Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

CORNFLOWER BLUE

It was raining. Sheets of grey hitting the pavement steadily, a harmonious dissonance that drowned out the noises of the city, washing away the pollution and corruption, even if it was just for a moment. 

Chan’s mind was distant, far from the meeting room where he sat in front of managers and staff. It was out somewhere in the rain, where business coats and contracts crumpled beneath bright umbrellas and children’s rain boots. He supposed it was better if he wasn’t listening-- if he listened then he would have to talk, and if he talked then he would start spitting fire. As much he was praised for his confidence and professionalism, he highly doubted the company would appreciate harsh thoughts spoken so openly without restraint. Vlive might, the fans might, the media might, fueled by strong emotions and other nonsense, but his career would topple. 

So he bit his tongue. 

“Is this clear?” one of the higher ups, Park Hwayoung, if Chan’s memory served him well, gave Chan a pointed glare, passing over the file with about thirty different “terms and conditions,” he would have to sign off on. 

His gaze flitted over the points. Radio silence, business-as-usual fanservice, restricted non-work travel. He couldn’t find one point that worked in their favor. The kids were going to hate it.  

“Yes,” their manager to his left said, “Perfectly acceptable.”

Forcing a smile that resembled more of a grimace, Chan looked at Park Hwayoung, and then down at the file, before putting his signature on the line. 

This was the business of life. Compromise, bite your tongue, kiss their feet, so he could climb the ladder and write his own rules to life. That was what everyone around him said, their honest encouragements what kept him in the company for too many years. 

“It won’t be forever,” his manager smiled in the rearview mirror as the drove home.

Chan did his best to curb his disbelief, “Hyung, it did say ‘indefinite’ among those lines…”

“... Well, it’s not like they can kick Hyunjin out.”

Chan grimaced, setting his jaw firm, because there was an unspoken rule that if that happened, to hell with frivolities and niceties of board meetings and corporate planning. 

“Chin up Channie,” his manager clapped his back as they stepped out of the car and walked into the dorms, “Chin up.”

~

Changbin was stuck. He should have gotten off his phone hours ago, but one thread on twitter led to another, which led to youtube videos, which led him back to twitter. And now he was staring at a meticulously worded tweet about how their music was noise. Maybe if he hadn’t been primed for the last two hours, he would have let it go, but now it landed him somewhere between angry and scared. 

His mind ricocheted between twenty million different thoughts. He didn’t want the others to see this-- they deserved better, they had been through enough already. Especially Hyunjin. And Felix. And Chan… although Chan had probably already seen it. Another part of him wondered if there was any truth, any grounding for it. People didn’t just write nonsense, not without a reason. This person had been negatively impacted by their music… why?

His face had been contorted in thought for about five minutes, when he was startled out of his mind by arms wrapping gently around his shoulders. He turned to see a cautious Seungmin sitting next to him.

“You looked angry,” Seungmin explained, and then pointed at his phone, “Can I read?”

Changbin was confused at first, because anyone else on the team might have just looked over his shoulder and read it. Seungmin was too courteous for that. His previous thoughts circled back and he turned his phone off.

“No,” he tried to smile, “I don’t think you should.”

Seungmin looked at him skeptically, unraveling himself and standing up slowly.

“Ok hyung, but,” he tilted his head thoughtfully, “If it’s something from our fans that made you upset, you should see if that person is really a Stay or not. Some people seem like they’re fans, but if you look at other things they post or comment about, you’ll find that they’re just haters, and you don’t need to think about their opinions too seriously.”

As he left, Changbin was stunned, his thoughts standing still in his head as Seungmin’s words echoed instead. When had he gotten so wise?

But the advice stuck regardless, and he found himself investigating the account that posted a little more. It seemed alright, enough compliments scattered within the critiques, until he backed up about four months, to when the account had apparently first discovered Stray Kids.

Changbin swore.

There were stories, rumors, nitpicking details dug up and laid in angry korean. Apparent run-ins this person had had with them, all questionable and bleak. Changbin was sure most of them were fake, but the fact that someone had even invested so much time in creating narratives to put someone down--

He turned off his phone and went to look for something to eat. Seungmin was waiting patiently, cautiously approaching him as he opened one of the chip bags they had bought in their last late-night snack run.

“Are you okay now?” Seungmin quietly asked, “Did you investigate a little?”

“I did, thanks,” Changbin angrily stuffed his mouth, “Not sure if it makes me feel better or worse though.”

“Oh,” Seungmin’s face fell a little, “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Changbin passed him the chip bag, “I just feel angry now. Before I was confused because I thought we were doing something wrong, now I’m just confused about people in general.”

Seungmin nodded, taking a handful of chips and passing the bag back, “Maybe… don’t think about it too much? Think about all the people who support us instead.”

Changbin regarded Seungmin again and wondered for a second time, when had he gotten so wise?

His good mood once again did not stay for very long, as Felix stumbled into the kitchen, grabbed an energy drink, and shuffled back to Jisung and Jeongin’s shared room. He had heard shouts before, and he could only assume that they were playing League of Legends. That wasn’t concerning, it was a pretty standard occurrence in their dorms. 

What wasn’t was Felix wearing a full, thick face of makeup on a day that was light with schedules. They didn’t wear makeup in the dorms, the main reason being that most of them didn’t know how to put it on well enough on their own, the second being that they felt comfortable enough with each other to not worry about how they looked. Usually. He stared at Seungmin, who had pointedly noticed and avoided Felix’s state. 

“Spill,” he passed the chip bag over again, leaning on his arms, “What’s with his full face of makeup?”

Seungmin took a deep breath, carefully measuring his words in his mind as he took a single chip from the bag, “Let’s just say… that you’re not the first one I’ve talked to today about toxic comments.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Changbin narrowed his eyes, “How much could have happened by ten in the morning?”

Seungmin shrugged, and then smoothly dismissed himself from the table, shuffling to his room with a handful of chips. 

“It was something about eastern beauty standards and skin tones,” was all Changbin heard before he felt sufficiently suffocated, throwing on his shoes and grabbing a mask to high-tail it to Chan’s studio. Some people were absolutely impossible.

“Unbelievable,” he murmured, “Absolutely unbelievable.”

By the time he reached the company, he had cooled down enough to politely greet the front desk secretaries and security guards without looking like he had been forced to eat a pound of lemons. And the rational side of his head woke up, and kept him waiting outside Chan’s studio, scolding himself for acting so rashly. 

“ I’m being stupid,” he mumbled to himself, leaning on the wall opposite to the studio door, seriously contemplating turning around and going back to the dorms, when the door to the studio opened, and Chan stood frozen, confusedly looking at Changbin, then either side of the hallway, and then back to Changbin again.

“Um?” Chan tilted his head, “Everything… alright?”

“Probably not,” Changbin grimaced, “You busy? Can I come in?”

“Of course you can,” Chan opened the door wider with a smile, “You know I’m never too busy for you guys.”

“Ha, funny,” Changbin sank into the couch behind Chan, “Be honest, how swamped are you?”

Chan settled into his chair, took a deep breath, but then looked at Changbin and slouched with hands over his face, laughing.

“I’m going crazy, Changbin-ah,” he sounded a bit hysterical, “I have to finish this song up, and the next one doesn’t sound right, and I don’t even know where to begin for the cover stage, and I have to call Hongjoon back because he was arranging some of the rap, and I could really use the extra set of ears on the bridge, and-- oh god, the first song is due in twenty-six hours, isn’t it?”

Changbin pushed down the thought of Chan not trusting his own team’s praise and affirmation, because he really couldn’t deal with another problem to worry about-- his head felt like it was going to explode any minute. 

“On second thought,” Changbin scooted up, “Maybe it was good I came. You look like you need a distraction.”

“Yes!” Chan saved the song he was working on three times, before closing his laptop, “Please, anything. But only for like, half an hour.”

“Right, um,” Changbin ran a hand over his head, “Right. Sure.”

There was a stretch of silence, because it hit Changbin over the head that if he worried Chan about anything else, it would just add to his impossibly wide plate of responsibilities, and undoubtedly add more stress on their poor leader’s back. He had to think through his choice of words very carefully, which, unfortunately, was something only Seungmin excelled at on their team. 

“Hyung, um,” Changbin took a deep breath, “I… made the mistake of going through twitter, right?’

Chan narrowed his eyes, “Alright…”

“And I came across some strange comments-- they weren’t true, but they were just not great, and because I had been on twitter for so long it took me some time to realize they were not great… but it’s fine now because Seungmin talked to me and now I’m not as angry about it.”

He glanced at Chan, who looked like he didn’t believe him, before continuing.

“And then I saw Felix wearing makeup at the dorms, and hearing stuff about beauty standards and--”

“--wait at the dorms? This early in the morning?” Chan ran his fingers through his hair, “If we were in America, people would be fawning over tanned skin, and I would be the criticized one with skin like a vampire who’s never seen the light of day since they were born.”

The two laughed, because it was a running joke that Chan needed to get out more. 

“I… think I know why I came here, hyung,” Changbin finally said, leaning back.

Chan smiled at him, because he knew too.

“The music is a reflection of us and our thoughts. It’s what we want to hear. It’s… us in a way… you know?”

He almost felt silly for saying it, because the incredibly fond look on Chan’s face said it all. Of course he knew, he had fought all the battles to create his own music, authentically presenting himself in every way possible. 

“Changbin,” Chan had a strange twinkle in his eyes, “Do you want to make a song? Like, within the next two hours? Something cringey and fun? Like from, from… from like our trainee days when we messed around for fun?”

Changbin smirked, already pulling out his phone to write lyrics, “Hell, yeah.”

CERISE

“Chin up Channie,” his manager's words rang through his head, “Chin up.”

Chan was doing a lot of that these days. When he spent too much time on twitter, or had to monitor another rejected track, or caught wind of ill-bred rumors. Stiff upper lip and drawn-out sighs. He picked fights with management a lot, on many fronts, stubborn and unwavering in many areas that most would consider unwise.

Just two months ago, he had looked Park Hwayoung in the eye and stood his ground. He wouldn’t have dreamed about doing such a thing. It wasn’t exactly model behavior. But no one could blame Chan, not when Changbin had loudly barged into their room, shaking Chan awake from a rare nap. 

“The Hwangs didn’t come back,” he said hurriedly, “They’re not answering their phones and the managers have gone looking for them.”

“What?” Chan had blinked away lethargy and tried to wrap his head around what Changbin was telling him, “They-- what? What? ”

“Yeji and Hyunjin, hyung,” Changbin said slowly, his voice getting louder, because our in the dorm Minho and Seungmin were screaming back and forth as they tried calling people on their phones, “They never came back. The drivers didn’t bring them back. We don’t know where they are.”

And just like that, Chan was angry, fully dressed, and racing down the steps, phone to his ear, pointedly pushing down the image of Jeongin’s wide, terrified eyes when he had passed him in the kitchen. He had called four different people, and learned absolutely nothing, except that their drivers had left the venue earlier than they were supposed to, and when they had realized their mistake and gone back, Hyunjin and Yeji were no longer there.

“Could they--” Chan wracked his brain, “They could have walked home.”

“In that area of Seoul?” their manager reasoned, “I should hope they were smarter… but if they did, I suppose we could just follow the screams of saesangs and eventually find them.”

From what he knew, between the two of them, Chan reasoned that they wouldn’t have put themselves in danger like that. Neither Yeji nor Hyunjin would want to deal with that sort of chaos, or worse, the repercussions from the fall-out. Or maybe they would, as revenge against their company. You could never tell what a tired, hungry, possibly angry idol would do. 

“They’d take the bus,” Chan decided, “That’ll put them two blocks from the company.”

“Not in front of the company?”

“That line doesn’t end at the company,” Chan was running now, calculating how long the bus would take if they had gotten on within the past two hours, “I’m about a ten minute run from there, hyung--”

“I’ll be there sooner. You meet us at the company. Park Hwayoung has arranged a meeting.”

“What? Hyung, why?”

“Two of the company’s most prized idols almost went missing, Channie. Why do you think?”

Chan supposed he would have done the same. Maybe. After he decided that both of them were safe, and the drivers had been properly scolded. But he had no doubt the drivers would have gotten off easy, given how few of those the company had in their employment. When he got to the floor of Park Hwayoung’s office, he was even more surprised to see that their manager was nowhere to be found.

“There’s an emergency meeting being held with him and some of the staff,” the receptionist informed, “Park Hwayoung is with Hyunjin and Yeji in his office.”

Perhaps he was too tired to think rationally, or had reached the end of his patience with this man, but propriety was thrown to the wind. He had angrily stalked into Park Hwayoung’s office, enraged when he saw Hyunjin and Yeji standing like scolded children before his desk.

“Bang Chan,” Park Hwayoung had said coldly, “It would be polite to knock.”

“Sorry, sir,” Chan gritted his teeth, “Um, I was told to come meet with you when--”

“Not by me you weren’t,” he waved his hand, “You’re dismissed.”

Chan ignored him, which was probably his second or third mistake, and instead came to stand next to Hyunjin. The younger boy looked at him with wide eyes, eyes flickering between the man in front of him and his leader.

“Are you alright?” Chan asked quietly.

Hyunjin stammered, and Chan’s anger built. He looked at Yeji, who blatantly shook her head, blood and dirt caking her knees. Hyunjin’s pants were ripped, and there were blood stains seeping through. Both of them had wild, distressed looks in their eyes.

Without facing him, Chan addressed Park Hwayoung, “Sir, I think they need to--”

“I told you to leave, son.”

Chan met him with a fiery gaze, “I’m not your son, sir, but I am their older brother.”

Park Hwayoung’s face startled, and he stood in silence as Chan gently pushed Yeji and Hyunjin out of the office.

“Thank you, sir,” he pulled the door shut behind him. 

Hyunjin and Yeji stared at him with jaws slack, eyes wide open. He started gently pulling them down the hall to the little lounge at the end of the hall, where he knew a first-aid set was kept. He noted how Yeji stumbled, trying and failing to walk in her heels, too stubborn to accept Hyunjin’s help. Chan sat them both down as he pulled out gauze and rubbing alcohol from the kit, handing them both wet paper towels.

“So are you both going to talk, or--?”

“We thought they forgot about us,” Yeji blurted out, despite Hyunjin guestering for her to keep quiet, “We figured it was best to walk home, in case the car turned around, so that they would see us--”

“--but then we got mobbed, so we caught a bus instead,” Hyunjin interrupted, “We tried calling the drivers but they didn’t pick up--”

“--and we called our managers but nothing went through--

“--we should have stayed at the--”

“--but they were closing it up!”

“They wouldn’t have kicked us out,” Hyunjin whispered to Yeji, as though realizing how foolishly they had acted in hindsight, but Yeji continued in her panic.

“They-they could have!” she insisted, “The parking lot was empty, we could have-- we could have been-- they could have--”

“Hang on, stop, take a deep breath,” Chan ran a hand through his hair, “Let’s take care of the important things first: how did you get hurt?”

“We were mobbed,” Hyunjin repeated, then flinched, “Kind of.”

Yeji clarified, “We ran into a group of students who were rushing to the airport, and then got run over by security.”

“She almost got hit by a car,” Hyunjin sneered, causing Yeji to protest, “Only because you didn’t know where we were!”

There were a lot of things Chan could have scolded them for in his frustration, because heaven knew it wasn’t just the company that was worried. His phone was practically blowing up from anxious questions from the boys at home, who had been desperately trying to get in touch with both Hyunjin and Yeji, calling the other Itzy girls and sharing a panic with them as well. But Chan wasn’t Park Hwayoung, or their manager. He was just glad to see the two calm enough to poke fun at each other. 

“So, no hospital?” Chan pointed at their knees, “Nothing feels broken, sprained, or otherwise incapacitated?”

They shook their heads, and Chan frowned at Yeji, “Weren’t you stumbling down the hall just a moment ago?”

Hyunjin let out a laugh and stood up, “Hyung, that’s because she doesn’t know how to wear heels-- she looks like a baby giraffe on roller skates.”

“Yah!” Yeji stood up next to him, her heels long gone, “You try dancing in heels for four hours straight and tell me--”

There was a loud bang as a door was flung open, someone flying down the hall. Chan gathered up the bloodied towels and smiled as Ryujin breathlessly leaned against a wall, her face morphing from relief to frustration.

“You!” she yelled, pointing at Yeji, before walking over and crushing her in a hug, and then standing back to playfully whack her arm, “How! Could! You! Do this to me!”

After explaining the situation to the younger Itzy member, their respective managers checking them over, Hyunjin pulled Chan aside, helping him clean up.

“... We could have been smarter hyung.”

“You could have,” Chan put an arm around him, “But for now, let’s just be happy you’re both safe, hm?”

Hyunjin smiled, the last bit of tension in his shoulders dissipating. 

It would have been comforting, Chan’s happiness properly comforting them all, if Park Hwayoung had not been looming over their thoughts, like an ever-watchful demon. There would be repercussions, of that there could be no doubt.

“You pulled a cocky move, Channie,” their manager chided lightly, driving the boys home, “You’re going to have to keep your head down to get back into his good graces.”

Chan bit his tongue and nodded. He took the meticulously worded scripts whenever they were put in front of the camera, he didn’t put up a fight when their schedules became impossibly tight, he braced himself for lecture upon lecture of respectful behavior. The others would joke about it, and between Yeji and Hyunjin, he was reminded that his action was honorable, if slightly out of line. The others had the liberty to laugh about it.

All Chan could do was put his chin up. Stiff upper lip, but bow deeply.

Don’t let them see the colors beneath. 

~

Changbin pulled his mask up, and adjusted his hat to keep the sun out of his eyes. The streets were crowded, tourists coming in to admire the Han River this time of year. It wasn’t the tourists he was worried about. 

Actually, he wasn’t particularly worried about anyone in general. He was the least recognized on the streets, the least likely to be pulled over or mobbed. On the one hand, it was nice. He had the freedom to walk where he wished without worry, unlike many members of the team. On the other hand… some recognition would have been nice. 

No, it wasn’t himself he was worried for, and not the tourists that caused him worry. It was the amount of camera-wielding, phone-to-ear snobs he had picked out, all whispering and eyeing the crowd carefully. 

“Yes, yes,” he overheard one man say as he stood on a bench, “Yes, Han Jisung… no, no, the one from Stray Kids.”

A panic clutching his heart, Changbin pulled out his phone and texted the group chat, asking where the younger rapper was. Minho immediately called him.

“What is it, what’s wrong, what happened?”

The amount of worry in the elders voice was frightening, and the fact that he had picked up on Changbin’s worry was uncanny. But then again, this was Minho’s Jisung, and Changbin wasn’t exactly the most subtle person.

“Nothing’s wrong, hyung,” Changbin reassured, “I was just heading to the company and wanted to meet him later.”

“ ... ah,” Minho didn’t sound like he believed him, “Yongbok said that he went to the convenience store about thirty minutes ago.”

“The one by the company, or the one closer to the dorm?”

“Neither,” Minho's voice grew distant as he talked to Felix for a moment, “... Uh, what? Why? That’s… oh, Changbin-ah? He went to the one two streets down from the company, the idiot . Apparently they have some sweets there that aren’t anywhere else.”

Changbin knew exactly what he was talking about. He had told Jisung about that snack being at that store. 

“Ah, okay okay, thanks hyung!”

“Changbin-ah what’s going—“

He hung up and picked up his pace to a brisk jog. He wasn’t worried, he told himself. Not really, Jisung could handle himself. The boy wasn’t careless… usually. But then again, it didn’t matter how careful you were when it came to saesangs. 

Of all the idols and all the times, Changbin thought, it had to be our Hannie, now. 

He knew what was up as soon as he set foot into the store. It was larger than most convenience stores, with many rows of freezers and aisles of snacks and necessities, filling two rooms from floor to ceiling. The lights buzzed and flickered. There were at least two people blatantly holding cameras and walking around. 

Changbin feigned browsing the aisles for exactly twenty seconds, before he bolted around the corners. He caught sight of the hat of one cameraman and the green sweater of the other woman. He mentally counted four other people in the store. Jisung was not by the sweets. Changbin grabbed one off the shelves, and then pulled his phone to his ear.

“What did you want noona?” He asked loudly. A woman holding her baby gave him an annoyed glare for speaking so loudly, but she wasn’t exactly in the situation he was in.  

“Yeah, I got the sweets… yeah the ones with the caramel filling,” he continued to speak to no one, looking around him for anyone who might look at him in recognition. It occurred to him that speaking the way he did, if overheard by dispatch, might cause some unhelpful rumors to circulate…

Screw it, he thought, rather Dispatch on my tail than Jisung spiraling into anxiety attacks for the next three weeks because he was mobbed by cameras. 

“Ah, okay noona, I’ll try and find that, anything else?”

To his relief, a black hoodie poked out from behind a shelf, the wide eyes of a familiar face peering out from above a mask. With no pretense, Changbin pushed his phone into his pocket as Jisung shuffled up to him.

“Hyung?” Jisung whispered, voice trembling slightly. 

Changbin pulled down his mask to smile, and winked, “You’re a fool, Sungie, you know that?”

With no witty retort, Jisung laughed unsteadily, looking over his shoulder, “I noticed them when I came in and I’ve been trying to— Wah, hyung do you think they—? I mean, I didn’t think, should I have called someone or-or-or just, should I have—“

Changbin shushed him as he took off his own hat and slipped it over the younger’s head, and then pulled up the hood over it. He held up the sweets with a smile.

“I got this, anything else?”

Jisung shifted from one foot to another, still looking around anxiously.

“Um… a, uh… um, a hug would be—? I mean, not in a weird way or any—“

Changbin fondly wrapped his arms around Jisung, waiting until the other practically melted in his hold. He remembered all the times the younger would complain because he didn’t do this, or he complained when the younger attempted this. It was because they were the same. Professionally, they looked up to each other, put aside their difference in age to work with each other. But at this moment, Changbin wasn’t comforting his fellow artist or band member. This was his younger brother, and the way Jisung’s breath quivered painfully reminded him of this. He then stood back and held his arm gently.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” He pulled out his phone and sighed, “I think Lee Know-hyung’s going to have my head.”

Jisung laughed, “If he wants to blame someone, he should blame ‘Lix. He made me go alone because he had already showered.”

They checked out the sweets and kept their heads down as they walked out of the store.

“I think hyung already chewed him out,” Changbin joked, scrolling through the concerned texts from the members, “Hey, why didn’t you text back or call one of us?”

“Oh, um,” Jisung’s shoulders came up, his head pulled further into his hood, “Uh, first, don’t laugh and, uh, don’t tell Channie-hyung, okay?”

Changbin stared at him blankly, because that was never a good idea, but nodded.

“So, I thought I was being haunted, right?”

“... What?!”

The entire block startled, birds suddenly taking off from the high branches of the tree, as Jisung gave a rather animated story about getting lost and pretending to be a foreigner when the ghost of a dead tree he passed started tripping him. A couple passed them and gave them strange looks as he laughed, Jisung protesting in a loud whisper, “You said you wouldn’t laugh, hyung!” Even as he tried to reconcile the fact that his phone was now at the bottom of the river, and he was dead-certain an angry ghost was haunting him for his shoes. Changbin threw an arm around him.

“Ah, never change, Jisung-ah,” he smiled fondly, “Never change.”

PERIWINKLE PURPLE

So it was for many months, many long weeks, and longer days. Head down, mouth shut, under the radar. 

“Hyung?”

“Mm?”

Hyunjin licked his lips as he pressed his advantage on the little video game, his character picking up a weapon before running into a building, while Chan’s character struggled to climb some boxes to gain a vantage point. 

“Hyung?” he repeated.

“Yes Hyunjinnie?”

“Do you believe in karma?” Hyunjin’s gaze momentarily flickered to see Chan, and he started backtracking, “I mean, not in a religious sense or anything, because I think my mom would clobber me over the head for mentioning it… I know there’s like eternal karma in Christianity, or whatever, but I mean like… God punishes us, right? I mean if we do bad, or if we do good, God… yeah? Maybe I’m being stupid, maybe--” 

“Good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people,” Chan interrupted, his character absently standing in one spot as Chan stared at the floor, “I don’t think we can determine… I don’t think we’re in any place to connect those lines, and determine whether a person earned whatever situation they’re in…”

Chan stopped, because although he had plenty of thoughts on this idea, he had a feeling that Hyunjin was asking for a very specific reason, alluding to a certain curse they seemed to be fighting, an endless struggle of swimming upstream. He thought through his words very carefully.

“I think… I mean, there’s general cause and effect, immediate and long term natural punishments, that are kind of like karma… if you smoke for thirty years, don’t be surprised when you get lung cancer sort of things, right?” he looked at Hyunjin gravely, “Don’t do drugs kids.”

Hyunjin stifled a laugh.

“But… more importantly? There’s a lot of things in life that can’t be predicted and avoided. And if we lived our lives that way… if we live so carefully… I don’t know. I think you should live well, and in a way that is good, and can be looked at without shame. But you also live to grow, you know? Bad things can just be good lessons. Everything happens for a reason, but those reasons don’t have to be heavy-handed punishments or carefully-measured rewards. They’re just things that need to happen. And we learn and grow into who we need to be because of them. It’s how we react that’s more important.”

Chan’s eyes widened as what he said settled in his mind. When he turned, Hyunjin was staring at him with wide eyes as well. 

“Yeah,” Hyunjin nodded, eyes growing distant, “Okay, yeah. That’s… very wise.”

“Heh, you know what’s wiser?” Chan smiled cockily, as his character crouched on screen, holding a sniper gun and aiming at Hyunjin’s character through a window, “This.”

The screen flashed dramatically as Hyunjin’s character, along with Hyunjin, fell dramatically to the floor. 

“Noooo! Why hyung, why? ”

Felix entered the room, holding a bowl of noodles, expression concerned and then greatly amused. 

“Ah, and here I thought someone was dying,” he teased.

“I might as well be!” Hyunjin sputtered, “This hyung buttered me up with nice kind words and then-- and then--”

He pointed at the screen exasperatedly, Chan rolling on the floor laughing next to him. Felix rolled his eyes and left the room. 

“What happened?” Seungmin yelled, “Was anyone hurt?”

“No, just Hyunjin being dramatic.”

“Ah, so everything is right with the world then.”

“No!” Hyunjin protested, throwing his arms and lying prostrate, “Channie-hyung betrayed me, everything is not right with the world.”

Jeongin walked into his room, spending a moment looking between Chan laughing like a maniac on the ground, and Hyunjin wailing dramatically next to him. He looked at them both and nodded, because the scene was just right. 

~

When Jisung burst into Chan’s studio, he threw the door open so violently, both Chan and Changbin nearly fell out of their chairs and onto the floor. 

Chan ran a hand over his face and groaned, “Sungie, I told you to be more caref--”

“Right, right, I’m sorry hyung, it’s just,” Jisung moved his hands into his pockets, and then fiddled with his shirt, and then back in his pockets again, “Hyung, I have a song idea.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Changbin mumbled, stuffing his face into a pillow.

Chan clicked off the project he had opened, and swiveled his chair to face the younger boy, who was still standing at the doorway, bag hanging off his shoulder. If there was anything he had learned in his time working with the rapper, it was that Jisung’s inspiration came in critical spurts, and if they weren’t appropriately encouraged, they flickered away quietly, down into a spiraled hole. Chan was a producer, and yes there was work to be done, but he was a leader and brother first. 

“What are you thinking Jisung?”

“Well first,” Jisung licked his lips, “Hyung… how do you feel about swears in songs?”

Chan took a deep breath, “Well… alright, you know how I feel about swearing in general. I understand that sometimes emotions and feelings are best expressed in… those ways. But, if it’s a song that you want in an album or like for our fans… maybe try to find another word?... I mean, we have young fans and…”

“Right, right, role models, got that,” Jisung pulled out his laptop, and looked at Chan hopefully, “But if I think it’s appropriate?”

Chan let out a sigh, “Yes Jisung, it’s fine. Just… don’t have high hopes for getting it out very far. Park Hwayoung already wants my head.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jisung opened his laptop, “So, you know how we snubbed right?”

Changbin groaned and turned further into the couch, “He wants to get us in trouble, hyuuuuuuung.”

“Hey, hey,” Chan pushed Changbin lightly, “Hear him out first. What’s the mood, Hannie, I’ll see if I can pull up a--”

“I already composed it.”

Chan’s eyes went wide. He swore. 

Changbin stuck his head out, and in time with Jisung, in a sing-songy tone:

“Language!”

But then Jisung played the track. 

It was perfectly balanced, perfectly mixed, perfectly scalding.

It was perfect.

And both Changbin and Chan swore.

“I mean, it’s not finished,” Jisung was suddenly shy, shrinking behind his laptop, “I think hyung would be able to--”

“I’m not touching it,” Chan nearly swore again, “That was amazing. It was--”

“Don’t say perfect because we all know that’s a lie,” Jisung smiled, the compliment causing a blush to rise to his cheeks, “But… it’s… good?”

Changbin was staring, now wide awake, “How… how long did that take you?”

“Um… a couple hours tops?”

Chan swore again.

“Language.”

The three producers stood up as their manager came in, looking at Chan sternly, with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He wasn’t going to scold them too harshly or tattle to management, the slight smile on his face assured that. 

“What was that about?” he sat in one of the chairs, “The swearing. Good song? Something working well?”

Changbin let out a laugh, still staring at Jisung, “You could say that, hyung.”

Chan looked at their manager curiously, “What do you need, hyung?”

The older man looked uncomfortable for a second and he gestured to the group, “Uh, it can wait. Finish up whatever you’re doing first.”

“Oh we’re done, hyung,” Changbin was on Jisung’s laptop, looking through the track, “This kid is on fire!”

The manager motioned to Chan and the two stepped out of the studio. As soon as the door closed, the older man’s face was suddenly serious, the sort of expression that made Chan feel anxious, and all carefreeness evaporated from his mind.

“Park Hwayoung is calling a meeting regarding,” the manager flinched, “...Stray Kids. In general.”

Chan nodded, “Like, when can Hyunjin formally come back? Or like--”

“I heard it had something to do with the musical and promotional direction of the group as a whole.”

Thinking through each detail of that sentence, Chan took a long slow breath.

“Ok,” he nodded, beginning to mentally prepare himself, “Alright. Who’ll be at this meeting?”

“You, us managers, Division one staff, a couple board members, you know,” the manager rolled his eyes, “The usual money-invested, suit-and-tie ensemble. It’s in three hours, in that nice office on the eighth floor. They only told us like twenty minutes ago, I think someone was hoping we didn’t make it. Dress well, okay? None of that all black ninja stuff, or the tide-pod sweatshirt or anything.”

“Ha, alright, okay okay,” Chan took a deep breath, glancing at the studio, where Changbin and Jisung were stepping out and locking behind them, “I’ll run home quickly then and meet you in the lobby so you can tell me what I can and can’t say?”

The manager smiled and squinted his eyes, “Like you would care anyway? But sure. Hurry, hurry-- traffic’s going to be bad!”

As he ran home, the other boys at his side, a light drizzle causing them to move more quickly, he ran through the possibilities of what Park Hwayoung could possibly want to change for them.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” Changbin suggested, skipping over a puddle, “Maybe they’re trying to get us more promotion time.”

“More?” Jisung looked at Changbin with wide eyes, Chan pulling him to the side as a car sped past, “Anymore promotion and we’ll all be sleeping in the car and eating our shoes as snacks!”

Chan smiled as the two boys joked with each other, a dreary thought fogging his mind, more cynical than Changbin’s suggestion. Got7 had been the princes of JYP once, not much different than Stray Kids were now. But as soon as something new and different came alone, as soon as management shifted slightly, they were dethroned and practically forgotten, a footnote in the plans of the company. There was only so much fighting they could respectfully manage, before realizing they had to take matters into their own hands. Chan wasn’t sure he’d have the courage to do the same if it ever came to that. Part of him was glad he’d been given freedom thus far, but another wondered how long he had before the rug was pulled out from under him. 

“I heard about the meeting,” Minho watched him curiously as he slipped into good shoes, sporting a blazer that rarely came out from their closet, “Underhanded move, if you ask me.”

“Mhm,” Chan agreed, struggling to fit his feet into the dress shoes, and tossing them aside for his boots.

“Meeting?” Felix poked around Minho, “What meeting?”

“With the company,” Chan struggled with the laces as his fingers froze up and his wrists felt sore, tying and retrying until Minho got impatient and helped him tie them himself, and Chan whispered, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s… nothing.”

Both boys caught the hesitation in Chan’s voice, and tried smiling encouragingly.

“Ah, good luck!” Felix smiled.

Minho patted his arm, “I’ll keep your food heated-- don’t buy that snacky stuff manager hyung eats when he’s in a rush!”

With a smile that didn’t effectively communicate his nervousness, Chan rushed out, surprised to find their other manager pulled up to the front of the building to pick them up. Wordlessly, the two drove to the company. When they met up with the other manager, they walked slowly, going through what could and couldn’t be said.

“Let them speak first,” one manager said, “If they ask you to speak, say something kind and be grateful first.”

“Refer to the company values,” the other suggested, “That’ll usually lighten the mood.”

“And don’t worry!” They were in front of the meeting room door now, “We’ll try to do most of the talking, just… just smile, okay?”

Chan pulled out the broadest smile he could, the room almost completely filled, about thirty people packed in, Park Hwayoung at the head of the table. Most greeted Chan fondly, and Chan returned every greeting with double the respect. Even to Park Hwayoung. 

“Didn’t think you would be able to make it,” Park Hwayoung said bemusedly, “Thought you’d be busy with preparing for Kingdom. You look sharp.”

“Thank you sir,” Chan bowed, “The work is lighter when it’s shared with the other producers, and I understood this meeting was important to our team. Thank you for inviting me.”

There was a look in the man’s eyes, one that Chan pointedly ignored, because they both knew that he had done everything in his power to not invite Chan. He was thankful when his manager-hyungs sat between him and Park Hwayoung, an empty chair on his other side. 

“Everyone here?” Park Hwayoung stood up, ignoring as a couple people shook their heads, “Good, then let’s--”

The door swung open, and in walked the most casually dressed attendee of the room, sporting a polite smile. 

“Sorry for being a bit late,” Park Jinyoung smiled, bowing to half of the room, and clapping Chan fondly on the shoulder as he sat next to him, “Traffic was bad. I hope I didn’t miss anything?”

“Of course not,” Park Hwayoung forced a smile, “We wouldn’t dare start without you.”

Chan glanced at their PD-nim, who gave Chan a playful wink. 

“On to business then,” Park Hwayoung pulled up multiple folders he had laid out on the table, “It had come to my attention that the group Stray Kids, being managed and supported by this company, had perhaps been given too much liberty in the past.”

There was a silence, several people looking at shock between Chan, JYP, and Park Hwayoung. 

He continued, “With this in mind, several members of the committee have decided to intervene, particularly in the upcoming album that will be promoted.”

The manager next to Chan spoke up, “That album has already been--”

“--Nothing is finalized until it is released,” Park Hwayoung interrupted, “We are bringing in special choreographers, renown in the States, as well as producers that have worked with groups associated with this label. Stray Kids is a group under JYP Entertainment and will be treated as such.”

It sounded kind and considerate, except for the jaws of darkness beneath his feet, the trap finally ready to swallow him whole, his freedom finally torn from him, and taken into the hands of another. They’d given him a loose leash, he should have known the collar would tighten up around his neck one day. Chan grit his teeth, the manager nudging him lightly under the table. 

“Who is making these decisions?” the other manager spoke up, anger steeped in his tone.

A board member Chan didn’t recognize gave a sarcastically empathetic look, “Those who are investing in this company, now--”

“--Well, as such a person,” Park Jinyoung interrupted, sitting up straight and single-handedly commanding the attention of the room, “I am going to have to disagree with this approach.”

The room was silent, and if Chan’s breath hadn’t been stolen away before at the prospect of being kicked from the creative process of his music, it was now. 

Park Jinyoung stood up, “Stray Kids is representative of the ideas that started this company. Our foundations are in the ordinary talent that is only aided by this company. We support the artist. Stray Kids as a group has an image built on their self-sufficiency, proficiency, and excellency as artists.”

“Sir,” Park Hwayoung turned away exasperatedly, “I don’t think we can--”

“Well think again,” JYP put a hand on Chan’s shoulder, “Clearly, you’ve spent too much time staring at numbers and graphs and forgotten what it is we do. From the performance director to the common custodian know the excellent work ethic of Channie-- Bang Chan… as well as his entire team.”

“Sir, we have public image, and the opinions of people outside this--”

 “If you’re so concerned with the public opinion, perhaps you should be seeing how we can prevent malicious comments from degrading our artists online, or stalking them in their dorms. Or,” he took the nearest phone and pulled up twitter, “Perhaps you can give the people what they want, and see about bringing back one of the most popular members of his team back from his hiatus.”

Pin-drop silence loomed over Park Hwayoung’s stunned head. There was a common disapproval towards him: if people weren’t aware of Chan’s excellence, they certainly weren’t a stranger to Hyunjin’s dedication. Suddenly, the room burst into disagreement, grumbling amongst themselves, some siding with JYP and others wholeheartedly disagreeing. The noise was deafening, paralyzing as chaos consumed the small space. Park Jinyoung motioned to the two managers discreetly, who stood up, and with Chan between them, dismissed themselves from the room. 

Everything was a blur around Chan, as different people in the room smiled at him encouragingly as he left. It wasn’t until he was standing in the elevator between the two managers, the numbers dinging as they slowly descended, did he fully come back to his senses. 

“What--?’ Chan looked between the two managers, “I’m sorry, what just happened?”

“Seems actions speak louder than words,” one manager smiled, “Aren’t you glad you kept your mouth shut?”

“Our founder and director just moved the target from your back onto his,” the other manager continued, “He took all the burden off of your back, and turned them into halos around your righteous head.”

Chan blinked slowly, “... What?”

“Politics, Chan-ssi, don’t worry about it.”

“Alright, hyung.”

But it stirred in his mind, a heavy upheaval that made him numb to the world, until a plate was pushed in front of his face, and he looked up to see the concerned face of Seungmin staring at him.

“Are you alright, hyung?’ Seungmind pressed, “Did… how did the meeting go?”

“Um, fine,” Chan poked at the noodles, “It went great actually… I’m not sure what came out of it but… yeah. It was fine.”

“You didn’t…'' Seungmin looked hesitant, “You didn’t have to… yell at anyone? Or anything?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t really have the chance to speak.”

“Oh. Huh.”

From over Seungmin’s shoulder Minho narrowed his eyes at him, staring for a couple moments before shrugging, “Okay then. Hyunjin-ah, pay up.”

“What?’

Seungmin smiled at Chan sweetly, “Oh, they made bets about whether you were going to tell off Park Hwayoung or not, and whether we were going to join Jay Park’s company, like Got7-sunbaenim.”

If Chan’s head wasn’t reeling before, it was now, “O-oh?”

“Innie and Felix, pay up!”

The two younger boys walked in, pulling out their wallets and whining. Jisung snickered behind Minho as Changbin followed suit, begrudgingly handing him over a concerning amount of money. 

“Wait,” Chan rubbed his temple in confusion, nursing a growing headache, “Minho was the only one who thought I wouldn’t completely lose it at this meeting with, like, all the company directors and board members? Do you really have that little faith in me?”

“Oh absolutely,” Minho smiled, tucking his well-fed wallet back into his pocket, “I didn’t think you would either, honestly, but I knew that our manager-hyungs wouldn’t give you the chance to speak whether you got angry or not, so I safely ran bets against these fools.”

Hyunjin went bug-eyed, “ Both managers went with him?! Hyung, you could have told us!”

“Where’s the fun in that? ”

Seungmin smiled at Chan, “Jisung and I were the only ones who knew better than to bet against Minho-hyung.”

Jisung sidled up next to Chan and took a fork-full of noodles, “That, and hyung’s going to use the money to take us to the fair in two weeks.”

Chan pushed the plate towards Jisung, “You really think I have no self-control?”

“It’s not like that , Channie,” Felix smiled sweetly, “It’s just… you can get very--”

“Heated?” Jisung supplied, “Passionate?”

“Hannie, don’t be mean,” Seungmin chided lightly.

“--Oh no, you’re absolutely correct.”

Everyone stared at Chan, wondering how mad their leader had gone as he smiled.

“Um, I was fully prepared to give him hell, but…” Chan glanced at Hyunjin, before settling his gaze on the table, “Well, our manager-hyungs had told me not to say anything. But Park Hwayoung was about to replace management and expectations to take away our creative freedom and--”

“You should have reminded him how much we provided in profits to the company this quarter without having a comeback,” Minho interrupted casually, “He’s that higher-up who likes spewing out numbers and staring at senseless graphs, right? Should have slapped him with the facts that people like what we do, and we pay for his seat at the company.”

Changbin stared at him skeptically, “I thought you hated business-talk like that. Didn’t you say it went over your head?”

“Oh yeah, I despise it,” Minho took some of Chan’s noodles from Jisung, “But my mom has a knack for numbers and for some reason it made her excited, so she told me.”

Seungmin grumbled, “I think we’re getting distracted.”

“No, this is important,” Hyunjin slung an arm over Seungmin, “Lee Know-hyung isn’t as stupid as we thought he was.”

Minho flung a noodle across the room, hitting Hyunjin squarely in the face, and causing him to sputter and wail dramatically. He clung to Felix, who was laughing loudly, patting Hyunjin’s arm sympathetically, until Minho threatened to fling the whole plate at Hyunjin if he didn’t shut up, which made Felix push the taller boy away to be clear from the potential “noodle target zone.” Jisung tried spurring Minho on, insisting that Hyunjin had already earned his punishment, until Seungmin and Changbin turned around and pointed out that Jisung had insulted Minho’s cooking earlier, which caused the elder’s attention to be directed back to a screaming Jisung, who vainly tried to shower “his favorite hyung” with compliments to distract him. Chan and Changbin weren’t sure whether to feel insulted. 

In the chaos, Jeongin slipped next to Chan, slipping his arms around his hyung’s torso.

“We only bet like that,” Jeongin whispered, looking uncharacteristically apologetic, “because we know you’d move heaven and earth, and fight the gods for us. Well, at least Park Jinyoung PD-nim.”

“I didn’t need to,” Chan wrapped his arms around the younger, “he fought for us.”

Innie’s eyes widened, “What? Really? Why?”

“I don’t know,” Chan answered honestly, pulling his maknae closer, “I guess we must be doing something right.”

“Better than alright!”

Everyone turned as their manager came in, phone waved above his head. They also had no explanation to give him as Jisung held Hyunjin in a chokehold, Seungmin hugging the two of them, while Changbin and Felix were trapping Minho in a corner as he held a plate of noodles above his head. Which was just around normal for them, so their manager shook his head and presented Chan with an email he had just received.

“Look at this,” he waved the screen, before pulling it back, “Wait, don’t, I’ll just tell you. ‘Park Hwayoung, based on his recent actions and motivations, will be temporarily stepping down from the board at JYP Entertainment.’ And then, blah blah blah, oh!”

The boys looked up expectedly as the manager smiled at them all fondly. 

“‘Furthermore,’” he read, “‘A concrete plan of action has been implemented regarding the idol group Stray Kids, and the return to celebrity activities and schedules of their member Hwang Hyunjin.’”

“Yes!” Jisung screamed, releasing Hyunjin from his chokehold to hug him properly, as the rest of the group rushed to hug him, sans Chan who stood at a distance and smiled fondly at them.

The manager clapped Chan on the shoulder, “Just had to keep your chin up.”

Chan laughed sarcastically, but with every ounce of joy and relief that had suddenly filled his veins. He threw his arms over the group, hand tenderly on Hyunjin’s head.

“I don’t know why,” he said, “But I feel like writing a ‘Gone Days’-esque song right now.”

“Hell, yeah!” Jisung’s face lit up, “About damn time, too!”

“Ooh yeah!” Minho looked at Hyunjin, “And for Hyunjinnie’s comeback, we’ll have him dress up as Park Hwayoung!”

“Yah, yah, yah! ”