would probably spend an hour thinking and then double the time explaining what he felt. That is, if the person really wanted an honest answer. Usually, though, he just had to say it was an awesome experience, a great opportunity to learn from his sunbaes and meet new people and friends.
The truth was a bit more complicated. It involved all of the nights he'd curled up on his bed, crying silently to himself and wanting to give up. It involved all of the times when he doubted himself, when he told himself he should just have pursued a normal career, like his parents wanted him too. All of the times he'd refused other people's help, because he didn't want to bother them with his problems.
Produce was the epitome of bittersweet. He’d learned a lot and he’d grown a lot. He’d made friends. But he’d had to leave people behind, he’d had to watch, completely powerless, as people he’d grown to like so much left and he stayed. He had to sit on that chair, the so desired first place on his hands, when all he wanted was to go over and hug the people who didn’t make it, even though they deserved it so much.
The best point about Produce, though, was that it kept Daniel busy, and his mind away from those thoughts that had haunted him for such a long time. He should have known, though. He should have known that it would end eventually, and wether he made it in or not, his mind wouldn’t know what to do with the free time it would be given. And that, along with the stress of debuting and making a career, was the perfect opportunity for those thoughts he’d always fought so hard to take over.