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He’s often scared, but he tries not to show it. He wants to be strong, reliable. To be their leader. Their hyung. That’s who he is.
But he’s scared that one day it will all fall apart, and he’ll be left with nothing.
*
“Have you been sleeping at all lately?” Changbin asks him.
Chan will be left with nothing. Nothing.
“You know how it is.”
Changbin hums. “Do you want to come over? Maybe being in a different environment will help you.”
Chan laughs. “I’m not an animal.”
“It wouldn’t be good for most animals to take them out of the familiar environment,” Jisung butts in.
Chan looks between them. One day, they will be gone. This will all be gone. The mic in the recording booth, the files on his computers, the whole studio. Even their music.
“Hyung, are you okay?”
Chan couldn’t explain that he isn’t without sounding crazy.
*
No, the whole Earth will be gone. Everything will be gone. Truly, everything will turn into dust.
Shouldn’t this thought be at least a little bit freeing?
But instead, Chan feels panic. And before he knows it, everything becomes a source of dread. A text message going unanswered for too long. A small injury—because it could develop into a bigger issue; you never know. Being pushed and shoved at the airport—because what if next time someone falls and gets trampled?
A piece of negative feedback—because what if the company says their whole album is too bad, that they have to re-do it? A negative comment—because what if everyone hates him?
*
Chan cooks a meal for himself and Jeongin. He intentionally prepares way more food than necessary in case someone comes over, but nobody does.
And Jeongin leaves without eating.
“Leave me some for later, hyung?” he asks, barely glancing in Chan’s direction.
“Of course,” Chan says, but something squeezes his chest, a bitter feeling.
Jeongin leaves, and Chan loses his appetite completely. And he sits down on the couch and thinks how childish it is to be upset over something so small.
He didn’t even ask if Jeongin had any plans for today. Jeongin is allowed to leave the house without announcing it to Chan beforehand.
Everyone is allowed to leave, but Chan so badly doesn’t want to accept that.
*
He knows he’s not the only one having these moments of dread. He knows that everyone, at one point or another, worried about the future of their group. Especially before they decided to renew their contracts.
Because what if someone wasn’t on board?
Chan, though now ashamed to admit it, was looking for the weakest links. Tried to talk, influence. Get the others to talk to them, too. Hyunjin. Jisung. Those were Chan’s weakest links.
*
He has dreams that they’re mad at him. Often. That he did something bad, and they don’t want to talk to him, and he tries to apologise, but they walk away.
They leave, like they’re allowed to do.
And Chan sometimes cries in these dreams, and sometimes he chases after them, and sometimes he begs, screams, falls onto his knees.
He wouldn’t react like that in real life, so he doesn’t understand why his dream self is so different. So dramatic and so pathetic.
And sometimes he wants to tell somebody about his dreams, but then it all feels too stupid.
*
Things get to a halt when he faints during practice.
He’s being told to rest, and people around him are trying to make it happen. Chan is stubborn, but they are stubborn as well, and soon Chan has someone around him nearly 24/7.
He hates it and loves it. Hates to be an inconvenience. Loves to be in the centre of their attention. Hates to feel like he’s letting his team down. Loves to have them near, tangibly. To touch them, to hold them.
Have them say nice words to him.
They call him Channie and not hyung, and they praise him for doing nothing.
They say he’s a good boy when he drinks and eats and puts down his laptop.
It’s only a few days, but Chan’s head gets fuzzy, so fuzzy that when the rest period is over, he can’t jump back to normal.
But what even is his normal? Worrying about everything? Because now, he worries and feels stupid. His head is in the clouds. His head is thinking about touching their skin, looking at their eyelashes. In front of him, there’s a screen and a job he can’t do.
He will lose them. He’s already losing them.
He doesn’t let Changbin and Jisung finish any work for him, even when they plead.
*
Often, he watches their content.
He does it to cheer himself up, in the darkness of his room, wolfchan by his side.
He’s theirs.
He doesn’t have to doubt it; they told him. And yet, he feels like he needs to collect evidence. And sometimes joy turns into vigilance—when he notices something’s wrong. Someone frowning, looking unhappy, wincing from pain.
He squeezes his blanket, clenches his hands into fists. He wants to fight something. There’s nothing worse than staying indifferent.
*
“You’re already doing so much for us, hyung, you don’t have to—”
And Chan mutes Jisung’s words and only looks at him. Remembers his eye shape, as if planning to draw it later. His lips, his nose.
As if he were to disappear.
“Hyung, are you listening?”
*
Chan watches their content often, telling himself that this is the only thing that will be left of them.
He has it all downloaded onto an external drive.
And he adds videos to it, one by one.
And he tries to live without thinking that he only gets to have it for a second, that if he only blinks, it will all be gone.