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.