Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Christopher Bahng, are you even listening to me?"

Chan nodded vigorously, even though he definitely wasn't. Spacing out at work wasn't exactly unusual, his supervisor would probably attest, but something about her tone today was off. Suddenly unable to come up with a way to respond to whatever she was talking about without getting caught on the fact that he totally was spacing out, Chan just kept looking at her face, like he expected her to move on.

"9:30. The meeting. The presentation?"

He suddenly was kick-started back into his own mind, remembering at once of every single schedule for the day. His eyes snapped to the clock on the wall behind her. 9:25. "Yes. Yes! Absolutely. I'm going right now. Sorry, Amanda."

"Don't forget to ch-"

"Charm, disarm, engage." He picked up the open laptop on the desk, one of the long, open ones in the common area and not his actual office, closing it and tucking under one arm, and used the other to give her a half side-hug before running out the hallway. "Don't worry, I got this!"

If someone asked if that's what Chan pictured for himself five years ago, he'd laugh out loud and probably say he wasn't meant for the 9 to 5 life, but for the stage. Chan was a performer through and through. He was supposed to be an idol, worry about comebacks, world tours, k-netizens and fanmeetings, not with clocking out and PTO.

But then, life had other plans. To say the whole K-pop dream didn't really pan out would be quite an understatement. Actually, cutting his losses and fucking off Korea for good seemed the only way to keep what was left of his dignity - and it proved to be the right choice. It's not everyday that someone manages to fuck up enough to get eliminated from a survival show after it ended. He had no future in music anymore.

And leaving Korea was hard, but even more painful than that was leaving the boys. His boys. His group. He didn't even get to say goodbye properly, or maybe thank them, really thank them for putting up with his hardness, his desperation to make them all debut as a full group translated into strictness, intense rehearsals, and recording sessions. They saw them at his worst, when he was probably the least likeable person ever, and despite the sharp edges and constant nagging for them to do more, to be better, they stayed.

The year he had with them, working towards their debut and having the walls he had built around himself over the last years as a trainee slowly brought down, brick by brick, was the best of his life. Chan had finally found it, that little spark of joy and hope that this time, it would happen. The time he had spent with Han and Changbin making music in their dorm with a shitty mic and an even shittier sound monitor stopped feeling like a last resort attempt at being seen and more like a buildup towards something else, more permanent. Everyone could see it, the ragtag team of misfits that somehow clicked together. Not perfect, but always giving 110%. Going away and losing the work he made with them, for them, felt like losing a part of himself that Chan would never get back.

And he tried. Tried to keep on making music, producing tracks, even releasing a mixtape under a new pseudonym, but it was hard. It was humiliating. It didn't help that Stray Kids kept growing in popularity, doing tours, releasing banger after banger - most of them being results of collaborating with Jisung and Changbin that he would never get credited for, because his rights to them were waived long ago.

Even if he weren't constantly reminded of his former group's success every time he walked into a Korean store to buy groceries and there was a Stray Kids song playing, or when he stumbled upon a billboard or TV ad, or some clueless white person made a quip about how he looked like “one of those k-pop idols”, Chan never stopped thinking about them - even though it would probably be best to. He tried not to follow their work because it always left him with a giant hole in his chest that would not stop aching and draining his entire creative energy away.

When the time to go back to a regular routine in Australia came, Chan didn't apply for music school or any Performance Arts program like everyone probably expected, choosing instead to study Design. He wasn't even sure why. It just seemed the closest subject to his actual skillset without being self torture. He hadn't even touched his microphone or any instrument in years, left collecting dust inside the closet in his childhood bedroom when he moved out his parent's home for the second time.

When he came back to Australia, he wasn't Bang Chan, senior trainee at JYPE or Stray Kids's leader anymore. He was nothing but regular, old Chris. Christopher Bahng had nothing going for him except his Korean high school history. It was easier that way. Liberating, in a sense. He didn't have to focus so hard on surviving the cuts and getting the boys there; they survived, after all. They were doing just fine without him. Maybe it was meant to be. They needed a push, and Chan had enough drive to be the bad guy they needed during rehearsals to reach a higher level of technique and finesse, while not being good enough to get there himself.

Chan sighed, snapping himself out of yet another haze. His feet had dragged him right to the front of the meeting room scheduled for the solo presentation. That was no big deal, he had done it before - it was one of the few things at this job Chan could say he had experience from his past life in music. Dealing with managers, presenting pitches, selling his concepts. He'd done it before, successfully, and could do it again. He took a grounding breath. Charm, disarm, engage. Be a teamleader. That he could do. As a bonus, here, he was at least seen as someone actually capable by the team and management. Someone who was useful to create the work and also worthy enough of being the one to present it.

He walked into the empty room, taking the spare time to prepare the projector in silence and get his mind back to now. Now, where he's an Art Director for a broadcasting company, ready to present the proposal of key visuals for a new show that he had spent at least two months working on alongside his team. Leading meetings was definitely not a new experience, but that would be Chan's biggest project yet - and for a music show, nonetheless, which definitely hit a bit close to home.

A knock on the door got him out of yet another wandering thought. He looked at the clock. 9:29. Chan filled up his chest with a big load of air, feeling the sudden adrenaline rush through his body just like when he got the ok to go before a performance. He opened a smile as the men in suits walked in, staring him down just like JYP-nim used to do in every showcase and performance. He used to get psyched out then, instantly anxious at the hard stares burning like a laser beam through his chest. Bracing for the harsh words and sharp critiques that would leave him feeling absolutely worthless and devoid of any artistic talent.

Chan knew better now. He was stronger, less panicky when it came to work and proving himself. He had to be, after all those years.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Shall we start?" He asked, tone inviting and free of any hint of anxiety or uncertainty. Even though this wasn't the stage he first wanted, it was showtime. 

Chapter Text

The meeting room burst into cheers when they finally saw it live and Chan could not fight the pride bubbling in his chest.

It was merely a couple seconds, but finally, the first promo for the music show Chan's team had been working on for forever went live on the broadcast. It felt like forever had passed between the moment when the board gave the branding proposal the stamp of approval to when the show was actually, officially announced to the public, but it was actually more like a couple weeks. The work wasn't done, not even close, but at least now there were around two months of pre-production until the premiere date.

“How are you feeling?” Amanda clapped his shoulders. “First show under your name.”

Chan just smiled back at the beaming faces, his whole team, and gave her a thumbs up. As much as he was proud of himself, his team and the work they've done to get the visuals right and create the promo splash screens with the future airing schedule, Chan felt more relieved than anything. Relieved the job had been successful, that people he didn't even work with would stop to compliment him when he was at the cafeteria or on the way to a meeting room, but mostly for finally getting over that stage of the job. He was ready to get a little more hands off with it after two whole months of dedicated work. Now that creative was mostly done, it was time for the production team to start the intense work to make the music program come to life and they would only need Chan again when they had to make the release vignette videos with more information.

He didn't really like to admit it, but the truth was Chan was a bit tired from spending so many nights on that thing. Not that he was forced to, but because he couldn't deliver a project without feeling it was perfect.

But that wasn't a very “teamplayer going for a promotion in the near future” answer, so Chan just smiled.

“A man of such wise words”, Sal snickered from the other side of the table. He didn't mind the teasing, Sal was completely harmless, just like every single chaos gremlin that was a part of his squad. He tended to attract a lot of them.

“I'm happy.” Chan said.

“That's like the least enthusiastic way to say that.” Arasha quipped.

“Okay, now you guys are just being mean.” He got up, taking the laptop with him. “Nice work, everyone. I have a meeting in 5, so we'll meet again later for checkpoint with Mr. Paulson?”

“McDickDirector…”

“Hey.” He just shot a glare over to Mason, who in response raised his hands up in surrender. “Let's keep it civil, please.”

“Okay, dad.”

Chan just didn't engage this time. He instead got up, sweeping the laptop under his arm as usual, and nodded at them in a quick goodbye before leaving quickly for another meeting room in the same floor, where he was already being waited.

The next meeting was a handoff to the production team. There was no need for him to bring everyone to hear about schedules and guests and bore them out of their minds with the 10 name list of prospect hosts, so he went by himself. He wasn't particularly necessary for anything other than listing what the creative house would need to deliver for the pilot shootings and check that it was actually doable in the time they would set anyways. He only partially paid attention to the rest. Set design, which studio they would use, live taping requirements, yada yada yada. Chan found those discussions interesting, sure, but it was not like he would have been able to contribute to anything other than his very limited experience in sets and broadcasts overseas with the survival show and the debut stages as Stray Kids. It was useless.

So he listened to every point until the voices and information started to jumble together. It wasn't like Chan was tired or anything (at least not more than usual considering his less than ideal sleeping schedule), but he was starting to feel the all-nighter he pulled last night so he could help Amanda with a delivery for another channel. And the one he pulled two days ago to help Mason. Or the other one on the weekend just because he couldn't get his eyes to close and his stupid brain to shut down.

The concept of the show was quite simple. A host, one musical guest per week, a music video selection made by the guest (or more probably their PR team) along with a long interview divided into segments, giving a longer timeframe for the guest to shine through. Chan worked on making the concept feel lively but intimate, like an artist's personal playlist. It felt a bit like a more laid back version of the weekly variety shows in Korea he used to dream of being featured on and wasn't able to due to the limited time he had as a signed artist.

“So far, we have three names in the shortlist to host. We want to do a trial run with each of them before settling on a name.”

“First season should start around soon, so we can ride the high of spring break.”

“We need to start highlighting guests. We need to think about local and international musicians.”

“Who's touring right now?”

“I hear Billie's about to drop a tour-”

“What about Charli?”

“Taylor doesn't do TV promos, but we can try the publicist for other UMG talents-”

“And what if-”

“How can we-”

“Who-”

“What-”

Chan was busy looking down and taking notes, so he didn't really pick up the sudden silence in the room. Someone said something, he just didn't know what for sure. His mind tended to do that sometimes, processing what he just heard only a couple seconds after hearing it.

He looked up, and everyone was staring back at him. That's when he was able to get his mind to work properly and remember what was said.

When it dawned on him, Chan froze.

“What about k-pop?”

Chan was pretty sure that was what one of the executives said. A chill went through his entire body at once, a wave of panic surging at the mere sight of the 10 white men in suits looking at him like lions eyeing prey at the mere mention of k-pop. Why were they staring? Did they just want his opinion as a generic Asian influence? Did they know? They definitely weren't supposed to. Chan made sure to hide every scent of his digital footprint so he could have this, this normal life away from the controversy.

“You're Korean, right?” One of the men asked. “Or Asian? You look Asian.”

“I am, but I was raised here.” He answered, trying to wave off the weariness and avoid reacting to the comment. It was usually enough for regular people not to pry - and it wasn't even a lie anyways.

“What is hot right now in k-pop?” Another one of the men asked. The guy looked like the closest thing he knew about it was “that really old song about an oppa something style years back”. Chan got that a lot in college. But that was good. It meant they could not know he was a part of it.

That was supposed to be enough to calm him down, but this time, it didn't work.

“I… don't know how to answer to that, sir. I'm not really connected with the culture.” He lied. Of course he knew what was hot, and of course he was connected to Korea, he just would rather combust than dealing with that again. Food and customs? Sure. Being a bit too hard-set on honorifics and manners? Absolutely. His mom loved it.

But K-pop? Fuck, no. He'd rather die than let himself get too close again. Of course what was "hot" nowadays was Stray Kids, Blackpink, Twice, GOT7, ATEEZ, BTS… and basically everyone Chan knew at one point or another as a trainee. They all made it.

And he was there, stuck being interrogated by these clueless execs that only cared about him as a k-pop wiki.

“But you do speak Korean?” They kept on prying, which made everything so much worse. “You probably do, right? You said you are Korean."

He nodded, suddenly panicking. He wanted Amanda to be there to cut the microaggressions off, since he suddenly wasn't able to do that himself. Chan wasn't even sure he was able to breathe now, which was ridiculous. He went off on managers and directors for far less before. Why was he freezing now, just like he did as an inexperienced trainee in front of JYPE or the other instructors?

At the lack of a proper answer, one of the other executives sighed in defeat.

“Okay, that's enough, we can get a consultant or something to look into it.”

And that was it. They moved subjects to another super important discussion about… something, he had no idea what. Chan could not go back to the room even if he tried with all his might. That close call shook him in a way it only had happened a while ago, when people still tried to pry into his online presence for Stray Kids-related-things. This time was different, though. It felt more serious, scarier somehow. The foreboding chill was harder to ease out of, like when he played a multiple ending game and got the “this action will have consequences” warning after rushing into a choice.

He only started gaining control of his mental faculties back and managed to stop feeling so panicky and distant in the middle of the checkpoint talk with his team and Mr. Paulson, their director. The sound of his friend's voices were what he needed to calm down, even if he came back to a clusterfuck of discussion around impossible deadlines. He didn't even try to understand what was going on between Amanda and Mr. Paulson, but by the faces of everyone else, it had been going on for a while. It didn't even look like Paulson was actually Amanda's boss. The way she argued her point without backing down or even fearing being considered impolite or rude as a young woman in a leadership position was beyond Chan and one of the things he most admired about her. He wished he could lead like that one day.

At the end of the day, Amanda ended up making Mr. Paulson back out of whatever insane demand he was thrusting upon them. Chan had no idea what. He was completely useless in that meeting, not opening his mouth to speak once. It was uncharacteristic for sure, and that's probably why as soon as he got off a quick bathroom break shortly after the meeting was over he was intercepted by her.

“Okay, what is up with you?” She asked. There was no venom, no nothing. Just pure concern.

“What?” He answered, like an idiot.

“You sound off. Did something happen in the meeting?”

“No. Um… No. I'm fine.” He shrugged. “Don't worry about it.”

He wasn't one to open up easily (or at all), especially at work, and Amanda knew that, so she didn't pry. It didn't mean she let go, though. Chan could feel her stare every time she crossed eyes with him and during the next meetings throughout the morning. It was a busy one, unusually so, but delivery time tended to be like that anyway. Things only calmed down after they finished shipping to production. Instead of prying, what she did was knock at his office's door 30 minutes before noon and look at him like he was about to get invited into a heist.

“What now?” Was all Chan could say.

“Early lunch.”

“I'm busy.” He argued, motioning to the open laptop right in front of him. Truth was, Chan wasn't even that hungry. Or busy. His tasks were done, like usual. Chan was just touching on some adjustments on a business proposal with Sal, who usually dealt with external clients. It was only supposed to be a quick review focusing on text editing and layout, sure, but Chan took the opportunity as a way to start learning about the managerial side of things before building the courage to come to Amanda and straight up asking her to put him on a management tutelage or something like that.

“You're always busy, come on.” Amanda practically whined.

“I’m busy.” He said it again.

“I do not care. Pho, on the company card. Come.”

With such a strong pitch, how could he say no?

That's how he found himself huddled together with the whole team in a small booth at their usual place, a pho store right down the street. Amanda and Mason, one of the junior designers, flanked him side by side on one bench, Arasha and Tao, the senior designers, on the other. Sal, the account assistant, was making the order at the counter. Chan had tried to make the group order himself like he always did, but Amanda dragged him to the tables instead and told Sal to do it this time. The energy was high and chaotic, with cheers and praise coming from every direction towards him, the presentation, the concept idea, and Chan had to make them stop for a second before the compliments made him actually blush. Instead of hogging praise, he waved his hands dismissively.

“We all did great, you know, we're a team!" He proposed as an answer. "It’s a collective win.”

"Yeah, but you were the one who came up with most of it!" Arasha offered back.

"And you dealt the most with McDickDirector. I mean, before today." Sal dropped back to their seat, carrying the receipt of the order. Chan had to hide the chuckle that almost slipped on the guise of being professional.

"That's not- I told you to quiet down with the nicknames!" He laughed then, looking for support from Amanda, the higher employee on the table, and finding her trying to stifle a grin.

"Chris, you're the only one who still tries to get into his good side." Mason cut him.

While his colleagues laughed, a waiter started to approach their table to begin serving the dishes they ordered. Chan immediately flipped his attention towards helping the server to deliver the bowls to the right people. Amanda and Sal always had tofu, Arasha and Mason beef, Tao shrimp. Chan usually jumped between chicken and beef, but today felt like a beef day too.

"Well, I'm being polite!” Chan argued back, without missing a beat while he served the right people, leaving his own bowl last. “That helps you menaces too! If I get Mr. Paulson to not be so... Difficult, he might get us other nice projects again!"

"I know, it's cute." Tao replied, jokingly swooning. "You're such a leader."

Chan's easy smile faltered. The word stung, even after that long. But he played it off as... Something else. Anything. It didn't really matter. He had tried to change the messed up mental connection to it through the years, from the therapist his mom forced him into seeing right after he came back (and Chan would never admit out loud but probably saved his life) to being a captain for the swim team at university, and now his work. The way he tried to take care of his team and fight the harder battles alone so they wouldn't have to.

It never stopped stinging, though. He wasn't sure it ever would.

"Aww, it's your eyes." He said then, which probably wasn't even that funny of a joke but it was the only thing that came up, and got a giggle out of the table anyways.

The team kept joking while they devoured the phos, but Chan wasn't in the mood to talk anymore. Suddenly, he felt annoyed at no one but himself. This should have been a celebration, a nice time with his colleagues after working their butts off for three months over one of the biggest projects he led so far. A career breakthrough. Maybe an opening for another promotion - not even two years ago he was a mere intern and now he was a creative director, for Christ’s sake. He already had a senior level job even before graduating, and that was seven months ago. Life was good. Great, even.

Why was he thinking about Stray Kids, then?

It had to be the meeting. The men in suits pushing him into talking about k-pop. Great, now he was spiraling again.

"Earth to Chris." Amanda elbowed him, a teasing smile on. He didn't bother vocalizing an apology, choosing instead to just smile back and fill his mouth with another load of noodles so he would have an actual excuse to avoid speaking. She just laughed.

"What's up with you and pho?" Tao, the actual Thai person of the team, asked. “Not even I love it that much.”

“It’s yummy.” Chan grumbled, mouth still full. He could live out of pho if he had to - in Seoul he most definitely did.

"He's just like that." Amanda interjected. “When we were in college there was a pho place near our campus and I swear he only ate there for two months straight.”

“Look, if it works, it works.” Mason shrugged, diving into his food. “If eating tons of pho is the recipe for that brain of yours, I’m doing that.”

“Talk about someone else, please.” Chan practically pleaded, still with a full mouth, which got a big laugh out of the group yet again. No matter who, every friend of his would relentlessly mock him at every opportunity. He was used to it.

They kept talking about him, of course. They only actually did what he told them at work, which was also how things used to roll in Seoul. Just like he did then, Chan was okay with it now - even though he liked to pretend otherwise to rile them on sometimes. He knew they liked and cared about him, that was the main reason for the teasing. It was proximity-based bullying, like how Hannah and Lucas call him grandpa every now and then. Seungmin did that as well. Well, all of them basically, except for Felix, who was way too sweet to mock anyone.

Not that he was thinking of them or anything.

Because he shouldn't. They were out there and he was here. And that's how things would go. And it was okay. It was fine. Chan was happy now. Satisfied.

It wouldn't ever change, so he had to be.

Chapter Text

When Chan arrived at the office, there wasn't a single living soul there. It was 100% his fault for not being able to sleep - again - and instead choosing to head in a little early. Obviously for him, “a little early” didn't mean an hour or two, it meant 5 a.m. The absurdly early arrival wasn't fully on purpose. He tried to get himself to sleep. He ran laps around the park until his legs burned, tried working out, make his body so exhausted it would just turn off, but nothing had any actual impact.

He got like this sometimes. It was deeply annoying.

The worst part is, Chan didn't even know why he was spiraling so bad this time. It wasn't like anything bad had actually happened. The meeting with the clueless white execs had gone down almost two weeks ago, and nothing had transpired from that disaster of a morning, really. The host was decided, a list of guests was being negotiated along with every other detail that did not pertain to him or his squad. And life moved on, but at the same time not really, since he suddenly felt the need to run to the office to wean off his anxiety of whatever was coming.

Burying himself in work was the only thing that would overpower the non-stopping thoughts when the weirdness of his brain attacked. At least coming here he could use the brainpower for something useful, like finishing the quarter reports and updating his work portfolio, which he never did consistently and it always bit him in the ass. He was assigned to another project, this time a limited campaign for a new season of a drama show. He didn't have a lot of details yet, but doing some ground research and benchmarking it would be a nice place to start to spend the free hours he had until the system allowed him to clock in. Or reorganizing his office. That felt less of an “unauthorized overtime task” and more of a “normal thing to work on before clocking in”.

Yep, he could do that, he thought, as Chan started taking off stuff from the cabinets and going into clean-freak mode.

Over the four months as the proud owner of a 9 square-meter office with windows, Chan had made some changes to the space to try and make it less… sterile. Less corporate. It wasn’t gigantic like management’s (and Amanda’s) but the closed space allowed him some needed isolated, focused time. It was the best thing to come from the promotion, that's for sure. He had stuck some posters to the white wall, a small collection ranging from movies, a tour banner from a band he liked, some of his own work for the channels. There was a framed picture of Berry on the desk, a sick dual monitor setup, one Goku figurine and a yoga ball in the place of a second chair in front of him, which was nice, but the space was also affected by the sheer amount of hours Chan spent in it. The room was clean thanks to maintenance, but he slacked off organizing his files cabinet with past prints and reports in the last couple of months, so it felt like a good place to start.

Chan loved organizing. He wasn't as consistent at it as he wanted to, but the repetitive tasks would allow him to get into a flow state of extreme focus to methodically sort through his documents, what should be the organization, if he needed separate folders, if things needed compliments or if there were repeated files that should have been discarded. It was mechanical but intellectual enough so he could navigate a thin line between turning off his brain to think and mentally engaging with his own work. Did he look insane doing it, the whole floor covered with different stacks of paper? Probably, but he could just close the door when people started coming in, whenever that moment came. He had no idea of which time it actually was anymore.

Oh, the door. It was his favorite thing about having an office. Even if he wasn't able to personalize anything substantially, just being able to close the door and have a space for himself was a privilege he understood pretty well. It wasn't even about silence, he usually didn't mind rowdyness, but more so the privacy of it all. Chan had lived half his life in packed dorms, sharing rooms and storage space with multiple flatmates, having no place that was only his. When he earned a private studio to work on after the survival show, years ago, his productivity soared at the same rate his sleep hours tanked, which led to him finishing three and a half Stray Kids albums in the span of a couple months. He thrived under focus time.

Which made it all more jarring when Amanda suddenly burst into his office with a frown, the noise loud enough to make him jump. There were still a couple piles left to be put back on the cabinet, but he was practically done. He had no idea how long he'd been at it, probably hours. The sun was already shining bright.

“Hello?” He asked, completely unfazed. There was nothing he had done to make her mad, so unless a nuclear bomb just dropped into her hands, Chan was willing to bet it was just Amanda being dramatic over small stuff.

“Go away.” She leaned over the door frame, crossing her arms.

“What? Why?” Chan laughed this time, now 100% sure she was just being extra.

“You, sir, have nothing to do here. Get a break.” She scolded, and now everything made more sense.

“I am working!” He motioned to the pile of stuff.

She laughed, incredulous. “You arrived here at 5am! What the hell, dude? Did you sleep today, like, at all?”

Chan purposefully ignored the question. “I wanted to tidy up my office-”

“It's already tidy!”

“I know, cause I-”

She didn’t let him finish. “No, you don’t! You just delivered a 3-month long pain in the butt of a project, you should be fucking around, slacking off in the cafeteria and planning to get drunk-”

“I don't drink!”

“-Doing something with your life after clocking out like the rest of us normal people, not burying yourself in more work in crazy hours because you can't stop. The system wasn't even supposed to allow you to clock in this early, how did you do it?”

Technically speaking, she was right. Chan had basically no schedules that day. No meetings, no suit men to convince. He had to forward a report to the managers describing the proposed roadmap for delivery of the campaign for the new season but that was it. It would take 5 minutes, and it would have been in advance as well, since no one had scheduled a meeting about that yet. The thing is, while being filled to the brim with work was taxing, those low days between assignments always made him crazy. He needed to do something, to feel useful. He had hoped to spend his 8-hour day picking at smaller, lower-priority projects that he was only partially responsible for overseeing and maybe suggest improvements to kill time.

“I didn't clock in yet. I'm gonna do it at the regular time.” Was all he said.

She opened her mouth, in either shock or pure rage.

“Go home.”

“I said I'd help Mason with-”

“Go. Away.” Amanda said, no room for arguments, with the managerial tone she only used on Chan to send him home when he would inevitably overwork himself. It was rare, but it happened a lot.

He got up and took his laptop, putting up no fight. It would be easier just to go home like she said and log back in at home, but Amanda stopped him before he could put the computer away in the backpack.

“What now?!” He protested.

“No remote work.”

He pretended to be offended, clutching imaginary pearls trying to pretend his plan hadn’t clearly been busted. “Come on, I’m not insane.”

“You so are. I’ll put your laptop in my locker and you’ll only have it back Monday.”

The care masked as aggressiveness was actually sweet, if not mildly irritating for how well she could read him. Amanda was one of his closest friends nowadays, so of course she'd know how much of a piece of work he was when it came to taking breaks. The way she scolded and mocked would seem too much for anyone else, but Chan not only was used to it, sometimes it was the only way to cut through his stubbornness. It was a constant, ever since they were classmates and Chan would pull multiple all-nighters per month working on assignments and surviving on 15 minute naps between classes and drive her crazy. It also reminded him of how Changbin used to deal with him.

So, he caved.

“Ok, fine. But I’m taking my laptop.” Chan said, resolutely. This time, she allowed him to close the backpack and put it on.

“See you Monday.” She said, as he walked to the door. They walked shoulder to shoulder to the big sliding glass doors that led to the main elevator area. “No work.”

“Okay.”

“Promise.”

“I promise.” He made a mocking tone, but Chan was actually touched. And suddenly tired, as if the scolding was the thing he needed for his brain to remember it had spent at least the last 48 hours awake. She swiped her ID to open the glass doors for him even though he carried an identical card, and made a point to wait until the elevator doors opened and he stepped in.

“Love you. Sleep.”

Chan smiled, waving as the doors closed. That was good, this feeling of being cared for. It sometimes brought butterflies to his stomach, a particular giddiness he wasn’t sure where it came from. He didn’t get it all the time, for no fault of anyone other than himself for constantly refusing to ask for it or accept advances, so when someone barged through his defenses like this, he secretly cherished it.

He looked down at his phone, glancing at the notifications and deciding if he had to answer any of them immediately. Mom asked how he was doing and if he was going home for the weekend. Hannah called him a dweeb over… something, he wasn’t actually sure what. There were many options. Over the team group chat, someone posted a meme. There was a lost call from an unknown number, probably one of those spam calls everyone dreaded. Just a regular day, nothing special. Giving up on the phone, Chan looked up at the screen that displayed news, the time and weather forecast as the really slow elevator made its way down all 30 floors. Politics, a new super hero movie, some reality show with controversial participants. Nothing new either.

It wasn't even 10 a.m. when he got back home. Chan could have taken a bus, but he liked walking and the route had a nice view, large sidewalks. The day was pretty too, it was a no brainer. He took a needed shower, finally starting to feel his body getting tired and his eyes getting heavy. If he knew the only way to shut his mind off was getting scolded by Amanda, he'd have just annoyed her sooner. Chan was a pro at it. But if he went to sleep at noon who knew when he'd wake up, which is the whole problem of having a fucked up circadian rhythm.

Stuck in the sleeping dilemma, Chan decided to leave the choice to fate and make good use of his forced day off by watching one of the shows in his never ending anime watchlist, being completely useless on purpose for a change and trying not to go crazy about it. He could not pick a single one, so Chan ended up just watching every single first episode until he got motivated enough by one to move to the next chapter. It seemed like a good enough idea for someone who was terrible at making choices by himself when it came to stupid, useless stuff like these.

How insane was it that all Chan could think while enjoying his supposed free time was that he wanted to go just back to work? When did he become this?

Actually, that's what he always was. He needed to work non-stop, because whenever he allowed himself to leisure, the thoughts always came. When it wasn't about Stray Kids because they weren't a thing yet, it was about his own failure to debut. When he was still in Sydney as a kid, it was about not being good enough so he'd be a failure in his family's eyes. Chan was never enough, so he had this crazy urge to do everything in his power to get better, smarter, more skilled and keep himself busy so he didn't have enough time to let the uncontrollable fear of failing win.

When the ending screen of one of the many episodes he pressed play started rolling and Chan realized he wasn't even sure which show it was because he had spent the whole length of time spiraling once again, he finally accepted that the plan of lounging and doing nothing all day was a bust. It felt like his body was physically incapable of doing it.

Just as he was nearing another mental breakdown over nothing at all, the characteristic sound of his phone ringing brought him back. Chan was up in a second, glancing at the screen instead of just refusing the call point blank. When he saw who it was, even though it was tempting, Chan could not bring himself to do it.

"Hyung.” He said, the honorific feeling warm and familiar in his tongue. More familiar than that was the face staring at him through the screen.

"Hey, stranger." Bambam had an easy smile on, and was apparently in his studio setup. The phone was propped into something, leaving his hands free to use the mouse and keyboard and the accent when he spoke English as a joke was there, but really light. "What's up?"

“The ceiling.” Chan answered, without missing a beat.

Bambam stared at him for a second before they both broke into giggles.

“God, I missed your awful jokes.”

“Rude. My jokes are great.” Chan pretended to be offended, but he had a grin on his face as he stood up and began walking aimlessly around the house, unable to stay still while talking on the phone. “How you've been?”

"Exhausted, actually. Just came from rehearsals." Bambam groaned, making a big scene out of stretching his back. “Where have you been, though?"

"Working. I'm good. Just busy." Chan plopped on the bed in the bedroom, laying flat on his back and swinging his feet up, always moving.

"It's been a minute since we talked. You don’t answer my texts, like, ever.”

Chan nodded. It was only partially intentional. He had been busy, sure, but talking to Bambam, as comforting as the guy could be as one of the people who helped Chan become who he is (or at least was), sometimes felt a bit too much, the anxiety of picking the phone up and listening to his voice just to remember everything else that came with it prickling through his entire body. Because it wasn't just Bam, his makeshift marginally older brother and roommate for years, was it? No, it was Bambam. And GOT7. Any casual talk would involve their music, because Bambam lived off music and boba tea, so he would talk about it and Chan couldn't be the immature asshole who would make it all about himself.

"I was kicked out of work today, actually.” Chan said, out of nowhere.

“What? Why? Can they do that?” Bambam asked, suddenly showing genuine concern.

“Because I worked too much.”

Bambam laughed, the worry disappearing in a second when he realized who he was talking to. “That tracks. Did you stay there until 3 a.m. again?”

“No, I arrived at 5.” Chan said, trying to sound smug just because he knew it would drive Bambam crazy. The laugh coming through the speakers was the confirmation that the plan had worked.

“You're unable to be normal about work, right?”

“Save the scolding, Amanda already tore me a new one.” Chan waved him off. “She said I needed to give myself a break after finishing that TV thing.”

"Oh, the playlist show? You got that greenlit already?"

“Yeah. It's currently in pre-production.”

“Congrats, man!” He seemed genuinely happy, which was nice to hear. Thinking back, Chan wasn't sure he told anyone outside of work about the show. Maybe he should. His mom would be proud, even if she didn't really understand what he did for a living most of the time. "You gotta work with me one day. I might have lost Producer Chan, but Creative Director Chan has a nice ring to it. I've been fighting all day with the creatives about the comeback, it would be nice to have someone who actually listens to me here. You'd think going independent would fix that."

There it was. That constant reminder. Chan could either change subjects or be a good friend and listen to one of his best friend's life troubles, so he did.

“When's it happening?”

“We're announcing it in a month and then it's three weeks to release. The agency still hasn't finished the cover art, though. So irritating.”

Bambam kept talking, sharing tidbits and anecdotes about the never ending meetings with the creative team who just wouldn't agree on anything, how they had to talk Jackson out of a neon pink dye job that would have looked ridiculous, but Chan only caught every other word considering Bambam's terrible connection, fast Korean and Chan's own heart beating even faster.

And it was immature. He knew that. Chan tried to move on, he did, but the memories practically nagged him at any second. Everyone else was good enough to have that life he dreamed and worked himself to the bone for years to get, but didn't. Bambam, YoungK, Sana, even his own Stray Kids. He wasn't even sure what he felt about it anymore. Was he jealous? Angry for the time wasted? Ashamed for not being good enough? Or was it just a case of missing his old friends really badly?

In some days it was easier to differentiate, but today wasn't one of them.

"What's going on up there, huh? You have that 'I'm overthinking something' look on", Bambam’s voice cut through the loud thoughts in his head.

Of course, Bambam knew him. Just like Amanda, his ability to see through Chan's bullshit would have been impressive if it wasn't so damn annoying. It was a hidden blessing that two of them never actually met in person, they would have been unstoppable.

“I'm just tired.” He tried anyway.

A weird silence stretched between them, foreign and uncomfortable. Bambam looked like he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to do it. The hands constantly typing and moving the mouse were now crossed across his chest.

“Look, um... Are you okay? Really?”

The seriousness of Bambam's voice was jarring and it threw Chan off-guard.

“I'm fine.”

“I just think you've been avoiding me.”

Chan looked at the screen as if Bambam were speaking fluent German out of the blue. Because yeah, he did avoid some things. He had been avoiding Stray Kids for years, that much was obvious. The last time he had brought himself into looking it up, they were in the middle of their second world tour and were supposed to release a new album. It even had a featured song with Tiger JK. It was great to see them thrive, but it made him feel so… shitty at the same time. Looking at anything Stray Kids related made Chan feel a horrible mix of envy and jealousy and longing and inadequacy. 

Bambam, however? Bambam was one of his best friends. Yeah, Chan was distant, chronically bad at answering and sometimes needed to put his own bullshit aside to not feel jealous of his success, but that wasn't avoidance, was it?

Did he notice?

Was he mad?

“Did I do something wrong?” Chan cut through his own mental rambling. 

“No, Chan-ah, it's just… Ugh. It's not my business to meddle, I'm sorry. I just... I miss you, dude. You're my brother! I know you don't keep up with most… people from that time, and you hide when you're not doing great, that's all. I don't want you to disappear from my life for another year.”

“I love you too.” He answered, mind still humming. “Sorry. I'm really just busy.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm not avoiding anyone.” Chan reiterated, even though he probably was. He also needed something, any idea to change the subject before Bambam actually crossed the line into flat out mentioning Stray Kids. “And I'm not going to disappear. If you want to, I can look into your cover art, just don't credit me if it ends up being a masterpiece.”

Bambam took the bait just like Chan hoped he would. It almost sounded a bit too obvious (it's not like Chan was complaining, though), dropping the subject and focusing instead on sending a folder containing the cover art, key visuals and a multitude of decks and moodboards his way. Chan was more comfortable with this setting, even though what he was really supposed to be doing was sleeping.

When the notification for the email with the folder came, Chan propped the laptop over his chest so he wouldn't have to use a desk like a functional human being. The camera angle for the video call probably looked ridiculous, but he spent at least an extra hour chatting with Bambam and going over his concerns and problems with the actual design. It wasn't anything unfixable with little skill, which fortunately for Bambam, Chan had. He fell asleep at some point, Photoshop open and halfway through changing the secondary typography the agency they hired used for a typeface that would be more complimentary. He enjoyed a close to two-hour nap before waking up to a dead computer and a text from Bambam, who had already hung up, saying nothing more than “sleep tight, talk tmrrw”.

It was probably a good idea. When he laid down properly, after putting the laptop back in the backpack and tossing his jeans, Chan was almost instantly knocked out, only to wake up naturally in the appropriate time to actually go to work the next morning. 

After a full night of sleep, he woke up rested for once, and with a clear enough mind to be able to understand better what was happening inside his stupid brain. The restlessness he had felt ever since the meeting. He had been feeling a tingling sensation in the back of his head for days, like some kind of spider sense warning him of incoming enemies, but now it was easier to separate himself from it and see it for what it was, just anxiety. Or trauma. Bracing for some danger that would never come.

What was the danger other than his own paranoia? He had no idea.

Chan knew it was most definitely nothing, just like the last time something like that happened and the one before that, but it was one thing to know and another to tell his body that. No matter how many affirmations or exercises, he could not force his muscles to stop bracing for impact. At work, every time someone walked up to him it was like that dark cloud of mysterious threat would loom over him again and suddenly he was a square zero in the brink of panicking, which was incredibly frustrating because he knew there was nothing wrong going on. He only managed to control it when Amanda appeared in his office. Amanda was safe. Amanda had always been safe. At least his stupid brain could recognize that.

This time he wasn't kicked out or accused of working way too much. On the contrary, she was there to let him know the higher ups finally set the date for the briefing meeting for the new season ad, which was relieving for that same afternoon. With that, other demands started popping in his email and finally getting him to move. The day wasn't as packed as Chan would probably prefer considering his weird brain's best interests, but he was busy enough to be able to get in the zone for the majority of it. He ignored his phone as usual, volunteered to help Mason and the juniors even though he absolutely did not need to, but this time Amanda finally let him do whatever.

And then, just like that, life went on. It always did. The high anxiety over nothing faded as he finally had shit to do and was able to get his routine more or less back to where it was before all that freaking out over nothing. He was able to drown himself in work and personal projects enough to forget the foreboding, even if for a moment. He kept going back and forth with Bambam, who in return kept sending him updates about how the new ideas were well received by the band and how they were trying to make the creatives incorporate those ideas into the final key art. It was a full-fledged attack, each member targeting a different manager and annoying them to hell and back until they caved. It sounded hilarious.

The days passed, yet again, and Chan still felt that weird feeling in his stomach, as if the other shoe was about to drop at any second and ruin everything, but it was easier to chalk it up to his brain just being weird this time around. Every morning he would look at himself in front of the mirror to repeat that everything was fine and would continue to be fine, and it would make his heart beat just a bit slower. He would go to work, go back home, keep his life going one day at a time. His parents invited him to stay over the weekend, and instead of refusing like he usually did, he actually accepted this time.

Screw that familiar feeling of panic every time he closed his eyes.

Screw the nagging urge to remember.

Everything was good. It would stay like that.

Chapter Text

Even though he had no reason to, really, Chan couldn't help but fidget with the straps of his backpack as he waited in the bus stop.

Nothing about this should have been such a big deal, which always made him feel quite stupid for feeling that antsy. There was nothing out of the ordinary about going to his parents’ house. Matter of fact, he did it pretty frequently. Chan usually stood in that same bus stop every other Saturday morning until his dad arrived to pick him up, not because Chan needed to (the bus worked fine, thanks, or an Uber if he felt like splurging), but because dad needed the peace of mind to know his 25 year old son who had lived independently for over a decade would arrive home safely.

So, why the heck was Chan hyperventilating? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

In the distance, Chan spotted a gray sedan turning the street and stood up from the bench he had been hogging for at least 10 minutes. His hands were sweaty for no good reason other than his brain being dumb. It was fine.

The car stopped in front of him, and just like he did every time they met at that same bus stop, Chan’s dad greeted him with a grin as he rolled down the window. “Hello, stranger!”

Chan tsk’d, also like he usually did, and opened the passenger door to take a seat. “Hey.”

“You look tired, Chan-ah. Have you slept?”

“Jesus, give it 15 minutes.” Chan laughed, locking the belt buckle in. “I'm good, appa. Thanks.”

The man looked at him, clearly not buying it, which was annoying because of course he was right. Chan did stay up all night, trying his hardest to get his body tired enough to pass out from exhaustion and failing. He hit the gym. Deep cleaned the closet for the second time this month, re-folding and re-sorting all his clothes, did the laundry, and then as a last resort ran a couple laps around the block until it got to an acceptable time to pack up an overnight bag and walk to the bus stop to wait for dad. He did feel tired, and probably looked like shit, but what else was new?

He was trying to be normal.

It worked sometimes, but it wasn't like he could just flick off the switch that turned him into such an anxious, catastrophizing mess. He could start spiraling again or he could just silently freak out and pretend it was just his… normal weirdness. Just another insomnia day. It's not like sleeping hadn't been a constant problem ever since Chan started school. The usual. If he pretended hard enough, it would be true.

Dad hummed, taking his time to start the car again and drive towards the suburbs, away from the hustling and bustling downtown. Chan lived in Darlinghurst near Hyde Park, which was way too expensive and unnecessary when he could stay at home according to his parents, but he quite liked the place. It wasn't huge, just a standard 1 bedroom apartment, but a nice one, recently renovated in a good area. It was actually a steal. He could walk to work and everything, and the neighborhood was lively, fun, filled with art galleries, museums, things to scratch the creative itch in his brain. Greenacre, where his family lived, was way too quiet. Nice houses in gated communities, sure, but deafening silence. It almost made him crazy during the first weeks back home. He had adapted to background noise.

As they swerved into the highway and the scenery became less high buildings and more residential areas, Chan felt the weight in his stomach starting to grow again. While dad talked absentmindedly about the lamb roast marinating for lunch and how the swim school was going, Chan almost felt like he had to remind himself that yes, he liked home. He loved his parents, being with them, especially after living away for so long. He wanted to know about dad's students and how many medals they won in the latest swim meet, the regular, normal things in his regular, normal life.

“Are you okay?” Chan was brought back yet again by his concerned voice. They were stationary, waiting for a stop sign to turn green. He could even recognize the street as one near his family's home, so he probably had spaced out for a while then. Nice.

He was tired of everyone asking him that, like he was such a pathetic, needy waste of space who couldn't fend for himself.

“Yes. Just tired.”

“So you haven't slept, huh.” He quipped.

“It's no big deal.” Chan looked back at the street so he wouldn't have to face his dad, immediately closing off.

“I'm not saying it is. How's work?”

“Good. Great, actually. Just… big week.”

“Big as in good, right?” He asked. “We barely see you nowadays. You know we worry, eomma and I, right?”

He nodded. Of course he did. He just didn't want them to have reason to worry.

“As in good, yeah, yeah.” Chan grumbled, which ended up sounding like he was mad, which wasn't the case at all. Why was he like this? “I got a big project greenlit and everyone was really happy. I didn't even bring my laptop today, they banned me from working after hours.”

“Good. Thank Amanda for me.” Chan's dad laughed, then, one of his genuine cackles. “I never thought I'd have to worry about my son working too hard, the problem is usually kids being pushovers.”

The comment was supposed to hit as a joke. He knew that. But Chan also knew how much he put them through. He fucked off to another country as a child, which had to be terrible for them to deal with, and came back completely destroyed. They had to piece him together bit by bit when Chan was ready to fuck off in… other senses, too. He got dangerously close to it. If he didn't consider himself particularly enjoyable to be around now, he was unbearable then. Easily irritated, snappy, depressed, ungrateful, useless. How they kept loving him was beyond Chan to understand.

“I'm trying, appa.” He said, almost a defeated whisper.

“I know, aegi.” Dad sounded confused, as if Chan's reply was probably not what he expected. “I'm proud of you, Chan-ah. Always been. Always will.”

Chan nodded, letting the silence between them stretch on until dad pulled over to the garage. He tried to focus on the window so he couldn't actually see the concerned glances thrown in his direction every now and then, even though he could feel them burning the back of his head. Chan immediately jumped out the car and went straight inside, giving his dad barely no time to react.

Home was good, but sometimes home was hard. So, more often than not, Chan stayed away when he was feeling the blues so that the hardness he tried so hard to conceal - and constantly failed to - didn't bleed onto them that much. And he was determined not to be a depressive party pooper this weekend. He would do it. He was fun. He was light.

It was not like he was internally freaking out about something that never happened or anything.

As he walked into the living room, Chan was slammed in the calves by a chaos gremlin. He immediately crouched down to play with Berry, turning on his baby voice to speak with her. Berry was an active dog, but she always turned a new level of crazy when Chan was around - Hannah used to say she perked up just by hearing his name being called. He loved it.

“Ew, take your gross street shoes off!” Speaking of the devil, she was leaning into the archway that connected the living room to the kitchen. Just like Amanda, the rudeness was just for show. Hannah had a lot of bark, but no bite at all.

“Yo.” Chan greeted in an intentionally flat voice instead, which always made her laugh. “How you've been?”

She shrugged, trying to look non-chalant but being betrayed by the smile. “Fine, I guess. Are you staying the weekend?”

“Yeah.”

“Gross.”

“Love you too.” He got up, taking Berry into his arms and making his way to the kitchen, where mom probably was.

“Hey,” Hannah called for him just as he crossed her path. She was suddenly serious. “Can we talk… Later?”

Something about the interaction made Chan pause. Why wouldn't she say whatever she wanted to now? They were alone. He scratched Berry's ear as he came up with a reply.

“Sure. You good?”

“Yep. Just… You know. Stuff.” She stuttered. Something was definitely up.

“Okay. Whenever you want.”

And just like that she was gone, which was definitely weird but not unheard of. She was a teenager, after all. He tried to follow her, but something told him to not push. She had already reached out and asked for a chat, whatever it was Hannah needed, he'd just help her through it.

“Chan-ah!” He turned his attention to the sweet voice calling him from the kitchen. Mom was cutting veggies on the counter, but she promptly dropped everything to clean her hands and squash Chan in what would have been a bear hug if she wasn't so much shorter. “Finally! Why did it take you guys so long?”

“Traffic.” Chan said, even though he wasn't actually sure. Dad was still in the garage, so he couldn't correct him.

He put Berry down to wash his hands to help in the kitchen. She didn't say anything back, just handed him a bowl of veggies and a knife. They then stood side by side, the silence stretching between them, as they worked on prepping the food. Chan dutifully cut veggies and then sliced the meat that would be roasted later.

She didn't ask questions or looked at him with that pity, concerned look. That wasn't how mom dealt with things. She had a smile on, at all times, and the lightness in her eyes was usually what disarmed Chan. He suddenly felt the urge to tell her everything. Tell that he hadn't slept more than 15 minutes tonight, and that he definitely was spiraling. That he desperately missed his best friends, but at the same time the mere idea of looking at them made him want to die.

And that's why he didn't say anything, fighting with all his might to keep the urge at bay. It was ridiculous. All that shit happened years ago. It was just jealousy. Envy. Yeah. That felt right.

“Where's Lucas?” He asked, at some point, because the silence was making him crazy, having to listen to his own thoughts instead.

“Swim practice.” She answered, without even tearing her eyes away from the food cooking at the stove. “Why don't you go pick him up? He should be done in a bit.”

“Already trying to get rid of me?” Chan quipped. “Am I not a good sous-chef?”

Mom giggled, and gave him a warm side hug as he wrapped up prepping a bowl of lamb. “Course you are. I'm trying to give you an out, or appa will recruit you to the barbecue.”

Chan actually wouldn't mind keeping an eye on the barbecue, it would allow him to avoid conversation a bit. As soon as the thought came, it flooded him with shame. Why was he avoiding being with them?

He was about to agree to picking Lucas up when the for door bell swung, heavy steps in the living room accusing that the youngest probably had a shorter practice. Berry was barking, being riled up by the hyper teenager stomping in circles and singing a probably made up lullaby about Berry with a baby voice that was the right pitch to make the chaos gremlin even more chaotic.

When Lucas crossed eyes with Chan, the song stopped. The energy faded. The boy now looked at him like he had seen a ghost, profoundly embarrassed.

“Hey.” Chan smiled his best big brother smile that he finessed with in Korea with the boys.

And then Lucas was off, running straight to his room, leaving Chan and mom alone in the kitchen like Chan was radioactive.

He knew that feeling hurt wouldn't really be fair. Lucas was a baby when he first left, they had barely no contact throughout his childhood. Chan probably felt more like a distant cousin to him, especially now that he was starting to grow into a teenager. He felt like he could help Lucas navigate some things, just like he had been helped back then, but it's not surprising things hadn't really panned out to him as the big brother he wanted to be for them. He had tried, but it constantly felt like he missed a window. Back then, Chan justified it as him building a future for all of them - now that that future was lost, he wasn't so sure.

Mom probably could see his mind whirring, asking himself where he went wrong (and knowing the answer damn well). “He’s just shy. You know how teenagers are.”

He did, actually. Seungmin was pretty quiet and reserved at first. Jeongin could barely speak up when Chan met him. He was around Lucas’ age. It took a while to get him to open up, but he'd done it through dedicated time and proximity, both things lacking in his relationship with Lucas and solely his fault for not trying hard enough to be a part of his little brother's life. It wasn't on purpose, but that didn't make it hurt less when he was confronted about it.

Hannah asked to talk, though. That meant something. It wasn't the first time she asked for help with something, but it was the first time she asked to talk. Usually she just asked what she needed through a quick text. A ride to a concert. Editing a videotape audition for the school play. Finishing math homework. Talking his parents into letting her spend the weekend in her best friend's house. This felt more serious. Whatever she needed now, he'd do it. He loved them so much, of course Chan would do anything they asked.

“Ok,” Mom clasped her hands together. “Go help your dad at the barbeque and I'll set up the table. Take the meat.”

He nodded diligently and left. Dad was already fiddling with the gas, hunched over the big barbeque. The scene was so familiar - they owned that same barbeque and used it every Saturday ever since he was a kid, and every Saturday dad had to fiddle with the gas valve because it never worked the first time. When he joined with the meat, dad also did the whole “here’s how you wait until the optimal flipping time and check if the meat is medium rare - not rare, not well done, medium rare” speech, which he also heard a bunch of times and smiled through every single one, chest warm by watching his dad being such a nerd about barbecue and meat and grilling. He dutifully let him guide through the process (even though he knew exactly what to do already), just basking in the normalcy of it, forgetting for a second why he spent so much time away.

In a matter of minutes, the table behind them was fully set up and Mom called over everyone to join. Lucas and Hannah appeared, Lucas having just come out from a shower. Berry was asking for meat. When the youngest sat down, dad clasped Chan's shoulder lightly.

“Go sit.”

“No,” Chan grabbed the tongs, with way more bravado than necessary. He wasn't even particularly hungry. “Go eat, I can take it from here.”

Knowing Chan would insist and it would be best to just go with it, dad even tried to lecture him on the proper grilling time of lamb but was shooed away. He could hear the chatter on the table, Mom asking Lucas how was practice, Hannah going on about finals and college entry exams and how rueful all that was, which he could relate to.

“Oppa, when did you decide what to study in college? Was it in Korea?” She asked while he was absentmindedly messing with the meat as the rest of the family filled their plates with banchan, so relaxed that it didn't even register that questions about Chan's life in Korea was usually somewhat of an off-limits subject that no one in his family would touch in without good reason to - usually Dad prodding to understand why Chan was acting off, but never by Hannah, never so candidly.

It was barely skirting the awkward elephant in the room, but he could do it and be normal about it. “I decided here.”

“But would you have gone for Design if you had stayed in Korea? Or… would you have gone to school in Korea at all?”

Chan contemplated what to say for a second, fighting the urge to drop the subject. Would he?

“I don't know.” He answered, still looking at the grill, because it was true. He had no time to think about higher education back then, as most young trainees and rookies didn't. College was either something to do before training or to think about after you were already settled a bit into your career. There were people who did both, but it was rare and super time consuming. It even took extra years to graduate. Chan had no extra time at all, balancing music production with training and trying to take care of the group as a leader and sorta-parental-big-brother-ish figure.

“You didn't have time?” She kept going.

“Not really.” He hummed, finally turning to face her. She looked… nervous, and his heart started to race, so he decided it was enough focus on him. “Why? You're considering studying in Korea?”

“No, just curious. Well, maybe. I don't know.” She shook her head vigorously, looking down.

“What are your options for undergrad?”

“Performing Arts.” She answered without hesitation. He hummed, while giving her a quick nod. The inclination made perfect sense. Hannah had been a dancer her whole life and got into musical theatre during high school. He could vividly remember the day she first found out about Wicked and called him a traitor for not mentioning he had already watched it in Seoul with Sana-noona a long time ago.

“Cool, cool. Sweet.” That was all Chan could say while going mentally through the ways he could help her apply for schools. He didn't know a lot about art schools in Korea obviously, but there were some really good performing arts schools in Australia. Even if his alma mater, University of Technology Sydney, did not offer theatre or anything he could search, ask around, maybe reach to someone from the talent department at work and-

“Earth to Chris.” Hannah called, and when he came back to himself the meat was already done, nearing the dreaded well done.

“Sorry, sorry.” He used the tongs to serve the meat quickly into a platter and put it right in the center of the table for the others to pick from. “Um, I'll see what I can find about it. Get some pointers from industry people and stuff.”

“Oh. Okay.” She seemed struck for some reason, exchanging glances with mom and dad like they were all in on a joke Chan hadn't picked up on. He igonored it, refilled the grill and waited in front of it, turning his back to them for a second to think.

Hannah probably meant she needed to talk to him earlier about college and the future. He wanted to do that, be the big brother she deserved, the one who went through this stuff, albeit a bit differently, and could give her advice.

“Chan-ah, eat with us.” Dad called.

“I’m finishing this round.”

“I can do it this time.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He did end up sitting at the table after the second round was done, but other than nibbling rice and a bit of lamb, Chan didn’t really eat much. After lunch, he was recruited by dad to clean the pool (which was yet another failed attempt at getting through him), sat with mom to watch a drama, and played a bit of League of Legends with Lucas. There wasn’t a lot of talking involved, but he took the bonding time as a breakthrough nonetheless. He even proposed they set up a regular game session every week or so, a League date for sorts, and Lucas said yes. That was as much as a breakthrough as he could hope to get.

It was already night when Hannah finally reached out to talk. Mom and dad were out, grabbing some groceries for tomorrow. He was laying on the couch nearing a nap, even though his room was pretty much intact and ready to use, and she sat beside him. She was antsy, he could tell by the knee shaking and the way her mouth moved without making a sound, like she was trying to work herself through opening up.

“What’s up?” Chan started, then.

“Um.” She had no quip. No nothing. “I was thinking if you could help me. Well, you already said you would.”

Chan sat up, getting his mind’s engine into the helpful big brother gear. “Sure. What do you need?”

“Some… Coaching. I thought you could help me prepare. For my audition. You're a senior or whatever.”

The way she worded it was off for what he was expecting. If she was talking about musical theatre, Chan had next to no experience with it other than dance classes and a mild obsession with The Greatest Showman. He never auditioned for a show, he wasn't an actor - I mean, technically he had been at some point, but a few commercials when he was 11 did not count for anything useful. Which meant she wasn't talking about the theatre aspect, but the music.

As if he had replayed the sentence in his head, he caught the missing piece. “You’re a senior”, Hannah had said. She asked about Korea. She didn’t say “theatre”, Chan had assumed that, she said “performing”.

He felt pressure in his chest, the panic of witnessing one of his worst nightmares becoming true right in front of his eyes.

“Hannah, what do you mean audition?” He finally asked, trying to not shake. 

“To JYPE! Well, not only JYPE, I actually made a list, but I-”

She was happy. She seemed excited. But the dread that had been looming in Chan’s body ever since he got to the bus stop that morning suddenly hit him full-force, the eerie sense of foreboding now blown into proper panic.

He couldn't let that happen.

“No.” Chan blurted out, voice dry.

She would not go through the same shit he did.

Is this the best you have? I can't believe you came all the way from Australia for such mediocre dancing.

“W-what?” She was caught off guard.

You've been here for a while. If you can't fit in our standards for trainees ever after all this time, you should make it easier for yourself and just quit.

“Absolutely not. You're not auditioning for anything.”

“That's not up for you to say!” Hannah shot back, voice raising an octave. “You said you'd help!”

Come on, Chan, if you're not good enough to debut yourself dragging those kids with you won't make it any better.

“You wanted my advice, no? So here’s my advice. Don't even try. I don't care if it's your dream or whatever. You won't get in. You would never get in. And even if you did-”

“Just because you failed doesn't mean I will too.”

You were given every opportunity in this company and yet you've proved that's not enough once again.

“Save yourself the trouble, Hannah.” Chan was too panicked with the prospect of Hannah standing in front of JYP-nim to think of a clap back to the insult. It wasn't like she was wrong. He did fail. “You don’t belong there.”

Bang Chan-ssi, from this day on you're not a part of JYPE or Stray Kids anymore.

Maybe, if he had time, any indication that’s what has been going through her mind, he would have been able to concoct a better action plan. Talk her out of it less brashly. But panic got the best of him, the certainty that he’d be caught dead before letting her walk into that lion’s den, tied to his name. No, that would be handing his baby sister on a silver platter. He couldn’t give JYP that satisfaction.

“Fuck you.” Hannah grumbled. Her eyes were red, cheeks flushed with anger and there was a tear threatening to leak out.

It was better this way.

Let her be mad at him, if that meant she'd stay away from JYPE or auditions or companies. He was trying to protect her, even if it didn't seem like it.

Chan tried to calm himself. That was going terribly. “I'm sorry, but I-”

“Fuck you!” She got up, now finally screaming. “You disappear so you can live up your dream for years, and now that I actually need you for help because of my dream and you're actually here you can't? Are you what, jealous? Go to hell.”

“If you audition, I'll ask Felix to block it.” He blurted out, even if he had no real contact with any of the boys for years. He would reach out to them for this, though. Their emails and numbers were still saved in Chan's contacts, well, if they hadn't changed them. He even had them memorized. And he would put himself out there to protect Hannah, as crazy as that might be. “Or Changbin. Han, anyone. Heck, I'll talk to Park Jin-young-nim himself. You won't get through anything.”

Truth is, he knew he didn't really need to. Anyone associated with him would have a tough time if they tried to audition, the managers and company lawyers made sure to let him know of it when they kicked Chan out. But worse than the risk of her being flat out boycotted, was the mere possibility of Hannah actually being taken in. Falling into the same traps he did.

"I truly just want you to be realistic." He tried to remedy, but he could immediately feel it just made everything worse.

"I hate you." Hannah answered, then. It was sober, practically devoid of any emotion. As if she saw the ugly truth for the first time.

He just took every nasty word, then, because Chan deserved them.

And Hannah deserved to be angry. Deserved to scream at him, to call him names, to rub in his face how little he gave a shit. He understood exactly where she was coming from, it wasn't like he could deny that he'd been pretty distant. Chan wasn't present when she needed him, either due to the distance or to his own mental bullshit. Wasn't himself for a while after coming back, he spent months laying in bed for hours on end, in the dark, not really talking or living or doing anything. Mom used to say he was “sick” when Hannah asked for him or his attention, but even Mom didn't really know what was going on. The sibling relationship now was distant, way too distant for his liking, but if that meant she'd hate him and think he was out to crush every ambition of her getting into the business that almost killed him, he would.

“Well, thanks for nothing. I knew this was hopeless.” She finally ended and turned to leave, running up the stairs and slamming the door to her bedroom as she walked in, which made him flinch. If he had felt like an asshole that morning for being jumpy and antsy for no good reason, now he just wanted to disappear. 

“Hannah? Chan-ah? What's going on?” He heard mom call from the garage, probably having arrived from the store at that same exact time Hannah slammed the door. Shit. Chan was running back to his own room without even realizing, grabbing his stuff in a rush to go home.

As he walked out the door, the weight of the useless overnight backpack practically burning on his shoulders, Chan heard mom calling but chose not to look back. As he faced the empty street to go back, he realized it was at least a 15 minute walk to the closest bus stop and he actually had no idea how to get there. Dad usually drove him home, he never ran off like that. God damn gated communities.

He stopped pacing as quickly, deciding to stop by an intersection probably five blocks away from his parents’ home and asking for a car instead to avoid the hassle, and when he put his phone away because looking at the screen while the app searched for a driver was super boring, he saw a figure walking straight in his direction.

“Hey!” Dad called for him. He was breathing heavily, probably running from home to search for him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Chan pulled the phone back just to check if there was indeed a car coming. “I'm sorry for ruining the mood, I-”

“Channie, she's just angry.” Dad cut through him.

“She's right.”

“She just doesn't know the reason.” Dad pleaded. He didn't know it either. Chan never explained the whole thing to anyone, choosing instead to leave them in blissful ignorance. “Son- what happened-”

“Don't let her do it. Tell her I threatened to kill myself if she auditions or something and you worry I might be crazy enough to do it. Let her hate me. Let them both hate me, I don't mind.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry. She's right, I'm never here anyways.”

Dad's hand in his shoulder made Chan finally breathe, the gentle touch shocking him into freezing. “Son, stop for a second and listen to me. She's angry because you blew her off. If she knew-”

“I don't care if she can't stand me. I don't mind being the bad guy to keep her safe. I love her. That's what matters. I'm doing it for her.”

“Keep her safe from what?”

“Of that mess, I- I can't let her-”

Chan knew he wasn't making any sense. They didn't know anything about what happened in Seoul. He didn't tell them. He couldn't. He didn't usually have nightmares (or dreams - it was usually a blackout and then he would wake up the next morning), but when they hit they were focused solely on the prospect of them knowing, their shocked and horrified faces, the way he would never be the same to them. Their disgust.

“You don't have to be the bad guy. She'll understand if you just talk to us.”

“Promise me you're not letting her audition. Swear it.”

“Explain to me why, then.”

“Swear it.” Chan ignored the request. He'd die before talking to anyone about it.

“Chan, if something happened to you-”

“Appa. Please.”

He breathed out, resigned. That wasn't a new conversation. “Ok. I promise. I swear. But, aegi-”

“I'm fine.” Chan squared his shoulders, taking a deep breath. A car stopped close to them and he immediately moved to board. “Sorry for everything.”

When the car started moving again and Chan could actually exhale, he blinked away the tears that collected in the corners of his eyes. He wouldn't cry. If he started, Chan had no way of knowing if he'd be able to stop. He instead pressed the palms of both hands in his eyes until he saw shiny spots in the darkness, wishing that the world would swallow him whole.

Chapter Text

It was close to midnight when Chan dropped off the cab, along with three large bags and two backpacks containing basically everything he owned. The last four days passed in a blurry haze: at one moment he was recording in the studio with Changbin and Jisung and they left early to go back home and sleep since Chan was never one to tap out, at the other he had to pack as quickly as possible and leave the dorms. He had nowhere to stay in Seoul. He felt like shit, empty, like his ability to feel had been turned off - which was actually an unexpected blessing. It allowed him to move away from the situation and just act with his brain, almost by pure instinct.

So, he went home.

The rustling noise of Chan fiddling with the keys in the dead of night and mechanically carrying his luggage one by one inside probably was what woke his parents up.

“Channie?” He heard it before the lights flickered on. Mom was dressed in light pants and a worn out shirt. Not exactly pajamas, but also not… Not pajamas either. “What… We didn't know you had a break.”

She sounded confused, which probably made sense. He didn't let anyone know he was coming - heck, he hadn't even told them what happened. Chan couldn't look her in the eye, choosing instead to focus on dragging his suitcases to the center of the living room and relishing the last moments of their ignorance.

“Chan-ah?” Dad appeared behind her and ventured closer, making Chan freeze on his tracks.

“Aegi… What's going on? Did something happen?” Mom pried the handle of one of the suitcases out of his hands, and only then Chan realized they were shaking.

“I left.” He said it, the first words he was able to blurt out in probably a day or so.

“Left… What?” Dad asked instead, voice cautious.

Chan wasn't in control of his own body. It was almost as if he was underwater, or watching himself through a peephole. The words directed at him sounded jumbled, muffled, and the gray haze was as comforting as it was terrifying. He knew he was probably supposed to feel exhausted after such a long trip, carrying such heavy weight, anything to remind he was still alive inside that sack of meat he called a body, but he didn't. Chan just felt numb.

He could only think about how badly he had messed up. How the boys were probably confused as hell at his sudden departure, or being fed explanations that certainly painted Chan in the worst light. The album was supposed to be done already, they were rehearsing for the debut concert, and would probably have to re-record his lines and fit a ton of extra work hours between the already taxing dance rehearsals during the countdown to their debut.

They would probably hate him. He couldn't even say goodbye, and he definitely couldn't contact them now. The text he got from Changbin inviting him for a movie and dinner date so they (more likely, Chan) could relax for a bit was now sitting useless in his inbox, because while Changbin probably thought Chan was drowning himself in work at the studio like he did most of the times, he was actually being hauled by two managers to a meeting with legal without even knowing the reason for it.

God, it felt like that happened both forever and two minutes ago at the same time. He was so tired.

Funnily enough, when Chan had the realization that he'd never be able to have another movie and dinner date with Changbin again, it was as if the finality of it all dawned on him and shook him off the haze that carried him all the way from Korea back to his parent's home. It didn't even feel like home anymore. Home was Seoul, with the guys, with Changbin.

It was over.

All those years, all the love he had for each one of them, all the hard work and dedication, gone now.

He should be breaking apart at the seams, sobbing desperately.

“I left.” He could only repeat, completely numb.

Chan felt like shit.

He certainly deserved it.

He tried to apologize, on the very next day after the fight. He had spent the whole night up, unable to keep his eyes closed for more than five minutes, the crushing guilt of hurting his baby sister and trying to crush her dreams in order to keep her safe eating him alive. Tried apologizing being the key word, because after three texts falling to send, Chan was pretty sure Hannah had him blocked. Which was completely understandable. The only other option to reach her would have been to talk to her at home, but that seemed way more invasive when the message had been pretty clear. Stay away.

So, he did.

Mom and dad called multiple times during the weekend as well. He added them to the list of people whose calls he'd intentionally miss, along with the unknown number who still called his stupid phone every now and then. If changing contact numbers weren't a pain due to how many people had his phone number from work, Chan would probably get a new number just to get rid of those spam calls.

He had to keep going strong at work. It was the one thing actually going smoothly. No more issues with execs, no more annoying meetings, a lot of compliments. Chan just had to wash his face with cold water every now and then to keep himself from either dozing off or looking like garbage, force his best corporate smile on, and remember to keep it on.

He was so tired.

But he couldn't stop. Chan didn't know what would happen if he did. So he kept going, shoving every single stupid problem he dragged himself into inside a tiny box on the “I'll deal with it later - or not at all” shelf inside his stupid head and plowed on with his life, sleep or no sleep, it didn't matter.

If he wasn't able to rest and showed up to work on Monday in a deplorable state of exhaustion so bad that even Paulson noticed, it was Chan's own making.

If Amanda threw worried glances at him every time they crossed paths at work, he just looked the other way and moved on with his day.

If anyone outside of work called, he'd straight up ignore it.

It's been days. It was working.

When lunchtime came, instead of joining the rest of the team for a group trip to a restaurant, he isolated himself in his office, actually locking the door this time, and kept working until his eyes stung and his vision was fuzzy due to the exhaustion.

He left early, which in all of the… ten or so years he spent working in any capacity, Chan could not recall ever doing. Chan needed desperately to sleep. It had been three full days completely awake and spiraling at that point. So, he shot Amanda an email saying he was leaving early because he had some personal thing to deal with and walked the 15 minute path home, just like usual, in hopes that the exercise would help tire him out.

While he was waiting for a red light to turn green so he could cross the street, his phone started vibrating in the back pocket of his jeans. Fucking hell. Chan could spin the mental wheel of people who would possibly attempt to call him at 2pm on a Monday. Mom, dad, Bambam, Amanda, that fucking unknown number. He didn't particularly want to deal with any of them, but his hands were taking the phone off and accepting the call before he could tell his body no.

“Hello?” He said, without even looking at the screen. Fuck it.

He braced for an uncomfortable conversation, but only received silence back. Maybe a bit of static, but no usable, recognizable sound.

“Hey?” Chan tried again. Nothing but fuzzy rustling. “Hello?”

After a couple more seconds in silence, he turned off the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. The green light appeared and he finally crossed the street, instantly relaxing again. It was probably the useless unknown number. Nothing new. 

Good.

When he got home, Chan took a shower and shoved himself into bed, pressing one of the pillows in front of his eyes so he could have a full blackout and was able to get his body shut down bit by bit. Deep breaths, in and out. Relax every muscle, first starting by rolling his ankles, feeling the calves, and moving upwards throughout his body. It was an exercise that his old therapist (technically he was still his therapist, Chan just hadn't booked a session in months) taught him when things were capital B bad. The worst part was it kinda worked.

Chan was close to finally drifting when his phone rang again, and he had made the mistake of not putting it on Do Not Disturb so now the ringtone was blasting in the bedroom. He could actually cry.

And then he grabbed the phone and saw it was Bambam. He also sent 20 or so texts, so it seemed like he really needed to talk to Chan.

Against his better judgment, Chan decided to pick up the call. He was awake anyway, and it would take at least an extra hour until he was able to nap.

“Hey.” He said, trying to sound nonchalant but probably coming off as bored.

“Yo!” Bambam was cheery. Oh, fuck. He was not in a place to bounce off high energy today. Or ever. “What's up?”

“Good.” Chan answered, voice probably dry as hell even though he tried to sound lively. He regretted picking up the call as soon as the word came out his mouth, and there was silence on the other side of the line.

“Okay… Are you busy now? You're on your break, right?”

He would be, if he was working now.

“No, I took a day off today.” Chan laid his head against a pillow.

“Oh.” Bambam seemed understandably surprised. “Is everything good?”

Chan was annoyed, out of nowhere. He couldn't really pinpoint why, but he suddenly felt the urge to clap back, be snarky, because what kind of question was that?

“Why wouldn't it be?”

Something made Bambam pause, probably Chan's uncharacteristic tone. 

“You don't really take time off. Did you sleep today?”

“I was trying to.” Chan answered, voice dripping with venom. He could have been napping but Bambam was now asking dumb, obvious questions, which would have been okay any other day but now made his blood boil.

“Why aren't you sleeping? Did something happen?”

“The whole thing about having insomnia is that I can't control it, can I?”

He really didn't mean to sound that argumentative. There was no actual reason to be an asshole. But at the same time, Chan didn't really try not to snap.

The long pause in the call made Chan instantly cringe at what he just said. If it wasn't obvious by now that he wasn't actually doing that good he just made it so obvious. Bambam would definitely get all worried and ask that fucking question-

“Are you okay?”

Hearing it again was what finally set Chan off, like a balloon bursting, but instead of air he was filled with his disgusting, angry, self sabotaging thoughts.

“I just told you I haven't slept and that I'm trying to sleep in the middle of the damn afternoon, thanks for interrupting by the way, what do you fucking think?”

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. Bambam didn't deserve them. Just like Hannah hadn't. The disgusting monster he tried so hard to conceal was even harder to push back when he got worked up like this. When Chan was tired, it was harder to control his reactions. He was up now, standing in the middle of the room.

“Whoa. I'm… sorry. Didn't mean to push.” Bambam gave him way more grace than Chan probably needed or deserved.

“Forget it. What do you want?” Chan dismissed the concern real quick, dropping to the office chair next to the work desk he never used.

“Hum…” Bambam hesitated. “Do you need to talk? Just vent? I feel like-”

“I don't need your help. I don't need anything. I'm good.”

Silence, again. At this point, Chan just hoped he'd get the hint and give up on him once and for all. It was pretty easy.

What Bambam wanted was pretty much the opposite, though.

“Okay, um… Well, I… we got the album finalized. And we chose to go with your cover for our principal release. It'll be the official one. So… congratulations for us.”

Chan audibly took a deep breath, the weariness in his friend's voice while delivering what was probably something he was really excited about somehow being the thing that sobered Chan up. All the anger and snappyness fizzled out at once, leaving Chan by himself, that ugly, angry monster, having to consider how much of a dick he was to Bambam for absolutely no reason other than he just needed to be mad. He ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pull on it.

“I'm sorry.” He barely whispered, completely deflated out of the anger. “That's great, I- I shouldn't… I'm sorry.”

Bambam sighed. “It's okay. You're tired and you're angry at something, not me. What I wanted to ask, really, is… I want to credit you.

“Please don't.” Chan was quick in the answer, but it had no bite. He was more resigned than anything. “I don't want to get my name out again. It will open a can of worms that… I can't.”

“Channie, hasn't it been long enough? It's what, two years since the last time someone connected you to St-”

“I can't risk it. I'm used to not getting credit, it's fine.”

Truly, he was. Even before Stray Kids. He was never good enough to debut, but they did like a lot of the tracks Chan made before 3RACHA in an attempt to be seen as serious enough and noticed, and some even ended up in albums for other artists. Never title tracks, but he made a song for Twice, another for another debut project, even a GOT7 one even though he never let Bambam know that, some solo artists. He never got his name under anything, or got paid the smallest compensation for it, but the managers always told him that was to be expected as a trainee. There weren't a lot of self-produced acts around back then, they had to prove themselves. So, Chan tried, and stopped keeping track of them when he realized the strategy wouldn't lead him anywhere closer to debut. He just wasn't good enough for it.

And then Jisung burst into his life, Changbin right behind, up and everything changed. Made him want to fight for recognition a bit more.

Look where that got him.

“Why? You don't have to keep acting like you're banned from South Korea. You're an artist. Artists get credit.”

“You don't understand, I… I'm sorry. Um… Can we talk tomorrow? I promise I'll be normal and excited and not… whatever the fuck I am right now.”

“Channie-”

“We'll talk tomorrow, okay? I'll… I'm sorry. I'm happy for you. I have to leave.”

“Hey, wait-”

He hung up the call, throwing the phone on the bed and not even checking if it actually fell there or on the ground due to the force of the throw. Chan crossed his arms over the table in order to use them as a makeshift cushion when he laid his head, feeling the weight of how badly he had messed up drowning all his thoughts.

Suddenly, all he wanted was to disappear. If he could snap his fingers and cease existing, he would. It would be easier for everyone not having to deal with whatever was on his mind at any given day.

He hated himself. He loved his job, his friends, his family, and his normal life. None of that was the problem. The problem was his own inability to be happy. To enjoy them. To be loved back. He had these urges to pull away, to isolate, because he didn't deserve to be loved. Not when he was such a failure.

The tears welled in his eyes, along with the lump on his throat, but he swallowed it down, allowing the numbness to eat his thoughts instead.

It was 8pm on a… Friday? Wednesday? He had no idea anymore.

Chan had been having the worst sleep, bordering on maybe an hour per night, so the days started jumbling together. It was a somewhat frequent phenomenon in his life, just yet another display of how his brain was wired wrong or something, but at least the fact that he had reasons to feel like that started to feel a bit comforting. Like the trouble with sleep and focus wasn't just a thing his brain was bad at, but some superior punishment. It wasn't that Chan wasn't able to be happy and satisfied, he was forbidden to. It felt less out of his control due to being fucked in the head and more his fault for being a terrible person, and that was somewhat of an easier guilt to carry. He made the choices that led to being like this. He deserved everything that came after.

It had been some time since he fought with Hannah and fled his parents’ home. Some time after he completely shut Bambam off. Chan didn't bother to memorize when it happened, just remembering the whole thing was bad enough. Bambam had not given up, but Chan just took to being monosyllabic and distant with him until he eventually got bored and forgot about him. It would happen eventually. It always did.

The situation with his family was a bit different. He had received worried texts and calls from mom and dad checking if he was okay that promptly went ignored, but communication had been expectedly radio silence from both Hannah and Lucas. That was no surprise there. Hannah still had him blocked and Lucas probably took her side because he actually knew her. Whatever blossoming relationship he had with them before was gone after his outburst, and he was okay with it if it meant they would be afraid enough of him to not engage with any idol stuff - or any of his ugliness. He had to be okay with it, even if the loneliness ate him alive most nights. It was the price to pay for keeping his family safe from his tainted reputation, just like with Stray Kids.

Work became his safe place, a bubble where he could hide away from all the burned bridges and disappointment.

That's where both Amanda and Sal found him, holed up at his office, earphones on for hours on end, finishing something. Sal had to actually poke his arm for Chan to realize he had company.

“Earth to Chris”, they said, probably not for the first time.

“Leave me alone”, Chan scoffed, but his voice had no bite. He was actually tired for once, after getting into a flow and forgetting that time was a thing. Amanda just scoffed, used to his bullshit.

“Nope. We're out, so you're coming with me.” She said, and that's when he realized both her and Sal had their backpacks on. Sal even had their water bottle hanging from a carabiner in the backpack, which usually meant travel mode. They also had a Twice plushie hanging from it. It was Sana’s character.

He sighed, standing up and closing his computer yet again like a child who just got a scolding from mom. “You're driving me home.”

Amanda grabbed one of his shoulders and they walked together to the elevator, not even dignifying him with an answer, because of course she would. She scoffed, more at herself than anything else, but when Chan looked at her with a puzzled face, the smirk turned into a smile. “When I first met your puppy face, I didn't think I'd be dragging your stupid ass out of work once per week.”

Sal snickered.

Chan smiled, putting a hand over his chest. “Wow. I feel so loved.”

Teasing aside, he actually did. And she knew that, if the warm smile on her face was any indication. The three of them settled into a peaceful kind of silence, well earned after dealing with projects and managers and proposals all day, as they walked to the elevator and went down to the garage floor. When the doors finally opened Chan just followed her to the blue Subaru parked not too far.

Amanda turned to face them as she dramatically unlocked the car. “Get in, losers.”

Chan just obliged, grinning from the ridiculousness of her ordering him into a Subaru. And a hatchback, of all cars.

“I love that you're a Subaru lesbian. I wouldn't expect anything different.” Sal teased, and it occurred to Chan that while hitching a ride home in Amanda's car late at night was not that uncommon for him, it was the first time she drove Sal, since they — unlike Amanda and Chan — usually clocked out on time.

Chan turned to them, a puzzled look out of nowhere. “Why are you late, by the way? I'm supposed to be the crazy workaholic she has to drag home.”

At least he could joke about it, right?

Sal giggled, as both of them tried to go for the backseats at the same time, unsure of who would get to ride shotgun. Amanda did not let Chan take a seat, though, complaining about “not being a damn chauffeur”. He conceded without putting up a fight.

“As it turns out, your show has been a pain in the ass not only to you.” Sal finally answered after getting settled in the backseat.

Chan couldn't deny that having people refer to projects as “his show” was kinda nice. “Oh, really?”

“I have to deal with production now. They're making me do everything since their PA is a complete doofus. The team can't choose anything. Today I had three meetings just to pick which guest will be the first to shoot.”

“Did they choose?” Amanda asked.

“No!” Sal laughed out of the absurdity of it all. “There's some international guests, so it's up to their agents, which are also a bunch of confused messes, so we ended up at square zero and I just gave up.”

Chan squeezed their shoulders, in an attempt to be reassuring. “It's gonna be fine. You're doing great. Will you be able to be there for the shooting?”

“They said yes. They also promised me a press pass for the artists playing tours, at least, but I'm not counting on it.”

“Why?”

“Because they're incompetent…” Sal whined, melting in the seat, which made Chan laugh because it reminded him so much of how Hyunjin used to put up a show for any minor inconvenience in his way. Or how Changbin, even with the I'm super dark and broody act on, was as dramatic as Hyunjin. When he remembered he wasn't supposed to think about them, Chan's smile faltered.

Amanda eyed him through the corner of her eyes, so he looked the other way, facing the window instead.

“Who's shooting, at the end of the day?” Amanda asked, then. “Spoil me.”

“I actually can't. There are some big names. Top of the Billboard list and all that shit. Pop girlies. K-pop acts. I had to sign an NDA and everything.” Sal started, and leaned over the front seats, whispering like they were about to tell a deep secret. “But I really wanna meet New Jeans...”

Amanda laughed out loud, while Chan actually sighed in relief. At least he didn't have to play dumb about knowing way too much or pretend he never met them in person, because for once he actually hadn't.

“They ended up dragging k-pop into it after all, huh.” He was even able to joke. At both of their confused faces, Chan shrugged. “The board wanted me to be their consultant or whatever.”

Sal looked at him with a questioning glance. “Why?”

“Take one look at me and guess why those white jackasses thought I'd be useful.”

Sal opened their mouth in a gasp. “No way.”

“Fucking hell.” Amanda muttered under her breath. He waved her off, before this backfired and she actually got mad. “Cunts.”

When Chan looked outside again, he realized Amanda chose to drive Sal home before dropping him off, which was odd since he lived ridiculously close to the office by car. It was the good thing about living within a 15 minute walk from his workplace, even if the rent did hurt his pocket every month. He actually did not know exactly where Sal lived, but when she stopped in front of a residential looking building in what appeared to be Randwick he realized that was probably Sal's stop. They said their goodbyes, wished Chan a good night of sleep with a snicker, and left.

Chan thought for a second that Amanda was just waiting for Sal to enter the building, but even after they did, the car stayed stationary. Instead of turning the engine on, Amanda looked at him with that familiar concerned face.

“Are you good?”

“What? Why?”

“You seem tired. For a while.”

Well, he was. He'd been surviving off quick naps and terrible sleep for weeks now, and that was even before the catastrophic weekend that made everything just so much worse. But she didn't have to know about any of that.

 “I'm good.” Chan vaguely motioned to his own head. “Just… stuff up here.”

“Oh.” She seemed taken aback by Chan's honesty, as shallow as the confession was. He wasn't usually one to open up without some heavy convincing. “Did something happen?”

He thought about denying it.

But he was so tired.

“I'm a bit of a mess right now.” He laughed, dry and humorless. “For a while.”

“Did, um… When you were weird after that meeting for the show a couple weeks back. Is that why? Because the producers were assholes?”

He shrugged. It wasn't the reason, but it wasn't not the reason either. Maybe a starting point of all that clusterfuck inside his head. “Yeah.”

“Was that why you're spiraling?”

“Might be. I don't know.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” She asked, voice sober.

“There was no need.”

“There absolutely was. I'm supposed to advocate for you when you get disrespected. And you were disrespected as a professional. I'm your leader. That doesn't just mean you obey my orders, I take care of you.”

He had no idea why that made his eyes burn and his chest tighten up, but it did, and Chan had to look outside to breathe for a second. Of course he knew that. He did that, it was his main role outside of music production within Stray Kids. He took care of them, fought the group's battles by himself so it wouldn't hurt them.

“I'm sorry. I'll do better-”

“That's now what I mean, Chris.” She held his hand, forcing him to look back at her. “I want you to come to me for help. I know it's not my business, but um…”

She trailed off, fingers tapping the back of Chan's hand while refusing to let go.

“What?” Chan asked, but part of him was afraid of the answer.

“I've been worried about you.”

Chan scoffed, untangling his hands from her and sitting back. “I'm managing.”

“I don't think that's true.”

The easy smile he tried to put on died, but he didn't know what else to do.

The silence stretched between them while Amanda stared at him, practically urging him to open up. To be honest. Vulnerable.

I fought with Hannah. Was a dick to the last friend I still have in Korea. I'm avoiding my parents because I failed them. I’m afraid of even thinking about my former group. I'm so scared I will never get better.

The problem is, he just couldn't. It was too much.

Amanda had no idea about all of the stuff that plagued him the most. She had no idea he was a musician, much less a trainee in Korea. He made up a different story for why he went to Korea and why he was back.

At this point, Chan was buried neck deep in a field of a desperate web of lies made on the spot to cover the side of his life he was so embarrassed about — from her and everyone else. Or the loads of excuses that he concocted as a way to seem okay when he wasn't and it was just impossible to think about a way to dig his way out without having to deal with the consequences.

Being vulnerable now would lead to her finding out. Which would lead to her hating him. Either because he lied or because of… the rest. And now Chan’s family also hated him because he was an explosive, jealous, angry asshole and he couldn't deal with any of that. And Bambam was probably in the way of regretting even reconnecting. So he just deflected once more.

“I'm good.”

This time, it apparently was enough to make her give up, so she just sighed and turned on the engine. The drive to Chan's place was so quick he at least didn't have to deflect more. Before he even thought about it, they stopped at his apartment complex driveway.

“You need to take better care of yourself.” Amanda said instead of goodbye, when he moved to leave. “Come to me if you need it. Please.”

“I will. Love you.” He answered, and even though she didn't look convinced, Amanda let go. She waited until he walked into the building to drive off, leaving him to wonder how he managed to hit the jackpot so many times in the “best friends” department and still fuck it up.

When Chan first went to Korea, he was completely alone. And then, he got Bambam, Young K, Sana, and they were ride or die for him. They taught Chan everything he knew about music, performing and also growing up and out of his own shell. With them, he was able to feel less of an alien. Not quite Korean, not quite a foreigner either. Something in between. And while Bambam and Chan were way too close in age to have any real kind of big brother-esque relationship, YoungK was that for him. Sana was that for him.

And then he started collecting strays. Chan was able to give them the love and care he was given. He tried to be for each of them at least a fraction of what they were for him. Someone they could rely on, that would help guide them through hardship, knowledgeable enough to be a mentor. They were family.

When he had to leave Korea, Chan was horrified with the idea of being alone again. The clean break affected all his relationships, not just with the kids. He lost everyone, and was too scared to reach out to them when he was under direct and specific orders not to. He had no idea what the consequences would have been, but he didn't want to find out. Or to affect them. It took him a long time to build up the courage to even reach out to Bambam, he was already in college when that call finally happened. He only managed to after GOT7 went on hiatus and Bambam wasn't under JYPE anymore. It felt safer. Even though he would never be able to do it with all of his friends, it was something, right?

And then, at university, Amanda took him under her wing like a wild hawk, even when she had nothing to gain from it and was routinely brushed off. Chan still felt like he did not deserve any of that. He wasn't alone, he knew that, but at the same time he felt so hopeless. Like if the gaping hole and chronic despair in his chest would never get better, and the rest of his life would be like this.

Right now, the prospect of being alone was inviting, though.

Chan sighed for no one to hear, alone in the lobby waiting for the elevator as he realized where his mind led him to yet again. He stepped in when the doors opened and spared a glance to the screen displaying news 24/7 before pressing the button. The elevator was painfully slow and kind of old, but the screens always worked for some reason. He was able to see an ad about some random medication, and before the screen changed to another headline, he stepped off the elevator and walked to unlock his door.

He was greeted by an empty apartment, just like every single day. He didn't allow himself to feel lonely this time, however. It was his own making.

Chapter Text

Chan was trying to hide his shaking hands as he walked into campus.

No, wait. Not Chan. That was how Korean people called him. He was still getting used to being referred to as “Chris” consistently again. It had been a long time, so long that the name stopped feeling like his name. But it would have to, since he was back at ground zero again, walking into a new building as a complete newcomer to face a grueling process that would take years in order to be someone in life. Again.

“If you need anything, just let us know. We can pick you up, no questions asked. Just let us know.” Mom and dad told him earlier. They looked ecstatic for the opportunity of taking him to school for the first time in probably a decade, but at the same time there was some apprehension there. Of course there was. He was a ticking time bomb.

When Chan came back to Australia, he wasn't thinking about college. Or about anything, really. He had no recollection of his first month back home other than spending days on end in bed, staring at a blank spot in the wall for hours on end, fighting to push down the urge to cry, and his mom gently coaxing him to eat every day. Those days were… weird. Chan wasn't angry, or sad, he just… wasn't fully there.

As he was less gently coaxed into starting therapy, things got ugly real quick. Chan didn't want therapy. He didn't want anything other than to stay rotting in bed forever, which was what he deserved, but sadly for him, mom didn't allow that as an option. He was angry all the time; the sessions were mentally draining and he didn't get anything out of them other than a sore throat after screaming at the guy for the whole two hour sessions, two times a week. Chan didn't even feel sorry for being such a pain. He was fine, just let him rot in peace, what was the issue with that?

The screaming fits with the therapist turned into screaming fits with his parents, who for sure didn't deserve it, but now that Chan was able to feel something he was so inexplicably pissed that his body was always buzzing, bracing for the thing to set off the next explosion so he could let it all out.

He still couldn't cry, but he was pissed.

Chan started feeling the need to purge the terrible thoughts out of his body. He started roaming at night, meeting with strangers, desperate to feel something that wasn't that dark void of self hatred that seemed to only grow inside his chest, sucking everything else in the process like a black hole. Screamed at his parents whenever he was caught getting back in the dead of night with no explanation, picked up fights when he was walking out the door and they tried to stop him. Just picked fights in general.

The anger was ugly, uncontrollable, but at the same time the only aspect of life Chan was in control of at the time, which was depressing. He was 20, a grown man in every capacity, living independently for seven years. And was now dragged to therapy two times a week, and after running off way too many times also under a curfew time just like his not-even-teenage-yet siblings (that he didn't oblige to half the time either, which led to more fights and more aggression, more outbursts, and some holes in his childhood bedroom wall). He had no money, no job, and a shit ton of debt that none of their debut sales would count towards paying off since Chan made the songs but didn't debut with Stray Kids.

Waste 8 years of your life so you can achieve nothing, lose everything you created and still owe JYPE billions in won while your work still makes them billions in sales, all while being babied around by his parents and a fucking therapist.

What a shit deal.

He was so angry.

Chan knew he wasn’t being fair to his parents. They were doing their best, dealing with the shitstorm he brought over them with no notice. But he was so angry that it was hard to be rational and suck it up. He wanted to run away, to disappear and stop being such a disgrace for everyone, but they wouldn't let him. They loved him too much to let him go, and their unconditional love was so maddening the only outlet for it was through anger. So he screamed, threw hissy fits, kept running off in the middle of the night and bracing for the moment they'd finally give up on him.

They didn't. Despite everything.

It made him fucking crazy.

He wasn't really sure what changed but something definitely did. A new sense of clarity, probably brought by the therapy or whatever. He needed to have something for him. Anything. He needed to build something he could own, even if it was just a useless piece of paper, something to wave around and show his parents - and himself - that he wasn't useless, something to motivate him to stop doing whatever that spiral of self destruction and irresponsible decisions was. Going to college seemed like a good way to be in control of something, Chan realized at some point.

It seemed like a good idea.

I can do this, Chan thought as he took a deep breath. I'm not useless.

This is a way better outlet than going out every night.

“Hello!” A young man, probably a student volunteer, called over. “Which program are you looking for?”

“Um.” Chan coughed to clean his throat. “Design.”

He wasn't particularly into any of the other options. No Medicine, no Law or Engineering. Chan was good at math, but while he had been a goodie two shoes grade-A student at school in Korea, he now had the worst time focusing after everything went down. It was almost like that whole thing changed his brain, made it worse somehow. He had to take medication. Antidepressants, stabilizors, anti-anxiety meds. A temporary fix, the doctor said, but important to take him off the edge. It was only some time after he started taking them that the never stopping anger seemed to calm down a bit.

He also wanted to be creative, still. Going for music would be way too much, but something. Chan spent a full month thinking about what to do until he settled in Design.

Now, more than six months after he moved back to Australia, and a shit ton of tests, bureaucracy in order to properly convert his schooling history from Korea, research, applications, and sleepless nights waiting for offers later, he was finally a freshman on his first day of orientation.

The volunteer handed him a Hello, my name is sticker and a Sharpie.

“Nice! Just write your name here and you can go in that direction.” The guy made a point of gesturing specifically to a building behind them. “The Design School mixer is right there.”

“Thanks.” Chan mumbled, while the guy was already focused on giving directions to another freshman. He looked down, staring at the sticker and the pen in his hands. He wrote his name slowly, pretty aware that he was thinking way too hard about this. Chris, not Chan. It was simple. Hello, my name is Chris.

He was sure Chris would stop feeling so weird eventually, but it would probably take a while. Before walking up to the building, he took some extra few seconds to draw a quick doodle besides his own name, just to fill the white space around it. It was a tiny dinosaur - Changbin called it a snail, but it was just a lack of imagination on his part in Chan's opinion, with a derpy face and no arms. Thinking it over, he also drew a tiny crown on top of the little snail dino and stared at it for a moment.

Hello, my name is Chris.

He could do it, Chan thought again, as he finally unpeeled the sticker and positioned it in his own chest, walking over the Design School mixer. He was lost, and a bit scared, but this was good. Coming out of his shell, starting fresh, without the big shadow of failure and shame that always seemed to loom over him. There was still some part of himself that was screaming at him that he didn't belong there. Chan was way too old to be an undergrad freshman. Chan was too disgusting to be around people. At the first high-stress situation, he'd have a setback and explode again and toss every bit of healing he had worked so hard on in the garbage. But now, the urge to be better was louder than anything else, almost like a burning desire.

As soon as he settled into this life, the anger would stop for good. He would be able to stop the medication. His parents would see him as normal again.

Not Chan. Not Stray Kids Bang Chan, or a random fake name in a hookup app. 

Chris.

“Hi, freshman!” A young woman standing in front of the big glass doors greeted him, another volunteer, probably. She was wearing a neon pink t-shirt with “ask me about design and I might answer in a week” written in black, with a similar sticker stuck on her chest. Amanda.  She seemed a bit older than the other freshmen, around Chan's age since he had a gap of two years after graduating due to… all that in Korea. “The mixer is right there. Are you Visual Com or Interaction?”

“Visual Com.”

“Nice! I'm your senior!” She gave him a high-five, completely unprompted. “Do you know what you want to focus on?”

“Not sure yet.” He answered. “Something creative.”

“Just don't go into UX and you'll be fine. There's enough of them selling their souls to Figma. Let's be creative together.” She snickered, looking him up and down and seeming more curious than judgy. Her eyes stopped at the sticker in Chan's hoodie. She was taller than him. “Nice dino, Chris!”

He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in what seemed like forever.

For the first time since he was dragged into a meeting room in Seoul, Chan felt he'd actually be okay.

Today, 10:26

Sal Lewis

heyo, u busy?

Chris B

Wassup

Not at all, just desk stuff

What do you need?

Sal Lewis

can you join a meeting real quick for your show?

i did not get more details, im sorry

but paulson will brief you on them as soon as you meet up

he specifically asked for you, though, so it might be important.

Chris B

Sure. What time?

Sal Lewis

im gonna send the invite rn

thank youuuu!

Chan hummed. That was different. Usually he was called for new project meetings with a brief description or explanations, usually done by email or call. He closed the Slack, choosing instead to refresh his inbox until the invite came, maybe there would be more details there. Always efficient, Sal sent it right away, and when it popped into a notification, Chan clicked immediately on it, bracing for some revelation.

It had nothing, however, just a brief title of “Briefing | Chris B., M. Paulson” and the information for the room where it would take place, 30 minutes from now. Which was not on the same floor as most meeting rooms in the company. He had actually never been to any meeting on the top floors. They were usually reserved for higher-ups in the VP floor. Hum.

He stretched, letting out a groan. He had just finished adjustments on one of the pieces for the new season release and sent them for approval not even five minutes ago. He would usually take a mini break to buy some pineapple juice from the vending machine down the hall, but suddenly he couldn't. That whole thing was definitely odd, but something in Chan's brain started buzzing. He tried to fight that familiar tingling sensation of incoming danger. It was fine. Normal. So what if he would have a talk with his boss’ boss on the VP floor with no preparation whatsoever? He's dealt with worse. Maybe it's not even a bad thing. Maybe he'd get promoted! Why could uncertainty only mean bad things?

Oh, yeah, because the last time he was caught off guard in a situation like this, he was back in Korea. Being fired.

God dammit. He'd been working hard to present himself as doing well. Trying to sleep more. Forcing exercise every day. He pushed himself into being so well in fact that Amanda seemed to be less worried about him overall during the last week or so. See, world? Christopher Banhg could be normal until something happened to destroy the house of cards he called his mental stability. Take that.

It was okay. It would be fine. It could be a promotion. Or, more likely, a more complex project without any extra pay as a test before he got promoted. That could be a good thing. That's how Amanda went from senior to lead. She complained about it to this day. He could not wait for his time to complain too.

“Chan, from this day on you're not a part of JYPE or Stray Kids anymore.”

Nope. Not that. Definitely not that.

“Your actions are completely unacceptable and will not be tolerated. You can quietly leave and take our severance contract, and we can give you the courtesy of not relaying the reasons for your dismissal in any public announcement. We can arrange the details of JYPE's reimbursement later. Or you can try to lawyer up, make a fuss, and we would be obligated to act upon it publicly. It could stain your reputation even further and ruin your group's debut before it even happens. The choice is yours.”

Stop it. Stop it, stupid brain. He wasn't a scared teenager anymore. He wasn't intimidated easily anymore. Fuck those lawyers with their hard words and authority pushing crazy contracts with unreadable clauses taking away his whole body of work away from his grasp and signing him into decades of debt.

But that wasn't exactly true, was it? He did freeze pretty bad when asked about k-pop. How could Chan be reliable if he acted like this at the first small trigger? He wasn't a leader. Not like Amanda, anyways. There was no way he would be promoted like this. He wasn't good enough, not now, not in Korea, that's why he was never picked. That's why he had to resort to-

Chan got up, forcing himself to take 5 and get a damn can of juice after all instead of freaking out about whatever was going to happen. When he tapped at the screen trying to buy the damn juice from the vending machine, he had to start the process twice due to how much his hands were shaking now. Fucking hell.

“Hey.” Amanda intercepted him as he tried to run back to his office. “What's up?”

Chan tried to swallow the panic. She didn't seem concerned. That wasn't a “hey, are you okay?” tone. She was just starting a conversation like a normal person. There was no reason for panic.

“Juice break.” He shook the pineapple juice can lightly in front of her.

“Why do you like this so much?”

“It's good.” He shrugged, but didn't move to open the can. That would give his shakiness away.

Amanda looked away for a second, suddenly seeming weary. Oh, no.

“Do you know what Paulson wants with you?”

The fact that she also didn't know was even weirder, Chan thought. But he tried to keep his composure.

“Something about the show?” He said, non chalantly. “I don't really know.”

Amanda frowned. “The playlist? We shipped to production like, forever ago.”

“Yup.” He answered, popping the p.

“Um… okay.” She sounded unsure, which didn't help at all. It wasn't even nerves or anxiety affecting him (at least no more than he was already affected), but the sight of her uneasiness. Amanda was a rock. “Want me to come with you?”

She motioned her head towards the elevator.

Usually, he'd say no. He'd say it was fine, shrug it off, freak out by himself and just suck it up and go.

This time, however, he nodded and followed her, walking shoulder to shoulder through the white corridors and every single meeting room, just like they did every single day, but this time Chan tried to take deep breaths without being too obvious about it, bracing for… He had no idea what.

They ended up at the Director's office door. It was definitely more serious looking than the laymen's meeting rooms a couple of floors down. Was Chan about to get promoted? Or fired? He couldn't find a reason to be fired, especially not when Amanda had just said he was being pulled back into a project. When they stopped at a big glass door and the secretary immediately went to call for Paulson, Chan realized he had never been there before.

“It's here.” She said. “I can get in with you. In case they step out of line again.”

He took a deep breath, body filled with resolve out of nowhere. The need to do things without being fussed over like he was so fragile. “It's fine. I can manage it. I'll call if I need anything.”

“Sure?”

“I'm a big boy.” Chan said, intentionally corny. Her face of disgust was enough of a reward and finally drew a laugh out of him. The secretary came back, with Paulson trailing right behind.

“Chris!” The man greeted him with an uncharacteristic smile. “Thanks for coming. How are you?”

“Good, thanks. What do you need me for?”

“Just quick operational support.” He said with finality even though the words carried nothing of substance, really. “Come with me.”

He motioned at Chan like Amanda wasn't there. Chan glanced back at her and waved before he was dragged by the shoulders by the taller man, into the corridor that led to fancier, president-esque meeting rooms, probably.

“I need you to facilitate a meeting.” Paulson spared no time to introduce what he actually needed. He pushed a closed folder into Chan's hands, but he was so stunned his only reaction was to hold it against his chest, like a schoolgirl holding some books.

“Okay...? Do I need to provide anything?” Chan asked.

“No, just relay information.”

That made no sense, which was probably very clear from Chan's confused expression. The man seemed to sense his exasperation.

“The guests would feel more comfortable with you. Just trust me on this.”

"But who are the..."

He didn't have enough time to get the entire question out before Paulson opened the sliding doors with a grand gesture and Chan felt like he was suddenly having a stroke. No, he was having a hallucination. That made more sense than whatever was happening in front of him.

Sitting at the long white table, two men looked back at him. Two men he knew really well. Not as superstars or guests, but his mates. The guys who stuck by him when Chan was nothing but a promising young trainee, a bunch always so loud and chaotic and disorganized and always made their dorm a mess, who treated him like some old grandpa and he loved so much it actually hurt. The burning, unreadable gaze of two of the seven men Chan left behind without even saying goodbye made his stomach clench, the surge of panic catapulting him back to the worst days of his life.

Suddenly, he wanted Amanda by his side. He needed someone to jokingly call him back to Earth as if that was a mirage, or if he had finally lost his mind for good. He wanted to run, not only from them, but from the sudden influx of memories inundating the forefront of his mind.

They were always out there. Being successful, always reminding Chan that, no matter how accomplished his life was now - and the worst thing was that he was successful and he did feel accomplished at work - it would never fill the void, because it wouldn’t have them in it. He couldn’t speak to them, and wouldn’t even dare to try.

But now, they were here. Calm, composed, mature and sophisticated, serious, pissed.

They were here, and he had no idea why.

“Chris, these are Stray Kids's leaders, Lee Know and Changbin. Their group will be our first international guests for the playlist show in a few days but we have been facing some... Challenges in the communication sector due to the language barrier. That's why you're here.”

That was it. That was the other shoe falling.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of things Chan was good at. He was good at math. Delivering challenging projects within impossible deadlines. Juggling a lot of demands at the same time. Looking relatively normal with 2 hours of sleep a day. Composing a handful of hit albums and getting absolutely nothing from them. Being played like a Barbie doll and signing stupid contracts.

This, however?

Looking at his former friends now turned idol mega-superstars, while trying to hide from his actual boss that he actually knew all of them because he was supposed to be part of that same group if he wasn't such a fuckup?

Chan was so out of his depth it was actually hilarious.

He just stared at them, unable to do anything other than gaping like an idiot, because of how much they had changed. Because they did. They looked great.

Lee Know — not Lee Know, Minho — looked as sharp as in the first day he walked into a rehearsal room at JYPE, sharp jaw, serious eyes, focused expression. He always had a particular type of gravitas Chan couldn't really explain, just feel. Chan knew damn well outside serious settings that the guy was actually super caring (and a bit weird, although he seemed to attract weird), but when Minho meant business, he meant business. While he stared at Paulson Minho seemed ready to fight a CEO and win easily, dressed in designer from head to toe, all black, but when his eyes crossed with Chan he could see a particular look directed specifically to him. It almost looked like sadness.

Changbin on the other hand was… he was ripped. When did that happen? He hadn't seen a lot of pictures. He looked… great. Broad shoulders, chiseled face, looking like a man now, not the young kid putting a serious act on. Opposite to Minho, Changbin was dressed a bit more casually, just jeans and a leather jacket, but it still gave off thousand dollar vibes. Minho stood beside him, the two of them all serious and dominant as the leaders that stepped up when Chan was deemed unfit for the job. They all looked grown, matured, super professional in their fancy designer fits. And Chan had missed when that happened entirely.

The most different thing about him was the hard stare he was throwing in Chan’s direction. There was none of the caring, disgustingly fond expression he used to love and tease relentlessly. Changbin was staring borderline menacingly, like if he was disgusted with what he saw, at how much Chan had let himself go — which would be completely fair. He suddenly felt inadequate with his black jeans, black worn out Converse and oversized hoodie. The fact that he was supposed to fit in with them at some point in the past was ridiculous. As if he was a peasant and they were royalty.

Changbin stared with disdain, like he hated Chan.

And that was unbearable.

“Say something.” Paulson hissed behind the corporate smile, subtly nudging Chan in the elbow.

Oh, yeah, Paulson was here. Because he was his boss, and that was Chan's workplace. And Chan was working right now. He had a lot of questions, sure (and was more inclined to turn his back and run away than actually ask them anything), but for the sake of not outing his former situation and relationship to them to Paulson — which would lead to a complete disaster — he gave a quick bow to the two men as if they were completely unknown.

They were also alone. Where were the managers?

“Annyeonghaseyo”, he said.

“Annyeong, Chan-hyung.” Minho answered, and Chan had to fight the way his breath hitched. Not the hyung. He didn't know what was worse, that or if he had dropped the honorific.

“They said hi.” He said to Paulson, trying to keep his voice under control. If the man noticed the phrase was way too long to mean just “hi”, he didn't show it. “So, what do I have to do?”

Paulson nudged the folder in his arms. “You just have to discuss the shooting schedule. Do you need me here?”

“What?” Chan hid his face from them this time.

“Come on, you did this a ton of times!”

“Not in Korean!”

“It's not like it's a problem for you, is it? I won't forget the favor. Think of it as you proving proactivity. Good luck.” He said, leaving the room as if he was terrified of spending another minute with them.

Chan turned back at them, unable to react. He wanted to run away, hide from them for four more years. It was possible, right? Why the hell did they need him anyway? Felix was right there. They all were, looking back at him from the table like they were examining every single reason why he was a fuck up.

“Where are your managers?” Was the only useful thing to slip Chan's mouth.

Minho gave him the tiniest smile. “This is not… Official. We know the recording schedule already, there's no need for any of that.”

He spoke in such a confident tone. Also in fluent English, which was jarring. Back then, Minho did not speak English at all — actually he refused to do it, either by principle or to mess with Chan. He had an accent now, of course, but it was super light. He had clearly put in the work to learn it through the years.

Chan was so surprised that he wasn't able to process what Minho had actually said.

“You speak English.” Chan pointed out, in Korean, like it wasn't obvious.

“Yes.” Minho laughed.

“So why am I here?”

Changbin huffed, looking down at his phone like Chan wasn't there. His shoulders were tense, and he fidgeted with the free hand. His dismissiveness wasn't surprising at all, it was exactly what Chan figured would have happened if they would ever meet again, but still stung.

“We needed to talk to you, so we found a way to do it.” Minho answered, matter of fact.

“What?” He asked, like an idiot, still too stunned to put two and two together. He was stuck on them, taking every inch of them in, and being inundated by the sudden influx of memories he'd been trying to push away — and failing to do so — for so long.

God, how he missed them. He missed playing around with Changbin and Han in the studio, annoying Seungmin and Jeongin with his desperate need for cuddles, playing word games with Felix in Korean and having his ass handed in a platter at every dance practice by Minho and Hyunjin. But then, he had no option but to go away. It would hurt everyone if he tried to fight it. It would hurt them. 

When it finally dawned on him, it just made the panic worse. The fact that they went through the trouble of finding him already put them at risk of negative repercussions. Chan was kickstarted out of the shock by the horror that surged through his body when he realized they planned to be here. They orchestrated it. Behind the company's back. Behind their managers. Oh, no.

“You shouldn't.” He snapped back. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“That's not really true, is it?” Minho said, in his usual non-nonsense tone that apparently never changed. It wasn't lost on him that Changbin hadn't said a word yet.

Changbin looked so good, fuck.

Focus. He was supposed to be pushing them away.

“It is! You can't just barge into my work and manipulate my boss into forcing me to talk to you.” Chan blurted out. “I know you are idols or whatever, but this is not how it works in the real world.”

“Well,” Minho shot back, sounding a bit annoyed now, “if you had answered your phone or any of our emails we wouldn't have needed to-” 

Chan had no idea about any calls or emails, he had probably blocked the senders, but his mind was racing too fast for him to dwell on that.

“I- I need to go-” He turned to leave, but was stunned into silence when Changbin finally moved to get up, making a loud screeching noise by dragging the chair he was sitting on.

“Why did you hide?” He asked, straight to the point. His voice was so beautiful, confident, poignant, and filled with hurt. The muscle in his jaw was jumping from the tension, and suddenly Chan felt hot all over.

“I moved on. Just leave me be.” He shot back, letting the panic dictate his reactions since his brain couldn't think of Changbin. Or how the leather jacket he wore suited him so well. Or how his shoulders were so broad now. Or how he missed him. They used to huddle in those shitty bunks and barely fit together, and that's before Changbin became a gym buff. If they tried now, Chan would probably fall off the bed. But they wouldn’t, cause Chan wasn't supposed to be thinking about that now. 

“Cut the bullshit.” Changbin apparently lost his patience, tone sharp and emotionless. “You gave up. Why?”

“Oh my God, why do you all even care?”

“Because we were supposed to be brothers, you selfish asshole! And you fucked off at the first opportunity and gave no explanation! Like we were nothing!” He raised his voice out of nowhere, borderline yelling right at Chan's face.

Chan took a step back, the outburst being so uncharacteristic coming out of Changbin. He had a broody persona onstage, sure, but that was just that: a persona. In real life, Bin was the sweetest sweetheart that ever sweethearted. He was extremely touchy, loved doing stupid cutesy voices that would make Chan laugh and would every once in a while slip into Chan's bunk so they could cuddle together at night because he loved hugging something (or someone) while he slept. That was how Changbin had always been around Chan.

It was his own fault. He did this. He left them to fend for themselves. And while they ended up fine since they did not actually need him, it was hard to imagine they would actually miss him. Chan always considered getting rid of him a hidden blessing for the group. They should feel grateful that he was gone and unable to hold them back anymore by his weirdness.

They should have been grateful for being unable to see Chan's downward spiral.

“Binnie-” Minho stood up beside him so he could put his hand on Changbin's shoulder and rub it softly.

Changbin deflated, eyes falling to the floor yet again.

“Fuck this, he's hopeless.” Changbin said, then, barely a whisper. His voice was shaky. “I told them this was a terrible idea.”

He scrambled away from Minho's grasp, walking straight to the door without paying Chan any extra attention. He didn't sound angry anymore. Just disappointed. And it shouldn't have been a surprise, but it broke Chan's heart all over again. As he walked out and slammed the door behind him, Chan's chest ached just as much as the day when he had to pack his bags and leave. He was losing them again.

That was exactly what he expected to happen. Although it wasn't surprising, being faced with the confirmation didn't feel great.

Minho didn't run off to Changbin. Instead, he just kept his gaze locked at Chan. 

“This whole plan has been… a lot for him.” Minho offered. “When we decided we'd try it he was outvoted.”

“Who… else voted no?” Chan asked, needing to know the extent of how badly he had fucked up.

“Um… Me.” Minho said. He looked sheepish, breaking his careful composure by scratching the back of his neck like the admission was super uncomfortable. It wasn't, not for Chan. It was exactly what he expected of leaders, making tough choices and fighting the harder battles to protect the rest. “We didn't want to give them false hope.”

“I... I'm sorry.” Chan offered. “I can't do much about the past, but I truly am sorry for leaving you all in the dark.”

It was all he could say. He couldn't explain to him — to them — he didn't have a choice at leaving, nor the timeframe. They couldn't understand. It was part of the deal. That conversation alone was already dangerous enough for them.

Minho nodded, solemnly.

“He missed you. We all did. But he missed you.” Minho started, head leaning towards the door. “We wanted to-”

He missed you.

No. That was too close. Too deep in places Chan had stocked away in the darkest corners of his mind. He couldn't think about how he missed Changbin, how he missed what they could-

“I have to go.” Chan said, cutting through Minho's question, but he shook his head practically at the same time, thoughts so jumbled he was barely able to make sense. “No, you have to go.”

Minho looked resigned, like that was exactly what he expected too.

“Channie-hyung. Come on. Don't blow us off like that again.” He practically pleaded, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Don't do that to him. I know-”

“Please, go.” Chan pleaded back.

Minho sighed. He walked towards the exit, but stopped to look at Chan one last time. There was none of the familiar warmth or playfulness in the glare directed at him. It looked more like pity, and Chan deserved every bit of it. He braced for a snide comment. For Minho to unleash all his frustration on him. Anything. He would shut up and just take it, just like he took Hannah's frustration like a pro. 

Instead, Minho’s expression softened.

“Look, you probably don't know that, but we are playing two concerts in Sydney this weekend. Changbin and I managed to sneak in earlier to have this meeting with the production team, but really, he- We needed to try talking to you.”

Minho disengaged for a quick instant, fidgeting with the rings in his finger. The knuckles were red, some half healed injury. Did he fight someone?

“I don't know why I'm here, to be honest. Guess I just wanted to know why. So then we could all move on. The maknaes with their ideas and… Well, me too.”

He looked at Chan again, half expectantly, half weary. Waiting for an answer Chan wouldn't give.

Chan let down his head, chin touching his chest, trying to keep his breathing under control. Minho sighed, the same resigned expression as he walked to the exit. He took the quickest glance back before walking out and closing the door behind himself, leaving Chan staring at the floor like an idiot and wishing he was anywhere but here.

Chapter Text

“Channie-hyung, come on.” Changbin's voice sounded distant since Chan was wearing headphones and blasting music through them, but they couldn't be further than two steps apart from each other. The recording room Chan was allowed to use at JYPE was stupidly small.

“I'll be done in a sec.” He answered, eyes still glued to the computer screen. “Go home and rest.”

“You'll be here all night. We have practice at 8 tomorrow.”

“I'm just getting the final mix right, Binnie, I won't-”

“Hey.” Changbin forced Chan's chair to move so they would face each other. “The track is good. They're going to love it. You don't need to keep fiddling with it because you're nervous.”

He looked down. Chan wasn't nervous. He'd been a trainee for seven years, went through the preparations for the annual showcases six times. He knew exactly what awaited him. But this time, Chan was actually terrified. Because it wasn't just him. If he failed before, he'd be only disappointing himself, but now he had them to look after. His failure would mean he failed them. The responsibility for their futures lay on his shoulders. And he couldn't let that happen, so he kept working on the final track they would use for the showcase, hopefully his last one. Their last one. He tweaked beats, vocal lines, changed things up until everything was perfect.

It had been three days since they got the song list from the training managers, and even though Chan had a full week to finish the arrangements before they would officially start the two-week rehearsals until showtime, he had to wrap it up as soon as they could so they could use the extra rehearsal time. They needed it. Changbin and Jisung always worked in the same wavelength as him, since they've been producing stuff a lot, but Chan knew damn well that hand-picking trainees and starting his own group without the company's help or actual approval meant it was up to Chan to make sure they worked as a collective. They trusted him enough to allow him to use the rehearsal rooms for his own little project and record their own stuff, but not enough to let them do it in their actual training time before showcase preparations started.

So that's why Chan was finishing a track at 1 am in a… He had no idea which day of the week it was — while the company’s new girl project had been practicing together during training hours for at least a month. If anyone asked, he wasn't salty at all about it. They were good, at the end of the day.

But heck, he'd been trying. He wanted this to work so bad.

Felix already had the lines for the song they picked and had been practicing with the original track, but rehearsing with the actual arrangement would help him get the syllables right since his pronunciation wasn't that great yet. Minho needed the right track to start outlining the final choreography and placing accents in the right beats, first with Hyunjin and Felix, then with everyone else. Chan had to help Jeongin and Seungmin because even though they were phenomenal singers, dancing didn't really come naturally yet so they still stumbled here and there, which he could definitely relate to. Jeongin was also pretty nervous. Getting permission from the instructions to get him out of the junior team had been a chore, but Jeongin was so talented it was worth the hassle. He fit in just as much as the others. Chan just had to make sure they were looking sharp and strong, so then management would see that, and then JYP-nim would finally approve of him and-

“I'll just take one second.” He repeated, getting out of his head before he freaked out. It was just a matter of finishing the mix. Changbin shifted beside him - Chan could tell due to the shadows in the corner of his left side - and eventually got up and into the recording booth, which made Chan actually look up for once because what was he doing?

It was only when Changbin walked out carrying the stool that was usually kept inside the booth for rest breaks and set it up right beside his office chair that Chan understood what was happening.

“You don't have to wait for me.” He grumbled.

Changbin dutifully ignored the drama while he took a seat. “I'm not leaving without you, hyung. Get used to it.”

While he wanted to insist and make him leave, Chan knew it was useless. While he was a bit too stubborn for his own good, Changbin was the one person who was able to out-stubborn him. He would stay huddled beside Chan for hours sitting in that uncomfortable stool in that tiny ass studio if needed just to prove a point. And while Chan lived in one of the company dorms not that far from the main building, Changbin still lived at home. He'd have to take a bus. Or a cab, probably, considering his family was loaded, but still. It was already past midnight and the journey back was way longer. He didn't have to go out of his way for Chan like that.

The fact that he would made Chan's heart warm and his cheeks flush, which he tried to hide by faking a coughing fit. Changbin just laughed.

“You're such a sap, hyung” Changbin giggled, pushing jokingly at his shoulder.

Chan left the studio not even 30 minutes later, walking shoulder to shoulder with Changbin while he talked Chan's ear off about the latest story in the great, long list of Han Jisung's shenanigans. 

Despite everything, Chan wouldn't have changed it for anything in the world.

The rest of the day after that disastrous meeting went in a blur. 

They didn't even choose a Friday to pull that stunt on him. It was still Thursday, and so he would only have tonight to piece himself back together in order to work normally tomorrow.

Chan had no memory of even leaving that meeting room.

He had no idea how he went back to his own office, but suddenly he was there, sitting in front of the desk, staring at his laptop with the screen off, heart aching. He could only think about them, their disappointed expressions. They were burned into his mind, the hurt on Changbin's face when he finally let it out. Minho's downcast, resigned look. He hadn't even expected Chan to act differently than… All that.

Hopeless.

That's what Hannah had said too. And they were both right.

A notification for an upcoming meeting made his screen turn on. In 15 minutes. Fuck, he still had to work. He had no time for freaking out.

He dragged himself out of the ergonomic chair and fought as hard as he could to get Changbin's disappointment out of his head, walking with so little care for anything that he practically body slammed Sal turning a corner.

“Hey!” Sal asked, his usual cheery face on. “How was the meeting?”

Great, Chan stopped himself from answering. I just lived through my worst nightmare with no warning and now I have to keep going like nothing happened because otherwise I'll fall apart right here and now. Thanks!

He knew it wasn't fair. No one knew about his connection to them, because Chan made it so. There was no way Sal would know Stray Kids was Chan's personal hell. No eternal damnation, burning fire, or Satan, no. He had been away from church for way too long to care about all that. That was his inferno, being faced with his biggest regrets and not able to do or say anything to defend himself. Because there was no defense. No justification, at least not one that would make anything actually seem justified.

God, how he wanted to throw himself off a window right now. Not in an actually suicidal way, not this time at least, more a I would rather deal with broken bones instead of this.

“Fine.” Was Chan’s only answer, while he slinked away from Sal’s hand on his shoulder. The touch, as light and well intentioned as it was, felt like fire on his skin out of nowhere. Oh, no, not now. “I have to go.”

Chan powered through his working hours like a madman, going through the motions of corporate life like second nature while trying not to fall apart. He was able to participate in the meeting — interacting and all! — and put some hours into actually working outside of meeting rooms, even though he could barely focus his vision when he looked at any screen. Amanda appeared at some point to invite him for tea and he blew her off. He couldn't even recall what he used as an excuse. All he knew was that he needed to suck it up and forget about it. Minho might have tried to reconnect, God knows why, and Changbin was really pissed. None of them really wanted to, but they took the lead to deal with him almost as if they knew Chan would suck. He blew them both off, was cussed at, and there was nothing else to it. It had to be it.

Call it denial but fuck, it wasn't like Chan could have anything to do with them.

So, even though his mind screamed at him and it sounded exactly like Changbin calling him a fucking asshole, he kept torturing himself and working through what was definitely a panic episode or a meltdown before he couldn't take it anymore and had to run to the closest accessible bathroom and lock himself in it to die in private.

No, not actually dying, but Chan definitely wasn't able to breathe properly. Or do anything for that matter.

God, he was a mess. That fucking reunion wasn't even 10 minutes long, probably, but it was enough to make him topple down right back to the lowest of his mental breakdowns like the last four years never happened.

He could only play those damn 10 minutes on a loop.

From the moment Chan had the idea of joining together with Changbin and Jisung to produce music independently (and later when Chan began collecting trainees like Pokemon), the group became Chan's life. What they had was not just camaraderie, a work partnership. His relationship to all of them transcended that, something akin to what he had only felt for his family til then. It was warm, overwhelming, all-encompassing, pure love.

His individual relationship with Changbin, however, was different. It had always been. Chan led the charge, took care of everyone, advocated for rehearsal time and spaces for them with management and spent hours on end at the studio while the youngsters were either at school or asleep. Changbin in return took care of him.

Changbin always tried not to show it, but it was obvious that was his angle. It was clear by how he always made sure to drag Chan out of the studio before Chan would pull another all-nighter, or how he would always bring him food when Chan had even forgotten the shakiness in his limbs. He tried to look dark and serious, but always turned silly to make Chan laugh when tensions got high. And Chan would never admit it, but Changbin was his anchor. He loved Jisung, Felix, Jeongin, Seungmin, Hyunjin and Minho just as much, and the 8 of them worked together perfectly, they could rely on him, but Changbin… Chan needed Changbin.

Even though he had done it himself years ago, Chan couldn't deal with Changbin rejecting him back like that.

Hopeless.

It was exactly what he wanted it to happen, to detach from Stay Kids and make sure they stayed away, but seeing it happen happen right in front of him tore Chan's heart to pieces all over again. He was down, legs sprawled on the bathroom floor, muscles feeling like unresponsive jelly, not even sure what the mass of meat and bones Chan called a body was urging him to do. Cry? Scream? Punch a wall? Punch himself? His brain was in the middle of a complete shutdown.

Fucking idiot.

Minho didn't trust him either. It still hurt like a bitch, and also made Chan feel like shit for feeling like shit for it, because how dare he? He left. It was his fault. He had way less time with Minho than Changbin, but it still hurt. He loved all of them.

We didn't want to give them false hope.

The only feeling that was able to pass through the fuzzy gray wall that carried him through being somewhat functional today was his skin on fire. The usually pretty comfortable clothes started to feel tight around him, itching and burning every little bit of skin. The soft, bulky fabric of the hoodie felt like sandpaper, rubbing uncomfortably against him. The black tee underneath was choking him. The jeans restricted movement. His heart was racing, skin prickled with discomfort, and he felt too hot for all that fabric.

Chan heard knocks at the door but made no move to answer the door or say “busy!”. He just sat on the ground, which was probably gross even though the company building was spotless, leaning his head against the wall and pulling at his hair with enough force to sting and maybe pull him back to a more normal state. That worked sometimes, like someone getting shocked back to life.  He still couldn't breathe. Still felt his chest constricting like he was about to die. So Chan just kept on breathing, in and out, in and out, until his body finally gave out and did a hard reset.

When he came back to himself, he was half sitting, half laying on the floor. He had no idea how long it had been, if he even passed out at all or just kept hallucinating Changbin screaming at him, face full of disdain, and Minho repeating how he just wanted to move on. Their dejected glances. The disgust.

At least now, even with his arms shaking, Chan could push himself up and try to look normal. He washed his face, avoided looking at himself in the mirror, and finally stepped back into his actual life to do his actual work. Or at least pretend to until it was socially acceptable to tap out and fuck off, practically running the whole way back.

As soon as he stepped into his empty living room, Chan immediately came to the conclusion he couldn't spend another second trapped indoors or he would have another panic attack, meltdown, hissy fit, whatever. He could feel the chaotic, anxious energy bubbling in his chest. He needed to do something to burn it off.

So, instead of heading to the shower or any normal thing normal people would do on a normal day, Chan changed from jeans to a light pair of soccer shorts, paid no mind about changing shirts or even taking the hoodie off, and ran to the gym. No food in his stomach other than a cup of green tea and a breakfast sandwich, just sheer will to pull as many weights as he could without passing out until his muscles felt like jelly not due to his brain being stupid and his life a fucking mess, but the exercise.

On days like these, Chan kinda wished he lived close to his folks and the swimming school. At least the Olympic pool was free game and he had keys to get in and out at the craziest times — he still had it, along with permission to use it, but it was such a long way that it made it not worth it, especially now that Chan was barely lucid, just moving through what he half remembered his exercise plan to be — if he put half a kilo extra here and maybe a 5 kilo extra there and was able to handle it, who cared? He could handle more, even. So he also ran a full lap around the park nearby. And maybe another. And a final one, just for extra measure, until his vision started to feel a bit too fuzzy, his legs a tad too jiggly, and his body exhausted enough to not be able to think about anything other than how much muscle pain he'd have to go through tomorrow.

That's probably why he finally stopped. Another lap would definitely be enough to tip him into actually passing out territory. The fact that he was able to realize that felt like a win. See? He was able to control the ugliness inside. It was just a matter of wasting it away, like an exorcism. Now he could take the short walk back home, get into the shower, sleep it off and pretend none of that happened tomorrow. Be okay. Normal.

He stopped at a red light so he could cross a street, already pretty close to his place, taking a second to breathe out, when his phone started ringing. Chan didn't even remember bringing it, but it was probably Amanda or someone from the office asking him what the heck, you left all your shit here, or something close to that.

“Hey.” He said, but it was met with silence. “Hello?”

He heard a rustling sound on the other side of the call.

"Hello?" Chan tried again.

"Channie-hyung?" The voice was not any of the ones he expected and Chan's body went cold, because he instantly knew who it belonged to. He froze in place, unable to walk. Or breathe. It was a touch deeper than the last time he heard it in person, but Chan could have recognized it easily no matter the call quality or how long it's been.

Because it was Jisung. There was no way this wasn't Jisung. Chan knew the sound as if it was his own voice. He couldn't bring himself to answer, but turns out he didn't have to.

“Sorry for calling again. You don't have to say anything, just listen. Um… I know the meeting with Rino-hyung and Binnie-hyung didn't go well. They didn't tell us anything, but I can tell. I don't know what made you leave, back then. And we're sorry for invading your space now, we saw the opportunity and just went for it. It's been so long, and the company never told us anything.”

Again?

“And I miss you too. Ok? I really do, hyung. We needed you then, and we- Ok, um… I'll stop talking. Just… Just listen to what I'll send you, okay? You don't have to answer it, just listen.”

The call dropped without fanfare. Chan dropped the hand holding the phone, motioning to put it back in his pocket, but seconds later the phone pinged again, this time a wave of texts.

Today, 18:14

+82 02-143-2780

untitled.wav - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

it's not done but i hope you like it

this is jisung, by the way.

i change numbers all the time bc they always get leaked

so if i have to change this ill let u know

long story

ok ill stop talking

It was only when Chan was sure there were no more messages popping that he looked up, only to realize he had spent at least some minutes standing at the sidewalk, frozen in place. His chest was tight all over again, heart racing, and the constant feeling of something on his throat was now practically like his hoodie's collar was choking him. As soon as he burst through his apartment door, after practically running all the remaining path again, Chan stripped himself of the street clothes, desperate for some relief from that terrible, prickling sensation, and stepped into a hot shower, barely remembering to strip before doing it.

Shit. Shit, shit. He was exhausted. He couldn't do another round of this bullshit. He wanted to cry. To pull at his hair until it hurt. Wanted to dig a hole in the ground and never leave again. Chan wasn't sure if the bubbling agony inside of him was anger or devastation or grief, he just felt everything crushing him at once. He hated them. Hated JYPE. Hated Korea. Hated everything, but most importantly himself, the only one actually to blame for all that. Chan hated being unable to move on, so he had to live this shitty, half-assed attempt at being normal that never seemed to work and just frustrated anyone. He hated how the guys invaded the little bubble of safety he had locked himself into years ago.

And all that for what? Chan was so distant from his family his own brother would run off at the mere sight of him. Hannah certainly hated him now. He was constantly making his friends and parents either deeply concerned or disappointed.

Hopeless.

After the shower he dipped in bed, boxer briefs and nothing else, and wrapped himself tightly in a comforter. In the middle of the incoherent grumbles in his head, Chan wasn't able to get himself to sleep. The breathings coming out were still quick and ragged, his chest still ached. The heavy comforter did help soothe a bit of the feeling of not fitting well within his own body, but his mind was still racing. It was harder to keep track of the thoughts passing through, disordered and destructive.

You're so weak.

No one loves you.

You're going to die alone and it's going to be your fault.

They are so much better without you pulling them down.

Chan wasn't sure what made him do it. Maybe to drown himself in music instead of the disgusting voice inside his head. The desire to torture himself. Maybe the morbid curiosity of actually looking it up for himself since the cat was now out of the bag. They had seen him anyway, and he had no control over it. Maybe it would only be fair.

Without giving himself time to think it over, he grabbed at his phone again and opened the link Jisung had sent, pressing play as soon as the download finished. He expected noise, brashy hyper-confident rap in Changbin's mood-setting loud voice blasting through his loudspeakers, but what Chan got instead was… completely different.

The song started quietly. It was not about following your dreams and trusting your own guts like most of the songs he made for them. No, it was soft and almost insecure, with the “heart on his sleeve” sincerity of when Jisung would let his feelings out through song with no regard for anything else. The lyrics were about himself, how he felt like an outsider in his own world, but the recording was clearly unfinished — he hummed melodies instead of using words here and there, the idea clearly still in the process of being written.

There wasn't anything particularly sad about the lyrics, they felt more about radical self acceptance than actually feeling hurt about it, and the rawness of the whole situation (probably along with the rollercoaster of emotions that hit him today) made Chan's heart hot. It didn't hurt, or made him want to die like the usual avalanche of sadness that got over him every once in a while. On the contrary, it made Chan so happy he couldn't contain it anymore. He missed this, being trusted with Jisung's half-finished demos and listening to his thoughts being turned into melody.

Chan's brain started whirring, accessing places he hadn't been to in so long. Bit by bit, he starting coming off the edge. He started considering how he could help Jisung finish the track. Thinking about synths, and beats, or - oh, maybe guitars! Jisung was a pop rock guy, he'd love it. The piano track Jisung was accompanying himself on was good, but maybe transposing it half a step down could make the song feel more at home, still going high in his vocal register, but maybe not on the ends of his range. Maybe at the beginning he could sample one of those astronaut audios speaking with the base NASA released every now and then, all staticky and foreign. It would match the outsider theme.

And it should feel scary, getting involved like this, but instead it felt good.

If he hadn't left the group, Chan would probably be opening a new track on Cubase and plugging the demo there so he could start polishing it by now. Sure, he hadn't done that in forever, but he could. Right?

He could just reinstall Cubase for the hell of it. No big deal. It's a lifetime license anyways, so he already owns it.

Actually no, he couldn't, since he forgot his laptop at work.

Well, he could think about it. If thinking about it was preventing him from toppling over another episode, he'd do it the whole night through.

And when he got home from work tomorrow, laptop in hand, he could do it.

For real.

Thinking about engaging with music was… He hadn't done it for so long. It was dangerous. But also, thrilling. It gave him a nice, tingling feeling, so uncharacteristic of the anxious and terrifying shivers whenever the panic crept through, just like today. Not the foreboding, the inexplicable loss of control. The buzz.

It was probably around one in the morning when Chan realized he was… okay.

His heart wasn't beating so fast it could implode in his chest anymore. His breathing was… fine. His limbs ached due to the strain, sure, but he had full control over his body and mind. Thoughts more organized, ordered, a level of clarity he hadn't felt in days, really. Away from guilt, away from the great big mountain of regret and self hatred he had cultivated for years.

The only thing he could think about was Jisung's song, replaying in his head over and over again, like a magic spell, making him remember when he had a purpose that wasn't just making it through the day without falling apart.

Has thinking about music always felt like this? It was supposed to be off-limits, just one of many self-imposed bans so he wouldn't risk exposing himself too much. Music led to Korea, which led to them, and to the gnawing guilt and failure. In order to be okay, to be normal, he had to keep it away.

The idea of doing something so forbidden was so foreign for him. But now, he wanted it. He wanted it so bad. When he tried to take a shitty nap, ready for another 2 hour sleep night, Chan's eyes drifted close with ease, like he had never struggled with insomnia a day in his life.

“Well, someone's in a good mood today.” Amanda quipped when she walked into his office with a box of donuts in hand and immediately caught Chan picking up his backpack and getting ready to leave.

It was so much better to be teased for being happy for no reason than fussed over for visibly struggling, Chan realized quickly.

“What?” He shot back, feigning irritation but really not meaning anything.

“You're giddy.” She took a hard look at him. “Donuts?”

 “Ooh, thanks.” Chan laughed, opening the box and immediately taking one, with pink glazing and sprinkles, Homer Simpson style. Amanda took another one, just a regular sugar glaze, and took a bite.

“Leaving already? Glad to know you're well rested.”

He just nodded before ducking under the desk to fetch his laptop charger from the outlet. For the first time in weeks, he actually was.

“So, what happened? Plans for the weekend?” She tried to prod, visibly just trying to find something to mess with him with. Amanda wasn't being careful, or walking on eggshells. She was being playful, normal. That meant he was doing good, and he managed to actually hide yesterday. Even though it had been a disaster.

“Nothing.” He shrugged. She didn't seem convinced at all, but contrary to every other time, now she just smiled harder, like she knew he was keeping some juicy gossip just to mess with her.

He'd take that over the pity looks any time of day. 

“Ok, fine. You don't wanna tell me, it's fine. Go be happy.”

When he walked home this time, he was humming the melody from Jisung's demo, almost like an incantation. He had the whole song memorized at this point. Every lyric, every harmony, every chord. Chan knew exactly what he wanted to do with it, having spent the whole day either listening to the audio or thinking over what he should do to improve upon what was already pretty good. Last night was about planning, and getting himself out of the mental block, and the freakout, deciding he'd commit to this crazy urge; tonight was showtime.

He didn't even shower before getting the computer on the desk and opening Cubase. He dropped the file into a new track, and immediately remembered he had brought his old MIDI keyboard when he moved here, so he dug into his closet to find it and spent 45 minutes reinstalling it and updating every single audio plugin needed so he could actually add a softer piano intro track before Jisung's song starts. Setting it up was practically therapeutic.

Oh, and his OP-1 synth! That thing cost so much money and was now buried in a box inside his closet. It was so useful, too. He could add a nice base layer using the modules there. He just had to pick it up.

Actually, now that he layered the base layer to the new intro and was able to listen to the whole thing, something didn't sound right. The difference in timbre between the original piano track and the new one was jarring, and if he was able to pick up on it, so would Jisung. He should just re-record the whole thing. He just had to learn to play through it himself, he already knew the chord progression by ear anyway. It would only take what, 30 minutes? No big deal.

Chan could also just… record himself singing some simple harmonies with his phone real quick and plug the recording through a modulator just to give the main vocals a bit more depth. His voice would sound rough, Chan definitely was no great singer at midnight with no warm up and years away from the game, but it was just an idea. After processing it, it wouldn't even sound like him.

He could do all that. Finish a whole produced demo in some hours.

Which was absolutely crazy.

He hadn't done that in years.

But, if he just did it, it wouldn't hurt anyone, would it? Jisung didn't even have to know about it. He could do it for himself and let this be it. Just like running and exercising and pulling at his hair to burn the panic off, but less harmful. It made him lighter today, happy. Giddy. It was good.

He could do it without ruining everything else.

So, before Chan could shove the urge away, he did. And when his vision was stinging due to the sheer amount of hours he spent staring at screens and his eyelids were heavy with sleep, he exported the file and tossed himself into bed.

He thought about sending it back to Jisung, almost like an intrusive thought, but he shoved it away as quickly as it came. He didn't have to know. No one did.

Today felt like enough of a breakthrough.

For the second night in a row, Chan slept with no trouble.

Chapter Text

It was weird feeling good. It felt wrong.

Like he should enjoy it while it lasted because it wasn't common.

Like the other shoe was about to drop at any point.

Chan tried to shake the thoughts away as he ran laps around the park near his building, one after the other, until his legs burned so much he couldn't physically keep running. Not as an attempt to punish himself this time, however. He had been slacking off with exercising for a while, anyway. It was good getting back at it. This was good. He was taking care of himself.

Truth was, he was tired of falling apart all the time. If the whole past month had been useful for something, it was for Chan to realize that he wasn't doing anyone any favors by being so dysfunctional. He had to either remove himself completely (like he had been doing with his family and Bambam — and did not work to anyone's benefit) or to get his shit together.

He also realized he didn't want to be alone.

Maybe it was the high he was still riding from finally making music again, a little act of harmless transgression for once. His only chance at rebellion had been the crashout during the whole mental breakdown thing, trying to break out of his goodie two shoes personality and destroying everything in the process due to his own anger. It wasn't liberating. Chan wasn't even sure if that was the point, rebelling against authority or whatever. It was just… anger and depression, a very ugly beast that was close to impossible to control when Chan wasn't even sure he wanted to stay alive.

But he moved past it. The whole thing was deeply embarrassing after he was medicated enough to grow out of. It's been probably 3 years since was released from taking meds, the only thing leftover being the remaining sleeping pills from his last prescription he wouldn't dare to touch but also couldn't just toss away, and Chan hadn't missed it for a second. But maybe he should? Maybe it would help him to… stay like this? Should he call his therapist?

God, fuck no. He was so tired of needing help. Now, after being urged to take care of himself and reach for help so many times, maybe crashing out in front of Changbin and Minho finally did the trick. He always felt ridiculous for struggling so much at being normal, but with that always came the shame of being in that situation at all.

The music thing gave him clarity. That was fun. He liked it. He liked being happy.

He hadn't felt such a thrill in a while.

But he'd gladly ride that high until it lasted. Maybe it didn't involve texting Jisung, but it could involve other things. Other uncomfortable conversations now that he felt brave enough to have them. Like actually talking to Bambam, or trying harder to apologize to Hannah. He had lost so many people already. Some of them were practically unfixable and he had to live with that, like Sana and YoungK, and his other JYPE hyungs and noonas.

Some were a bit… less obvious to figure out.

Changbin probably was a hard no, that's for sure. However, Minho seemed a bit more willing to extend an olive branch even if with reservations, and Jisung straight up cold-called him.

When it came to Hannah, Bambam, and his parents, though… what was the hold up, anyway? It felt so easy, when he was thinking it over under the morning sun and feeling the breeze on his skin cooling off the sweat, sitting down on a park bench while his legs still burned. And maybe it was that easy.

He was calling his mom basically on autopilot.

“Channie?” She picked it up on the first ring.

“Hey, ma.” He said. “How are things?”

“Dad is at the school right now with Lucas. How are you?”

She wasn't mentioning the elephant in the room, and for that he was grateful.

“I'm better. Actually. I’m trying to be, at least.” Chan ran a hand through his hair, just so he could do something with his free hand that wasn't pinching his own thigh.

“Good! That's great, honey.” She answered, as sweet and caring as ever.

He decided it was time to stop beating around the bush.

“I'm sorry for… All that. I promise I'll be better. Answer more. It wasn't anything you guys did. You're amazing.”

“Just be honest to us when you're struggling. That's all we ask. You know we love you.”

“I've been struggling, yeah. But I think I've hit a breakthrough.” Chan said. It was the most he'd told mom about any problem in probably what, a year? “Is… Um… Is she home?”

“She’s at a rehearsal until 12. Do you want to pick her up at school?”

That was code for “come see us home”. He still didn't own a car, for money reasons sure but he also didn't feel the need to. However, he understood what she was doing immediately. Chan used to pick both Hannah and Lucas at school before moving out, and he had always borrowed his parents’ car to do it, along with other errands here and there on the rare occasions he felt like driving. 

While the idea would have made him flee not even three days ago, Chan was determined to act differently now.

“Will she mind?”

“I can ask her. But even if she doesn't… What about coming here for lunch? Dad's out to pick up meat for our barbecue.”

Chan also knew this was a code for “dad would really like to pick you up”.

“I really don't want to make her uncomfortable, eomma.”

He could hear her frustrated sigh on the other side of the call. At least now he was brave enough to deal with this head-on.

“Chan-ah, siblings fight. It's a perfectly normal thing to happen. Hannah and Lucas fight all the time, they go even lower, but they always make up.”

He knew that. When he lived with Bambam and YoungK, they bickered and fought all the time. But it's not the same thing when he'd been so distant. When he stooped so low to get to her, making such nasty jabs. They hadn't built that neutralising closeness that would lead to awful fights getting resolved in hours.

“It's different, though, isn't it? With me.”

“She loves you.” Mom reiterated, instead of engaging with his usual line of self-destructive thoughts. It was not like she hadn't heard the same spiel before. “She's just frustrated, I promise.”

“If she doesn’t seem too comfortable, I'll leave. Ok?” He proposed then, as a compromise.

“Sure. Do you need a ride?”

“I'll Uber, no worries.”

“I'm glad you're doing better, Chan-ah. I've missed you.”

“Me too, eomma.” He answered, because he did. He really, truly did.

The consent from Hannah came rather quickly, for Chan's utmost shock. He hadn't even stepped into the shower, not even ten minutes after the phone call, when mom hit him back through text, forwarding Hannah's non-committal “ok”. He didn't know what to make of it, but decided not to dwell on that before he panicked. Again. He asked for an Uber, just like he said he would, and got there with an hour to spare. Dad went to the shops with Lucas, so it was just mom and Berry, and as soon as he walked into the kitchen, she just motioned her head towards the sink and he went to work, helping her prepare veggies like nothing had ever happened in the last month or so.

“How are you doing in there?” She asked him, some point after they finished cutting everything and were just cleaning up.

“Mom, did you ever hate me?”

She didn't look shocked or even surprised with the sudden question.

“Not even for a second, baby.”

“Even though I deserved it?”

He didn't say deserve because he was trying to build a better mindset, and hoped she picked up on that. Call it a breakthrough.

“Chan-ah, you didn't. You've always been a great kid. Smart, responsible, dependable. When good kids lash out, they always have a reason. I believe you had a good one.”

There it was, an opening for him to lay it all out. He didn't take it, though, he never did. Chan just nodded, getting way too invested in staring at the dripping faucet out of sudden, but that wasn't enough for her today. Mom held him by his arms, not tight, just enough so she could turn his body and make him face her.

“Look, this is not your first misstep and won’t be the last. And it's not because you're a terrible person, it's because you're human. People make mistakes. What matters is how you go around fixing it. Okay?”

He nodded again. “Okay.”

“I love you.” She repeated.

“I love you too.” Chan answered, and the silence that lingered felt heavy, but comforting. Like a weighted blanket. Mom rubbed his sides, like she wasn't sure if Chan needed a hug or it would have been way too much for him to handle. That was a solid middle ground.

She gave him a soft smile, glancing at the digital clock in the stove behind them. “You should probably get going.”

He had to shake himself out of the haze to agree, but in an instant she was handing the car keys and sending him on his way, while Chan tried to put on a brave face.

Problem was, being brave sucked.

Being brave so he could have a conversation with a not-even-18-year-old-yet sucked even more, somehow. But alas, there Chan was, waiting for Hannah in the parking spot in front of her school, in his mom's car.

There was not a lot of movement going on since it was a Saturday, so it was even more clear when the rehearsal probably ended and the theatre kids started flocking out of the building. She took longer to come out, though, walking out along with a couple of friends and going straight to the car without even second guessing herself as soon as she spotted it. Hannah looked at his direction with a blank stare, no emotion shining through. He needed an angle to be able to lead the conversation, and she wasn't giving it to him, not easily. She just walked to the passenger seat and clicked the seatbelt around her torso, taking her sweet ole time with it.

“Hey.” Chan said, non-chalantly, when she stopped fixing her belt. 

Hannah gave him the tiniest of acknowledgements in the form of a nod. Chan looked around, thinking about how to move forward.

When he was still at JYPE and ended up being too rough or snappy at one of the members due to the stress of it all that always seemed to bubble over in the worst times, Chan would always go to the convenience store after he cooled off to bring some Melona as a silent apology to them. Sometimes they would chat — Jisung, Hyunjin and Felix were particularly drawn to talking it out and Jeongin really needed reassurance that Chan wasn't mad at him, he just pushed so they could all debut as 8, but most of the times just eating some subpar ice cream in silence in the dead of night seemed to ease of the tension well enough.

That seemed like a good idea now. The sun was warm, the sky clear.

“Do you want some ice cream? There's a nice gelato place not that far. It's hot today.”

He 100% waited for her to say no. Instead, she just hummed a shy okay.

Not even ten minutes later, they were parked outside a gelato store and Chan went out to get both of them some strawberry scoops. He handed Hannah hers, and elected to give her some silence while he nibbled at his before talking. The radio was on, playing some easy listening pop from one of Chan's playlists.

“I'm sorry.” He said, eventually, cutting through the silence.

Hannah nodded, not even turning to look at him, enthralled in her gelato.

“I know you have a lot going on.” She said after letting out a sigh. “But that was really shitty.” 

“Yeah, I know.”

“You were a cunt.”

The way Hannah spat the foul word was lighter than anything she had said, so he tried to be lighthearted in the hope of that being enough of uncomfortable discussions.

“Do you kiss Berry with that mouth?” 

“Oppa, I'm not joking. Stop deflecting.”

Chan's shy smile quickly faded.

Ok, she needed real, then.

“I was caught off guard.” He started, gathering the level-headedness needed to not fall apart in front of his baby sister. “I didn't expect you to want to do that, considering… How everything went down with me.”

“Just because it happened to you doesn't mean it will happen to me too.”

Chan breathed through his teeth. It didn't, she was right. But it didn't not mean that either. She could have a great time, be happy and successful. But, if she didn't and something happened, someone treated her badly or attempted to intimidate her just like they did to him, and Chan knew that was a possibility? He would never be able to forgive himself, along with the other thousands of things he couldn't seem to let go of. 

“I'm not trying to dissuade you from pursuing music. I'm really not. But I worry.” He said, barely a whisper. “I was trying to protect you.”

“You always said it was fine. That you had the boys. That making music was fun. You don't have to protect me from anything.”

“Yeah. I liked what I did, and I wanted to make it, but it was hard.”

“It's supposed to be hard.”

He sighed, trying to school his frustration since she didn't get it and wasn't able to read his mind so he didn't have to put all this into words.

“I know it seems I'm just jealous because I was too soft and couldn't take it, but… It was hard, Hannah. They took things from me. Things I'm never getting back, even though I tried. I lost years of my life being away from you and Lucas, mom and dad.”

Chan took a deep breath and tried to make his hands stop shaking so he wouldn't drop the ice cream and make a mess. Parking so they could have this talk had been the right call, he would not have been able to drive in this state.

“Every year I didn't debut, things got more confusing. I felt more incapable. More alone. I made friends who would always leave, either to debut or due to cuts or choosing to leave. And at the company they kept criticizing my every move, whenever I'd get something wrong — or even if I gave my best. It destroyed me.”

“Why didn't you tell us, then?”

She didn't seem to believe him, and that was fine.

“I didn't want our parents to worry. I needed to show them letting me go wasn't the wrong call. Didn't want to be a burden, but I ended up becoming one anyway. I am still paying JYPE off.”

“Still? But eomma said-”

“Please don't tell them. I didn't let them know.” He said, quickly. “But yeah. I'm not even sure I'll ever clear that up.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes.” Chan answered, with no hesitation. “Not just because I failed to debut, or because I still owe them. Even before I got back, I… I was already messed up. I knew that. I felt it. You don't remember a lot of who I was before, but it wasn't this. I became… Bitter. I thought I'd be able to bounce back off that at some point, and I've been trying, but I… It's probably just gonna be this. And I don't like it most of the time. I am not a good person.”

“That is not true, oppa.”

He couldn't argue, because his throat suddenly felt tight. He couldn't even look her in the eye. So he came back to the easier stuff.

“I'm really sorry for treating you like shit. It was a bad, roundabout way of trying to protect you from all this. Not because I don't believe you have the talent to be noticed. You do. Because I don't want you to become like me.”

“There's nothing wrong with you.”

“If there wasn't, we wouldn't need to have this conversation right now.” He tried to shoot her a smile, but it was probably sad. “But, um… If you still want to do it, if auditioning is your dream, I will help you figure it out. And if, wait, no. When you get an offer, I'll talk to Bambam, so he can keep an eye on you back in Seoul. Be a shoulder for you to lean on, if anything happens.”

“You'd do that?”

“Anything for you to be safe, Hannah. I just went about it all wrong because I was scared. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“I do.”

He was finally able to exhale and lose the weight he had been carrying. Chan just let his head down, inhaling and exhaling a couple of times. His muscles felt like jelly, the tension melting off them. His chest was warm. Not itchy, not tight, just comfortable.

“Are you okay?” Hannah asked, and for once, he didn't feel annoyed about it.

“Yeah.” He looked up. The ice cream was completely melted at that point. “Good.”

Hannah seemed to notice it too, unbuckling her seatbelt so she was able to pick the little cup from his hands and get out to toss it along with her own empty cup on the garbage can nearby.

When she was back, Hannah slapped him on the tight like it was nothing. To his credit, he didn't even flinch. “Let's go home, you sap. I'm starving.”

Chan smiled, even though he was still shaking a bit. “Yeah, let's go.”

It wasn't like everything was fixed. He could still feel the weariness in Hannah's glances every now and then, but now she was talking about the rehearsal and how the school play was starting to look decent. She complained about one of the cast members who was always late, and while the lingering tension wasn't fully gone yet, Chan could feel when she laughed that it would eventually.

By their parents’ beaming smiles when they saw Chan and Hannah arrive, it looked like it wouldn't take long for normal to hit again. Now that he could fix that, he could fix the other stuff. And he was willing to put in the work, as painful and uncomfortable as it was if that meant Saturday lunch with his family would never be that terrible again. That he would never get so in his head that he'd banish himself out of his family's home again.

When he sat down to eat and didn't feel dread, all Chan could do was smile like an idiot, feeding off the easygoing kind of love his family shared. Dad still lectured him on the medium rare thing, but this time Chan didn't fight to stay on the barbeque, away from them. Hannah joked, called him an old man when Chan coughed on a piece of kimchi that was a bit too hot for his neglectable spicy tolerance, and he bickered right back. Dad laughed at their shenanigans. Mom just smiled. Lucas was quiet, as always, but today he didn't avoid Chan's gaze. It felt just as much as a win as getting back to talking with Hannah.

After lunch, while Chan was finishing washing the dishes, Lucas nudged him.

“Hey! What's up?” Chan closed the tap so he could give him his full attention.

“Would you like playing some League? Later?”

Chan was so struck he couldn't talk for a solid two seconds.

“... Yeah. Yeah, of course!”

“Did you bring your PC?”

“Well, I do use a Mac.”

Lucas rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, I forgot you're one of those.”

“Yaah!” Chan giggled, delighted. Being picked on for using a Mac by Lucas of all people was not something he expected to do today, but that was good.

Lucas smiled back. A genuine, all teeth smile, as he settled beside him over the sink and started drying the pile of dishes Chan had just finished washing and was planning to put away alone.

That was nice. He could get used to that.

“Using a Mac to game is perfectly acceptable, for your information.” He quipped back, fighting the urge to nudge Lucas with his shoulder.

“Yeah, sure, grandpa.”

“Not you too with the grandpa thing.” Chan scoffed.

He pretended to be annoyed, but it was good. Delightful, even.

It was good to just chill in the normalcy of it all. To sit with Lucas side by side at Lucas’ bedroom desk, making his laptop fit beside his brother's gaming PC setup, laughing when Lucas fake complained about Chan's shoulders taking way too much space, and getting laughed at when he tried to boot up League only for the Riot Client to crash immediately. To get screamed at by Hannah when both of them started getting a bit rowdy in the middle of a particularly challenging round and cackling at how Lucas clapped right back pointing out how Hannah was noisy as heck too when she wanted to practice belting.

They were called to the living room at some point during the night. Dad had ordered pizza. Lucas made a point of not dropping the match even though they were losing, and then they went down. Hannah had turned on an animated movie and the pizza was laid out on the coffee table in front of the sofa. Eating in front of the TV wasn't a normal occurrence in the Bahng household, but Chan wasn't going to be the one to complain.

The movie was good. Better than that, however, was sprawling on the sofa with his two baby siblings and realizing how much they had grown. Heck, how he had grown; the three of them barely fit on the longer corner of the couch without huddling together. He stopped paying too much attention at one point during the second act because Hannah laid down her head on his shoulder and dozed off, and that was the thing that got him fighting back tears for some reason.

Not sad tears. Happy tears. That was not new, he had cried from joy before, but it had been so long, before everything went down even, so it practically felt like the first time. He had felt the urge to cry sad tears multiple times ever since he came back too, but had never been able to let it out. Lucas was half sat, half laid down next to him, still fully awake and focused on the movie, but he also started leaning into his shoulder bit by bit.

By the time the credits started rolling, Chan was sandwiched between the two wiped out teenagers he loved the most in the world and he hadn't felt more blissed out in a hot second. He could spend the whole night like this.

“Baby, we're going to sleep. Are you spending the night?” As if she could read his mind, mom asked. Her voice was low, hushed, like she didn't want to wake them up.

“Yeah.” Chan answered. Simple as that.

Mom smiled, a warm, inviting display of joy that made him smile right back.

“Do you want to go upstairs?”

“I'm good here. If they wake up, I'll go to my bed.”

He didn't miss how her shy smile became brighter when Chan mentioned his bed. She nodded, running a hand through his hair, and said goodbye with a kiss on the top of his head, leaving him as a full time pillow for the two sleeping teenagers.

As happy as the trust of them to literally lay on him made him feel, the scene reminded him of the boys. They would do this, huddle up together on the tiny ass sofa on the dorm to watch anime every Friday night. It was as much of a bonding thing as it was about spending time being nerds. And it made his heart warm, just like it made him feel fuzzy now. Loved.

It reminded him of the song, still saved in his cloud drive.

When he had hesitated to send it back yesterday, alone and defeated, now that he was surrounded by love and with mended bridges, Chan suddenly felt brave. The warm bodies around him acted like a shield from all the fear and the existential horror. From Changbin's disappointed, angry, and completely justified screams. Here, he was safe enough to be able to fantasize about being okay and lose every sense of reality.

It was the only explanation for why he picked his phone, luckily stashed into his hoodie's front pocket since it wouldn't have been accessible if it was anywhere else due to his current squished configuration, and typed out a text.

Yesterday, 18:14

Jisung

untitled.wav - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

it's not done but i hope you like it

this is jisung, by the way.

i change numbers all the time bc they always get leaked

so if i have to change this ill let u know

long story

ok ill stop talking

Today, 23:09

Chris B.

demo.wav - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

I liked it a lot

hope you like it too

Chapter Text

Sunday, 8:14

Jisungie

O

H

M

Y

F

U

C

K

I

G

G

O

D

what do you mean DEMO?????

WTF

HYUNG

hyung, i loved it

Read Sun 10:14

Sunday, 15:56

Chris B.

It's a great song

Congrats

Jisungie

thank you

wow

I missed this

fuck

I need to go to soundcheck

but ill text you when im done

do you want to see us?

the show, i mean?

im sure we can figure something out

Chris B.

I can’t, Sungie, Im sorry

It's not a great idea risking being seen with you, by the company or the fans

You guys don't need that

But break a leg! :)

Monday, 12:14

Jisungie

hey 

whats up

skkrt

Chris B.

Hey

Nothing much, just work

How were the shows?

Jisungie

awesome

audience was insane both days

and no rain, which is a plus

we're heading to the studio in a bit

to shoot the show

will i see you there?

Chris B.

No

Lots of managers around

Don't wanna cause anyone any trouble

But hope you have fun

Jisungie

come on hyungggg

rino and binnie gatekept you from us

they didnt even tell us how that went

Chris B.

Not great, Sungie

But they had good reason

Jisungie

please please please let me see you

Chris B.

I really cant

I shouldn't even be speaking to you

I’m sorry

Jisungie

why are you then?

Chris B.

I don't know

Jisungie

please dont stop

Chris B.

Ok

Monday, 23:04

Jisungie

shooting was super fun btw

are you still up?

i think i met someone who works with you

i saw them on your linkedin

Chris B.

How do you even know what that is?

Monday, 7:39

Bambam

Hey, Chan

When you see this, can you send me your address?

I'll send you some of the versions and the merch with your art

For portfolio and all

Chris B.

Hey

Thanks, Bam

I'm sorry for being distant, btw

You didn't deserve that

I was dealing with my own stuff and let it bled onto you

I'm sorry

Seen Monday 12:37

Monday, 12:39

Bambam

Oh, hey!

No worries, I mean it

I knew you were mad at something and not me

I really understand

Just wanna see you well

Are you well?

Chris B.

Better now

Bambam

Good good

Love u bro

Please always count on me 🙂

Chris B.

Thank you

Likewise

Love you too, bruv

Bambam

Glad we got that out of our way

I still need your address tho

lol

Tuesday, 9:24

Sal Lewis

the first guests were super cool

korean men are nice, who'd thunk

you're the only loser

📷 Photo

Chris B.

I'm an immigrant, that's why

the australia in me makes me a loser

Sal Lewis

nah, felix was such a sweetheart

he's the only one i kinda knew before but now im a fan

so hot too

he's the only hot aussie korean man i know

that's for sure

Chris B.

Well fuck me

Arent we supposed to be friends or smn?

Sal Lewis

i didnt say youre ugly!

being hot is a state of mind

you should dye your hair platinum blonde

it will make you a chick magnet

Chris B.

Absolutely the fuck not

Did you get the press pass at the end of the day?

Sal Lewis

no because our PA lost the list lol

for the next ones, ill deal with it

fucking imbecile

pho today?

Chris B.

Game on

Tuesday, 12:02

Amanda Bernardi

Hey

You're doing good, right?

Not too overworked, sleeping well?

Chris B.

Yeah, why?

Should I be worried?

Amanda Bernardi

Just checking

I need you alive by friday bc we're going out

Team party night

Chris B.

Scratch that, I'll be dead

Amanda Bernardi

Nooo we need a driver!

Chris B.

Far out

Okay

Tuesday, 13:46

Hannah Bahng

wassup loser

Chris B.

Yo

What do you want

Hannah Bahng

jesus christ

you act like i only text you to ask for stuff

Chris B.

You do, but it's fine

That's what older brothers are for

Hannah Bahng

rude 

well since you asked for it

🎥 Video (1:04)

🎥 Video (1:23)

🎥 Video (1:12)

what do you think?

im preparing some songs before they announce auditions

Chris B.

Only voice auditions?

No dance or instruments?

Hannah Bahng

i have some dance

but they dont ask for instruments anymore apparently

Chris B.

Rude

I had to do everything!

But these are great, I mean it

Reply to: 🎥 Video (1:12)

I think this one sounds the best

Red Wine Supernova

Your belting is really healthy

Hannah Bahng

yeah but they might not like a song about getting kinky

are they conservative?

Chris B.

They can be

Hannah Bahng

so

chappel roan, IU or billie eillish?

Chris B.

Honestly?

I'd say go for Chappel

It shows the panel you're brave

Even if they lean conservative

That's the kind of stuff that draws attention to you

Hannah Bahng

im nothing if not ballsy af

Chris B.

Please never say that again

Tuesday, 18:56

Jisungie

i just had fairy bread

it tastes super weird

📷 Photo

Chris B.

Like… right now?

Wednesday, 7:23

Jisungie

heading to melbourne now

we're flying private

which at least compensates having to wake up this early

i hate waking up before 8

bummer i couldnt see you

but its okay

Friday, 1:23

Jisungie

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

just got back the hotel after the concert

seungmin fell today

he tripped onstage

i was scared for a second, but he was okay

so it was hilarious

lol pabo

gotta sleep, another one tomorrow

Friday, 23:57

Jisungie

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

📷 Photo

melbourne done

im so tired

we're flying tomorrow

minho and i are sharing a room this time

i didnt tell him we've been talking

i didnt tell anyone

i didnt even show them the demo, should i?

Chris B.

I dunno

i guess it’s up to you

it's your song

Jisungie

you finished it, tho

would you be okay with me sharing?

sharing that you helped me, i mean

Chris B.

Will they like it?

Jisungie

im not sure either

felix will be super happy

but mad at me specifically bc i didnt tell him abt u sooner

are you scared they wont?

Chris B.

A bit

A lot

Please don't tell Changbin and Minho about me

Wednesday, 17:53

Jisungie

how was your day?

Chris B.

I was assigned a new project

So there's a lot of meetings, decks and moodboards I have to deal with

But good

Jisungie

wow 

what does it feel like to have an actual job? ㅋㅋㅋ

Chris B.

Tiring, but nice

I have paid overtime

Nice benefits and all

And you? How is it like to be an idol?

Jisungie

wow 

it would definitely have been nice to have benefits back then

Reply to: And you? How is it like to be an idol?

it's also tiring but nice

i dont get paid overtime but i cant really complain either ㅋㅋㅋ

we're heading to a new hotel

concert tomorrow

the whole thing

technically had a day off but i stayed in working on a song

Chris B.

Nice!

Jisungie

wanna hear it?

waterdemo.wav - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

Chris B.

I'm heading to a meeting in a bit, but will listen when I'm home!

Thursday, 1:15

Jisungie

do you still use cubase?

Chris B.

Yeah

But I'm not a pro or anything˜˜˜˜

Jisungie

can you help me with something?

i am trying to set up a new synth for the demo and it's giving me an error

no matter how many times i try

📷 Photo

have you ever seen this?

Chris B.

Oh

It's a plugin thing

Can you send me a full screengrab?

Or just share your live screen?

I'll show you how to fix it

Jisungie

i have discord

can we do it there?

Chris B.

Sure, sure

gnab.chris.97

Jisungie

god you're a dork

ill add you in a sec

Monday, 1:15

Jisungie

paris, yay 

Chris B.

oh la la

Are the croissants different?

Jisungie

the butter tastes divine

i love it here

📷 Photo

Wednesday, 4:29

Jisungie

📷 Photo

london!

only 5 more stops and we're done

vacationnnnn

im trying to come up with a track for a rap

and i cant think of anything

i mean the lyrics are fun

we're trying to blend some spanish into the mix

pretty basic tho

but idk

the draft sounds bad.

i made up half of the lyrics

i only have the chorus and nothig else.

ugh.

🎤 Voice memo (2:35)

Wednesday, 7:15

Chris B.

hm

Jisungie

what do you mean hm????

is it bad?

hyung 

hyungggg

answer meeeee

Tuesday, 2:02

Chris B.

Tick Tick Boom - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

Ok, I made two versions

TickTickBoom-demo - Full instrumental along with your audio

TickTickBoom-track - Only the clean instrumentals

“Ratatata Imma make it” is super funny, btw

It's my favorite part lol

Was it just rambling as a placeholder or intended?

Jisungie

hyung I LOVE YOU

Reply to: “Ratatata Imma make it” is super funny, tho

it was a placeholder but it will be official now!!!!11!!

Friday, 0:17

Jisungie

chk chk boom-v2.wav - Google Drive
drive.google.com

https://drive.google.com/dri…

NOW it is a banger

but changbin said it would be better to call it chk chk

instead of tick tick

bc of the romanization

Chris B.

it's your song! Feel free to :)

Friday, 4:45

Jisungie

Hyung

random question

that just popped up in my head

nothing serious or anything

but do you ever miss this?

like

would you ever work in music again?

Friday, 19:27

Chris B.

Where the hell did that come from?

Jisungie

just a question

Chris B.

No

I'm good

Jisungie

do you ever think about it?

Chris B.

No

Jisungie

never for a second?

Chris B.

Sungie, what the hell

Why are you asking me this?

Jisung?

Read Sat 1:49

Sunday, 4:45

Jisungie

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/BzyTKOxokdo

lol

Chapter Text

Chan was presenting a pitch to a board of executives when his phone rang.

Well, since he was a professional, his phone was stored somewhere in his backpack inside his office while he was busy giving the presentation. However, he could feel the constant vibration on the left wrist because of his Apple Watch, thankfully hidden by Chan's choice of bulky hoodie for the day.

He kept going, presenting moodboards and concept art for an ad campaign that took forever to finish — not due to his barely concealed mental breakdown, his deliverables were always turned in on time no matter how fucked up he was, thank you very much, but the fact that no one in marketing would ever agree on anything — and tried to ignore the buzzing.

It was enough to make him pause. Chan got a lot of texts all the time, but no one called him at work without sending a text first.

Fifteen minutes later, it rang again. While one half of his brain was laser focused on explaining that it wasn't feasible to run a full-scale A/B testing round for a nation-wide marketing campaign that was practically done and supposed to drop in 15 days to one of the clueless execs that even with 30+ years experience didn't seem to grasp that designers don't just push a button to spew out some quick art with no effort, the other one started to freak out a bit.

If it was the same person who called him twice, they wanted his attention. It was definitely urgent. Which could mean a lot of things, none of them good. Maybe Chan was just catastrophizing, but when Bambam needed him, he'd text first a bunch of times, and then call. Everyone in his family knew he'd be at work right now. If one of them was responsible for the calls, it would mean capital E Emergency. Which was not good, that's for sure.

Well, it could also be something work-related as well. It was good to check.

As a small argument started between the executives about something completely unrelated to anything being discussed right now, Chan took the opportunity to turn his body to the wall and pull at his sleeve so he could see what the hell was going on.

There were two calls, both from Jisung, which at least made him exhale in relief. Jisung didn't usually ring him, after that one cold call they only did it maybe three times at best, so it could still mean an SOS, but the SOS could be about a major PR crisis, a natural disaster, or his room service being late when he was really hungry. It was like dealing with a child with no object permanence.

He turned back to the presentation, with a newfound energy to make those men just listen to him for the next 10 minutes or so. He was so close, God damn executives. Dealing with them was the part he liked the least about his job. He could only exchange desperate glances every now and then with Arasha, who was under him at that particular project, sitting at the room of the table behind the executives.

“Gosh.” She finally said, when they all left after the presentation was over — not with a consensus, but a “promise of a follow up meeting at the end of the week”. Typical.

Chan laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Get used to it.”

“Do you really want to get promoted?” Arasha quipped, while she picked up her laptop and walked towards him. Chan was unplugging his stuff from the conference controllers.

“Yeah, of course. The pay increase would be cool. This is just a part of the job, the rest is pretty nice.”

“You should tell Amanda, then.” She was matter of fact and had the same bluntness as Seungmin, not intended to be mean, just really straight to the point. Chan had been the one to interview her for the position, and that was one of the reasons why he picked her.

“I will. Just… not now.”

“Why?”

Chan and Arasha walked back to the elevator, to go down the two floors back to the Creative department, and while they waited for the elevator to come, another call started buzzing. This time, Chan paid no mind to it, focusing on answering her question instead.

Why?

That was a great question. He could use a lot of justifications, but all of them were merely half-right. I don't have a lot of in-house experience as a senior yet was true, but not a deterrent by any means. I'm nervous or I fear I don't have what it takes felt right, but too exposing. I just got over a mental health setback that shook me to the core because I thought I had been okay all along but I'm actually not and now I'm afraid to lose control and disappoint everyone… That answer was way more complicated.

“Not the right time.” He settled, as he pressed the call button one more time even though it wouldn't have any effect. “Too much corporate bullshit going on.”

There was always some corporate bullshit going on, at the end of the day. Arasha just nodded.

“Wanna grab some coffee?” She asked, when the elevator finally arrived and they stepped in. “Or tea for you, I guess. Since you're a baby and all that.”

That was meant to be a dig, but even with the sarcasm all over it Arasha had this inherent sweetness to herself. She really reminded him of Seungmin.

He missed Seungmin.

He laughed, sheepishly. “Thanks, but I have to take a call now. Gotta run.”

“Busy man. Get your promotion, babes.”

The way back to his office was quick, but not desperate. He didn't need to run. It was just Jisung.

A couple weeks back the idea of being pen pals with Jisung of all people would sound ridiculous, but apparently now they were exactly that. And he was thankful for that crazy, crazy dude for cold calling him and probably going over his own phone anxiety for it, because now getting texts here and there from him had quickly become one of Chan's favorite small things.

When he finally got to his phone and dialed back Jisung's contact, he expected to get the usual cheery voice telling him about a song idea he needed to finish now or something like that.

What he got instead was a deep, serious voice. No, not serious. Shell-shocked.

“Hyung? Channie-hyung?”

It was decidedly not Jisung, but just like the first random call, he could also place that deep, soothing voice without even thinking about it.

This time, he didn't panic. Chan didn't freeze. He took a deep breath and tried to be as leveled as he could. 

“Hey, Felix.” He said, in English.

“Oh, my God.” He said away from the microphone, in English. “It is really you.”

"Yeah.”

He felt the urge to apologize out of nowhere, and even though Chan knew he should, he didn't say anything at first. In the background, he heard some ruffling sounds, and some voices talking over each other but didn't comment or break the silence, letting Felix guide the conversation as he preferred. It took him a second to realize the ruffling sounds were slaps, and by the time Jisung let out a yelp (it was way too high pitched to be Felix, and by the dramatic flare it had to be Jisung), he understood what was going on and immediately relaxed. They were just being… themselves. That apparently hadn't changed.

“It's good to hear your voice, hyung.” Felix said, then, after they went a couple more instants of whatever that was. “Jisung's just a selfish asshole.”

“I'm not!” Jisung screamed back. 

Felix's tone carried no bite — Chan wasn't sure he was physically able of being mean to anyone on purpose — but he still sounded like he meant it. Chan just listened to everything, unable to react in time and constantly losing the silent cues to engage in conversation.

“I found him and you hid your chitchat! We agreed to reach out together!”

That felt like something he should ask for clarification about.

“You found me?”

“Yeah! You told me to always find you. It only took us 3 years, but I did. On LinkedIn.”

The laugh that came out Chan's mouth was so natural it made himself jump. Being stalked on LinkedIn by Lee Felix was not how he expected this whole thing to have started. The profile didn't even carry his full name or likeness, he went by “Christopher B” in most places and used a pixel art style avatar for himself ever since he started looking for jobs. Also, no social media. At all.It was the price he had to pay for not wanting to be found again or approached by Stray Kids fans — or even worse, media outlets, but it was not like Chan had the urge to be super active on Instagram anyway.  The last picture of himself that was probably posted was back when he was still in the swimming team at uni, but that was at least two years ago and also as “Christopher B”.

No lie? Chan was sort of impressed. He hummed to himself as the pieces slowly slotted into place in his head.

“We needed to talk to you, so we found a way to do it.” Minho had said. So it wasn't just the world's craziest coincidence that all this happened then, just the world's craziest plan from the get go

He still had a lot of questions, like how the heck did they get his number, but those could wait.

“Huh” was all he said, after an instant of contemplation. “That makes sense.”

“How are you?” Felix asked. “Doing okay back home?”

“Yeah. I'm good. I'm…” Trying. Surviving? Getting better? “I'm okay.”

“That's good. I'm glad. Look, I'll text you. Please save my contact info. That's all I ask. Okay?”

Ok, that seemed reasonable enough, Chan thought. He already talked to Jisung on a daily basis anyway. Yes, Felix was closer, actually visited Australia more often, was apparently enough of a stalker to find out where he worked, but maybe this wouldn't blow up in his face. They weren't kids either, considering how hush-hush Changbin and Minho were when they reached out, they certainly knew direct contact with Chan was a risk for them as well.

But this? It was just a matter of saving his contact.

“Okay.” Chan answered. “I just… Don't let anyone else know, okay?”

Jisung made a noise. He couldn't read what that meant, not with the background noise and being unable to see his face.

“I'm sorry, Felix.” He was able to say, then, having to fight the urge to go for the nickname. Even though Felix didn't sound upset, he didn't want to push his luck. “I'm sorry, guys. I didn't mean to leave you in the dark for so long.”

Well, he did mean that, but it was not something Chan chose by his own accord, more the option he was stuck with.

“It's okay, Channie-hyung.” Felix said, giving him way more grace than he deserved because of course Felix would do that. “We understand that probably was a hard decision. You did what you had to do for yourself.”

Chan had no idea what he was talking about, honestly. Maybe it was part of the bullshit explanation the company had fed them, by the sound of it. He didn't want to go there though, not today. It didn't feel important right now. If Chan could avoid explaining anything to them as long as he was able to he would, because it wouldn't help anyone.

“So, are we good?” Jisung interjected.

“Yeah. Of course.” He answered, and if Chan sounded a bit too exasperated it's because he was. “All good.”

“Sorry for blasting your phone like that, I legit thought Sungie was messing with me and it was a prank so I wanted to prove him wrong.” Felix giggled. “Are you home?”

“Work, actually.” Chan answered, but it was what, 4:30 in the afternoon? He still had a couple hours to go. It was earlier in Seoul too, about two hours behind him if he remembered correctly.

“Oh, damn, sorry. I'll let you work. But we'll talk, okay? Don't be a stranger.”

Chan nodded. Not like he had another option that wouldn't involve a really long winded explanation. He then realized that was a stupid reaction since they couldn't see it, and cleared his throat. It was easier to just say yes.

So, he did.

As soon as the call dropped, as promised he got a new text from an unknown number. Just a quick “hi, this is lixie, save my number”.

Chan did.

And from that moment on, Chan now had two penpals in Korea.

Talking with Felix didn't feel the same as it did with Jisung. Jisung hadn't changed in practically any regard. He was still energetic, a ball of chaos, had a full round of different subjects ready to fire at any instant, and having that energy back was refreshing and nostalgic at the same time.

Felix, in contrast, had changed a lot. They did find the way back around a similar kind of camaraderie they had before, but Felix didn’t have that need to cling onto Chan as an anchor anymore — why would he, anyway? He had grown a lot, both in language and maturity. Both of them had lived almost the same amount of years in Korea at that point, connected by the two year overlap that was the lead up to Stray Kids. Felix didn't need the support anymore, he had adapted.

While 17 year old Felix tended to default to English with Chan, 23 year old Felix changed effortlessly between English and Korea while he talked about his life and his high-fashion escapades. He was an ambassador for Louis Vuitton now, which while Chan didn't exactly expect it, he wasn't surprised about either. It only took a quick Google search — which was really weird to do — to see that little Yongbok had become somewhat of an icon. Deep, iconic voice, gender-defying aesthetics, still the same heart of gold. Good for him. He looked confident, and sounded too, but still carried that same gentleness and care for everyone.

Not even a week after the first text, he now woke up to a text from Felix every day. Either a “good morning, hyung!”, a “have a good day at work” or a “how was your weekend? hope it was good”, and it became a part of his rhythm.

Chan liked it. As scary as the reconnection felt sometimes, he was secretly glad they didn't back off when Chan had told Changbin and Minho to do exactly that. Maybe he didn't want them to. Chan wanted to keep doing this, receiving pictures of Felix's baked goods, Jisung's demos, a bit of info on their careers, and their everyday care. It was complicated? Sure. But what in his life was clear cut and simple, really?

Maybe it was the fact that things were doing well that made it so much harder to be rational and keep away, after all. Not only with them, or with work, just… In general. He had been okay. Truly, genuinely okay. No episodes, no panic attacks, no dread, and the nagging pit of anxiety bubbling in his chest only appeared every once in a while. He upgraded from seeing his family every once in a while on Saturdays to even hanging out in the house during the week every few days.

“Whatever made you this happy, please do it again”, Amanda would say when he walked into the office, bringing donuts for everyone. “Unless it's drugs, otherwise don't.”

“What's with the smile, you dork?”, Hannah would mess with him when he helped her rehearse, accompanying her on the piano while she ran through scales and vocal warmings. He would sometimes be tempted to join her singing and everything, risking some harmonies. It didn't even feel like he had spent years away from playing or singing. She would pretend to sound annoyed, but the spark in her eyes was the only validation Chan needed.

And now, he picked up a video call with a cheery “hey” without even thinking about putting on a smile and was welcomed by a… surprised face from Bambam?

“Hey?” Chan repeated, not sure how to react. “Do I have something on my face?”

Bambam looked spooked, but he shook it off in an instant.

“Sorry, just didn't expect you to be so hyper. It's great! I suppose you're doing good, then?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Well, great. You're about to get better.” Bambam said, giving Chan a suggestive smile, getting so close to the camera it looked a bit goofy.

“Huh?”

“In about…” Bambam made a scene out of checking his watch, even though his wrist was clearly bare. “3 minutes.”

“That doesn't seem ominous at all, hyung.”

“Relax, you goof. Just tell me what happened to make you look so light while we wait.” He laid back on an office chair, probably at his studio now that Chan could see the background better.

“Well, I did say I was figuring my shit out.” He said, non-comitally. “I did.”

“Interesting. Therapy?”

“No, um…” Chan cringed. God, how long had it been since the last time he spoke to his therapist? Probably a year. “Just personal growth, I guess.”

“Good for you, man.” Bambam looked happy, even though he had no idea of half the stuff that happened to make Chan act like he did some time ago. Or half the stuff he did that would probably make Bambam hesitant to afford him such fondness. “I love you, you know that, right? I hope I always make it clear.”

Chan laughed. And he was the sap??

“Yeah, you do. Don't worry about it. When are you coming to Australia anyway? I miss hanging out in person.”

“Follow the script, man, I'm getting there!” Bambam chastised, but clearly joking. Not even a second later, Chan's doorbell started ringing. While he jumped in surprise, the loud ringing always being too loud for his noise tolerance, Bambam just laughed. “Go!”

“What do you mean, go?”

“Go take it!! Now!”

“Gee, okay!”

When he got to the ground floor, the doorman was talking to a delivery person, and Chan caught the exact moment a big, perfectly square cardboard box was handed to the doorman, sliding through the reception counter, and the doorman caught sight of him.

“Chris! I think there's something for you.” The man called for him, and turned back to the delivery guy. “That's his unit number, but the name is wrong.”

“Are you Bang Chan?” The guy asked, checking a paper. To his credit, he just looked confused.

The name still gave him whiplash, but while he was caught off guard, Chan was in a good mental space and doing well enough to not freak out. The clarity also made him connect the dots pretty quickly: that was Bambam's surprise inside the box.

“That's me, yeah.” He answered, then. The doorman's confused expression prompted him into saying more. “That's my Korean name.”

The guy just waved him off and handed him the box. The interaction was over as quickly as it started because he booked back to his own floor as quickly as he could so he could call Bambam back and, as soon as he picked it up foregoing the greeting and choosing instead to ask, “Hey, quick question, what the fuck?”

Bambam just cackled. “Open it!!”

“I already have your PR package! The albums are on my shelf!”

“Stop whining and just open it up!”

“I'm not whining!” Chan whined back, but he started opening the box. It was heavy, so he laid it on the coffee table and opened it from the top. There were no instructions, no branding, nothing to give him a clue on what the mysterious gift was, but as soon as the top lid came off, Chan realized it was a cake. It was neon green, just like the branding for GOT7's new album, the one he helped made, with the title of their new album and illustration on top, with the typography Chan reworked and everything.

It also smelled of double fudge chocolate, which made his mouth wet.

“What is that for? The album's been out for two weeks.” Chan was busy between taking the cake off the box and filming it for Bambam, so he didn't even properly react.

“Yeah, but we just won Best Performance Musician at Music Bank.”

Then he paused, and turned the camera back to himself. “Shit! Just now?”

“As of 3 hours ago, when I ordered this cake for you. Not from Korea, from a local bakery close to you. Support local businesses and all. Also Australian cakes probably taste better.”

“Congratulations, man! I mean, wow. That's huge. Also, thank you. You didn't have to, like, at all, but I won't complain.”

“You're as much a part of it as anyone who worked on this album, dude. Even though your name's not on the sheet, you are.”

Chan knew he had nothing to do with the actual wins, but the fact that Bambam was making a clear effort to involve him even though he had refused to be credited was nice, as much as Chan still wouldn't budge about that.

“I'd argue you and the guys are more a part of it than me, but… Thank you.”

He heard someone screaming a loud and prolonged “yo!” before he saw a blur on the screen, appearing from a corner and practically body-slamming Bambam from his right. “Channie boy!”

“Come on, dude!” Bambam protested. 

“Hey, Jackson.” Chan smiled. He reminded him a lot of Jisung. Loud, energetic, chaotic, and not-so-secretly a sweetheart.

“Hey, this loser is so slow to relay information, but we'll go out on tour!”

“I was getting to it, asshole!”

“Oh, shit!” Chan ignored bickering. “Really? When?”

They both started talking over each other, and it felt so familiar Chan cackled out loud. Even though they were all adults now and Jackson was older than both of them — and he was definitely mature and professional and all that considering the whole owning his own fashion company and being a hotshot in China thing — when they were all messing around as friends it felt like he was a teenager again.

“Clean up your schedule, fuckers, we'll start next summer!” Jackson screamed, and the expletive might have just been because it sounded fun. “And we're trying to set a date in Sydney so we can drag your ass backstage.”

“No excuses.” Bambam reiterated.

“Guys, I don't-”

“If you think we're taking no for an answer, you don't know us.”

“You all in the studio now?” Chan tried changing the subject.

“Jaebeom-hyung is taking a break because he's old and needs to pee all the time!” Jackson started the sentence directed to Chan and finished it straight up screaming in another direction, possibly where the bathroom was.

Chan could practically hear a faint scream of “screw you!” from afar.

The call didn't last for much longer when Jay-B actually left the bathroom. He gave a quick hi, thanked him — again — for his work, and repeated in less threatening words the whole partying backstage during the tour thing, but they apparently did have to keep working because of some schedule.

He didn't allow himself to say it would be nice to do that, though. Join them backstage. There was still a line on the sand, even though it felt blurrier and blurrier every day he kept chatting with Jisung and Felix, and listening to Jackson and Jay-B lay the plans for future GOT7 projects under the unspoken agreement that they would call him again when the time came.

They said their goodbyes and left to the booth, leaving Bambam alone before hanging up.

“Hey, later we'll talk about who's making you so cheery.” Bambam dropped out of nowhere, which dragged a laugh out of Chan even though he didn't even know why he would laugh about it. “Love you, boo.”

That was nice. It was almost exciting. Still a bit terrifying, but he had been repeating “they're not JYPE so it's fine” like a mantra ever since he made up from his one-sided-beef with Bambam. Stray Kids stuff was harder, but this didn't have to be.

The thing is, talking to Felix and Jisung wasn't hard either. They had just already wrapped up their tour, which was great for Chan in a selfish way. Not traveling meant they were in closer timezones now. Europe was great and all, but it was at least 10 hours behind him. Now they were just a couple hours apart, and Chan looked forward to their daily texts, maybe chatting for a bit in between tasks at work.

Life kept going like this. Family, little sessions with Hannah here and there, League with Lucas (and sometimes Felix), chit-chat with the sunshine twins every day. He got used to it real quick.

He wasn't counting on feeling it so hard when that routine was minimally disrupted, though. But alas, on a regular-ass Friday, nothing else going on, neither Jisung nor Felix reached out in the morning, which was odd for them but not unheard of. He did send some messages, a meme, a hello, an invitation to play some League later, but then they didn't say anything back throughout the afternoon. 

And it felt weird.

It was a testament to how well Chan had been doing lately, how light he had been feeling, that he didn't spiral. Maybe they had a late start or some schedule. There was no reason to panic, or catastrophize. He was fully capable of wondering what happened and keeping working as normal, without the racing heart or the weird thoughts.

Normal. Wow.

He still felt odd, but now Chan was able to feel odd and normal at the same time, without one overtaking the other and leading him into a panic attack in the bathroom, which was great.

“Do you want a ride home?” Amanda was not subtle about kicking him out so he didn't generate more overtime hours, leaning on his office's doorstep with crossed arms.

“Jeez, it's not even 6 pm!”

“I know, but I'm leaving. New rule: I'm the last one here. Gotta enjoy your weekend.”

“Who does it apply to? Everyone?”

“You're the only one who needs it. Come on.” She tapped the door.

“Far out.” Chan grumbled, immediately standing up and going through his “loggin off” routine: pick up the charger, take the backpack, turn off the mouse and remember to put it on the backpack, put the laptop away.

“Far out”, she mocked back. “Just say fuck.”

“I do, for your information. A lot. It's actually a problem.” Chan laughed, as he turned off the lights. Of course she knew that. “Let's go.”

She didn't drive him, there was no need for that. He walked the 15 minutes like always, stopping by the shops to grab some meat for dinner and pineapple juice. The sun started to go down in the meantime, and by the time Chan got to his building, the sky was painted in a nice shade of pink, the streetlights already on. A nice, cool breeze passed by, uncharacteristic for the middle of spring but welcome nonetheless. He even got up by the stairs instead of the shitty elevator, since it wasn't that hot.

Chan turned toward the hallway that led to his door and almost had a heart attack when he caught someone standing right in front of it, leaning against the wall.

He froze, not in panic this time. Just sheer confusion, cause what the fuck?

“Changbin-ah?”

It was him, undeniably him — with a hoodie and flat cap covering half his face in an attempt for privacy, which made him look unrecognizable to the untrained (white Australian) eye but Chan knew better. He just had no idea why Changbin of all people would be at his doorstep.

Changbin looked up, and he didn't look thrilled about it either. There were bags under his eyes now that Chan was close enough to notice them, and his expression was… he looked really tired.

“Can I come in?” He said, voice rough, in Korean. No hi, no nothing.

Chan just nodded, almost in a haze, motioning to the door and taking his keys out. “Sure.”

If he felt out of his depth being accosted to a meeting with Stray Kids in his own workplace, letting Changbin into his tiny Sydney apartment was straight up diabolical.

The image was… bizarre. Chan never thought Changbin would even know this place existed, and yet there he was, eyeing Chan's cheap furniture up and down and taking in the random collection of stuff he had hung up on the walls ever since he moved here. Changbin had his arms crossed behind his back, like an art buff at a fancy exhibition but instead looking at Chan's posters and pictures on the walls with the utmost scrutiny.

Just like in his office, it was a collection of interests. The walls in his apartment had color, though, a red accent wall where he hung up a more personal collection. Family pictures, with a couple friends, a graduation picture with Amanda basically bear hugging him, some Genshin Impact art, maps of cities he'd been to with his family, artwork prints he'd bought in the artists alley of some of the nerd conventions he loved to go every once in a while and some of the project posters he also had at the office as well, but nicely framed instead of stuck with blu-tack.

Chan felt appraised by a judge or something, the mix of silence and tension making his skin crawl. He had to breathe in and out to calm himself back. Changbin was just getting used to all of it, probably. He looked at each picture with deep attention.

“Is this your work?” Changbin pointed to a poster. “That's your company.”

Well, that was definitely an idol way to put it.

“The company I work for.” Chan corrected, as he took the opportunity to step a bit closer and feel less… analysed. “This was one of my first projects as a senior.”

He hummed, still studying the poster like it was some piece of weird art. Chan had nothing else to say about that, since the only thing on his mind was why is Changbin here. And the worst part was Chan couldn't even bring himself to ask it, since his body was already bracing for the worst.

Changbin had told him what he thought of Chan. Minho also let him know what his opinion was — they both had voted for the group to stay away. Chan knew that, and yet when Jisung and Felix reached out he invited them in, knowing it would be messy if they got caught. For him and for them.

There was no other explanation, Changbin was here to cut him off. Lay on him and tell him to stay away since that had been his choice. And Chan would oblige, because of course he would, but it would still crush him. He had gotten used to this, to having them again. It was good.

“So,” Almost as if he could hear Chan's mind racing, Changbin cut through the silence. “Design, huh?”

He nodded instead of answering, like an idiot.

“How did that happen?”

Changbin didn't sound judgmental, maybe just mildly confused, but even then Chan couldn't shake that uncomfortable sensation of being looked down upon. Like he hadn't shown any inclinations towards being artistic before or something. He knew it wasn't true, or at least was pretty sure that wouldn't be the case, but it was harder to believe it.

“Well, I did make every 3RACHA cover art. And the logos for 3RACHA and Stray Kids.” Chan answered, a bit more snappy than he'd like. “I have always been creative, it's not that absurd.”

Changbin hummed, looking at him and then quickly turning his eyes back at the posters and pictures. He did seem struck by Chan's tone, but it only lasted an instant. He had already schooled his expression back to flat in a beat.

“Guess I just expected you to stick to music.”

Chan had to consider which direction he would take the conversion. He could brush it off, say “life led him in a different direction”, which is the kind of bullshit he'd feed to relatives in every family reunion he was forced into attending over the last four years, could actually try to answer him honestly.

Or he could stop beating around the bush, cut the whole preamble and just get himself an explanation.

“What… I mean, how, um… Why are you here?”

Changbin's eyes went down. He never looked so defeated before, and they did face a lot of defeat. There was no sign of the fire Changbin had within himself, that unending determination that carried them through so much back in the day.

“I wouldn't be here if I didn't think this was my only choice.” Changbin said, after a long beat. “I hope you understand that.”

Chan just nodded blindly. Choice of what?

Was he going to forbid Chan from interacting with Jisung and Felix? That's what Chan was pretty sure was going to happen anyway, but why would Changbin need to be here? Why would he look so somber? How did he know where Chan lived? Was he here to make Chan stop?

His breathing stopped for a second. The familiar pit of panic started making his stomach feel cold. Was he here to threaten Chan to stay away?

That couldn't happen. Not again. Not by Changbin, of all people.

“Do you follow our releases?” Changbin asked, out of nowhere.

It was such a tonal shift from that vague tension that Chan took a second to answer, suddenly deflating.

“Um… Not really?”

Changbin sighed.

“Wow, you really don't-” Changbin started sounding snarky, but cut himself off before Chan was able to infer what the comment would be about. He'd rather not know anyway. “Most of our songs are… I mean, we made most of them together, us three. Back then. When you left, you gave them to the company, but we had something cool. 3RACHA was cool.”

He almost felt nostalgic, as if Changbin was reminiscing about the good old days. In a sense, they were.

“Do you not use 3RACHA anymore?” Chan wondered out loud. He really didn't know, trying to always keep the Googling his old best friends thing to a minimum. Now he wondered if he should have.

“No.” Changbin stared at him, the confusion obvious in his entire body language. “We- You really don't know anything?”

“No. I haven't followed.”

“You really just cut us off then, huh.” Changbin sounded hurt, but at the same time, amused. He had a sarcastic half-smile on, like he was looking at a weird alien or something. It broke Chan's heart, and the worst part of it was that Changbin wasn't even wrong.

“I-” had to. had no option. couldn't take it. “Guess I did.”

“Why are you back chattering and making fucking demos for Jisung, then?”

Chan breathed in and out.

That was it.

He'd be cut off right now, forced back to cutting them all off yet again. He had barely mended the relationship with Jisung and Felix, and they'd have to do it all over. And Changbin would definitely want him to disappear without a trace again, just like JYP did, and not give any explanation to the boys. Why would he want Chan to explain? Jisung and Felix were attached already, they would be angry, and then the whole harmony within the group would be affected.

Chan regretted everything, wondering what was he doing with his head when he answered that fucking text.

He should have stayed away.

That was why, what he was trying to avoid.

“He called me.”

“I called you.” Changbin shot back. ”For months. You didn't answer.”

They took my phone, I didn't know. They took everything from me. It's a miracle I was able to keep my laptop.

“I'm sorry.”

Chanbin stared at him, face filled with disdain, like he didn't believe a single word coming out of Chan's mouth.

“We never used 3RACHA as a producer tag.” He kept going, threading carefully back to the main subject and ignoring Chan's apology. “It's just Div1, since you gave the songs to them, Stray Kids and whoever we collaborate with. We split our cut of the royalties equally among the members. It's only fair.”

Changbin was definitely better than him at leading the group, Chan realized. Chan's cheeks burned out of the sudden, the shame creeping in. I tried to be fair too, Chan wanted to answer. I tried fighting for us.

You gave the songs to them, Changbin said.

Chan didn't remember that part specifically, but guessed he did.

“So, we used your stuff. Which was our stuff. That's why we did it. It was as much ours as it was yours. I kinda did it out of spite, too, to be honest. Since you didn't want us, didn't care about staying, might as well. It was free game. We made 4 full length albums in the span of a few months, come on. And they were good. But we… I ran out.”

Chan was shocked, to say the least. There were so many questions he could ask about every bit of information he was receiving, the long list seeming a bit overwhelming, but the only thing he could focus on was the last one because what.

“Ran… out?” He had to hold a scoff.

Changbin and Jisung were the most creative people he'd ever met. There was no way they just… ran out of creativity.

“We have no backlog. We had the songs we made as 3RACHA, and I've been working from those along with some originals throughout the years, but we finished releasing the last of the 3RACHA batch last year for our latest album and even since then we can't- I can't make new tracks in the same rhythm. Not anymore.”

Changbin's eyes darted down, chin barely touching his broad chest. He sighed, one hand pulling the cap off at once and messing with the hair that, even after spending a while squished in the cap, still looked fresh and stylish.

“It's… Fuck, it's hard. I have so many things to do for work, and this on top of everything. We had some collaborators, but it's not the same. Doesn't sound right. Doesn't flow. We need a new album and I have no idea how. The company will start asking for a new release after we finish our vacation, and we just don't have that. Or the time. Or enough ideas.”

“You ran out.” Chan repeated, the information just now making sense.

Everything seemed to stop for an instant.

Changbin was here. Because he ran out. So he wasn't here to push Chan away.

“Fucking hell, why do you think I went all the way here twice just to see you knowing damn well I could and would be disappointed? I don't know what else to do. If we hard pivot to a new direction, we risk losing fan loyalty. Things are already rocky for us in Korea, people don't really fuck with our shit over there but the domestic market is really important. We can't take risks right now. We have to stick to our guns, our signature sound. But our sound is not really mine, is it? It's yours.”

He… needed Chan?

“Binnie, it's not mine-” He started. It slipped, really. Chan wasn't thinking straight or at all when he turned to face Changbin and tried to put a hand on his shoulder as a reassurance, going by muscle memory and nothing else, but was immediately cut off when Changbin all but flinched away from his touch, turning his body practically to the opposite direction.

“Don't call me that.” Changbin was quick, voice sharp like a knife. “Don't touch me.”

“S-sorry. I didn't mean to.” Chan breathed out, taking a step back.

Speaking with Changbin was supposed to flow as naturally as his own thoughts. They laughed, breathed, and created together. It was easy to read him, basically second nature by the time they were picked to debut. Not whatever that was. That lingering tension was uncomfortable, sure, but also heartbreaking.

Changbin was his person at some point in the past.

More than that, he's… he was Chan's favorite person.

How did he mess that up so bad?

“We made it, not just me, you said it yourself. You can make it whatever you want.” Chan tried to salvage the tension in the air, but by the way Changbin's eyebrows furrowed in anger, it only made everything worse.

“I can't. Not because I don't want to, I do. I'd love not to rely on you. I just can't… the fans, they expect something from us. They expect, you know, Stray Kids, the crazy, noisy guys that don't fit in Korea because they're too brash. If we go calm now, we lose steam.”

“Are you sure about that? Your fans would-”

“You don't even know the first thing about us, how the fuck would you know if our fans can take change well?” Changbin was mere decibels away from screaming in frustration now, which… great. The whole thing was already bad and Chan somehow made it worse.

And even though his face was hot from the first-hand embarrassment of fumbling that conversation so hard, Chan didn't back out this time, because he actually had an opinion about it.

“If it sounds authentic to you, of course they would. People don't go for Stray Kids because they love noise music, no one was into that back then either. They stay because of us- I mean, because of you.”

Changbin sighed. He didn't even give Chan shit for messing up.

“Well, I've been trying to wrap the damn lobos we cannot stop hunting track for at least three weeks and you wrapped that up in a pretty nice bowl for us in one night, so clearly I cannot. I shouldn't have used our songs because now everyone expects us to have a sound I can't provide by myself anymore, because it was mostly you being noisy and crazy. I didn't set out to be a producer, or arranger. I'm a composer. A lyricist. I had to fill this space because you left and I didn't want to leave our sound in JYP's hand, and now I backed myself into a corner and I feel so stupid for even considering this, but we- I need to finish a new album so we are able to continue as a group.”

Chan's blood went cold.

“What do you mean, continue as a group?”

“I have been encouraging the boys to pursue solo projects so they won't be stranded if this…” He gestured around himself. “Doesn't pan out. Just in case.”

“You can't… disband.”

“Like you're one to say anything, huh? I'm not saying I want to disband. I'm saying it's a possibility if this fizzles out because I'm not cut out for producing end to end.”

“You're doing your best, Changbin.”

Changbin shifted in his feet, the sarcastic smile back again. This time, it looked more sad and solemn than anything.

“Well, it's not enough.” He barely whispered, letting the silence stretch for some more seconds. “We need one more album before contract renewal, and if it doesn't hit, they might refuse to give us a good deal. And yeah, it could affect the band.”

Changbin let the words sink in, mostly to recover his calm demeanor, squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath.

“That's why we need you. We need you to help us make tracks for a new album, and by the looks of it you still have the chops to pump out songs like bunnies pump out litters. And then I'll have more time, and you can go back to whatever chitchat you have with Jisung and Felix, I don't care. Just stay away. And then I'll deal with the rest.”

“You need me.” Chan repeated, like it wasn't sure it was real.

“Shibal.” Changbin whispered to himself, almost a growl. “It's a terrible idea but it's the only one I have, so yes. The company would definitely hate this if they found out, because they apparently dislike you more than I do, but I can compensate you fairly. You're probably still paying off your trainee debt, right?”

Changbin was going through his plan so fast Chan didn't even have time to feel the sting of being told straight up that Changbin disliked him.

“Yeah.” He answered instead, nodding his head.

“How much?”

“Half a billion won with interest.”

The number sounded foreign after not dealing with the different currency for so long, seeming impossibly big but it was around four hundred thousand Australian dollars. The price of a house, basically.

Changbin nodded, serious out of the sudden. “That's a lot of money.”

“I have been paying it off. They gave me a good deal.”

Chan tried to sound non-chalant, but both him and Changbin knew it was bullshit. It was a lot. They knew the business. Changbin might have been born rich, but even he was too scared of the reimbursement fee to even consider quitting when things got bad back then. Chan's situation was even worse; not only was he international and received boarding throughout his whole trainee time contrary to Changbin, who just moved to the dorms after they started predebut with the survival show, he'd been a trainee for seven years. He had been paying it off, yes, bit by bit every month with whatever was left from his salary after taxes and savings, but they both knew without even the need to discuss that it would either take forever to clear it off his books, if he managed to do it at all.

“Does your family know about it?” Changbin asked, sounding a bit more sympathetic.

“They know I have debt. I just never told them how much.”

Not telling them in the hopes of dealing with it by himself was honestly the main reason for why it got so bad, Chan came to realize quickly, but there wasn't really another way to deal with it. It was as much about pride as it was about being realistic. They would want to help, and it would crush them financially. The family wasn't poor or anything, Chan had always been aware he was at the very least upper middle class, but they were not loaded like Changbin's parents, who lived in a freaking mansion and had multiple properties in Korea. Chan's family only had the house and the swimming school, and they still had to get the youngests through uni. They didn't struggle, but also weren't exactly lavish. Comfortable. If something happened to the school, their only source of income, they'd be in serious problems. If they took a five hundred thousand dollar debt, it would be catastrophic.

 He couldn't do that, burden them with that knowledge when they already were burdened with so much. When he had been such a burden.

“Consider it paid.” Changbin said.

“Just like that?” Chan choked out, face blank.

He wasn't exactly poor, Chan knew that, but the gap between being from a stable family with a well paying job and being a global superstar was super jarring every time he was confronted with it. Most of his teenage friends were millionaires now. Chan didn't even own a car.

Changbin shrugged.

“I can make twice that through a single album release in Korea alone.” Changbin said, like it was nothing. Because, come to think of it, it was nothing for him.

There were still reasons to be weary when it came to contacting Stray Kids, but the financial thing was one of the largest leverages JYPE had on him outside of Korea. Inside Korea it was a different beast, and it was less about him and more about not making them become a target, but Changbin's dismissive attitude somehow lit up a fire in Chan's chest, a desire of proving him wrong. And it was crazy, Chan was pretty much aware of that, but faced with the option, he was somehow considering trying.

Hopeless.

He wasn't that. Not anymore. Changbin needed him, and he would prove he was still worth the time of day.

“No one outside of us can know about it.” Chan thought out loud.

“I'm aware.” Changbin answered, dripping with sarcasm. 

“How would I do it? Do you want me to… go to Korea or something?” Chan asked, wiping his hands nervously in the sides of his jeans, almost as a tic. His heart was racing, but he wasn't sure it was due to the fear of putting him — and them — at risk or to the thrill of making music again. “I can't go to the JYP building. I'm not even sure I can go to Korea.”

“No! God, no. That would be stupid. No Korea, no JYP. This is not an actual approved schedule, they don't know we're recording stuff now. I want you to help me finish guides so we already have an album ready to record by the time the company starts fussing for one. And we're doing it here.”

“... Here?” Chan looked around his own living room.

“In Sydney. During our vacation time. Well, I'm already here, but the rest are coming. Jisung and Minho are on their way while we speak. We rented a house. I brought my home studio gear over. The others are resting but that's our schedule.”

Chan nodded before he fully processed it.

“Here? Isn't that risky? Won't they make the connection to me?”

“Felix is from here, too. Not everything is about you.”

Ouch. Guess he deserved that. Changbin cleaned his own throat with a cough.

“Just the guides?” Chan half-asked, not to pry for more, just because he wanted to know the extent of how much he was being needed.

“I can direct them fine. Just the guides. Us three.” Changbin answered. Us three obviously meaning them and Jisung. 3RACHA.

It was like wishing it upon a star, but the wish came true with a nasty tradeoff. He would be able to get rid of his debt and make music again and make music as 3RACHA, but Changbin, the person he was… He felt so much for now hated him.

“Do you want me to?” Chan asked. He could work by himself and then hand them the demos just fine, it was not like he hadn't been informally doing that anyways.

Changbin sighed, defeated. The answer was clear by his face alone.

“No.” He said, not even looking sorry about it. “But they want to. And I need us to thrive. I'm doing this for them, not for you.”

Changbin put the cap back on, walking towards the door without verbalizing he'd leave now. Chan wordlessly followed him to the exit.

“So, will you take it?”

Not will you help me?, or can we work together?, Changbin only focused on the transactional aspect of the plan. Chan would get paid to do a job and leave, nothing else.

It was cold, distant, and so, so enticing.

“I will.” He said, opening the door for him.

Changbin eyed him up and down, judging. Probably thinking what the hell was he doing. His head dropped down, but he nodded. “Good. Do you work weekends?”

“No.” Chan answered, unsure why it was relevant.

“Good. We're picking you up tomorrow at 9:30 here.”

Chan nodded before he could even process that it was barely 12 hours away.

It was only a couple of moments after Changbin got in the elevator and the doors closed that Chan was able to exhale and feel his whole body shaking like jelly. His hands were shaking, he just wasn't sure if it wasn't the tension or the excitement.

Fuck. He had an album to make. He had no idea how, but it was showtime. Apparently.

Chapter Text

If anyone asked, he did not spend the whole night up trying to figure out how the fuck would he come up with a full album with 3RACHA in a matter of days. He was used to being briefed for projects due yesterday, but it was easier to grumble through it in a corporate setting. There were no actual stakes in his personal life — if an asshole higher up asked for something due in impossible hours, Chan could just do a hasty, low quality job and turn it in. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would be. And then a day or two would pass and another impossible task would come, and life would go on.

This? This was a completely different story.

Chan was handed the opportunity of proving himself worthy of being forgiven. Yes, sure, Changbin gave him basically a night to prepare which in any other scenario would kinda feel like a dick move, but Chan didn't care. Chan couldn't even say this was “his biggest dream” because it was so out of anything he thought possible, he had resigned himself to never having anything to do with them again. And yeah, he did screw up their surprise reunion, but now that the cat was out of the bag, now that Felix and Jisung were in his frequent contacts, that opportunity was practically divine.

The whole thing was actually quite simple, if Chan thought hard about it: His main task was to finish the tracks, work with Jisung to arrange the lyrics they had so far within those tracks, record the guides for those tracks with them for as long as they needed him (throughout the weekend? The whole time they would stay in Sydney? Chan had no idea, Changbin didn't tell him), and then say goodbye. Changbin and Jisung were the main producers directing recording sessions, they would take it from him and finish the job in Korea when the time came.

He wasn't hurt by that at all.

The problem was, Changbin wasn't speaking to him, which would be a bit important in an endeavor like this. He left Chan's apartment that Friday night, and that was basically it.

The others, though? Well, not so much.

Felix, who apparently was already in Sydney, immediately called him.

“Did he do it?” He asked as soon as the call connected. Chan would never get used to his deep, thundering voice, but secretly (well, not so secretly) he loved it.

“Did what?”

“Are you coming?” Felix was excited, Chan could tell by the way his voice went up an octave.

“Yeah, he just left my place.” Chan answered, trying to keep his voice leveled, but it didn't matter considering the loud screech on the other side of the call.

“He went to your place?” He asked. “Oh, my God, I'm so excited!”

“I don't even know where to start. I have nothing, Lix.”

“You have, though! Jisung showed me your demos! Just sit on it for a couple days, I'm sure you'll find a good place to start.”

“I'm supposed to meet you guys tomorrow.”

Felix stopped.

“Oh, shit. He probably wants to start ASAP, then? Jisung and Minho will be landing in Australia in a couple hours. Fuck, Jisung has no idea. He'll be so happy. And Hyunjin-”

“Felix.” Chan called him back to reality. “What do I do?”

“Isn't it obvious?” Felix giggled. “You start thinking about music. Just like you did with Jisung.”

“I… I was only messing around with him.”

“And what's the difference now? Look, as resistant as Changbin might be about you, everyone here knows you're a great producer.”

“I'm not-”

“You are, shut up. I do know that I'm really looking forward to seeing you. So are the others.”

Chan wanted to ask more. Really? What did they say about me? Are they just curious? Are they angry? Give me a footing here, I need to know what I'm getting myself into. But he felt the very familiar swirl of anxiety in his chest starting to get ugly, and if it did, he would not be able to do anything at all.

“Shit, I gotta start at it.”

“That's my boy!” Felix screamed, just like he did when they were playing with Lucas. “Look, I'll be here if you need anything. Don't fret. You got this. God, I'm so excited.”

Chan couldn't bring himself to say he was excited too, but he was.

He couldn't fuck this up.

That was why, right after he got off the phone, Chan took it upon himself to do some very needed research and come up with at least a proposal for a concept. It was not snooping. Or Googling his friends. He wasn't there as a Stray Kids member or as Jisung's friend, he was paid to do a job. Chan was a Creative Director, for crying out loud, if there was something he knew how to do was benchmarking and desk research while separating his personal thoughts from the project. Call it a bootcamp. A Stray Kids hackathon.

For researching’s sake, he went through Stray Kids' whole discography, album by album. Song by song. Every concept, every change of concept, every title track, every music video. And there were a lot of them.

So fucking what if every time he would recognize the finished version of a song he could clearly remember making years ago his heart would clench.

So fucking what if listening to the youngest’ voices maturing and realizing he had missed it entirely was actually torture.

So fucking what if when he watched live performances and was hit in the chest by their energy and power onstage the only thing he could think of was how being fired was the best thing to ever happen to them cause there was no way they would have been able to do all that under Chan's lead.

He had a job to do, so he would do it.

Chan could tell they had matured. Thematically, sure, moving away from teenage angst (because they were teenagers) and to a more high energy, I brag because I deliver kind of tone, but musically as well. Like Changbin had said, they still had the brash, noisy style they had developed together so many years back, but they also had way more finesse compared to Chan's step-above-amateur mixing knowledge at the ripe age of 17. Even if they had collaborated with great people, the way Changbin kept saying he was “just a lyricist” now felt like he was selling himself short. Come on, they worked with Tiger JK. That was no small thing.

Chan only had to channel all that energy to create stuff from ground zero again.

Of course he was not the over-confident, super optimistic barely teenager that had created all those tracks when he was still working towards the dream anymore. Of course he felt more like an imposter than anything nowadays so it would probably feel really weird if he tried to do the bragging thing. However, if he could swing nation-wide corporate campaigns in the most boring-est, blandest and widest tone ever, Chan could try tapping into noise music again. He didn't even have to worry about the bragging because we deliver department, since the lyrics would be at the hands of Jisung anyway, Chan was specifically tasked with the music production.

That was a job, he kept reminding himself, as the creative cogs in his brain started turning again and he could feel his body getting into a nice, familiar flow, like when he did warm ups before going for a swim or quick run.

It was close to midnight when he started getting texts from Jisung, so he probably had already landed in Australia. After sending a collection of expletives in rapid succession and freaking out for a minute or so, Jisung immediately forwarded him a folder full of drafts and voice notes. The voice memos had lyrics, some guitar parts, and terrible beatbox. It was rough, and probably intentionally so, but as messy as he was the kid had chops. Chan could think of 30 different ways to interpret Jisung's half-beatbox, half-description of what he felt the song could sound like into actual compositions, and it was thrilling.

Jisung also forwarded some voice memos from Changbin, and it was nice hearing his voice again without the anger in it. Changbin's memos were less about describing music and more about trying out bars and rhymes. He jumped in and out of the stage voice at multiple points. It felt like listening to him practicing in the dorm kitchen all over again.

All that was great to have, because Chan still had nothing. So he kept listening to them on loop until something would spark some great idea or whatever.

In one of the memos, Changbin was trying to finish a verse that had a very clear intention of using an internal rhyming scheme, but ended up giving up halfway through.

“This feels wrong, we're supposed to be rockstars or something”, he grumbled, before changing subjects.

The way he said it tickled Chan's brain. Rockstars.

His fingers were tapping rhythms in a second. In the next one he had YouTube open, searching for references he could bring to them, setting up a whole deck and a playlist just for mood setting with tracks that fit their vibe.

Chan loved music.

He wasn't glued to a speaker or a pair of headphones blasting tracks as much as he did as a youth, but at least that wasn't due to the trauma of it all. It was just harder to have earbuds in playing albums back-to-back when he had to do so much talking for a job. He still loved it regardless, and had always a rotation of different stuff going on. Some Daniel Caesar for the days when life felt a bit too much, a bit too fast. Some Kendrick or Doechii when he wanted to involuntarily make nasty faces while nodding along to sick flows and beats. Some R&B here. Some 2000s hip hop there, and ballads to fill the quota. Oh, and the Tiny Desks! Damn, they are good. He loved it.

By the time Chan realized what he was doing it was 7:30am, he had a full concept presentation, six tracks going on, 13 decks (10 for the usual amount of songs per album, 3 extras just in case) kickstarted from Jisung's demos and some original ideas he felt they could work lyrics upon nicely enough when they finally joined to work.

Which, fucking hell, would be soon.

He should probably take a nap, but now Chan was so hyped he just knew it wouldn't happen. So, he had a smoothie for breakfast, went on a quick run, took a shower and got himself ready in peace. Chan finished getting his shit ready, putting on some sweatpants, beanie and hoodie, getting his computer and peripherals in a backpack, some nice headphones and debated if he should bring any music gear. Changbin probably had everything they needed, but he ended up choosing to take his OP-1. It was just as big as a small typing keyboard, so even if it was superfluous, it wouldn't take a lot of space. He also kinda loved that thing. So versatile. It had been a Christmas present right after he turned 17 and it actually helped him to sound… less amateur as a wannabe producer.

It was 9:30 sharp and a sunny Saturday morning when a black SUV parked in front of Chan's building. Chan wasn't freaking out at all. It was not like he had been sitting at the sofa at the tiny lobby for the last five minutes, buzzing with anticipation.

Right when the car parked, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

Today, 9:30

+82 348-3843

Good morning, hyung

We're parked at your address

This is Seungmin btw

Ok, he was doing this then. 

Chan wondered why it wasn't Changbin or Minho driving him. Not that he wanted to drive with Changbin and be stuck in what would definitely be a very awkward ride, but it was… odd. They've put themselves between Chan and the rest of the boys before. Maybe now that the offer was made, it was off-limits?

He walked out to the street, facing the car, and would not have been able to see anyone inside if it wasn't for Jeongin opening a small section of the passenger window and giving him a tight smile.

He looked… Different. Of course Chan knew his current visuals due to the late night YouTube research, black hair, stylish bangs, but it was one thing to see him perform, wearing stage makeup on a small screen and another to see him like that, bare face, sleepy eyes, but still handsome and with sharp lines. Mature. Not the kid with braces and a wet puppy look on his face anymore.

“Come in, Chan-hyung”, he said, in Korean, voice rough with sleep. It was still generally high in timbre, but it had clearly dropped in pitch from the last time Chan heard it in person.

Chan nodded and opened the back door, hauling his backpack and taking a seat.

“Um… Hi, guys.”

Seungmin looked at him from the rearview mirror. He had grown out of the baby cheeks, and had shorter hair now, showing more of his forehead. His expression was unreadable, but that wasn't new for Seungmin. He was not an open book when it came to facial reactions like Jisung and Changbin, having his own way of showing feelings, more reserved, personal.

Chan had spent so long away he had no idea if that way had changed at all. He had no idea how to read him now, so Seungmin just looked flat. Uninterested.

“So,” Seungmin broke the silence. “This is where you live.”

“Yaah-eah.” Chan answered, letting a weird mix of English and Korean pronunciation out by accident because his mind couldn't pick one in time, even though Seungmin was speaking to him in Korean.

Seungmin didn't pry. Didn't push for an apology, or an explanation.

“Ok. Let's go, then.” He said, no nonsense.

Most of the drive was actually pretty quiet. Jeongin had some music on, but in a very low volume and was probably half asleep if he were to judge by the silence. Seungmin was laser-focused to the road ahead, but he glanced towards Chan every once in a while, who in return tried really hard to stay awake even though he had been up the whole night — and not because he had a mental breakdown for once, so he actually felt like sleeping.

“It's a 30 minute drive, but you can nap if you want,” Seungmin cut the silence off yet once more, glancing at the window. “We don't bite.”

“No, it's fine,” Chan rubbed his eyes. “Driving alone when everyone is asleep is kinda boring.”

“Do you drive a lot?” Seungmin gave the tiniest hint of a smile.

Chan nodded his head no. “Only here and there. I don't own a car.”

“Don't need one?”

“Not really,” Chan looked out the window. “I live near my work. When I see my folks they usually drive me, but that's more for them than for myself. The public system works well enough. Well, maybe not as well as in Seoul but it works for me.”

After closing his mouth, Chan immediately started second-guessing what he had just said. Did he sound rude? Would Seungmin take that as him standing his ground on leaving them? Did he sound too desperate? Or pathetic? The 25 year old who doesn't own a car and gets driven back and forth by mom and dad? What was he thinking?

“I see,” Seungmin answered, and said nothing else.

They kept the silence going, GPS directions and low music being the only sound they heard for a while as Seungmin drove through the interway, over the city and going towards the seafront, either to Bondi or Tamarama, Chan wasn't sure yet. There wasn't a single cloud to be seen. The day was beautiful. They probably got a beach house, then. Good for a vacation.

Chan became so enthralled with the gorgeous sights of the Australia coast that he didn't realize Seungmin had his eyes in him again until he talked.

“Did you leave because of us?” He asked, the characteristic bluntness all gone.

Chan whipped his head from whatever he had lost himself on to face him through the mirror. Seungmin looked him straight in the eyes, and for the first time he was able to get an emotion out of the signals in his expression: sadness.

“No. I'd never do that,” Chan answered, but he was unable to elaborate on why.

He had to, though. It was the bare minimum.

Just maybe not yet.

Seungmin nodded, as if, for now, that was enough. The air suddenly was tense now. Sydney was hot, sure, but that was probably not the reason why Chan felt a bead of sweat running down the back of his neck.

As they kept driving, Segumin kept following the signs for Tamarama, which made Chan feel heaps more relaxed. Bondi was a very tourist-heavy beach, even in the residential areas. Lots of people. More risk of being spotted by a fan or something, just statistically speaking. Tamarama was more residential, laid back. The main beach was beautiful, but closed for swimmers due to the heavy waves, which meant there was way less foot traffic around.

When Seungmin took a sharp curve out of nowhere to dip into a non-assuming entryway up a hill, Chan assumed it was a regular house. However, when the doors opened and Chan leaned away from his phone and closer to the window to take a peek at their surroundings, he quickly realized that they were driving into a freaking villa filled with freaking mansions.

Of course they went all out, you idiot, they are super fucking megastars, he thought, suddenly feeling completely out of place in his tattered New Balances and department store hoodie. Even though Seungmin and Jeongin were also rocking sweats, he was pretty sure their hoodies alone cost more than Chan's monthly salary. Seungmin drove through most of the houses until the garage doors for the last house at the villa, on the highest point of the hill, finally opened for the car to get in.

“That's us,” Jeongin announced.

Chan whistled in awe, half-joking.

The place was gigantic. It was a modern mansion with sharp edges, industrial elements, but mixed with the relaxing aura of a getaway retreat. Four floors, floor to ceiling high windows, a garden. It was probably three or four times his parent's home size. There was another black SUV identical to the one Seungmin was driving parked at the garage that was probably able to fit a third one with ease.

As if he was reading the questions running through Chan's mind, Seungmin looked back at him as soon as he killed the engine.

“They're mostly already here,” he said, moving to the trunk and getting both his and Jeongin’s luggage out in a quick move. “We're the late arrivals.”

“You're late?” Chan quipped, because if there was one thing he could bet about Kim Seungmin was that he was never late.

“Nah, our flight was just later. Felix and Binnie were already here, Jisung and Minho came yesterday from Seoul. Hyunjin arrives tomorrow. We just had different schedules. Work stuff.”

When Seungmin motioned with his head towards the house, Chan just followed them and tried to not be too obvious while he went through some breathing exercises in order to not freak out. They were in there. He knew that, in abstract, but the inevitability of actually seeing them in a matter of moments suddenly made him crazy.

That was a terrible idea. What was he thinking?

He had no time to back out, though, because Jeongin was now swinging the huge hardwood door open at the main entrance and Chan could only follow.

The first thing he noticed was that the living room was actually quite nice. The place was still huge and definitely fancy, but the decoration was rustic but not too pretentious. A fireplace, some art on the walls, no TV but a nice record player, a persian rug over most of the wooden floors and two leather couches. The white walls had a nice contrast with the wide, floor to ceiling windows, and right next to the door where they stood laid a dinner table made out of raw tree wood. It was a tasteful place, not too over the top considering they were in a mansion inside a freaking private villa. Just right for the ambience.

The second thing he noticed was that everyone was there. Maybe he took a second too long looking around so he didn't have to look at them straight, but eventually Chan did face them. Jisung and Minho were closer, sitting together by the table, Felix sprawled on the biggest sofa. Changbin was right in front of them, like he was walking towards the door to get it open when Jeongin took it upon himself to do it.

He was so nervous he could throw up.

Chan immediately dropped his torso into a low bow, in an attempt to look not threatening and respectful. He was invading their space, even if he had an invitation. Changbin just stared back at him. Well, everyone was staring at him, but Changbin was the only one looking not just awkward or uncomfortable but completely defeated.

“Hi, hyung!” Felix said. He was beaming, but clearly trying to contain himself. “Long time, no see?”

In a quick second Changbin broke eye contact to look at Jisung and Minho instead.

“I'm going to set up the studio.” He grumbled and booked out of the room into a hallway. Chan's eyes shot back at Jisung, who was… rolling his eyes?

Minho sighed in what seemed like annoyance.

“Well, this went just as expected.” He looked normal, at least. Not angry or dismissive, just… Weirdly neutral. He turned to Jisung. “Show them their rooms, I'll deal with him. We'll talk about…” He gestured vaguely in Chan's direction “later.”

He walked away, following after Changbin.

Again, they were all focused on him again, drowning in the most awkward silence. The only ones who looked somewhat normal were Jisung and Felix, which made sense since they were the only ones who he had been in actual contact with.

He wished he could just act normal about everything. Just talk. Say his piece, whatever that was and move on. Instead, he was frozen.

“Ok, we all heard the hyungs.” Felix said, then, getting out the sofa and walking to his direction. Chan was bracing for some type of physical contact, but he just grabbed the handle of Seungmin's luggage and made a big scene out of it being heavy. “Why did you bring our entire house?”

“Oh, stop it, you wimp.” Seungmin took the luggage out of his hands, carrying it with way less efford. Jeongin followed.

Felix looked back, now unable to hide his smile. “We'll talk more about this. We have time.”

They then left, going up the stairs probably to settle down in their assigned rooms, disappearing into a hallway on the second floor. The house seemed even bigger than Chan imagined.

Chan ended up alone with Jisung in the living room.

As soon as there was no one there, Jisung crowded him in a tight hug. 

“It's good to see you again, hyung.” Jisung said, uncharacteristically soft, face smushed in Chan's shoulder. “I know this is weird, but we're all pretty… hopeful this goes well.”

Chan just nodded as they broke contact. How the fuck was he supposed to react to that?

“Are we going to the studio today?” He asked instead. “He's setting everything up.”

Jisung laughed.

“We weren't planning on it yet, we decided on a free morning to settle down and talk. Changbin just needed an out because he's a drama queen.”

“Oh. Okay.” He mulled over that response. “Is he… still mad at me, right?”

“I wouldn't say mad. We all felt it in different ways. But they felt the hardest, him and Minho. Don't hold it against them, okay?”

“I wouldn't. I understand it, really. I just need to consider how I'll… navigate it.”

“Just be yourself. We know you.” Jisung tapped his shoulder in reassurance.

Do you?, Chan wanted to ask, but he fought the urge to.

“Thanks.” He answered instead. Jisung looked around at the empty room and seemed to have an idea.

“Well, now that he decided to start working anyway, are you down for a team meeting in a bit? We have the weekend with you to wrap the guides up.”

The weekend? He thought about asking, but Jisung seemed to catch his shock first.

“I mean! We can go over the week, I guess, but it's easier for you to stay longer her during the weekends, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” Chan exhaled. They weren't planning to be done with him in two days, then. Good. Ok, that was not personal stuff. That was music stuff.

“I was, um… I listened to some of your live arrangements.” Chan started, gearing his tone towards a more confident, Creative Director giving a presentation vibe. “They are different from the album versions. I have some ideas about that, about a concept-”

Jisung laughed, as if watching Chan enter music mode was endearing or whatever.

“Well, that's what we wanted to discuss. Changbin told you he's interested in changing gears a bit, right. I wasn't sure what he meant about that, but I've been thinking about it too.”

“He's not telling me a lot about what he wants to do. Or anything. At all.” Chan said, not because he wanted to pry an answer out of Jisung, it was his job to figure out the path they'd go for. No further interest.

“I don't think he knows himself. He's… ugh. He acts a lot like you sometimes.”

“What? Why?”

“He bottles things up.” Jisung was so direct Chan almost felt cornered, but nothing in his demeanor showed he was being confrontational. “He's way too hard headed for his own good. Does it sound familiar?”

Chan took an annoyed breath. Yup, definitely not confrontational, but he still hated it.

At least the ability to feel annoyed and not just mortified was relieving. He was getting used to it, bit by bit.

“I'll fix it, I promise.”

“That's not really what I'm saying.” Jisung sat by the bed. “He's frustrated. Not at you, at least not because of that, or at me, just… in general. But we can get through him by showing we have a strong concept. Or maybe not a concept, but a direction.”

“Which we have.” Chan said. “I mean, we already have the demos, but I also did some research on the side.”

“Research as in… songs?”

“Well yes, and more like a full deck presentation. I didn't know how specific I should be, so I just went all out.”

“Hell, yeah.” Jisung said, in English. “Can I see it?”

Chan was standing at the same spot ever since he walked into the house, he realized, so he moved to the dinner table and scrambled to take his laptop out. He showed the slides to Jisung, one by one. Or at least he tried to.

Since he had little time to work on this and basically went by Jisung's input and the lyrics he started, Chan basically tried to build cohesion from ground zero. They had Chk Chk Boom (that now he always called the lobos we cannot stop hunting song - Changbin's snappy insult was mortifying but also objectively funny) and the Water song (that one turned into Walking on Water), and both of them sounded great and had a lot of potential, but it was actually due to one of Changbin's forwarded voice memos (he never sent them directly, it was always Jisung) that he decided to leave them for a future album. He had an idea for this one. It was still noisy and high energy, but in a slightly different direction just like Changbin said he needed. Not all the way there, not too different to be jarring but enough to be a refresher.

He wasn't 100% satisfied yet, but for a 12 hour bender, it was a pretty damn good job, thank you very much. Jisung was only at the second slide when he handed the laptop back to Chan, suddenly in a rush to get up.

“What do you think?” Chan asked, trying not to sound apprehensive, because that was not a reaction of someone who's into it.

“They have to see it.” Jisung said, immediately going against his knee-jerk assumption to grab him by the hand and drag Chan back to the main living area. “Guys!”

“What?” He heard Minho scream back from somewhere in the opposite direction, probably the kitchen. “Is someone dying or something?”

“Team meeting!”

“Wait, you said in a bit!” Chan tried to argue. “Hyunjin isn't even here!”

“It's been a bit and he'll love it too!” Jisung argued a great point. “Guys!!”

“Stop screaming!” Now Jeongin screamed back, appearing again at the top of the stairs. One by one, they appeared again. Minho was all but dragging Changbin by the arm.

“I didn't even get enough time to open my bag, gee.” Seungmin grumbled, plopping himself on the sofa. “What is it?”

While everyone sat on the sofa in some capacity, Changbin was standing, looking a bit more calm. At least he didn't stare at Chan like he wasn't sure if he wanted to run away or punch Chan square in the face.

Minho looked back between Jisung, Chan and Changbin like he was rearing to stop a fight.

“Show them.” Jisung said, basically elbowing Chan in the rib.

“Show what?” Felix tried to peek at Chan's laptop.

Well, Chan knew how to run presentations. He opened the deck again, giving the laptop to Changbin, who looked at the screen and probably tried to understand what he was seeing.

“He has a concept.” Jisung explained.

“I have an idea for a concept.” He corrected. "A proposal, if you will."

Changbin hummed, now choosing to sit down in the middle of the sofa, so all the others could also look at the screen.

“Rockstar.” He read it. Chan wasn't looking at the screen, but he didn't have to. He had made a collage of bright, futuristic neon reference pictures. Black, pink, green and blue.

“You said you wanted a style rehaul," Chan started. "But you also didn't want to overwhelm your fans with a complete change of gears out of nowhere. Right?”

Changbin nodded, still looking at the deck. Chan motioned his hands to let them know they could move to the following slide. Well, he didn't think that part through, but Chan was expecting at least an HDMI cable. Give it to Jisung to rush everything.

The next page had the different colors in a nice palette moodboard collage and a single word: 희로애락. Huiroaerak. joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure. The full range of human emotion according to Korean tradition. The very notion of the word implied variety. Depth. A spectrum of feelings.

“The album can have different types of songs tied together by different emotions. The lyrics don't have to make up a full narrative within the songs, but the emotions could. The sound. You, Stray Kids, don't have to be one thing. And the way we explore those emotions will be through different genres. I tried to come up with tracks that while not fully experimental, have different types of inflections.”

He tried not to dwell on that, but Changbin had a raised eyebrow now.

“So, um… we can start with a title track that sounds more like what people expect Stray Kids to sound — Jisung, um, that multiverse idea we were talking about could be the one, but the other songs can be more about emotional exploration. If we set the huiroaerak theme well in the title tracks, it will justify itself in the B-sides.”

“Huiroaerak.” Seungmin repeated.

“I thought about, uh, your rap about rock.” Chan turned his body towards Changbin, even though he was keeping some distance from him. "Rak."

“How do you even know about that?” Changbin looked up.

“My bad.” Jisung raised two hands up.

“Anywho, your rock rap. The lyrics are about how enjoying music is so energetic and fills you with pleasure. You feel the rock, right? If we had a really sad song after those two, it would make sense. Yeah, it would sound different, but it feels less like we have no idea where to go and more like a concept album.”

“Every album has a concept.” Jeongin said.

“No, a concept album is another thing. The songs connect in some capacity." Seungmin said. “We've never done it like that before.”

“Like a musical?” Felix asked.

“It can be.” Chan said. “Uh, ‘Jesus Christ Superstar’ was a concept album before becoming a musical. ‘American Idiot’, too. But it doesn't have to be a musical. Beyoncé's ‘Lemonade’ is not, it's about examining her identity and heritage after finding out Jay-Z cheated. ‘7: Map of the Soul’ by BTS doesn't have a story either, but they used psychology concepts to connect the songs. I made a list in the next slide.”

Changbin looked down at the screen and by his tiny “huh”, Chan could tell he was at least interested in the idea.

Minho hummed, just like he did when he ate pudding, so it probably meant he liked the idea. Felix just smiled. Seungmin nodded in approval and Jeongin took the laptop from Changbin so he could scroll through the slides once more before saying “I'm in”, matter of factly. Jisung didn't need to say anything, his smile was enough.

The only one left to react was Changbin, who stared at Chan like he was a hallucination.

“Nice.” Changbin said, even though his face told a different story. 

Know what? Fuck it. For now, Chan would take that win.

“I love agreements. Cohesion, all that. Glad we're agreeing.” Jisung said, leaning dramatically over Chan's shoulder. “You know what I would love even more? Lunch!”

“Lunch? I barely had breakfast!” Felix complained.

Minho rolled his eyes, but couldn't quite hide the endearment as he stood up. “It's like dealing with children.”

“I'm a growing boy.” Jisung huddled beside Minho as they walked towards the kitchen, Chan trailing right behind. Minho still had a flat expression, even if he would let the tiniest smile slip every now and then.

“Oh, that you are.” He quipped back, as he… held Jisung's hand?

Chan stopped on his tracks as he watched them, the interactions carrying a completely different undertone now that he was able to catch it. Well, was he? They were always together, even back in the day. It was always Minho and Jisung glued by the hip, ever since Minho walked into the training floor on his first day.

Were they together?

No. They were just close.

There was no way.

Even if they were technically already out of the 3 year dating ban that was traditional to JYP, idols couldn't date. Trainees did on the down low even if they couldn't, the dorm system would allow some wiggle room for the brave and horny, but even then it was risky. He knew that from first hand experience.

Most importantly, male idols couldn't date other male idols.

Chan was officially overstepping. He was probably looking at it from a place of malice, his own experiences clouding judgment, there was no way they were actually a thing. He had probably just forgotten how touchy the group used to be amongst themselves, too many years dealing with his straight Australian guy friends who wouldn't even look him in the eye on most days, much less touch in friendly contexts. Even Amanda as his best friend, a girl, a lesbian, wasn't as physically close with him as Felix or Jisung.

He wasn't sure if the way his heart clenched was because he missed it or because he was suddenly a bit panicky again. If they were actually together…

No. That was too risky. They wouldn't do that. It was just a matter of spreading a rumor for it to become a wildfire. It would ruin them. They wouldn't risk that. Minho was disciplined. Jisung was a bit crazy, but he was really damn smart at the same time.

"Lucky for me, you are really easy to read, aren't you? The puppy eyes are hard to conceal. But fanservice is different from an actual rumor, isn't it?

Chan was just seeing things.

It was just him projecting his own trauma onto their friendships.

And truth was, it was simply not his business.

For the thousandth time that morning, Chan repeated mentally what had probably become a mantra at that point: I'm here for a job. I'll do the job and leave.

"You starving assholes, there's lunch here!” Minho called, knocking Chan back into himself, and he finally stepped with the rest of the guys into the kitchen, where a whole selection of sandwiches was laid on the counter.

“Everyone say thanks to Minho-hyung for cooking this delicious…” Felix, even though he had declared not being hungry not even two minutes ago, grabbed one of the sandwiches and took a good look. “Subway catering platter.”

“I never said I was cooking for you rascals.” Minho crossed his arms, a sly smile. “This is vacation time for me.”

Jisung laughed out loud, a full on cackle, taking a look at the different meat combos and picking what seemed to be a chicken teriyaki sub. Chan chose roast beef.

“We're all working!” Changbin half-screamed, but with his lighthearted, funny voice. It was the first time Chan heard it. It was like Changbin had forgotten for a second Chan was there.

“No, you're working, music man.” Minho seemed to get the hint that it was time to joke around before Changbin closed off again. “I'll be sleeping, or working out, or playing Animal Crossing until you need my beautiful voice.”

“God, I hate you.” Changbin grumbled, but he had a sandwich in hand anyway.

“Get in line, hyung.” Minho mocked back.

That, the bickering, the fake arguing, felt very normal.

Seungmin locked eyes with him, from the other side of the counter. He had the tiniest smile on, directed at him, not at whatever the hell was happening between Minho and Changbin playing up banter in order to make Jeongin, Felix and Jisung laugh.

Without even thinking, he smiled back.

He could get used to that, Chan thought as he took the first bite.

Chapter Text

Chan wasn't sure if it was his fantastic presentation crafted in the dead of night being the sudden inspiration or the workaholic nature of Jisung and Changbin being unable to give themselves a day off recording even if it was apparently planned to. Regardless, not even half an hour after they cleared the Subway platter Minho had gotten them for lunch, Chan was being dragged for their first session back as 3RACHA.

Well, not back back, not for good, but for now at least.

To say it was an awkward start would have been an understatement.

3RACHA was… they were a well-oiled machine, each third complimentary of the other two, building this thing together, the creative heart of Stray Kids even before Stray Kids existed. Scrappy, crazy dedicated, with way more words to say than people had the time to give to them. Their sessions were loud, and they usually would stay for hours working at whatever track they had in mind. But they were teenagers then, unexperienced but cocky, super high-energy, head full of dreams.

Now, four years later and with a very obvious gap between them, the dynamic had clearly shifted. They hovered around each other, trying to find some place to start, everyone grabbing a chair, not sure what to say. But something about Changbin and Jisung accepting him back in their creative space made Chan believe that they could maybe not go back to exactly as it was before, but create something new.

Sure, Changbin didn't talk a lot at first, mostly letting Jisung be the social buffer (and Jisung being the social buffer of anything was honestly so absurd it was almost funny), but Chan realized quickly they didn't really have to start by talking to break the ice. As soon as he was all but dragged into the “studio” that was really just one of the unused rooms in the house by Jisung, he proposed for them to start by digging through the material they had at hand. Reading notes, listening to music, quiet contemplation.

They didn't really talk, but things just… flowed nicely. Even though Chan had to fight a bit with his mind to get his creative juices flowing without the crippling self doubt.

What are you even doing here? The nagging voice in his head would ask every now and then, almost an intrusive thought.

I'm doing a job, Chan had the resolve to answer it back now. I'm helping my friends.

They're not your friends. They just need you now. They'll go away as soon as you're done.

Shut up.

It was hard to not get into the self doubt train, but Chan was trying as hard as he could to be rational. Give himself a little grace instead of letting the hatred win. Yeah, it made sense he was intimidated - that whole thing was so above his league it had to be.

Changbin had a fully professional looking setup — they had a portable recording booth to help with echoes, for crying out loud. He expected the high-end Shure recording mics, a Behringer studio monitor and the Neumann audio interface that Chan knew costs at least two thousand bucks, those were all definitely high end gear but not that surprising, but it made Chan feel self conscious anyway. He didn't even own a mic anymore. Chan only had his laptop and the synth.

The only way to forget about his inadequacy was making himself useful, though. Keep pushing forward, so that's what Chan did. Earn his spot. He was putting himself out there, facing his fears, making an effort to mend the relationship with his friends and fighing through the discomfort.

Huh. Chan's therapist would be proud. Maybe he should call the guy.

Chan presented his demos to Changbin and Jisung and hyper-analyzed their every microexpression in hopes of gauging how much they liked each idea, one by one. There was not a lot of talking involved, just a lot of listening. He had finished six tracks from beginning to end and brought some more work in progresses, but did not work lyrics for any of them, only taking what Jisung had shown him earlier. Chan basically had mapped out how many bars would have been necessary per section and started from that, and Changbin ended up approving four of the finished tracks.

“The other ones are good, but I think we can save those as moodsetters for later. Maybe future title tracks.” He at least justified the decision, which made the rejection seem less a rejection and more of a strategic choice. “So, lyrics.”

No preamble. No weird “how have you been”. Straight to business. Chan was grateful for it, even if he knew it was Changbin avoiding dealing with him like the plague.

“I think it's safe to say all songs have rap sections from you two, so we could start from that.” Chan whipped a notepad he had stocked in his pocket so he could scribble. “Let's run track by track and if you have anything that fit the energy great, but we could just map themes.”

Changbin hummed. That was how they used to roll back in the day.

Jisung looked between them, jumping in his seat. “Ok! Track 1, Multiverse!”

Chan had read through Jisung's idea. It pretty much fit the we brag because we can realm of songs, and the hook was about welcoming the listener into the crazy universe that was Stray Kids. He liked the idea. High energy, a bit quiky and funny, it was engaging but maybe it could do with a second round just to polish some rhymes. In his end, Chan tried to make the track as crazy as he could using different kinds of sounds, snare drums in the intro to fit Felix's sudden French drop right in the first line, loud synths during the dance breaks, even getting into Jisung's lane as a lyricist for a bit to propose a fanchant. But it was the first time Changbin had read it apparently.

“Do we have to say multiverse, though?” Changbin asked, looking up from Jisung's notebook. “By the time this comes out I feel it'll be such a tired subject. There's a multiverse of everything now, it will drown the song if people search for it. Like, bad SEO and shit. Isn't that right?”

Chan's head whipped towards Changbin, pure surprise in his eyes when he realized Changbin was asking for his opinion.

“Huh?”

“You know SEO? Repeated names can fuck up our metrics.”

“I do, actually.” He said, giving no further elaboration. Of course he knew about it, he had to deal with metrics every time a new project started. Chan didn't expect Changbin to be the one to bring out and metrics, but thinking it through for a second it actually made some sense that his position as the strategic leader would make him tuned into that. It was still weird to think that their very different occupations would have overlap, though. There were more common ground, way more in common than Chan had allowed himself to consider.

It also made his stomach churn and his heart flutter because Changbin could not look that good and also know so much. It wasn't fair.

Wait. No, it was, actually. It was smart and strategic and professional and Chan was totally focusing on that. Nothing else.

“But Spider-Man…” Jisung pouted.

“Universe isn't enough? Welcome to the Stray Kids universe?” Changbin proposed, ignoring completely his drama.

“There's a syllable missing.” He complained. “Two, actually.”

“How committed are you to ‘multiverse’?” Chan inserted himself in the conversation in order to understand what exactly was the issue.

“That's the name of the song!”

“And what's the idea around multiverse?” Chan asked, just so they could stop butting heads and going nowhere. “We do- I mean, you do everything?”

“Yeah, we're everywhere!” Jisung said, leaning back against the office chair he was half sitting, half laying on. “We do everything, we're like 7 crazy Power Rangers joining together to form a hot megazord.”

The cadence of how he said it, with snark, exaggerated swagger, no brains and all attitude, made Chan laugh. But it also gave him an idea. Mega. It was silly, but it had a fun ring to it. It fit the metric and the accent for the beat. If it was too cringe, they could always come up with something else.

“What about hot megaverse?” Chan said. “Welcome to the Stray Kids hot megaverse?”

Silence. Chan regretted saying it for a second.

“That's so ridiculous, I love it, hyung.” Jisung said, which got a cackle out of Changbin, a genuine one.

“Yeah, I guess,” he tried to sound nonchalant, but the smile didn't fade this time, and it filled Chan with pride. He made a dumb joke that both of them liked. Changbin did a Google search test to validate his SEO concerns and everything. “It only brings up comics stuff. No music. Megaverse it is.”

“Considering that I'll have to change every mention of multiverse to megaverse because unfortunately Chan-hyung is a nerd genius, what do we think about the rest of the song?”

“You were the one who mentioned Power Rangers, though,” Chan joked, trying to cover how his cheeks were definitely burning after being called a genius.

“I'd like to tweak the line distribution,” Changbin was reading through the notebook again, completely ignoring the tangent. “You gave yourself too many lines, Jisung-ah. But we can figure it out during recording.”

“Hey!”

“Next song!” Changbin perked up while he cut Jisung off, and was Chan insane or  while Jisung protested did Changbin exchange a playful glance with him? “What was the order you proposed again? The rock song now?”

“Yeah, the one you said needed to be more rockstar.” Chan opened the file instead of looking at him again.

“I was trying to rhyme everything back to rock.”

“And it worked, hyung, it's pretty dang good.”

“I like your track.” Changbin nodded towards Chan. “We will probably have to tweak the timing since I changed my rap, but I kinda have an idea for that little motif at the beginning, and the part that I sang but had no lines to, actually.”

Chan raised his head from the notepad to show better that he was paying attention. It was the first time Changbin volunteered an idea without Jisung being the messenger.

“What is it?”

“Well, I thought about singing la la la la. It's almost the same as rock anyway if we say it in Korean. At first I was just humming it as a placeholder, but I think it can be a fun thing to hear people singing back to us. Not a full fanchant, just a catchy motif.”

He sang the motif with the syllables, and it actually sounded nice. He used a lower octave, which probably meant Felix would sing it, but it kinda fit. A calm motif before the explosion of the chorus and the first sections.

Changbin didn't sound like someone who was in the middle of their own creative crisis for a second. Now that they were warmed up, talking about music and pushing all of Chan's bullshit out of the way to focus on that, the conversation was just so natural. Changbin was knowledgeable, had a knack for how to make lyrics hit. Even before they brought the mics out and changed gears from talking about the songs and the changes they'd have to make, Changbin was already attempting new rhymes and testing the flow out loud with Jisung, a glimpse of their stage swagger starting to shine through.

By the time they were ready to record, the whole afternoon had gone by. Since they started with Megaverse and the first main rap section was Changbin's, he went first and started by the intro as well, even though those lines wouldn't be his. It was just a guide anyway.

Chan didn't anticipate that it meant that he'd sing Jisung's French line drop suggestion for Felix, or that Changbin wouldn't be able to say the lines without cracking up because he couldn't quite place the accent. Actually, Chan did not expect Changbin to be so lighthearted at all. Something had happened within those hours where they spent geeking over rhymes and sounds and cool samples. While they were awkward and tense before (or at least Chan and Changbin were, Jisung was fine), now all three of them were just… laughing and joking around?

Was that… going smoother than Chan expected? He was bracing for a disaster. But this was normal. Sure, they weren't talking about themselves, just music, but could he count that as a win? Has the tension really faded in such a short amount of time?

“This is going great.” Jisung whispered to Chan, while Changbin ran through some warming exercises after coming off another fit of laughter.

“Hm?”

“Us three. 3RACHA. I missed that.”

“I missed it too.” Chan whispered back, forcing himself to stay still and not pull him into a hug. His cheeks burned, and he probably was blushing as well.

“Ok, let's go!” Changbin screamed from the booth, in English, taking both of their attention. “Let's finish this thing!”

Chan laughed as he played the right section again with a 4 beat long headstart. Changbin flew through Felix's part with no mistakes this time, but he did mess up his own rap, which made both Jisung and Chan completely lose it.

Chan laughed. At Changbin. And it was completely fine, because Changbin was laughing too.

“Yahh! This is bullying!” Changbin protested, voice loud, drama turned up to eleven. Jisung wasn't even able to make noise anymore while he laughed, practically folded in half on the chair and slapping his own thigh like a madman.

“Let's run it again!” Chan said it, slapping Jisung playfully so that he could get it together. “When we finish this we can take a dinner break.”

Apparently that was enough incentive, because the next attempt was great. It didn't have to be perfect or anything, it was just a guide at the end of the day, but it was pretty dang good. Changbin was a pro at this, there was no doubt about it. Changbin joined them so they could all listen to his run together, and when there were no notes or remaining lines, Jisung took his place in the booth to start recording lines, leaving Chan along with Changbin to control the recording at the producer chair.

Chan was about to stand and motion for him to sit in front of the computer, but Changbin waved him off, taking the seat Jisung had not even ten seconds ago.

When Chan stared at him in badly concealed shock, Changbin just shrugged.

“All ready, Sungie?” He raised his voice.

“Give me the beats and I'll do the magic, boys!”

Chan scoffed. Changbin just tsk'd, leaning over the computer and hovering over the record button. “Jesus Christ, you're so lame. Let's go!”

While Jisung did a test run, trying to find his footing along the track in the singing sections that would probably go to Seungmin, Jeongin and Minho, Chan tried not to glance towards Changbin enough times to make it weird. They were working together, it was fine. Changbin was wearing a sleeveless top. Chan was definitely not interested in peeking at his muscles, or how his side profile was so nice looking. He probably worked out a lot.

No. Rap. 'Megaverse'.

“Would you like to add something more for this bridge here, Jisung-ah?” Changbin suggested at some point. Chan had honestly forgotten about the music.

“Like harmonies?”

“Yeah!”

“Sure!” Jisung screamed, but it sounded more like a yelp. “Hit it again, Chan-hyung?”

As Jisung recorded a second layer, Changbin looked at him. Not a stare, not the awkward glances every now and then. He really looked at him, taking every detail in, one of the corners of his mouth turning slightly upward. For that moment, at least, he could pretend they were just upstarts holed up in their dorm bedroom, not a care about anything else in the world.

Changbin opened his mouth, probably to say something, but stopped himself right before any sound could come out. Chan just stared back, not sure what to do, what to say. Should he even say something?

“Is nobody paying attention to me?” Jisung whined from the booth. The song had ended. “I just gave you a Grammy winning performance.”

“Sorry!” Chan snapped back to the computer, stopping the recording. “Let's hear it, shall we?”

For the millionth time that day, they listened to the whole thing, but this time with the full lyrics, vocals and the harmonies Changbin nagged Jisung into doing. It sounded great. Unfinished, sure, but cohesive, and in what? Three hours? Four? He was actually pretty damn proud of it.

“I like it. Great job, Sungie!” Changbin said, as soon as the sound faded yet again. “Do we want to mix it now?”

Chan thought it over, but he was already leaning towards the computer again.

“I already spliced everything as we were recording it, so the tracks are in place. Guess it won't take long to-”

They were interrupted by someone slamming the door open without any reservations about the noise it would make. It was Minho. He had clearly just come out of a shower, if the wet hair was any indication, and was dressed up in the type of sweats Chan remembered he liked to sleep in.

“You up for a snack? We're ordering pizza.” He asked them, like a concerned mom.

“We're going to, after we finish this.” Chan answered, even though he probably was not the one being asked.

Minho looked around, probably taking note of the lack of food in the place and the fact that they hadn't left that room once throughout the day.

“Guys, it's 9 pm.”

“Oh shit, really?” Jisung looked at his own phone to confirm. “That's why I'm so hungry!”

“Did you get anything to eat today like, at all?”

“Not really. We were going to, though. Just finishing up the mix-”

“Gee, it's like dealing with children.” Minho grumbled. Chan had to stifle a grin over being scolded. It was the same thing Minho used to say to them when they would get home at crazy hours at the dorm. “I'll get an extra one for the starving workaholics.”

Just as quickly as he appeared, Minho was off.

“He's such a mama bear sometimes.” Jisung cooed. Changbin giggled.

“Well, let's wrap it up, then.” Changbin turned back to the computer.

Not even thirty minutes later, which was a personal best for Domino's, Felix appeared with the workaholic special: two boxes of pizzas, one regular cheese, the other peri peri chicken, and a bottle of Coca Cola. At least they were already wrapping up that song anyway. They had done a lot of the brainwork for the whole album, going through lyrics, the tracks, seeing what would stick and what they needed to still work from ground up, which took a lot of back and forth but now they had actual material. The first song.

As Felix stuck around for a bit with them and they shared the slices around, Chan was inexplicably giddy. Jisung and Felix were talking about something stupid, Changbin was scrolling through his phone and eating pizza, but Chan watched their easy chemistry. Even though Jisung was speaking to Felix, he was half-laying on Changbin's shoulder on the bed — because yeah, that was a room and not an actual studio. If Chan thought hard enough he could picture them working in his old small ass JYP studio, sprawled on the tiny leather couch and working the whole night through. Well, they probably had a bigger studio now, with a bigger couch.

Felix eyed him every now and then, with the same warm smile, but didn't outwardly drag him into the conversion about some random anime they were watching, which Chan was grateful for. One by one, the slices disappeared from both boxes, and while Chan was completely satisfied after the second one along with Changbin, who threw the towel after the third one, Felix and Jisung just kept going. Not only they kept talking for what felt like forever and he had no idea of how late it actually was anymore, as soon as the food started to settle down it brought the exhaustion along with it. 

Jisung suddenly got up, grabbing Felix along and making them both stumble. “We're getting more pizza. Want some?”

“No, thanks, you bottomless pit.” Changbin grumbled, but his voice had no bite.

“I'm good.” Chan said.

“You guys are no fun. I'll be right back.”

“Take the boxes, at least!” Changbin scolded as Jisung was getting ready to book out of the room. Jisung groaned and complained as he cleaned up while Felix giggled, which even for Chan wasn't that surprising. What wasn't usual was how fast they both just disappeared, leaving Changbin and Chan alone before they could even process it.

“He didn't tell us he was that hungry, damn.” Chan joked, mostly to break the silence.

“That gremlin is always hungry.” Changbin just smiled at his own phone, until he looked up and realized they were both alone. The smile faded, and Changbin immediately closed off again, looking back at his own phone.

Chan wanted to say something, start a lighthearted conversation about nothing of substance just like the one Felix and Jisung were carrying mere instants before. The problem was he couldn't think of anything fast enough before the uncomfortable silence started stretching too far, and then it became more awkward to talk than it was to stay quiet.

So, like a damn coward, Chan just buried himself in his computer again, fiddling with the beat for the track they would work on next for negligible improvements and waiting for Jisung to be back while Changbin stayed on the bed, probably still on his phone, in silence.

“Where are they?” Was the only thing Chan was able to force himself into saying, because it wasn't about him, but the work. Jisung had to be there so they could start the next track and finish this as quickly as they could. That probably aligned with Changbin's interest, since as soon as they wrapped it up he wasn't obligated to be around Chan anymore.

Changbin looked around, suddenly alarmed, and let out a sharp tsk while he scrambled to get up. “That little-”

Chan just followed him hastily back to the living room, and the reason for Changbin's annoyance was quickly explained: Jisung was asleep, head resting on Minho's legs on the couch. Actually, everyone was asleep. Jisung and Minho together, Felix in the other corner of the couch, Seungmin in a rocking chair not far, and Jeongin in the smaller cough. A movie was playing but clearly no one was watching it anymore.

It became instantly clear to Chan that no further work would get done today, and even though Changbin and Chan were the last ones standing, he was suddenly quite close to drifting off himself.

“Well, I guess that's a wrap on day 1.” Changbin said, with an endearing smile cutting through the annoyance while he looked at the mess of sleeping bodies. The warmth wasn't directed to Chan, but at them. He sighed, looking around, probably looking for support and finding none. “I will get you a cab.”

“There's no need, I-”

“Chan. Come on.” Changbin sighed, frustration bleeding through and disappearing in a second. “Just… just take it, please.”

They ended up waiting for the car to arrive in awkward silence at the main entrance. Chan could not stand still, weight shifting from side to side, hands stuffed in the pockets of the hoodie. Changbin seemed way more put together, looking at the street darting down the hill as if he could not wait for the car to arrive and Chan to leave.

That was okay. That was to be expected.

But at least Changbin was standing beside him. Chan would take what he could get.

The sound of a car coming up the hill was what woke them both from their daze.

“We'll probably start at 10 tomorrow.” Changbin said, as he was unlocking the main gate.

“I'll be here.” He nodded diligently.

“Ok.”

Chan walked towards the cab, and before opening the door for himself looked back. “See you tomorrow, Changbin-ah.”

Changbin shook his head, glancing down. “Take care.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but ultimately didn't, choosing instead to turn in his heels and walk into the villa without looking back.

Take care.

That was not just a job, Chan realized. It couldn't be.

He did not want to finish and leave. Things weren't fixed. There was a long way to go, lots of conversations he would need to start. A lot of things he had to get over so he could tackle. A lot of fear. But while the thought was still completely horrifying, he knew it would be worth it.

Because he would trade anything in the world for being on good terms with them — with him — again, and was forced to accept the fact that now that the chance was here, Chan would fight every battle thrown his way so he can have it again. Yeah, it would be hard, scary, and awkward as hell, but he was tired of being alone and feeling so empty. That was the missing piece in his life, the gaping hole in his heart that would never stop leaking out no matter how accomplished, well behaved and complimented Chan was.

3RACHA was back, even if temporarily.

Second chances were rare, and now finally he had the fire within himself to grab this new shot at building something with them with all his might and never let it go. Not again.

Chapter Text

When the alarm rang at 7:30 on that Sunday morning, Chan was up in an instant. The buzz of anticipation barely let him sleep the whole night, and honestly, how could he?

Stray Kids. The guys, 3RACHA, all of those memories that he had spent so long trying to bury and forget in his mind, not only were they back but he was actually succeeding in giving them some glimpse of reparations. While he could not gather the courage to sit them all down and apologize, not yet, he hoped the songs, the work could speak for him. At least for now.

As he went through his protein shake and quick morning run routine, Chan could only grin like a maniac, letting his mind wander through the little victories of the day before.

Take care.

Changbin of all people said that. Changbin, the guy who cursed at his face and could barely stand looking him in the eye. It was barely nothing in most contexts, but it meant the world for his relationship — friendship — with Changbin. If he could fix it, if Chan could have them back in his life…

He hadn't felt hope like that in a while.

That was a dangerous idea he would have definitely snapped himself out of thinking about a couple weeks ago. Now, though? God, Chan was so happy. As awkward as the breaking the ice stages was, just the fact that they were able to make music with a very similar flow and synergy as years before was enough of a spell to make him forget about the risks. Forget about JYPE, about NDAs and severance clauses.

He was safe there, even though they might not be in friendship terms for now.

The fact that they could be eventually made Chan's heart warm and his feet light as he ran laps around the park. The fire that started burning again inside him on the day Jisung had sent the demo only felt stronger, more powerful. It gave him energy to brave through this. Yeah, he only had a few days, but it was only a matter of keeping up with the breakthroughs. The 10-ish guides they had to make were the obvious main plan, but Chan was now concocting a secondary plan when it came to their friendships.

His relationship with Felix and Jisung wasn't exactly back to normal yet, but they were pretty damn close due to the headstart with the texts. It was natural, as if he didn't really have to do anything to get it, which was great. Perfect, absolutely magical and not at all what he expected.

But Chan wasn't going to leave it be. No, he had to earn their forgiveness. Making them music once more was only part of it.

He wanted Jisung to see him as someone he could lean on when it came to his creative abilities.

He wanted Felix to see him as an Australian older brother figure who understood his struggles better than a lot of people would, just like he did when Felix was 17 and sobbing into his arms after being cut from Stray Kids due to not speaking Korean well enough.

He was still getting a feel for the relationship with the others, but that meant more tangible goals. Chan needed to talk with the others, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin. Get a feel of where they were at. The short talk in the car barely counted, and Hyunjin wasn't even there yet. He could ask Felix and Jisung about it, but it didn't feel right, as if he was cheating.

No, he had to work for it.

And of course, there was Minho and Changbin.

Even though Minho seemed neutral he was still wary, keeping Chan at arms reach, like a cornered cat. He abided by the vote, but Chan knew it wasn't the end of it. He needed to gain his trust again, show him Chan was still someone Minho could rely on, no matter what JYP might have told him after Chan left.

And Changbin was his person. In a way he still was, even if Changbin didn't know it. So Chan needed to show it. Needed to show he could still be Changbin's person too. He needed them to believe he would stick around, if they so wanted it. If they didn't he'd stay away and move on, but Chan had to show them he could stay. That he would have stayed then, too.

Gosh, he should start making a list. Chan's brain loved organizing.

When he was home and freshly showered, Chan grabbed his phone and started typing out a list before he lost the train of thought. Call it dorky, but it was easier to visualize.

- Apologize to everyone

- Talk to everyone individually

- Listen to their grievances

- Explain.

Chan got stuck at the last one. Explain. How the hell would he explain what happened? He couldn't, not without making an already risky arrangement even riskier. Telling them the whole story would mean telling them it was not his choice, which by the way Minho and Changbin talked to him Chan could safely assume they didn't know yet. Changbin had also said the company disliked Chan, that much was obvious.

When he was fired, the only public announcement made was about him choosing to leave. Telling them they actually forced him out would challenge their worldview. It would put them between Chan and their company, and it's not like Chan expected them to take his side, but even if they didn't, he couldn't bear the guilt of challenging their safety like that.

He had thought about how he would go around saying it before. Rehearsed speeches in the mirror. Mulled over a thousand ways to tell the story, word by word.

Chan wanted not to make himself a victim, so that they wouldn't feel like he was fishing for sympathy. He wasn't.

I was not strategic enough, so they made me leave.

But what value would knowing about that bring to them? Even if they believed him, it would only show them that the place they've made their whole lives at was not safe. That it was only a matter of pushing the right (wrong) buttons for them to be slashed out, and the people that worked with them could very well be complicit to it. Stray Kids was huge now, they were too big for the company to risk doing it on them. Chan was just a predebut, easier to cut off. Did they need that kind of worry? To have their sense of security destroyed like that?

No, he couldn't do that to them. It would crush their safety.

Chan crossed Explain off the list. He had to hold himself accountable in other ways.

- Apologize to everyone

- Talk to everyone individually

- Listen to their grievances

- Explain.

- Be what they need

That felt all encompassing enough. What they need. The music production angle was obvious, Changbin and Jisung needed his creative energy to get out of their own slumps. But they might need other things. When they were young, Chan helped them in as many aspects of their lives as he could beyond music. He helped Jeongin and Changbin with their math homeworks. He helped Felix through his Korean homework and held him when the frustration with adapting to a new culture or the homesickness got the best of him. He was the first to catch Jisung fighting a panic attack. When Hyunjin would be too restless and fidgety at night, Chan would join him in the living room no matter how late and talk him through it.

Just because he was a bit of a mess now, doesn't mean he couldn't be that again.

As he thought it through, Chan added more goals to the list. Maybe it was extra, but fuck it.

- Apologize to everyone

- Talk to everyone individually

- Listen to their grievances

- Be what they need

- Show they can trust me

- Give Changbin and Minho space

- Don't push

- Finish the guides

- Respect if they're done

That felt good enough of a plan for now.

It was already close to 9 am, so it would be nice to get his day going. He looked at the whole thing one last time before starting to dress up, thinking the whole thing over. Chan had already screwed up by not apologizing first thing, but he was doing okay when it came to the reconnecting stage if he could go by Changbin's thanks yesterday, so that must be worth something.

When Chan arrived at the villa barely 20 minutes shy of their agreed 10 am schedule, he had only his laptop and a deliciously smelling large kraft paper bag as he walked up to the right house after being let into the private road by the intercom. The wind was nice, the nice salty breeze being just cool enough to be soothing. He didn't even need to ring the doorbell, the front door was already open by the time Chan made his way to the top of the hill.

He expected Jisung. Or Minho. Someone he had seen yesterday, at least. However, standing at the cracked door and peeking out at him was Hyunjin, dressed in a comfortable but clearly sophisticated pair of designer sweatpants that for sure could cover three months worth of Chan's rent. His hair was longer, dark and straight tied in a bun, the tips of his fringe almost reaching his shoulders. He was also tall, much more noticeably than back at their predebut time years ago. Chan had to tilt his chin the tiniest bit to look at him in the eye and everything.

“Hey.” Hyunjin said, letting him in. “Good morning.”

No “hyung” either. No honorific was okay, though, he just wasn't sure how he would react if any of them hit him with Chan-ssi. Hyunjin didn't sound confrontational, or even closed off, just… flat. Like Chan was just a regular person.

“Good morning.” Chan said, giving him a quick nod and the hint of a smile.

“We're just getting ready for breakfast, come.”

Indeed, there was some food being set at the table. Fruit, two teapots and the familiar smell of coffee brewing in the distance. When Chan swung the paper bag in front of his body so that it could be seen, Hyunjin shot him a shy smile. At least it was a smile.

“Are those donuts?” Hyunjin asked.

Chan smiled sheepishly back. “And croissants.”

Almost as if on cue, he heard the loud pang of someone dropping a metal something, probably a pan or tray, and the immediate “yahh!” of disapproval in Felix's voice coming from the kitchen, swallowed by other voices in protest.

Hyunjin scoffed at the surely usual chaos, but went back to arranging the table nonetheless. Chan felt the corners of his lips twitching in a grin as he brought the bag to the table and immediately started setting things up.

As the protests and screaming slowly died down back in the kitchen, Chan took the pastries out and organized them on the table while thinking of what to say to him. Or if he should say anything at all. Hyunjin was the only one he had no individual interaction with yet. And all of them were different, sure, matured, but not really changed.

Hyunjin had changed. He had a different type of gravitas to how he carried himself now. More sophisticated, polished. Intimidating, like the executives at work or the JYP lawyers that made Chan feel so small. It felt ridiculous to think that, though. No way Hyunjin, heart on his sleeve, so sweet it could give you cavities, would make anyone feel uncomfortable on purpose, but there Chan was, measuring his steps, trying to get a feel for how Hyunjin would react, taking deep breaths to get his heart under control. That was not panic like he felt with Changbin or Minho. It was just… weird. He couldn't even place where it triggered him, but something clearly did.

Yesterday everything had been awkward but mostly fine. But now, seeing Hyunjin's finessed movements and natural swagger, Chan felt like an impostor. Chan did not square up to his level. He had never been good enough for that.

Almost as if they could sense the tension forming through the weird silence that was left, Jisung and Seungmin appeared carrying a mix of breakfast dishes, from omelettes to kimchi fried rice and pancakes. They were bickering about something of miniscule importance, probably.

“Hyung!” Jisung spotted him first. “You're early!”

Chan would probably joke back or even keep the conversation going as the others slowly made their way here and sat around the table had he not felt so panicky. Not because of anyone but himself. And that was always the most annoying part of living in his skin.

To add insult to injury and make Chan even more confused, Changbin didn't show.

“He's not here.” Was the only justification coming from an apologetic-looking Jisung. “He'll meet us in the afternoon.”

“Afternoon?” Chan repeated, shell shocked. They were supposed to have already started.

What was going on? When he left yesterday, everything was fine. Neutral.

“He and Minho had a meeting. Just regular stuff.” Jisung said, going back to his rice. The Don't freak out, it's not a big deal was unspoken.

He indeed just seemed okay, like there was nothing to worry about, which made Chan force himself back to calm and normal and collected. He peeked around himself as he nibbled at his omelette and could feel the stares coming from the other guys. He thought he was doing so well. That he had a breakthrough, and even though recovery was not linear (he'd be the one of the first to know about that), it sucked to lose it so fast, like getting a bucket filled with ice water straight in the head. But again, Chan earned that too, didn't he?

Fuck, this was hard. He knew that it would be. Why was he so surprised?

Outside of the seeds of what could definitely become a mental spiral inside Chan's head, Hyunjin just cleared his throat.

“The guys told me about your concept-” He started, tone neutral and friendly, but it made Chan's blood freeze.

“I’m sorry we didn't wait for you.” Chan cut him off immediately, with a level of exasperation in his voice that was surprising even for himself. He looked back at Hyunjin, who had a milimetrically calculated face of neutrality on, but let a shy grin poke through.

“It's okay. I liked it. The palette you chose, too. Neons and black. Bold. I do love a concept.”

The positive words coming out of his mouth were not matching his tone or demeanor at all. Chan thought he had an okay-ish enough ability to read people in work settings, but now he was at a complete loss, worse than with Changbin and Minho. Hyunjin was usually so expressive, but like everything else when it came to those seven men, Chan had to remember they were like that when Chan was in their lives. If Chan himself was completely different in the four years that separated them, more closed off, self destructive and mentally ruined than ever, they could too. He just hoped they had changed for the better from self improvement, and not because of Chan's hasty exit.

Above everything, though, if there was one fact Chan knew about Hyunjin was that he was an artist. From sketchbooks, coloring pencils, pastels, watercolor, that boy had a knack for art and design that Chan hadn't seen in anyone else, not even himself.

“I can show you the moodboards for the visual concept I came up with. I really want to know your opinion.” Chan offered, and he meant every word of it.

He could see the exact moment Hyunjin's icy stare started to melt, taken by surprise by the offer. It was subtle, but the fact that Chan could catch the sudden glint in his eyes made him exhale in relief. Still got it.

“That… would be nice.”

He remembered the list. “Apologize to everyone, listen to their grievances, show they can trust me”. Changbin and Minho weren't here, but the rest of them were.

He should start with it, then.

“Look, guys, um… This thing we're doing, the album… I completely understand — heck, I expect that you might be weirded out. And I, um…”

He considered bringing up the offer Changbin had made. Tell them that while he took it, the reason why he was on that table right now bringing donuts for breakfast wasn't the money, but them. 

At the last second, however, he froze.

Did the guys even know about it? No one had brought it up, not even Minho. Not to mention Changbin had said he was able to cover the amount Chan owed with a single comeback, not us.

“Yesterday was nerve wracking for me.” He started instead, and by the way all of them tensed he knew immediately that it was the wrong way to do it. He waved a hand in the air, scrambling to find the right words. “Not because of you guys, but for myself. You are all great. Really.”

“Great.” Hyunjin echoed, like he didn't really believe Chan or bought his tone for a second. Not combative, just really flat. Measured, contrary to Chan, who probably looked like an anxious mess. 

Now that he had started digging himself into a hole might as well finish it, Chan thought.

“The thing is, and I didn't bring it up yesterday even though I should, it struck me but I am glad to join in. But I need you guys to know I'm sorry for… For everything. You don't need to forgive me, I don't expect it. But I hope by doing this, the album, I can… Help, I guess? Even if I'm not leader Bang Chan anymore.”

Chan felt a chill running through his spine when he said the name. He couldn't look up to see their reactions either, but managed to mask the uneasiness off by fiddling with his food.

The silence that followed was awful and seemed to stretch for forever until someone broke it.

“Help with what?” It was Jeongin speaking. Even though his tone carried no hint of threat or sarcasm, Chan couldn't stop feeling like it was a dig. Like Jeongin had no idea how Chan could be of any assistance to any of them.

“Whatever you need. I'm… well, I'm here.”

Hyunjin was looking down at his own hands. Jisung and Felix looked directly at him, shy, encouraging half-smiles on, and Seungmin's gaze was stuck on a random spot at the blank wall behind the table.

No one said anything. At each silent second that passed by, Chan felt more inclined to dig his whole head on the ground and pretend he wasn't there.

That was… not a great success, not that he was expecting it. But considering it didn't end up with a screaming match or being called names, it was not a complete disaster either.

At the end, he was the one who caved first and found an excuse to leave.

“I better get the studio ready.” He said, raising himself off the table and motioning to Jisung.

Jisung gave him a thumbs up. “I'll meet you in ten.”

Chan didn't know what to do with his body, being bombarded with their certainly non-judgemental stares, but only being able to process their confusion as rejection. He turned his back and tried his best not to run back to the studio, which to his relief was unoccupied. Being alone gave him the breathing room Chan needed to get back to normal. Breathe a little, get into the zone by turning on the computers, resetting the mic and testing the monitors, which was completely unnecessary in a practical sense but necessary to his rhythm.

Jisung eventually showed up, only to find Chan in the middle of rearranging cables under the desk and scaring the living shit out of him by screaming a loud “yo!” that almost made him hit his head under the desk.

“What are you doing?” Jisung asked, tossing himself on the bed.

“Organizing.” Chan crawled back from under the table and sat on the office chair, rolling straight to the computer. Just because the room setup was temporary didn't mean the cable management had to be that messy. Changbin and Jisung never really cared about being neat, which was fine, but for Chan it always made him more efficient. “Where do you wanna start today?”

Jisung had his phone out. “We have the two remaining finished demos to work on and start as many new tracks as we can. I think today we might want to clear what we already have, but honestly? We're ahead of schedule as is.”

Chan nodded and tried to pretend knowing they were even closer to wrapping up than he imagined didn't break his heart. They had only finished two songs, ‘Megaverse’ and ‘LALALALA’, out of their target ten, which was also not a lot (at least not compared to Chan's usual output when he was a full time musician) but still impressive considering Chan had been out of the game for four years.

Only a few days, he remembered. And then he had to show them they didn't have to be done.

“Okay. We can start with…” Chan hummed, going through his files. “This one? There are a lot of singing sections right off the bat. We can leave Changbin's lines for when he's here.”

Jisung nodded. They had finished lyrics for practically everything yesterday, it was part of why they were only able to wrap two guides in a full day of work.

“Cool.” He hummed, getting up and walking towards the mic.

Before he set up the recording mode, Chan cleared his throat in order to get Jisung's attention.

“How are you guys doing? I know that the tours are a success and the albums too, but… You. Are you well? Has the company been taking care of you?”

That question came definitely out of the sudden, but Chan could not keep up without knowing the answer.

Jisung sighed.

“There's a lot of good things going on. I really love my life. And the guys.” His voice was uncharacteristically serious as he contemplated his own words. “But it is hard sometimes. Even though we've been at it for a while, I don't think we quite figured out our rhythm. So it feels as if we're always scrambling for footing, or we're gonna lose everything at any moment.”

Chan didn't expect that level of honesty. He also couldn't fight the churning guilt inside his chest. Why else would he feel like they were always at the brink of losing everything if not because Chan left them out of the blue?

“Whatever I can help you with, I mean it, Jisung.”

“Hyung, you're already helping. You have no idea how.”

“Yeah, the songs-”

“I don't mean just the songs, you.”

Chan didn't know how the fuck to react to that, so he turned to the computer and got back to producer mode. That was easier.

Jisung recorded lines.

Chan gave feedback.

They redid some parts.

If he closed his eyes and stopped thinking about his own bullshit for a second, Chan could picture himself back at the tiny ass JYP studio.

Changbin walked in probably an hour after they had wrapped that song, already in the middle of another one. Jisung had finished the lines — even risking Changbin's rap section, which took a while longer but worked in the end, and Chan was adding overlays with the piano synth after a suggestion when he arrived. He looked a bit rough around the edges, messy hair and eyebags that screamed I slept like shit and am super stressed for anyone who understood how to read them, but overall looked normal, dressed in comfortable sweats and a muscle tee.

“Sorry I'm late.” He said, turning to Jisung. On purpose or not, he had barely crossed eyes with Chan. He gave no further explanation, and Chan wouldn't be the one to ask for them.

“How was it with the managers?”

Changbin groaned as he plopped into the spare office chair, which was enough of an answer.

“We're done with ‘Blind Spot’ already, we're ahead of schedule.” Jisung slinked out of the booth to sit closer to them. Changbin rolled the chair to settle beside Chan to look at the computer, but still paid no mind to his presence.

“Did you do my rap?” He asked, clearly not at Chan.

Jisung clearly knew how to get Changbin off his funk better than Chan could at the moment, or any moment, so Chan resigned himself to watching him work. His strategy seemed to be “prodding as much as possible”

“Just as a placeholder. You can go at it now.” Jisung said, slapping his shoulders, making him stand up and handing his phone, probably because the lyrics were there.

“I haven't even warmed my voice yet.”

“Then go! Mah! Mah! Mah!” Jisung let out plosives, making overexaggerated hand gestures towards Changbin like he had turned into Sharpay Evans for a second. In response, Changbin scoffed as he took a spot inside the recording booth, but he was laughing.

“Brat.” He grumbled. “Chan, give me a four count headstart?”

Chan tried not to wince. Chan. It was so impersonal. Changbin didn't owe him anything, though, he remembered.

When Changbin started his part, full of energy and volume just how he was used to hearing, Jisung gave him the tiniest victory smile. In a matter of minutes, they had distracted themselves with the music again, going to the next track and getting into that delicious flow from yesterday until Chan had the presence of mind to call for a lunch break. He was not playing with his chances today.

When they emerged from the music cocoon to grab something to eat at some point after 2, Chan could hear splashing noises and muffled screams coming from the pool. There was food in the kitchen, too — someone had cooked gigantic batches of kimchi bokkeumbap and bulgogi. Changbin went straight for it, so they probably already had lunch by that point. Chan just followed the others’ leads, filling up a bowl for himself after Jisung, taking a pair of chopsticks and following them outside to sit with Jisung at the tables in the barbecue area near the pool, right on time to catch the ending of a head-to-head swimming race between Felix and Hyunjin. Seungmin and Jeongin had their feets in the water, while Minho was laying comfortably in the same under-deck swing he fell asleep in yesterday, watching the chaos unfold like an amused hawk.

“Glad you remembered to eat today.” He quipped when Jisung sat down at his side yet again.

“Thank Chan-hyung.”

Minho hummed, eyeing Chan up and down, who was still near the doorstep. Changbin sat on a chair closer to the pool, eyes immediately falling to the chaotic race in the water. Chan was left standing near the door, unsure of where to go. Should he join Changbin? Should he eat by himself? He was half expecting to follow Jisung's lead until he went with Minho. He should have expected Jisung to be joined at the hip with Minho, that's how they'd always been. Not that it meant anything.

“Seungmin-ah! Who's winning?” Changbin raised his voice, dragging Chan out of his wandering thoughts before they became a confusing mess.

“The hell if I know! It's the third rematch, they've been at this for half an hour!”

“I won!” Felix's head shot up from the water right after he scrambled to touch the pool wall.

“No, you didn't!” Hyunjin shot right back, gasping for air. His long black hair was covering his eyes and half of his face. “You cheated!”

“How the fuck can you cheat at a swimming race?”

“You just did! Back me up here, Innie!”

“Mom, the girls are fighting!” Jeongin screamed at Minho instead, who completely ignored everything that was going on because Jisung was showing him something on his phone.

Chan didn't feel, he knew he was completely out of place, so he turned his back and walked inside to eat by himself at the dinner table like a loser. Or a coward. Or both.

He felt as wrong and socially inept as in his first day at uni, or as a trainee, which was just sad. Chan used to have a tight-knight bond with them and now was left feeling like a stranger, not even intentionally on their part either. He was their older brother. The hyung that not even half of them were able to call him as anymore.

“Hey.” Jeongin's voice made Chan look up from his half-empty bowl. “Why are you hiding in here? The day is so nice outside.”

Chan shrugged. He truly had no answer other than I'm scared, which felt particularly humiliating to admit to the youngest, even though at that point Chan knew he had to be around Chan's age during predebut, probably older.

Jeongin sat beside him. He looked so put together. Secure.

“Do you remember when you would run vocal warmups with me?” He asked. “Back at our first dorm, before we did the showcase?”

“Yeah.”

“I still use the ones you taught me.” He said, a contemplative smile on, looking at a random spot at the wall.

Chan wasn't even surprised to hear that, which made the fire in his chest burn warmer. 

“It's good to see you, hyung.” Jeongin then reached out to squeeze his wrist. “Glad you're doing okay. It's been a while.”

“I'm glad to see you too, Innie.”

“And it's Genius leader Bang Chan, for your information.”

Chan took a second to understand why he would comment that, but when it clicked that he was point at how Chan had referred to himself a during the heart to heart attempt, he laughed.

“Well, now it's just Chris.”

“If you say so, Chris.” Jeongin said, and his English accent was still so cute, stretching the s sound for longer than necessary. If he was still as close as they were before, Chan would probably coo at Jeongin and pretend to pinch his cheeks or something. Now, he just smiled and nodded. “Now eat.”

Chan looked down at his bowl. Most of the rice was still there. He nibbled at the meat, though.

“Oh, I'm not hungry.” He waved it off.

“You didn't finish breakfast either.”

This time, Chan couldn't contain the endearment making his ears burn. Was Jeongin fussing around him?

“You're too sweet, In-ah. I'm okay, though. You don't have to worry.”

Jeongin didn't look too convinced, eyebrows coming together in a suspicious frown, but he conceded. “You work with TV stuff now, then?”

Chan nodded. “I'm a Creative Designer for a broadcasting company, so… basically, yeah.”

“What do you creative design for?” Jeongin asked, and the way he worded it was so cute it dragged a giggle out of him, but it gave Chan time to put the professional beanie on.

“Well, a lot of things. Marketing, advertising campaigns for shows. Concepts for new shows. If a show has a new season with a different branding, I can be pulled to help with that. I am working on the visuals for the soccer season now.”

He nodded, mouth open wide. “That's why your concept was so tight, then. I mean, the presentation. You're a pro. Did you go to university here?”

Chan nodded. “University of Technology Sydney, represent.”

Jeongin smiled. “Cool. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Going to university?”

Jeongin shook his head yes. He looked thrilled to be talking about it.

“Well, I don't have a lot of time, doing this job and all, but I always wanted to.” He said, shiny eyes filled with wonder at the prospect. “But maybe I'm too old for it.”

Chan couldn't place how he felt about it.

In a way, it was great that he had those aspirations. He knew Jeongin was perfectly capable of getting accepted into a nice uni, the kid was smart. But at the same time, something about how he said it irked him the wrong way. I don't have time, doing this job. Chan had resigned himself back then to not being able to attend university because he was constantly drowning in work, and rehearsals, and the grueling trainee routine, and it had been fine.

Why did he feel so off when Jeongin had made the same choice?

He could not stop thinking about the talk with Changbin at his apartment. Changbin telling him that he encouraged the members to think about solo endeavors because he didn't feel secure enough about the future of Stray Kids as a group.

Instead of answering, Chan shook his head and then realized it made no sense in context.

“You're not too old at all,” he said. “I was 21 and had the biggest inferiority complex about it before classes actually started, but at university there's a lot of people in different age groups. I got over it pretty quickly. Everyone is mostly trying to survive the semester, being honest.”

Jeongin giggled. “That seems fun.”

Chan nodded. “Well, if you want to know anything about university, I have 3 and a half years experience. I didn't do a lot of frat partying, but late night benders finishing assignments and studying for finals were always riveting.”

“Thanks, hyung.” He said, with the brightest smile.

Chan looked at the sliding door that led to the pool area at the right moment Changbin walked through it, an easy smile on his face as he laughed probably at something going on outside. The smile fell from his face as soon as he spotted Chan and Jeongin talking.

“Should we go back to the studio soon? In 5?” Changbin said then, matter of fact.

“Ok.” Chan answered.

He nodded and left, disappearing in the hallway in a second before Chan could even think of saying something else. He inhaled then, pushing himself up.

“Well, um…” He turned to Innie. “If you need anything, I'm here. Okay? To explain the wonders of university or… Well, just to talk.”

“Ok, hyung. I'll see you after you're done.”

The fact that there would be an after made Chan's heart squeeze, but for once, it was good.

Even considering his lackluster portion, lunch was reinvigorating. Chan wondered if going back to work with full stomachs would make them lethargic (well, at least Jisung, who tapped out yesterday), but it didn't. They did the same song and dance of picking which track they'd go for next, and this time Changbin took the lead, choosing one of the instrumentals Chan had started and they had finished lyrics yesterday to go next. It was a high energy beat, and Changbin's poignant voice fit perfectly with it. He had changed a couple of the bars during the night when Chan wasn't there too, making the sections more rounded, adding triplets and internal rhymes here and there. Even Jisung was impressed.

How this guy ended up doubting himself to the extent of reaching out to Chan for help of all people was honestly beyond him.

Changbin was a force to be reckoned with, ever since their first days together as trainees. Confident, self-assured, laser-focused on what he wanted to do — and pretty damn good at it already. A diamond in the rough. Now, he had become a multi-million dollar ring. The jagged edges were polished, the jewel protected in a gold casing, but it was still the same diamond, as beautiful as ever. Just finessed.

The worst part (or best — Chan decided it was the best) was, even if Changbin had been at the very least inconsistent when dealing with him personally, Chan could still see that he had the same care and love for the others by their interactions. Yeah, it stung, watching it from the sidelines and receiving none of it for himself, but it also made complete sense. It was up to Chan to suck it up and be a big boy about the consequences of his actions. He didn't really matter when it was so clear the other guys were at least as disgustingly fond of each other as they used to be years ago.

Their bond was what made Stray Kids. Everyone knew it. Even before Chan had barged into JYP's office and demanded that Felix and Minho were given a second shot, it was clear that it was their biggest asset. It was the reason why Chan gathered the courage to fight in the first place. If not for himself, for them. Seeing with his own eyes that the same mutual care was still a core value made everything worth it, even if it never included him again. And Chan could tell, just by these mere few hours back, that Changbin took care of them. Just like Chan tried to, probably even better, just like Changbin took care of him back then.

The love among them was so clear and bright that it made Chan's skin crawl, and it took a while for him to recognize the chill in his stomach as jealousy, but there it was. Because they had it. Jisung had Changbin's adoring look every time he nailed a line on the first try. Chan was the one left with the sharp stares and the avoidance.

And even then, Chan didn't consider backing out for a second, feasting on the fondness regardless if it was directed at him or not. Because Chan had missed him so much it hurt.

“Hyung, you're on fire today!” Jisung would praise after a particularly good take, and Changbin would laugh out loud, almost screaming, so light and comfortable.

He had missed all of them, but his bond with Changbin had a different depth. Not better, not worse, just different. The kind that made the tips of Chan's fingers tingle with the itch to touch and his brain buzz whenever Changbin flexed his muscles or shot a smile at someone (decidedly not Chan) or giggled, or looked so pleased with himself that he was able to let the walls of the leader fortress he stuck himself in and Chan knew so well down for a second and just… be.

And, just for a bit, Changbin would look around and his eyes would land on Chan by accident. His smile would be directed, even if for just a second, at Chan.

Changbin was handsome. Anyone with a pair of eyes could see that. But when those fleeting moments came, when he forgot that he was supposed to be all collected, serious and carry the weight of the world on his shoulders and back, Changbin was beautiful in a way that was starting to awake something in Chan's body that he honestly wasn't even sure he would ever be able to feel again.

That heat was somehow more terrifying than the fear of being caught by JYP while disrespecting his severance terms.

When they wrapped up some time at night, a fresh batch of guides ready to go, Felix and Seungmin were playing Mario Kart in the living room while Jeongin watched and picked at both of them interchangeably. Minho was sleeping in the same under-deck swing he had lunch on, probably in the middle of reading a book if the Kindle laying beside his head was any indication of his free day. Jisung went straight to his direction, just to snuggle with him at the swing. Hyunjin had watercolors out at the dinner table.

Chan was going to speak to Hyunjin, comment on the painting he was working on, but Changbin walked into the living room. He was shirtless, abs in full display. The guys paid no mind to the display, but Felix snickered when he realized Changbin was walking towards the outside deck.

“What are you doing? It's almost midnight.”

“I'm taking a dip, of course!” Changbin stretched, back turned to them and facing the doorway to the deck, letting out a pleased groan so unintentionally sinful that Chan had to look away before his cheeks started to burn. The tips of his ears were probably already pink just by looking at him shirtless. It was at that moment that he realized Hyunjin eyed him with an unreadable expression. It was not hostile, not by the glint of his eyes and the slight curve of his lips turning up, but Chan felt a pang in his chest either way, this time pretty easily identified as a surge of panic.

Chan shouldn't be looking at Changbin's muscles. That kind of oversight is exactly what brought him to lose everything, not considering the consequences before he let emotion dominate his reactions, not being strategic. What the hell was he thinking?

That was wrong. Not only wrong, and dangerous, but also completely inappropriate.

Changbin was clear from the beginning: he didn't like Chan, he didn't want to interact with Chan. And Chan knew that, he had no expectations of anything, because why would he? If anything, the only reason for the stares and the giddy feeling and the burning in his cheeks was due to relegating himself to a routine of working, working out, and doing nothing else in his life. It was the lack of… activity in his personal life making his body act up at the mere sight of an objectively good looking person, nothing else.

God, why was he so hot out of the sudden?

“I need to head home.” Chan announced, even though it probably sounded more like a desperate plea. Changbin stopped on his tracks, turning back to face him. In response, Chan pointedly turned away from Hyunjin.

“Aww, already?” Felix pouted, from the sofa. “I thought you could join us for a round!”

“I gotta work tomorrow.” He said, fishing for his phone in the back pocket of his jeans so he could ask for an Uber himself and get away as quickly as he could and… where was his backpack? “I'll be back after I'm done with that.”

Changbin hummed. They didn't really discuss it, but Changbin did ask him if Chan worked weekends. “Which time?”

“5-ish if everything goes to plan? I'll let Jisung know when I'm coming, don't worry.” Chan looked around again, trying to look for his damn backpack until he realized it was still at the studio, so he ran over there. The alone time going through the stairs and the hallway was enough for him to get a bit of his composure back, but when he fetched his stuff and turned to leave, Changbin was there at the door. Still shirtless.

“I can drive you home, if you want to.”

Chan's eyes shot back at Changbin. What was that about?

“No, you don't have to, it's almost midnight.” He immediately answered, grabbing his phone and shaking it in the air. “I can just Uber home, no worries.”

“Wait, no. I'll call one. You don't have to pay.”

Chan wanted to deny it, but if he did it one more time he was pretty damn sure they would just keep saying “No worry, I can do it!” to each other in a loop. That was probably why he decided to just go with it and let Changbin order the car from his own account with his own millionaire money, it was fine. And he obviously already had the right info, too, if the surprise visit days before was of any indication.

“Let's go on, then.” Changbin proposed.

Chan just nodded yes, taking his now backpack and pulling it over one shoulder. He left all his music stuff in the studio since he'd be back tomorrow anyway, but was bringing his laptop home even though it wasn't his work computer, just in case. They walked side by side in the same silence as before, and now that everything was quiet in the deep night, he could hear the faint rumbling of the sea below and the nice salty breeze. The night sky was clear and packed with stars, like he was holding a black fabric against the light, and the view below was way more stunning at night with the streetlights on. The mansions weren't bad either, or the fact that he was walking with Changbin.

It was only when they were both standing at the main gate that someone decided to break the quiet atmosphere.

“Uh… Thanks, by the way.” Changbin said, so out of left field that Chan didn't really catch the full thing, distracted looking at birds on the trees above.

“Hm?”

“Thank you. For all this. I treated you like shit, threw this on you out of nowhere and you still went above and beyond.” Changbin said, a dry laugh. “I can't quite believe you're here.”

Chan waved him off, trying not to look like he was freaking out — which he definitely was. How the fuck was he supposed to reply to that? It wouldn't be right to say something like “no worries” or “it's fine” in response, because it wasn't something Changbin should even be apologizing for. He was justified in every single reaction, as harsh as it might have been. Saying he deserved it, even though it was true, would sound like he was fishing for sympathy, which he wasn't either. 

But fuck, he needed to react. Show Changbin that he appreciated it. It was the biggest, most important breakthrough Chan could ever dream of having going through this crazy plan of theirs.

He wanted more of it, as terrifying as it was.

It was working. The plan was working.

“I'm glad we can work towards mending… This.” Was what he settled for and felt more right. “I'll keep doing my best for you guys.” For you.

Changbin nodded, and seemed like he wanted to say something, but a sound behind them alerted that yet again, Chan's car was probably nearby.

“So, start at 5 tomorrow?” Changbin changed the subject.

“I’ll be here.” Chan smiled before he could stop himself, and his stomach started doing parkour inside his body when Changbin actually smiled back. The first smile pointed at him and no one else.

The car arrived, a black sedan parking right in front of the gate.

“Um… See you tomorrow then, hyung.” Changbin did an almost-half-bow, not as low, mostly just lowering his head a bit.

“See you, Binnie.”

The nickname wasn't supposed to come out, it slipped. Chan braced for a reaction, just like back at his apartment, but this time Changbin just nodded, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. He stayed by the gate watching Chan leave until the car movement left him out of his field of vision.

Chan's heart fluttered. His stomach was doing summersaults. He was so happy it almost felt scary, the sensation of euphoria being so easy to misread as panic sometimes due to how insecure he was about feeling happy, but now he could logic his way out of it: Chan was doing good. That was the right choice. He did everything right today. 

You went above and beyond.

Thank you for all this.

He would repeat these words in his head for as long as he could remember Changbin's soft smile as he said them. Chan had thought for years that he had fucked this beyond repair. And yet, there he was. Days ago he didn't even considered mending things with them, with him, an actual possibility. And well, he'd see Changbin again the next day.

That was the only reason his heart was fluttering and Chan felt butterflies in his stomach. Mending friendships. Nothing else.