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Most of the trainees try to hold each other at a bit of a distance. Everyone knows that only some of them will debut. Who wants to get too attached? Sometimes trainees have to leave. It’s happened before, and it can happen again. It’s easier not to get too close.
Seungkwan knows this. Every trainee knows this, or learns it soon enough.
Seungkwan knows, and he’s gone and gotten attached anyway.
He, Hansol, and Chan all came in around the same time, and between their years working together and their ages, they’re closer than usual for idol trainees.
That’s one part of it.
The thing is that they’re the youngest. Maknaes are nearly always some of the best idols in their groups. If they aren’t, they are left behind for future groups instead of debuting as maknaes. It’s a truth that Seungkwan is sure most people don’t think about in so many words, but it’s blindingly obvious to him. They will be underestimated because they are younger, and they have to be unquestionably good, to prove their places, to show that they deserve their debut. They have to be just as good as or better than their hyungs, just to keep up. They have to shine.
That’s the other part.
The idea comes to him almost by accident. He’s no stranger to superstition and ritual and whispers of magic. Seungkwan is an island boy, born and raised, and growing up at the mercy of the sea gave him a healthy appreciation for the forces at work in the world. He looks it up sometimes, following a half-formed thought that takes slowly shape. It’s whimsical at first, just a joke even in his head, but the idea stays with him. He does his research in fits and starts, closing his browser when he thinks too hard about what he’s doing.
Maknaes have to be the best. It’s a weighty expectation that Seungkwan doesn’t really need to carry yet, but the shadow of it hangs over him even now. In the current lineup of trainees, Seungkwan, Hansol, and Chan are the youngest. If they succeed, the expectation will drop onto their shoulders with unyielding force.
He keeps thinking about it, but he doesn’t bring it up. He probably never will, he thinks, and it will remain as it is, just a thorn pricking at the edges of his thoughts as they slide by.
And if he has a page of copy paper folded at the bottom of his practice bag, that’s no one’s business but his own.
0o0o0
Seungkwan admires the clarity of Soonyoung’s vision.
It’s something he noticed early on. Soonyoung knows how the industry works. He sees between the cracks, understands the smoke and mirrors. He embraces the illusion and crafts the foundations of his image even as he roots himself solidly in reality.
Soonyoung is going to be a fantastic idol. Seungkwan sees this, knows it to be true, and he trusts Soonyoung’s judgment.
So when Soonyoung speaks during a break in practice, Seungkwan listens.
“We’re not getting it,” Soonyoung says. He gestures with his water bottle. “We’re too separate. We’re not thinking as a unit.”
“Then what do you suggest we do about it, Soonyoung?” Wonwoo asks. It’s part challenge, part genuine question.
Soonyoung points at him. “Don’t give me that. You love dancing. I know you know what I mean. We have to be a team. We are a huge group. There will be no individual performances. We have to come together, or we won’t make it.”
Those words strike Seungkwan’s heart. Soonyoung stands tall in the middle of the studio, his hair damp and his shirt soaked through, and there is a fire in his eyes that speaks of limitless ambition and unmatched drive. Seungkwan’s hands tighten around his water bottle.
He will not be left behind.
0o0o0
Seungkwan doesn’t start with the explanation. He just pulls Chan and Hansol around the side of the company building after practice and shoves the paper at them. Hansol accepts it reflexively and frowns down at it. “Seungkwan, what is this?”
“It’s supposed to foster connection,” Seungkwan says. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”
Chan leans in to read over Hansol’s shoulder. “Is this…magic?” He isn’t laughing. That’s a good sign. Seungkwan hasn’t thought much about how they would react to this idea. Truthfully, he’s tried to avoid thinking about it.
“Why do we need weird magic rituals to foster connection?” Hansol asks. He looks baffled, but he isn’t laughing, either.
“You heard what Soonyoung-hyung said today. If we don’t come together, we won’t make it. Seventeen has to be stronger together than the sum of its parts.”
“A link of body, mind, and spirit?” Chan says dubiously. “Seungkwan-hyung, you don’t think this is a little extreme?” He’s questioning the specific ritual, not the concept of magic, and it makes Seungkwan bolder.
“Maybe, but this is about our future. I’m done holding the group back. Are you?”
“Done holding the—we don’t hold the group back!” Hansol says. “All three of us work really hard. We’re already good, and we’re getting better every day. We don’t hold the group back.”
“How sure about that are you?” Seungkwan asks evenly. He meets Chan’s eyes, and he sees a flicker of understanding there. Chan works hard for every scrap of recognition he can get, and even the things that come naturally to him are honed through hours upon hours of practice.
“Pretty sure!”
“The maknaes of any group have to be the best at what they do, or they don’t deserve to be there. Our hyungs are relying on us, and we’re not good enough yet. We can’t let them down. We can’t let ourselves down.” Seungkwan folds his arms. “Are you with me or not?”
Hansol swallows. “I…”
“Body, mind, and spirit,” Chan murmurs, still looking down at the paper. “What exactly will this do, hyung?”
“It will connect us and let us draw on each other’s abilities. Should make it easier to pick up on whatever we’re being taught, since all three of us are learning it. Should help us understand different aspects of being an idol more, since we have different specialties. It will make us better, and it will keep us from falling behind.”
Chan nods slowly. “Okay. I’m in.”
Hansol stares down at the page in his hands. Seungkwan doesn’t know what he’s thinking. Hansol is the most intuitive of them, and while Seungkwan doesn’t doubt Hansol’s commitment or his work ethic, the fact remains that Hansol shines with less effort. His resolve has been tested differently.
Seungkwan knows that Hansol will be a star in his own offbeat way, no matter what, but he wants Hansol with them. He chose this course with all three of them in mind.
“Hansol?” Seungkwan asks. His voice comes out steadily. “Are you in or out?”
Hansol draws in a deep breath. “In.”
0o0o0
Seungkwan sets the bag down and starts to pull things out of it.
“When did you get all that?” Chan asks.
“Today. I didn’t want the others asking about any of it, so I had to get it all at once. I mean, how am I supposed to explain this stuff?” He holds up a box of tea lights and widens his eyes to emphasize how ridiculous it would be.
Hansol leans in to help unload the bag, pulling out chalk, a measuring tape, and a packet of sewing needles.
“What do we do with it?” Chan asks.
“You sit here. Hansol, over here.” Seungkwan sits down long enough to measure and trace out a few lines on the roof before hopping up to begin adding details around Chan. The diagram slowly takes shape: a triangle connecting the three of them, with lines joining in a circle at the center and swirling symbols filling the spaces in between. When Seungkwan is done, the setup looks like something out of a movie. A small dish in the center, candles placed with care at seemingly random points, shiny pebbles in different colors, an herb tin ready by Seungkwan’s place.
Seungkwan studies his paper one last time, checking every line for accuracy. When he is confident that everything is arranged properly, he sits down at the third point of the triangle. “Okay.” He looks seriously at Hansol and Chan. “This is your last chance to back out. Obviously, now that I’ve actually set everything up, I’ll be very irritated if you do, but I feel like I should give you the choice.”
Hansol and Chan trade looks. Then Chan shakes his head, and Hansol says, “Nope, I think we’re good. Let’s go.”
“Okay.” Seungkwan picks up the needles, sharp and gleaming in their little packet, and sparks the lighter. “Then let’s do this.”
0o0o0
Seungkwan did his research. He planned everything out as thoroughly as he could, but there is always an element of unpredictability when it comes to magic. There is only so much mastery humans can have over nature and its forces. He knows the stories. Magic is risky business.
What that translates to, in the context of the ritual he chose, is that he doesn’t know what the effects will look like. He knows the purpose of the spell, but he doesn’t know precisely what it will do or how strong the effects will be.
They clean up carefully, scrubbing away the chalk and disposing of every component they used. Some of it could be reused. Seungkwan doesn’t want to risk it. There is always unpredictability, but there is no sense in asking for trouble.
Seungkwan doesn’t feel any difference. He studies Hansol and Chan to see if they have noticed anything, but all he sees is the same jumpiness he feels. Nothing yet, then.
Seungkwan fights down a surge of embarrassment. So what if nothing happens? At least they tried. Chan and Hansol didn’t even laugh at him. They take him seriously.
Even if it does nothing, they’re still closer for having attempted it at all. If that is the only effect…well, Seungkwan will not be satisfied with the outcome, but he won’t entirely mind it.
0o0o0
“Hey, Seungkwan, good job today.” Soonyoung ruffles Seungkwan’s hair, but he doesn’t smile. “I just want to make sure you’re not overworking yourself. You haven’t been putting in extra practice, have you?”
Seungkwan shakes his head. “No, hyung. Not a lot, anyway.” That’s…sort of a lie, if he counts Chan and Hansol’s practice as being his own.
“Well, you’re picking up the choreo really quickly, so good job.” Soonyoung still sounds a little doubtful, but he doesn’t press the issue. He and Seungkwan both know that Seungkwan wouldn’t be able to keep much extra practice a secret when all of them spend so much time in the studio. Honestly, Seungkwan wasn’t sure Soonyoung would ask at all, even if the change is noticeable.
And it is noticeable. Seungkwan is finding it easier than ever before to learn choreography. Hansol is the same. Even Chan has noticed a difference, and Chan is a practice bug who picks up dance moves like he breathes.
No, Chan and Hansol’s practice isn’t Seungkwan’s own, but it is doing something. Seungkwan is not surprised that Soonyoung has spotted it. Burnout is a huge risk to them as trainees. Heading it off is part of Soonyoung’s job, as one of the older hyungs and by far the best qualified to hone them as dancers. Seungkwan feels a little bad about not being able to give Soonyoung a better answer, but there is no explanation he can offer that won’t sound a little crazy. Eventually, it will be normal, and Soonyoung won’t notice anymore. In the meantime, all Seungkwan can do is stay where Soonyoung can see him, to prove that he isn’t working himself into exhaustion behind everyone’s backs.
“Hyung?” Seungkwan asks as Soonyoung turns to go. Soonyoung stops and looks back. “Thanks for checking on me.” It’s the most he can give.
Soonyoung does smile at that, just a little. “Of course, Seungkwannie.”
0o0o0
It gets easier. The effect is subtle, and it feels natural. Seungkwan would hardly notice it if he wasn’t comparing every day to how he was before, looking for differences.
Hansol and Chan are the same. They meet eyes across the practice room when Seungkwan nails a tough move on the first try, or when Hansol falls into the music perfectly despite arriving late. They don’t leap ahead in a blaze of magic-fueled mastery, but they are better. Seungkwan’s understanding of what it means to be an idol filters gradually into something more nuanced as the differences in their experiences bring them closer together. They are improving, as they were before, but they are doing it together, and they are doing it faster.
The other hyungs notice. No one but Soonyoung tries to talk to Seungkwan about it, but he sees Mingyu and Jeonghan watching him sometimes. Hansol says no one has approached him. Chan mentions a similar conversation with Soonyoung.
Seungkwan hates to worry them, but there is no changing this course now. Even if there was, Seungkwan wouldn’t take that chance.
Slowly, the difference fades into normality. It feels natural, and with no burnout in sight, it can only look natural, too.
Debut is still a long way off, but Seungkwan sees their improvements and lets himself hope. Maybe it is naïve, but he has placed his faith in Chan and Hansol. It is far too late to let something as small as the risk of losing them to shake that.
They have to shine. With every passing week, Seungkwan’s belief that they will grows.
0o0o0
The hyungs don’t talk much about their doubts in front of the maknaes. Seungkwan understands. He wouldn’t either, if he had dongsaengs to look out for.
Well. Technically, Seungkwan does, but it isn’t the same. He, Hansol, and Chan are tied together too closely to worry about that. They share their doubts, but they share their hopes, too.
The hyungs talk about their doubts among themselves. Jeonghan and Jisoo go off on their own sometimes, and they come back looking stronger. Minghao scowls, and Junhui pulls him aside to talk. Jihoon sits at the edge of the practice room, leaning his head back against the solid wall, and stays that way until Soonyoung wordlessly drops down next to him. Seungkwan only ever sees it from a distance.
So when he hears Wonwoo and Jihoon talking, he pauses outside the door and listens.
“It isn’t the same,” Jihoon says. “It can’t be.”
“Saying that doesn’t make it true,” Wonwoo says quietly. “We’ve lost people before. It happens.”
“I know. Obviously. But I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. And we’re close, now.”
“Are we?”
“I don’t know anything for sure. It feels like things are moving. Nu’est wasn’t exactly the same, but I think we’re getting closer to debut.”
“But you don’t want to raise any false hopes.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“I get it.” There’s a pause, and then Wonwoo says, “I can try talking to him.”
“Seungcheol-hyung has probably already noticed.”
“You’re probably right. We can still keep an eye out, though.”
Jihoon hums. “For whatever it’s worth, yeah.”
Seungkwan draws back from the door and wanders down the hallway to the bathroom, his mind spinning. He doesn’t know who they were talking about, but none of the possibilities are good, especially if Jihoon is right about debut getting closer.
He stands in front of the mirror and leans his hands on the sink, staring at his reflection without really seeing it.
Debut.
No false hopes, he reminds himself. Nothing is confirmed. All Jihoon has to go on is a feeling, and Seungkwan wasn’t supposed to hear him say it.
Seungkwan will keep an eye out, too. Nobody older than him will let him be a support the way he would like to be, so all he can do is keep the mood up and stay as steady as he can. The others will fill the gaps he can’t. Jihoon and Wonwoo and Seungcheol will do their best to keep anybody else from falling away.
Standing alone in the bathroom, Seungkwan is hit with the stupid realization that he isn’t the only trainee who made the mistake of getting too close.
It’s obvious as soon as he thinks about it. Everyone is invested. They spend so much time together, and they are all chasing the same dream. They are a large group, but they grow closer with every passing day, no matter if they want to or not. Of course it hurts to lose trainees. Of course they care too much.
Of course Seungkwan isn’t the only one who has gotten attached.
He is probably the only one who took such an extreme tack to make sure he didn’t lose his closest friends, though.
Their first year will be a gauntlet for all of them, and Seungkwan has been thinking of it as particularly difficult for the maknaes. Now he thinks about it, and he realizes that the obstacles stack up for the others, too. Seungcheol, as the oldest hyung, faces a unique challenge as the group’s strongest support. He won’t be able to rely on the others in the same way that they rely on him. Junhui and Minghao are working in another language. The job of an idol is hard enough for native Koreans. Seungkwan can’t imagine trying to learn an entire language and culture on top of all the lessons and stress that they already have. Soonyoung and Jihoon are determined to be part of the creative process. They work harder than anyone else Seungkwan knows, creative and bright and fighting to make a mark with their own voices. Expectations will fall on them too, as surely as the tides.
Everyone is struggling to shine, just like he is. Some just make it look easier than others.
0o0o0
The news of the reality show hits them all like a tidal wave. It isn’t a perfect guarantee—nothing is, in this business—but it is a green light from management. Seventeen is on track for debut. The golden gate is in sight.
After all the sweat and tears, the stress and the injuries and the shouting matches, their road is going somewhere. Debut isn’t the end, either. This will all continue, with different challenges and different triumphs.
Seungkwan doesn’t regret anything. Maybe the magic was unnecessary in the end, but there is no way of knowing, is there? This is the course they took, and they will never know how much the ritual contributes to their success. Seungkwan doesn’t particularly care whether they would have succeeded without it or not. He, Hansol, and Chan are together. They are going to debut together. That was all he was ever trying to achieve. Their combined effort is what made it possible.
He can admit to himself that it isn’t only Chan and Hansol he has gotten attached to. Now, with debut in sight, he thinks he can let it happen. Trainees shouldn’t get too close—it’s only common sense—but soon, they won’t be trainees anymore.
Seungkwan is ready to stand among them as equals. Debut is only the beginning. He knows that it won’t get easier just because they aren’t in danger of being cut with every evaluation. They will have to impress Korea and then the world, not just the executives of their own company. There will still be long practices, sleepless nights, and the weight of expectations. Some things will get better; others will get worse.
That’s fine. Seungkwan knows what he signed up for. He would have faced it alone if he had to.
But he won’t.
Seventeen is going to take on the world. Seungkwan can’t do anything less than his best, can’t do anything less than shine just like he has always planned on doing. If they fail from here, it sure as hell won’t be for lack of trying.
Seungkwan lines up in age order with the rest of his group. They need a greeting, after all, to announce themselves. The world needs to know what it’s dealing with.
Seventeen is only steps from arriving, and with them, Seungkwan is ready to make the leap.