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K still remembered that moment as if it was yesterday, his heart pounding as they stood there waiting for the lineup to be announced. This is it, he had thought, this is the moment when all his hard work pays off, the moment that would make every one of those sleepless nights spent practicing in parking lots, every fight he's had with his parents and coaches and practically everyone he knows, every roadblock, every frustration, every bit of struggle worth it. This was going to be his moment.
He heard name after name being called and none of them belonged to him, the crowd on the stage shrinking rapidly from 9 to 5 to finally 3, with only one spot remaining in the debut team. He watched the producers deliberating, heartbeat roughened by anxiety at being on that final chopping block, the chaos in his mind a sharp contrast to the calm confidence he still tried to exude.
“The last member to debut in Enhypen is…”
They would choose him, wouldn't they? They had to. He was the top ranked contestant the week before for fuck’s sake, he had shown more than enough to prove that he deserved to debut. His name will be called. It would have to be.
“Kim Sunoo!”
And the world crashed down.
He congratulated Sunoo with a smile, patting his back, but his ears were filled with white noise. He didn't miss the concern in the younger boy’s eyes as his arm wrapped around him, and he had to take a moment to compose himself as tears pricked at his eyes, the full weight of what had just happened sinking in.
He had failed. He had gambled his future on a dream, pushed himself to the limits to make sure that gamble paid off, and despite it all he had still failed. Instead of proving all the naysayers wrong, he had only earned their pity.
But the last thing he needed was to worry the little brothers he had met along the way, the only ones who had looked at him with nothing but starry-eyed admiration and support, especially when this was their big day, and so he tried his best to reign his emotions in, to not look even for a moment in the direction where he knew Ni-ki was crying, but the moment he had to speak into the mic, he knew he was failing terribly. He pushed himself through it anyway, promising to keep doing music, promising to work harder, promising to stand alongside Enhypen one day, though all of those promises rang hollow to even to his own ears. At 22, he was already an exception for BigHit. It had felt like a compliment then, but today it only sparked fear in his heart. Would there even be another chance?
He would have to worry about that later, he thought as he was led backstage, preparing for another round of the charade, smiling widely to soothe his crying brothers though he knew the cracks of his shattered heart were clearly visible in his eyes.
Once it was all truly over, when everyone had left and the only ones who hung back with him were the staff who were with him since the day he came to this country, the hyungs and noonas who worked through his broken Korean with sweet smiles and kind words and helped him fight every frustration, every barrier with nothing but words of support, only then did he let the mask fall - let himself be Yudai. He broke down in sobs, the feelings he was trying so hard to suppress overflowed in gasps of half-formed sentences, and he let the closest thing he had to older siblings here patch him back together.
He was surprised when a higher up approached him for a meeting the next day to discuss his future. When Bang Sihyuk had promised to do everything he can to help him fulfill his dreams, he had taken those words as empty consolation, but now his heart soared. Maybe they changed their mind, he thought. Maybe they would let him debut anyway, as a surprise addition to Enhypen. The idea was a little silly, and the staff member immediately squashed it by mentioning that it’s a new project. K got to know little else about it that night, but the immediate relief he felt was unquenchable. They had plans for him. They weren’t just going to kick him to the curb now that he was eliminated. He could still debut.
That relief allowed his worries and sadness to take a backseat that night, and he let sleep take over him as soon as his head hit the pillow that night. It's when he woke up the next morning and was ushered into the aforementioned meeting that doubts started creeping in.
From the start, it was quite clear that this project was still just an idea , not a plan . BigHit Japan did not even exist as a company yet, let alone have artists. This would be BigHit’s first venture based in Japan, which, unlike Korea, was obviously not their stronghold. They were planning to contact a few other trainees for the new group, and the rest would be selected through auditions that were still far from being planned.
K couldn’t help but smile wryly, the hopes he had let fly untethered sinking back down like deflated balloons. Though they said that this group would debut in the very next year, from where K stood, it looked like it would take a lot more time to come to fruition - that is, if it came to fruition at all. The producers themselves didn’t hold back from making it clear that this was not going to be an assured debut - there could be any number of complications in the way that could cause the project to be shelved altogether. And they could always just decide to cut me from the lineup again , K’s mind decided to add cynically.
A lot was said, but there was only one question that K would later remember asking.
“Who are… who are the other trainees who might debut in this group?”
The producer couldn’t help but chuckle. Everyone in that room knew full well what he was actually asking - or rather, whose presence he was actually curious about.
“It’s hard to say right now, we haven’t started reaching out to other trainees just yet,” the producer replied cryptically. “But I’m sure you’ll like your future groupmates.”
K finally had dinner with Taki again that night, his mind distracted with thoughts of this new group that maybe they could both be in. He stayed out longer after he had bid Taki goodnight, going for a run along the Han river. The river breeze did little to calm his mind, but the strain in his muscles helped him think.
The foundations of this plan still seemed to be shaky, too shaky for someone who had already wasted almost five years of his adulthood chasing a dream he chose too late, and yet, wasn’t this how he ended up chasing his dream in the first place? He had turned away from assured success to chase a dream at the end of a long and dark tunnel back then, and that had allowed him to discover a side of himself that would’ve otherwise never seen the light. If he hadn’t, he would’ve never felt the thrill of being on stage. Maybe this tunnel, too, would lead to his life becoming brighter. And what other choice did he have anyway? He had had the path of assured and immediate success in his grasp and he had fumbled it. Giving up was not a choice, not after he had come so far chasing his dream. He would see it through, even if the path in front of him now was more uncertain.
He and Taki visited Ni-ki sometimes, when he was free. Enhypen as a whole would welcome them enthusiastically, easy camaraderie flowing between them. Sometimes, K thought he saw something wistful in their eyes as they looked at him, but maybe he was just imagining it, projecting his own emotions onto them. He couldn’t deny that he felt a twinge of envy. He could’ve easily been one of them, and yet, he was left behind.
It was hard, watching as his friends who had stood beside him just days ago now prepared to debut and reach the stardom they had dreamed of together while K returned to the darkness of trainee life, but he powered through this the way he had powered through everything else before it - with sheer stubbornness. He also finally got to watch I-LAND, the end product of all those months spent filming, the only chance they had to show the audience what they’ve got. He had wondered, that day, why it couldn’t be him, why all of his hard work, the skill he had developed, the ability he had shown were not enough to let him debut. With a sinking heart, he felt like he understood now, and a quick search of his stage name on Twitter helped him understand even better.
He had never known what it was like to feel unlikable before - he had always been popular when he was younger, surrounded by friends and admired even by those he wasn’t close to. But this was different, he now realized. Being a likable friend was not the same as being a likable idol. The straightforwardness that had made him a likable friend had been the very quality that had allowed him to be painted as an unlikable idol. It made him feel frustrated, made him want to go in front of that camera again and justify himself, explain that there was a misunderstanding, but that would be of no use. In the end, his intentions didn’t matter, nor did the outcome - only the image that was presented, and the image that people formed of him. No matter how much he cried and screamed, that image could not be changed now. It made him realize he had been wrong. There was a lot he still needed to learn about being an idol if he wanted to debut.
It stung more than he had expected. It was still upsetting when he had believed that it was just bad luck that he had missed out on the opportunity, but that was easier than facing the fact that the way his own actions were perceived had likely been what lost him the opportunity. What frustrated him the most was that, even now, he couldn’t bring himself to regret a single thing he had done. Maybe he was too honest to understand showbusiness, and so he had acted on camera exactly how he would have acted had the situations occurred off camera, without feeling the need to sugarcoat or be diplomatic. A part of him realized now that a bit of sugarcoating and diplomacy is exactly what he had needed, but the bigger, more stubborn part of him couldn’t help but dislike that idea. He had come into this industry looking up to BTS as his role models, BTS who were admired for their honesty and transparency and being true to themselves. He voiced the thought to his confidants among the staff, feeling a bit like a petulant child as he heard himself.
“You have to understand that it took a long way for them to be able to be as honest as they are,” one of them explained patiently. “And even so, you would be a fool to think they aren’t holding back or coating many opinions in layers of diplomacy.” She sighed, smiling sadly. “Honesty is a good quality, Yudai. It’s what made me grow so fond of you. But in this industry, being good or ‘right’ doesn’t matter. What matters is appeasing your audience and gaining their favor.”
K was still too headstrong for that to sit completely right with him, but he could do little but accept it. If this too was a skill he needed to learn, he would learn it, no matter how hard it was or how much it chafed at him.
Despite the best efforts of his stubbornness and self-discipline, there was only so long he could just power through his heartbreak and anxiety. He tried to suppress the frustration he felt at going back to square one, at the uncertainty of his future now, at these unsaid rules that he had never quite understood until it was too late, but it would bubble up at the end of the days, as he stared blankly at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to take over before he started crying. His days passed by in a blur of practice and practice and practice, and he barely registered the time passing by. He didn’t even realize it was his birthday until his phone was buzzing with calls and texts.
He spent it like an average day, even as people kept coming up to him happily to share their wishes. He didn’t feel quite so cheery. One more year had passed, and he was still a trainee, hidden in the darkness hoping for a debut that might never come. He pushed himself even harder that day, as if learning that choreography in a day would magically convince them to debut him.
He didn’t even realize it at first, walking listlessly back home, until he was suddenly doing a double take, finding himself staring at his own face on the huge billboard. A birthday ad. For him. His face plastered all over the big screens that he and thousands of others pass by daily. Warmth bloomed through him. There were people who had put in their money and effort to do this, for him - because they were his fans, because they wanted him to see their well wishes, because they wanted him to know that they were still cheering him on.
Before he could even process that, his phone pinged with a message from a friend - a link to an article and something snarky about being friends with a celebrity, but the headline alone made his breath catch. An ad for his birthday all the way in New York Times Square, his face in the middle of celebrities - and he was the first trainee to get such a gift. Tears pricked his eyes, and his heart felt like it had grown two sizes. He felt loved, so, so loved that he didn’t know if he could ever be deserving of it. He turned around, towards the way that led him back to the company building and the practice rooms. This time when he switched on the music, it was with a fierce determination to make those fans proud, to make sure that they would not regret supporting him, to make their wait worth it. He would become the K he had promised them he would be, no matter what it takes.
The next time he was called to meet the producers, their plans seemed a bit more firm, and they had a list of prospective trainees to add to the group. Taki’s name was on it, and K smiled despite himself. He could already imagine the excitement with which Taki would soon run to him to share this news.
The others had no reason to agree, K realized. He and Taki would be returning to their home country and the music they grew up with, but trainees like Euijoo and Kyungmin would be leaving the familiarity of home, the safety of BigHit’s power in Korea, and learning a whole new language for a project that may not succeed. And yet, they chose to accept this opportunity, and within a few weeks, K found himself formally meeting Taki, Euijoo, Kyungmin, and Nicholas, the four people whose life will, from that moment, be intertwined with his. It was awkward, at first. All of them had their inhibitions and uncertainties, but the familiarity from working together on I-LAND remained, and they quickly grew close.
The project was announced at the start of the next year, with auditions slated to start soon, and K felt the weight of anxiety lift off his shoulders a little. He and Euijoo made a special appearance in Enhypen’s MV, with plans for their team’s characters to be involved in Enhypen’s lore, and it started to feel like even if he hadn’t debuted with Enhypen, he and his new team would follow soon. But weeks stretched into months, BigHit Japan became HYBE Labels Japan, but there was no further progress, no new trainee joining their lineup, and no plans or dates for their debut taking shape. When there was finally news to share, it was of a member leaving.
They all understood, of course. K had anticipated these hesitations from the start and shared many of them, but he couldn’t deny that it rattled him. In all the time they spent together for the past few months, they had all gotten close. They were starting to feel like a family… and now one of them had left. It was strange, going to the practice room and not seeing Kyungmin there, or turning to say something to him and remembering that he wouldn’t be there. K wondered if this would be the last time, or if more of this already small team would end up bidding goodbye. How many would it take for them to pull the plug on this project altogether?
It definitely threw a wrench in their debut plans. They were expecting two new trainees to be selected through the auditions - Kyungmin’s departure would bring that number up to three. Maybe the producers were already having second thoughts, or maybe this seemingly small change tipped the scales, but suddenly the entire project was being restructured - which, of course, meant that their debut would be delayed.
Honestly, K was glad when they were sent all the way to LA for a workshop. They needed that change, to be away from all the stress and uncertainty. They would also be filming vlogs and making a public appearance at BTS’ concert, both of which meant that the company wanted them to slip back into the public’s purview, and that could only bode well. K let himself enjoy the trip to his fullest, to lose himself in the dance as they worked with a choreographer he admired, to dote on the three boys that he was living with, and to be the K his fans had been waiting to see for nearly a year. Hearing the screams and cheers of the crowd when they saw them, the exhilaration he felt in that moment, he would never forget that.
Taki, Nicholas, and Euijoo went home for New Year’s, but K stayed behind, instead spending it with Jay and Ni-ki. It was nice to see them again after so long; they had stayed in contact, but there was only so much that could be said in phone calls and brief run-ins. It was a happy couple of days. Sometimes it felt like no time had passed at all, like they were still living together in that cursed building, but there were moments when they would share an inside joke and laugh together, or mention something K had no idea about, and he remembered the separation that time apart had created between them. It also showed in the way they talked to each other, in the way they talked about their members. It was bittersweet. A year ago, K had thought that he could’ve fit in easily with them, but now, that familiarity was gone. The seven of them had grown together in the last year, become a family that K could no longer see himself in. Instead, he found himself missing Taki, Euijoo, and Nicholas, smiling softly as he regaled Jay and Ni-ki with anecdotes of their time together in LA. It was strange. He thought he had closed the door on the part of him that had dreamed of debuting in Enhypen long ago, but maybe this moment was the closure he had needed.
Slowly, the loose ends were tied up, they filmed more content for YouTube, did some magazine photoshoots, and finally, they found themselves preparing for yet another survival show - only this time, his place was already secured. But even so, he was nervous, cautious. Even with him “safe” in the debut team, he knew he couldn’t make the same mistakes he had last time.
K looked around him at the three boys he had spent the past two years with. Nicholas who was cool and charismatic but also a bright and affectionate puppy, who was happy-go-lucky but had worked the hardest, who loved and accepted love easily and had been the quickest to embrace them all. Euijoo who was timid but reliable, who was often the guiding light when they got distracted, who had been the one to take care of Taki right beside him, who had taken care of him even though he was the older one. And Taki, who had been his baby from the moment his eyes fell on him, who he watched grow up for the last three years, who had in turn been his biggest source of support, the sunlight in his darkest times. This was his little family away from home, and now this family would have to grow. The thought made him both excited and jittery.
Despite their best efforts, the first time meeting all the new trainees was awkward, and the four ended up gravitating back towards the familiarity of each other. This would change once they started working together, K knew. A part of him didn’t want to get too attached to people he might still end up losing, but he knew it was a losing battle - before he even knew it, he was attached.
Harua, who was thoughtful and introverted and reflected K’s desire to maintain his distance to protect his heart, but struggled not to give in to the affection and energy surrounding him. It melted something in K, the day the kid accidentally scared him and then decided to prank him on purpose every day after that.
Jo, who was soft and gentle and happy to mix into the background, but practiced the longest hours, refusing to rest until he had perfected every move. He reminded K of himself all those years ago, practicing in the parking lot after the studio had closed for the day while his worried parents begged him to come back home, and he couldn’t help the soft spot his heart built for the boy, so much so that he ended up repeating the same promise that had ended tragically last time, hoping sincerely that history would not repeat itself.
Maki, who was young and full of as much energy and enthusiasm as he had talent, who loved easily and brightened every room with his smile, who was reliable despite his young age and easily took on responsibilities in the dorm as well as in the practice room.
Yuma, who was jaded from his own long journey despite his young age, who was as much of a perfectionist about music as K was about dance. Despite his reservations, he had formed his own attachments and K could see that he was terrified to lose them. K prayed that he would not have to.
And Fuma, who was closest to his age and shaped perfectly like the friend K had wished for. Maybe it was just that K was in desperate need of company close to his age, but Fuma was the one K longed to get close to the most. Yet, he was the one to feel the most elusive.
K had found it both awkward and funny when they discovered they were supposed to share a bed that was obviously too small for the two of them. It was like something out of a romance novel, as if forcing them to be physically closer would make them get along better. Fuma was considerate to a fault, K realized when the man curled up in the tiniest slice of the bed possible, one leg on the floor to make sure he didn't fall off. A part of him wanted to just throw caution to the wind and pull him closer, but the thought of it made his hands sweat and heart beat rapidly in his chest, and he doubted Fuma would take it well anyway. Nevertheless, K couldn’t help but smile when he woke up to a panicked Fuma jumping out of bed, where he had ended up cuddled close to K over the course of the night.
They didn’t get many opportunities to work together on the show, but as they got more comfortable, they would talk about their day in the dorm. Fuma was a perfect gentleman, and one that had, hilariously, decided that it was his duty to protect K. It was a little ridiculous; K had never felt like he was someone to be protected, and yet, he would be lying if he said Fuma covering him with his jacket as it started raining didn’t make warmth spread through him, his cheeks reddening and heart beating fast.
It was not lost on K that Fuma had also had his own long journey to this moment, spending years and years dancing, training, holding on to hope that this time his dream would reach fruition. Beneath his kindness and warmth, there was a desperate hunger and longing that he rarely let people see. He had given up another opportunity to join &AUDITION, and he had taken this decision because of K - because K’s presence gave him hope. K didn’t know how to feel about that, but he could only hope that it would not be a false hope.
“I want to debut,” he confessed quietly one day, a few days before the final round, “I really want to debut with you.”
K couldn’t help but remember when he had wished Fuma on his birthday, the way his smile had dimmed and his eyes had turned brittle for a moment before he composed himself. It had sent both recognition and anguish through K’s heart.
Even as he confessed his heart’s desire now, his expression betrayed that he had no real hope of debuting. This was a goodbye as much as it was a prayer, K realized, and that day he discovered what it was like to hope and wish and pray and anxiously wait for someone else’s name to be called as hard as he had done for his own.
The fateful moment came, and K watched from the side anxiously as each name was called. Jo. Harua. Maki. Yuma. All people he had hoped would be in the team, but the one he had wished for the most was still waiting on stage.
With each name called, he could see the little hope Fuma had seep out of him. K’s heart ached. There was just one more name left to be called, and even he doubted it would be the one he wanted, just like it hadn’t been two years ago. In front of him, he could see Yuma look on anxiously, and K knew it would break his heart too.
“The last debut member to be chosen is…”
They all held their breath.
“Fuma!”
K could see that it didn’t quite sink in at first, even as they made their way towards him and Yuma practically tackled him with yells of “Fuma-kun!” Once it did, Fuma couldn’t stop himself from breaking down, crying into their collective embrace. K was barely holding back his own tears as he opened his arms for the final hug, letting Fuma sob into his shoulder.
Later that night, after sharing a last hurrah and saying their goodbyes and well wishes to the eliminated trainees, they shared a bed for the last time before they would move into their new dorms. This time, K did pull Fuma closer, and Fuma only looked surprised for a moment before relenting and slipping an arm around K’s waist.
“I’m glad that we’ll debut together.” K whispered.
Fuma smiled. “Me too.”
The days passed busily and quickly from there, and between recording, filming, performing, doing photoshoots, and giving interviews, the months to their debut were gone before they knew it, and they were suddenly on stage in front of a crowd of ten thousand, showcasing their debut. By the end of the year, he had fulfilled the promise he had made of standing on the same stage as Enhypen. It felt like proving something, to himself, to the world, and yet, he knew that this meant nothing. In the time he had taken to make his debut, Enhypen had grown, in popularity and as artists. They were not the wide-eyed boys he had stood beside two years ago, but seasoned seniors in their industry. Enhypen were a tightly knit team, a well-oiled machine, while &Team still felt a bit like a jigsaw puzzle that had not yet been put together. It was a little difficult to digest, so soon after they reached the big milestone of a debut that they had waited for so long, but they were still at the very beginning of a long and rough path.
When Euijoo was announced as the leader, no one was more surprised than Euijoo himself. It was cute, how panicked and nervous he looked.
“I don’t know if I can be a good leader,” he confessed softly later, looking stressed.
“Of course you will be,” K said, “You were chosen for a reason, you know? I meant every word I said back there. You understand better than anyone what each member needs. You have been that person since back when it was just the three of us. Even when there was no leader position yet, you were my leader. You’re the best choice.”
It made Euijoo crack a smile. Euijoo had everything it would take to be a leader. The only thing he needed was confidence, and K would always be there to boost it for him.
&Team didn’t have an explosive debut. He didn’t expect them to, but deep down he had hoped for it. Their company grappled to find promotional opportunities, and they tried to put on the best show for whatever opportunity they could find, but they could feel the spotlight dimming. Clearly, the company could too, because next time, they found themselves promoting in Korea, where there were more opportunities, and yet they were likely to be lost in the sea of new artists, especially as a Japanese group. Leadership changed, strategies changed, and yet they were left in that awkward position of being not quite J-POP and not quite K-POP. K didn’t understand why it would even matter, but for some reason it did, and all he could do was aim to reach a point where it would not anymore.
It frustrated K. Even after debuting under one of the richest and most well known entertainment companies in the world, they were restricted by circumstances out of their control. Sometimes he found himself wondering, again, why couldn’t they have debuted him in a normal K-POP group? Why did he have to be shuffled off into a side project on uncharted territory for HYBE’s larger plans? But then he looked around him, at the family he had built by deciding to choose this path. If he had chosen differently, if their company had chosen differently, he might never have met them. Would he really give them up for an easier path?
When he came back after winning a mini-marathon and they cheered like he had won the Olympics, when he saw the video of their reaction, the way Euijoo teared up, he knew, with his heart full and eyes teary, that he would not. He wanted an easier path with them, for them, but he would give up the flower path any day to be with them.
“You should stress about it less, you know,” Fuma said one day while they played video games.
“What?” K asked, turning abruptly and losing the game in his distraction, his whining making Fuma laugh.
“About the future.” Fuma said once they had calmed down. “You’re never going to have it all figured out.”
“I can’t help but worry,” K said, sighing. “We’re not growing fast enough, not compared to other HYBE groups.”
“You can’t solve that, though,” Fuma argued. “That’s the company’s job, and they have a whole team dedicated to that. Let them handle it, and you can handle what is in your control.”
“I know, but…” K faded off. It was true, there was not much he could do no matter how much he stressed himself out over it, but there had to be something . He didn’t like feeling this helpless.
“And we are growing.” Fuma added quietly, smiling softly, “Maki is already two inches taller than he was during the audition show. Jo shares his opinions now. Harua is dressing more and more like Nicholas by the day. Taki has started working out, which is half a miracle in itself.”
K chuckled, letting his head fall on Fuma’s shoulder. Maybe Fuma was right. Maybe he was focusing on the wrong things, the wrong growth. All those little changes he noticed in his little brothers every day were also growth, and when all was said and done that would be the growth he would reminisce about more.
Seeing Maki struggle through his changing voice and figure out how to use the new voice that developed. Seeing Taki grow more comfortable in his skin, his confidence in his voice and his dance both shooting up with the praise and encouragement he received from fans. Seeing Harua break out of his shell, going from avoiding affection to being the one to seek out Taki’s hand to hold. Seeing Jo become more and more comfortable with speaking on camera and letting his playful side peek through. Seeing Yuma go from a cynical teenager to carefree and playful, easily goofing around with the maknaes. Seeing Euijoo fully step into his role as leader and bloom, finally gaining the confidence to realize the potential he always had. Seeing Nicholas increasingly share his interests and bits and pieces of himself with the fans and the members alike, glowing at the praise they showered him in. Seeing Fuma grow comfortable enough let his prankster side escape and run unchecked. Seeing himself from back then, anxious and troubled, slowly letting go of the worries and laughing truly easy.
They went on tour, and he found himself paying even more attention, at the way they performed, at the way they interacted with the crowd, at the way they monitored themselves and made changes. They had grown, he thought, laughing at his own sentimentality as tears pricked his eyes. They had grown a lot.
Of course, he still worried about their growth in the industry, but he could see the increase in the love they were showered in, the louder screams of the fans when they performed, the increasing opportunities they received. They were growing, and they would grow more, to fulfill all the dreams that they had dreamt of together, to make their fans proud. He was still misunderstood, sometimes, but now instead of assuming the worst, the people who mattered, the fans who gave him their love and support, tried to understand him. Maybe one day he would find the balance between honesty and appeasement, maybe one day he wouldn’t really need it anymore, but until then, this was enough.
They still ran into Enhypen now and then, when their schedules permitted. They greeted each other like old friends, even the newer members having formed their own friendships with their seniors. Once, K used to see them as what could’ve been, the smiles he shared with them tinged bittersweet. Now, his smiles were open and carefree, because after spending so long running and running and wondering why, he finally understood. When he tried to imagine himself in Enhypen now, it felt too odd, too out of place. He wouldn’t have Fuma to match his every move as if he read his mind, or Taki to join in on his jokes seamlessly, or Jo to coax out of his shell with teasing and silliness, or Euijoo to flirt back to his teasing and leave him floundering, he could go on. It had been disappointing back then, not hearing his name called, not debuting in the group he had dreamed so longingly of, but time had given him perspective. He didn’t debut back then because he was meant to take this longer, rougher path so that he could find the family that perfectly fit him.