Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Atychiphobia
/əˌtɪk.ɪˈfəʊ.bi.ə/
noun
The intense fear of failure.

Chan closed his eyes with a sigh. His entire body ached from his progressively degrading posture, the kind that made you feel like you had Münchmeyer’s disease, slowly turning your muscle into bone. Another re-recording session went to waste as he only completed half of the lines that he wanted to get through. Everyone else was done. Their perfect vocals and raps only taking three or four takes, never straining like he did. He just wanted to meet his own standards, was that so hard to do? He wanted to be like the rest of his members. Because he wasn’t the one to bring Stays in, he wasn’t the visual, have impressive raps or vocals, he wasn’t… anyone important. He was just a composer. Even though the rest of 3RACHA were extremely talented, especially with rapping, he could barely get through the rap in S-Class without lagging behind.

Drowning down his usual unproductivity in coffee, he sat back on his uncomfortable chair to listen to the recordings again. The caffeine was practically digging his future grave already. His older friends like Young-Hyun always told him that it was because of his ‘lack of sleep’ and ‘addiction to work’. But he personally thinks that if he gets it all done now, he can spend the next couple of days hanging out with the rest of his group and having a good time. Chan muttered a curse under his breath, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to work as much as he did during their trainee days. But the album was supposed to be released in a month, and fans were spreading the news over Twitter and Instagram like crazy, even seeing some amazing fanart based off of the teasers. All the preset songs that he was going to use didn’t fit the rest of the concept well, and he desperately wanted to change his vocals so that he would have less line distribution. Then he only needed to think less about how much he was screwing everything up. 

His stance was stiff as he cracked his back, grabbing his laptop as he walked out to go find the others. His phone pinged with notifications from his group members, pictures as they shared pictures of a new K-Barbeque place that recently opened downtown. It was pretty popular, with a 4.7/5 star average, and apparently they also had a small buffet. It looked delicious, his eyes immediately jumping to the marinated beef, before starting to wander over at the plates of uncooked meat and dishes. His gaze lingered at the japchae and tteokbokki, his stomach feeling empty as he reminded himself yet again that he needed to eat a proper meal.

He set his phone down as a frown slowly casted over his face. They knew that he wanted to go out with them to the buffet, why hadn’t they told him to come over? He read past text messages, seeing if he missed anything from the group chat. But they hadn’t spoken in the chat for over a week or so until tonight. It was always like they had another group chat without him, which he didn’t mind since they also had their unit chats, but it always gave him a sense of unease. Like he wasn’t worthy of their attention, or worse, they thought he didn’t care about them.

He hadn’t even realised that he was just standing in the middle of the studio contemplating until Young-Hyun tapped on the door frame three times. A slow, rhythmic pattern of rolling knuckles, the exact pattern that everyone used to get his attention. A set of three clicks, or knocking on the door three times. It was always a set of 3 that felt like an awful noise which gave him a chill down his spine. They were normal noises, something that most people did to make their presence known, but he hated it. It wasn’t for any particular reason, just like how Changbin didn’t sleep without his Munchlax that he named Gyu. This mind simmered the noise down to the back of his mind as he turned to face his former roommate. 

“Channie-ah” Young-Hyun’s voice was rich, you could hear the ring of the bass swirling with the higher pitches even after he finished his sentence. Chan could understand why so many people biased Young-Hyun. His dark hair dusted over his face lightly, the dim lamps inside the studio not doing his features enough justice, but still looking stunning as always.

“Why aren’t you in bed yet? It’s almost 1am– where are the others?” 

The question hung in the air like a threat. Even if it came from a place of concern for his wellbeing, it still felt intruding and personal, almost like an interrogation. For a brief moment, the room stilled into an unwelcoming silence. The world outside spun as usual, the rain pattering on the window like a pattern, but the studio was quiet, the usual tapping of the keyboard, the mic’s soft buzzing as it recorded nothing but white noise, it was all gone as the question hung loosely in the air.

“Ah, Hyung. The others are out at the K-Barbeque I told you about, I’m just waiting to make sure they all get back safely. I thought I might as well fix up my lines in the process.” The lie slipped past his lips smoothly. A little too easily for him to be comfortable with himself, it was almost disgusting. 

“Mm, well make sure to get some sleep, yeah? By the looks of their Insta posts, it doesn’t seem like they’re coming home any time soon.” Young-Hyun turned his phone around, showing his seven kids doing completely random poses. He let out a breathless laugh, flabbergasted that they had thought it was a good idea to post that photo, especially since Chan would get a berating from their manager about ‘idol image’ and all that. He would be lying if he said that he didn’t mind. Because that’s all he was nowadays.

A liar.

A simple nod sufficed as an answer. Putting his laptop inside a tote bag instead of dangerously carrying it in one hand. After all, the next 10 years worth of JYPE’s profit relied on that laptop. Jeongin was probably going to be getting home late anyways, and he wasn’t a kid anymore. Chan didn’t need to watch over his every move… like he seemed to have been the past few days. He had become increasingly self aware over his relationship with the rest of the kids. Sure, he was their leader, their mentor, their Hyung, but something about bonding with them, connecting with them, desperately trying to keep them together was exhausting. They all simply seemed to get along better without him, and the photo was evidence of that. 

Chan couldn’t deny that Minho was a great Hyung. Sure, he was a little harsh, but the kindness and sincerity was there underneath all the prickly exterior. He was playful, outgoing. Paid for everyone's food,  except Seungmin’s apparently, and always put their safety and comfort before his teasing. Minho drew the group together with his choreo, helped Lix learn Korean in exchange for English, and his kids were perfect without him slowing them down. He couldn’t hold his place against that… even if everyone told him he was doing great. 

Minho should have been the leader. Minho would have handled everything better compared to him, there was no way that he could continue holding the group together. Not when Chan could barely stop himself from combusting every time he retook the recording. 

Chan wasn’t good enough. No matter how much he practiced, no matter how many times he tried to learn a new technique, a new way of doing things… he couldn’t do it. It just wasn’t possible. He could hear voice cracks everywhere, his dancing was sloppy… he honestly couldn’t do anything right. He just wanted to be good enough for the kids. Because the kids were all that mattered to him, not the company, not his health. His kids. Because his kids were his world. 

His eyes lingered at the ridiculous amounts of shampoo that sat along the cupboard behind the mirror. Healing took time, patience and will. Destruction was so much easier. Faster. Lying was so much easier than the truth, and oh how Chan just wanted a moment of freedom where he could be honest without bearing the weight of the entire company resting on him. Because lies slipped out easier than the truth did. Of course, it was a dull and boring saying, that the lies are comforting and the truth hurts. But Chan couldn’t bring himself to burden his kids any further, could he? After all, Hyunjin was drawing, Changbin was working out, and Jeongin was doing whatever vlog he was currently filming. No. He needed to keep working so that his fellow group members could live comfortably. And despite everything, Chan didn’t want anything else other than reality folding on itself so that he could finally succumb to the eternal corners of the universe.

When Chan finally posted some random message on Bubble about the weather, he wondered if the weather really did impact his mood. Then again, he wouldn’t know considering he has spent the last three days locked up in his room desperately trying to hold himself together as nothing happened the way they were supposed to. All the recordings were done, he just needed to edit everything on his laptop, which retreated to the safety of his private ‘dormroom’ for. And the worst part? None of the kids had come to check up on him.

Sure, they knew that he was often left to his own devices in his, but occasionally Felix would come give him some Jjajjangmyeon, or Minho would barge into the room and come to him all exasperated that he was tired of taking care of the kids and demanded his help. He silently prayed that he hadn't actually spent three days by himself, and maybe only 5 hours and that's why nobody has come in yet. Or they did come in but he was sleeping. That has to be it, why else would he be alone for ‘three’ days straight? Hell even the manager or a security member would have found him and dragged him off to training by now. Did nobody really care if he was there or not? Surely their dance instructor would have seen him missing by now, or the fact that he hadn’t been online except to entertain the fans once to show that he was still alive. 

Do they really not care enough for him to be left alone? He checked the date. It had indeed not been three days. No, it had been five. Five days where he was left alone. For five days he was slowly turning into mould and becoming one with his bed. Did they actually forget about him? Considering there hasn’t been a single call, a single message that asked if he was here from any one of them, there hadn’t been a message left at all. He was left feeling vaguely hollow inside. Like an empty memory that just doesn’t feel quite the same as it did when you were a kid.

In Australia, all primary schools had some common sayings that would go around to teach the little ones some manners. Some of them were simple, like ‘you get what you get and you don’t get upset,’ or ‘no hat, no play.’ In fact, the ‘no hat, no play’ was so common that kids ended up sticking ‘no school today, so pack your bags and run away’ at the end of it. But the one that stuck with people the most was:
‘Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.’

He thinks it’s because it was followed by two random people who did some miming and acted in front of the whole school, but something else in that saying was just a key memory for him. But even though it was a core and defining memory, even it faded at the edges, dark and gloomy despite the fact that it was probably a sunny day like no other in Australia. But Chan was left thinking about the words that were left unsaid. Everything that was left behind in the wind, but never properly said. Perhaps they were held back by polite respect. Or maybe by something more sinister, like trying to prevent themselves from being scolded. But all those words left unsaid also made him worry. Made him actually think about everything that he has said to them, every critique, every word. Every word he didn’t say but he thought. Because it wasn’t really about the words that mattered. It was about the person.

You're getting desperate.

Chapter Text

Utilitarianism
/jʊˌtɪlɪˈtɛːriənɪz(ə)m/
noun
The doctrine that actions are right if they are useful or for the benefit of a majority.

Chan didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to feel. Having some of the closest people ignore your existence for 5 days is supposed to be heartbreaking. But oddly enough, he couldn’t bring himself to cry. He wasn’t really sure why, after all, he could feel his heart clenching and tears forming, but they never fell or did much more. If anything, it made him feel a little silly. Why would anyone look after him anyways? He was supposed to be helping the others, he was the self-sufficient one, he was the leader. Chan should take care of his kids. If he wasn’t so useless, maybe he could finally enjoy some time with the rest of the group members. They were probably having the time of their lives without him holding them back.

The first time he left his room, he found food at the side of his door like a peace offering. It was somewhat warm and next to it sat a colder box of takeout, seemingly from last night. He was a bit confused on who placed it there, since the kids usually wrote a note so that they could have bragging rights later, but it was always filled with nice and encouraging messages that reminded him to take showers and eat food. The notes stopped telling him to go to bed though, there was no hope in that one.

Whether or not they left the food there for concern or pity, Chan reasoned that if they actually didn’t care about him, they wouldn’t have left anything at all. Because when people hate another, they go out of their way to make their life miserable or pretend that they aren’t there. If the group hated him, they definitely wouldn’t leave food outside his door. Right?

If he was going to be honest, he was just festering on his laptop so that the fans wouldn’t be disappointed with a flop. None of the songs actually flopped, their most ‘hated’ songs were actually their most popular ones, but Chan just didn’t like how some of the bars hit. To be fair, some of the LEAVEs were actually right in saying that some of their song lyrics were generic and cringe. He could understand how others might feel. Of course, he didn’t get paid just to put out some crappy music, so he’d try hard for the fans. Always for the fans.

If he didn’t work, would they still love him the same?

Yes, they had won 120 awards consisting of MAMAs, Golden Disks and Billboard, but how much was he actually contributing to the group compared to the rest of them? Was he actually enough? He didn’t really feel like he was doing much, even if fans did joke that all he did was work. Hell, he had barely gone on Bubble these past few days because he had been staring at the notes on the screen for so long.

With all his sulking done for now, Chan decided to just eat the food that was left at the door. It appeared to be some curry with donkkaseu on the side. The sauce started to leak into the rice until it became soggy and unappetising, but it was better than the instant noodles and microwave rice with spam that he had been eating for the past… week. The donkkaseu wasn’t crispy anymore, the crunchy breadcrumb outer layer closer to a loaf of bread that had been sitting in the pantry for a couple of days. The curry’s colour seemed to be a bit greener than usual, which should have sent alarm bells into any sane person’s head, but Chan could genuinely care less about getting food poisoning. He’d probably taste it again later anyways.

Brrr. Brrr.

His lack of ringtone nearly makes him jump as his phone aggressively vibrates on the table, shaking away the flashing images of the dance practice routine that was recorded a week ago. In the video, Minho leading and teaching the others patiently like always, stepping up and demanding attention so that everyone can get their parts right. He was everything that Chan wasn’t. Patiently waiting for them to get it right, perfectly fluid with his movements and not even showing a hint of anger when they made a mistake. Jealousy hugged Chan tight enough to feel a sharp pain in his abdomen. He should really stop feeling like this, especially when it’s the groupmates that he himself chose, and fought over and over for them to stay.

“CHANNIE-HYUNG!” An overexcited Jisung screamed through the phone speaker. Chan’s laugh was light. Airy. He was glad that someone had finally called, and that he had picked up so that they could speak with each other. A small glimmer of hope, one might say. But he could sense the request or desperate attempt to get help at the other end of the sentence. After all, what other reason would they have to call?

“QUICK, HYUNG! FELIX AND SEUNGMIN ARE GONNA BURN DOWN THE HOUSE, WE’RE AT HYUNJIN’S-” His voice was abruptly cut off with a grainy crackle of a signal dropping. Maybe they dropped the phone, or maybe they turned it off on purpose so that they only got the message and didn’t call to talk about how he’s actually doing or if he wants to actually come over. 

Chan of course drove to Hyunjin’s house as quickly as possible, taking around 10 minutes. Despite having a house generally close to each other, he practically lived in the dorms of the JYPE building, preferring to have quicker access to files and song ideas whenever he had a moment of inspiration in the middle of the night. But as he slowed down in front of the house, he started to wonder if they would have called him just to have a brekkie with him. Or would he have to have had the surprisingly lukewarm curry by himself in his room? Although he had his own place, his own room in JYPE, neither really felt like home, because the kids were never there. He never hosted their little sleepovers or gatherings. He stayed at the back to make sure that there was a clear view of the kids. Because if he didn’t, then perhaps he wouldn’t be able to find them again.

As he expected, there were remnants of a sleepover that he wasn’t invited to. He wasn’t angry, considering that they probably mentioned it to him a week or so prior when he hadn’t locked himself into a room, but it still hurt. They didn’t bother to check up on him or confirm that he was going. It wasn’t like they would have kicked him out if he went, but he was so sure that they wouldn’t have cared whether or not he was there.

You’re not important to them.

Felix and Seungmin were indeed covered in pancake mix with a bowl in their hands with whatever amalgamation that they had created. Chan nearly gave a breathless laugh as it reminded him of the one live where they burnt all the food. It seems that their culinary skills didn’t exactly apply when cooking together.

“Hyung, are you okay? You’ve been staring at the mess for a while… I promise we didn’t mean to let it get this bad.” Felix said softly, putting his hand on Chan’s shoulder from behind. “Are you mad?”

“Of course not, I’m just thinking about how to clean this all up…” 

Seungmin yelled across the kitchen with a wide grin on his face. “Hyung, you’re so old! It took you like forever to get here!”

Chan’s smile fell slightly. It wasn’t for long, but it was long enough for Seungmin to notice his falter. He braced for an insult or a disparaging comment. Of course he was already half 56, but who was he to think about age. He wasn’t that old, he knew that. Even then, there was a subtle backhanded comment he made as a joke. Any other time, Chan would have laughed, but he couldn’t bring himself to force the happiness on his face again. He was too tired to match their joy, even though he longed to be free and a bit reckless with them. But he had to step up, be a leader and learn to deal with things on his own. The kids looked up to him. 

When he looked back up slowly to Seungmin’s face, he was met with the tendrils of sadness where he couldn’t think straight. It was almost like a voice whispering in the back of his mind. It grasped around his neck and face, creating an odd heat of embarrassment that he couldn’t understand nor will away. 

You’re pushing 28 asking ‘who am I?’

Seungmin-ah, 미안한데, 지금… uh-” He couldn’t think of the words in Korean, the syllables tumbling out of his mouth like mumble raps. The next words never left his mouth, worry filling his member’s eyes as he struggled to even create a sentence. Was he finally shutting down? Maybe he had been destroying himself trying to make music and create a safe space for his fans and members. His reasoning of course was that if he was working to benefit everyone else, it was the right thing to do, it didn’t matter if he was slowly killing himself. 

(Seungming, I'm sorry but right now... uh-")

He let out a long sigh, half a groan if you’d ask Seungmin, but he got some paper towels and started to clean the kitchen. He didn’t even bother putting on an apron, which seemed to alarm Felix who immediately fussed about him getting pancake mix on his clothes, even though he was arguably worse for wear.

Are you even paying attention to the words being said?

“Hyung, I think you should take a nap. Sleep a little.” Changbin said worriedly. Despite his casual tone, he was still deeply concerned about his leader. About the album, about everything. Hyunjin put down his pencil from where he was drawing and walked up to him.

“Chan, if you keep this up, you’ll end up destroying yourself.” He said softly, the words seemingly tumbling out of his mouth of unease.

“No… I should have done this before, worked on the album so that you can all do this without… I'm worrying you all.”

“Hyung. You’re supposed to use ‘should’ when you’ve done something wrong because you didn’t do something properly. Right now, you’re doing everything you can to make us and STAY happy. There is no reason for you to ever say that you ‘should’ have done better, because you’re doing the best you can.” Hyunjin was stern, yet comforting. His voice was as melodical as it would have been if he was singing, and yet Chan couldn’t get over how all of his  members were perfect. How they comforted him in times of need. How they managed to do it, he’ll never know.

Thankfully, the rest of the morning was quiet and slower than whatever chaos they had thrown up 30 minutes prior. Chan was finally getting some rest he needed, asked about the mystery food and unsurprisingly got no answer. They chatted around, didn’t speak much to him other than to tell him to go to bed or go to the gym with Changbin and Jisung later, which he accepted but was worried since he wasn’t directly asked by the people who were actually going. They of course didn’t seem to mind that much, but he still felt unconscious that they hadn’t invited him like he usually would. 

Maybe they don’t want you anymore.

“야, 빨리와, we’re waiting for you.” Chan said to Jisung who hurriedly came over to the rest of 3RACHA with a small duffle bag to go to the gym for an early session. Changbin slapped a hand on Chan’s back and made a comment about some new drill that he wanted to try together. He had no clue on what Changbin had actually just said, but he smiled and nodded anyway, trying not to break the energy of the room so far.  The rest of the kids would be staying home and doing whatever they want, with Minho looking after them as always.

(Hey, hurry up and get over here. We’re waiting for you.)

Why do they bother to work out with you?

Chan wondered how Jisung and Changbin could put up with him honestly. If he was them, he’d definitely get somewhat frustrated that things weren’t working out. Even his muscles were protesting as they hopped into a car, not used to moving as much when he had spent the last couple of days sulking and being an angsty Year 6 all over again. Jeez, what was up with him? It wasn’t like his life was actually that hard, all he had to do was make music, sing, dance and rap and make some videos to the world. He didn’t have to deal with a dysfunctional family, a toxic work environment or crappy siblings. Hannah and Lucas were great, he had no problems with them and Hannah was following in his footsteps. She had a beautiful voice and amazing ideas and was so much more progressive than he was. And most importantly, she was happier, having fun and enjoying her life. He was proud of them and couldn’t wish anything bad upon them. But the universe was cruel. It didn’t let him have fun or actually enjoy holing up in his studio to finish all the work that needed to be done.

So why was it that he always felt like his life was about to fall apart, even if the next thing to do was as simple as working out? He couldn’t be bothered, he even forgot that he needed to check out Hannah’s new album. Guilt and regret choked his neck again. He couldn’t focus on the words that Jisung and Changbin were saying, and of course, the hand around the neck became tighter and tighter until he almost couldn’t breathe anymore. But no matter how much he tried to focus on the passing of trees and houses as they drove down the street to get to the gym, he couldn’t shake the hand off his neck. And the voice behind the hand spoke to him again. 

Why don’t you let me say some things to them?

Chapter Text

Qualification
/ˌkwɒlɪfɪˈkeɪʃn/
noun
A condition that must be fulfilled before a right can be acquired; an official requirement.

Chan wasn’t quite sure if he was satisfied with his session when Jisung and Changbin decided that they needed to go buy some food. After around 15 minutes, they had arrived back at Hyunjin’s place, the others eating some lunch that they had probably had delivered. It wasn’t everyday that he was somewhat forcefully dragged out of the studio to eat, after all the room was packed with instant noodles, microwave rice, spam and dried seaweed. He reasoned that since the album was finally done now, he could let this outing slide.

Jeez, uptight much. Why do you even care about how good the album is anymore? Considering how much the fans love you, they’ll listen to it like it’s their favourite song regardless of if they actually like it or not.

Pushing back against those thoughts, Chan had to once again try and be satisfied with just sitting around and having fun. It was exhausting, being on edge and forcing enjoyment on himself all the time. But as guilty as he might feel, he honestly didn’t enjoy hanging out with them anymore. Of course, he would still love them and do whatever he can for them, but he felt that he needed to step back, and create some distance between him and the rest of the group. It was safer. 

It was probably because Chris had become restless. That all he had to do was hold out until he found something to focus his full attention on again, just deep enough to let his disassociate from the monotonous voices that filled his ears every time they tried to get him to speak. The voices expected a response, even just a simple nod or nod of acknowledgement. Unfortunately, they never got one. Even now, Chan could tell that they were asking him a question, but he didn’t have the strength to respond or even look in their direction. He merely sat on the couch and didn’t do much else. He didn’t eat, he didn’t speak, just simply existing in space and time. It was all he could do, and even then, it was difficult. 

Chan wholeheartedly believed that he wasn’t worth anything other than his compositions, but he wasn’t sure if the words he wrote down were him anymore. They were just lyrics that falsified his heart, a lie that was continuing to snowball and couldn’t stop. Maybe Chan was gaslighting himself, or maybe it was Chris, absentmindedly telling him that he didn’t truly change the K-Pop industry, no matter how many people told him that he was. But regardless, he felt too greedy just asking for more lines, especially with one of the more recent songs having him sing the chorus every sing time. If he didn’t let his kids grow and outperform him and everything he stood for, then the baseline would be on the floor. It made Chan feel Hollow. It wasn’t that he hated composing, since it was actually one of the only times that Chris was allowed to talk to the others without Chan looking like an arse. So why was it that the days passed with him feeling unsettled?

Now that he thought about it, Chris wasn’t exactly as bad as he was before. He used to tell Chan to leave the kids alone and just… run away. As childish as that sounds, it sometimes felt as if it was the best option. Or the only option. He thought about all the times that he chose to stay in his studio over actually hanging out with the group members that he put together. The ones that he fought so hard to keep them together.

If you don’t want to be a part of that, then why are you still here?

Chan knew that it wouldn’t be very hard. After all, their contract ended soon, meaning he could take his leave and disappear from the idol life and finally get the peace and quiet that he wanted in Sydney. But his head ached, Chris wrapping both hands around his heart as it clenched painfully every time he thought about it. He couldn’t even tell if Chris wanted him to leave the group or not, considering how he was annoyingly both detached and possessive at the same time. He didn’t know how else to describe it to be honest, how could you be so protective over some people that you wished you weren’t as close to? It was selfish to want to stay away so that he wouldn’t be hurt again, because he picked out his members for a reason, and he was worried that maybe, they’ll leave him. 

“Channie-Hyung, Hyunjin has that pottery live he wanted to do, so do you want to go with Jeongin and I to the dance practice rooms? I was going to teach him the new choreo we edited together, but I figured that you’d want to be there to see if there were any adjustments to be made.” Minho’s voice finally snapped Chan out of his trance on the couch. He turned his head surprised, but quickly felt like Minho was just treating him like he needed an intervention. 

“Don’t you dare say anything, Chris” Chan warned mentally. Gosh, if Chris managed to say anything hurtful that he would go curl up in a ball and never come out of his room ever again. Minho’s eyes gave off such a hopeful smile, but he wanted to just watch it fall and crumble. Even before the thought, he could feel the headache and stomach churning, Chris punching his gut as his breathing felt too shallow. He could taste his meal before he came here. It already felt horrible, but Chris’ impending doom felt like another wound to patch up with minimal bandages.

“I’ll come watch when you actually learn the meaning of the song.”

The words that flowed so smoothly out of his mouth felt bitter and sour on his tongue. He wasn’t really sure why he said it, but he really shouldn’t be complaining when he can’t even keep Chris in control. It had been a while since Chan had his last outburst, but he could still feel guilt bubbling up his throat and foaming at his mouth like rabies. He stared right into Minho’s eyes without an inch of doubt or hesitance showing on his face, and he was honestly sick of himself not being able to connect with his group anymore. It wasn’t as if he was trying to, but there wasn’t a need for him to have fun. He shouldn’t even be allowed to. 

Jeongin looked confused, hurt even. As if he was silently asking why on Earth his leader would say something like that.

“Hyu- … re… -kay? … slee-?” Chan didn’t comprehend whatever the maknae said, Chris gently covering his ears with his hands from behind, looming over his decision like a pastor who decided that his sins were too great to cleanse. He could almost see his movements in third person as he walked the other direction towards the stairs, forcing his feet one after another to get to the safety of the bathroom.

“I really just said that, didn't I?” Chan was a fool. He was enough of a fool to expect comfort from one with a hollow heart who had already been filled by the colour of another’s presence.

Chapter Text

Incomprehensible
/ɪnˌkɒmprɪˈhɛn(t)sɪbl,ˌɪnkɒmprɪˈhɛn(t)sɪbl/
adjective
Not able to be understood; not intelligible.

Chan put his hands in his pockets feeling the grit at the end of the linings of the junk and scraps of paper he had from when he accidentally left a sheet of lyrics inside for the wash. The clips of white still rose from his pocket no matter how many times he ‘cleaned’ it out. Chris criticized him endlessly about it, but what’s done is done, and he can’t take it back.

Much like the words he said earlier in the day. It wasn’t fair that no matter how well he was doing, how he was trying to write original lyrics or how he had managed to do an extra rep today. It would all come down  to this all because Chris wanted to have a voice for once. Of course, he felt bad that Chris wasn’t able to speak both with and for him anymore, but he was an adult now. He was expected to control his impulses, be more considerate and work hard so others shouldn’t have to. Chan often wondered, would he still have the opportunity to have a fulfilling life, despite everything that had just occurred? Sure he would never be lonely, but how long would Chris put up with his bullshit, considering how tired he was of chan putting others and the fans first? He always felt guilty, knowing that no matter how hard he pushed himself to do better, he would never be able to listen to Chris and truly let himself leave freely. 

His fingers once again dragged out another disgusting line of shredding paper, wondering what words he had written on it. Surely they would have been good if chan had decided to write it down. But shouldn’t he just… remember if it was so important? He wanted to know. What had been in his pocket that was so significant enough for him to write down but forget so easily? Chan sometimes wished that things could have gone better, like whatever he had said an hour or two ago. He wasn’t sure how long he had stayed in the room, but it was dark out from what he could see. 

He was tired, oh so tired. He had already gone through the messages on Bubble a few hundred hundred times. There were some concerning ones, like the ones on Instagram that described how he had changed someone’s life, or how they were thankful but tired. Of course he had to reply to some of them, telling them that it’d be okay, but could he take care of the kids and the fandom, when he could barely keep himself alive? He hoped that whoever Aster was, that they’d keep themselves safe. Away from the cruelty of their mind’s torment unlike his own. So they could finally find rest in what normally isn’t comforting. 

He emptied out the last of the pockets’ junk, for the last time hopefully, and abandoned the empty, hollow eyes of his former members. No, they were still the members, he was the one that no longer belonged. 

Gotta leave them behind to move on, don’t you? 

Chan rolled his eyes, wrapping up his hands with the inner linings of his favourite, well-worn jacket. The evening was cold and dry, making him wish that he was able to have common sense and at least bring a phone or wallet. The trees glistened under the moonlight, almost as if they were mocking him. Mocking him for his lack of simple safety, how nobody would know if he were to disappear. And maybe that would turn out to be a good thing. 

Since Chan was an absolute lunatic, he just needed a convenience store who would hopefully recognise him so that he could get some free food. Unethical? Definitely, but he needed to eat something since he threw up all of the curry from earlier. Obviously, he didn’t mean for all their hard work to go to waste, whoever made it in the first place was very kind. But he wasn’t smart and didn’t eat it in small enough portions, which made him feel full enough to turn the toilet water a disgusting shade of yellow-brown. The feeling of feeling full, the fact that his lean, yet toned body no longer looks or feels like what it does on stage felt uncomfortable. He felt uncomfortable in his own skin.

The wind picked up and bit his skin, raising goosebumps. Damn, his train of thought kept getting impacted by outside factors. He should really stop getting distracted but-

Would you look at that? We’re at the convenience store.

“어머, 방찬씨! It’s such an honour to have you with us, please feel free to grab whatever you like!” The clerk was so kind, so innocent. Not yet prepared for the cruel intentions that Chris craved. 

(Oh my, Bangchan-ssi!)

He almost felt bad for robbing this poor person. Almost. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t feeling any remorse, actually no scratch that. He definitely knew that Chris loved the thrill of getting away with ‘service’ and the leniency that came with his name. He felt the quite literal stab of pain in his stomach as Chris laughed somewhere in the back of his mind. Figures, he’d been quieter nowadays. He stepped into the store with a polite bow and a greeting, when he was immediately ushered further into the stall with compliments and smiles. He nodded gratefully as she recommended him a coffee that might suit his tastes, a hot can of caramel macchiato. Then he picked up a roll of kimbap, letting Chris finally speak a piece of his mind for once. Chan was careful, seeing as though what happened last time. 

“Ah, I apologise. I seem to have forgotten my wallet. Would it be alright if I step out for a moment to grab it?” He thanked the heavens above that Chris had been kind enough not to say anything incriminating to the beautiful person standing behind the counter. Despite what had happened earlier today, the universe seemed somewhat pleased with him. 

“Of course! Actually, don’t tell anyone, but this one’s on me.” The clerk half-whispered. They grinned, unknowingly falling into their place on the chess board. Chan apologised and accepted the gift, slightly flustered that he managed to pull it off, but he didn’t particularly want to steal from a random store, but he needed to eat something to survive the next couple of days.

There were lots of sketchy alleys if you walk far enough from the city. There are lots of sketchy alleys in the city as well, so it wasn’t a surprise that everyone left him alone when he pulled up the hood of his jacket and sat in between a corner and an empty dumpster. It was grimy, so dirty compared to the chaotic cleanliness of his room. Sure, everything was all over the place, but had a system, and everyone knew that. Maybe this was the time to take a break, he could rest for a week with everyone away, maybe stay at a friend’s house or visit Hannah. She was in Korea for the time being. But he longed for something more permanent. Maybe even death. He had thought about it for a while now, and it seemed like the best option. Chan sometimes even questioned if a God was really out there, but of course he couldn’t think like that. Maybe his time had just come, and that he wasn’t meant to grow old or have kids. Taking care of 7 members was tiring enough, especially when they can do so much better without him holding him back. It was almost disturbing how he seemed to be the one always holding them back, always making songs, ruining events, saying the wrong things. If the universe be damned, he could even say that he was a problem. The kids would never let him believe it, but only fools believe what they are told. He couldn’t believe the lies, they were made to trick him, to force his hand so that he could continue to slave away in this industry that pays well but takes a toll on his life. He couldn’t, he couldn’t… could he? It was awful, every single word, every single apology, how much of it was the company and how much of it was genuine? How could he move on with such guilt weighing him down?

You can leave to move on. They will do better without you.

He knew Chris was right, that he should leave and never come back. But honestly which way was the best? He read about bleeding out, drowning, hanging… Lord was he really serious about this? He should really go to the pastor. If he was so useless! He could jump, he prayed to get run over by a car or maybe even turn to drugs. He should start a harmful habit, keep himself in his place.

Chan was losing it wasn’t he? He shouldn’t be so upset over himself, over the album. He can make new ones, better ones, it isn’t the end of the world. The warm coffee had turned cold in his lap, the kimbap half eaten and slowly freezing with the late autumn air. Small snowflakes settled on his jacket. He could feel the grit at the bottom again when he shrunk in on himself. He nearly started laughing, what was he doing after all? There was nothing in this world where he could have said anything better. He should just get up and go back to Hyunjin’s or something. 

He stood up slowly, feeling his joints creak from the almost-winter cold. For once, he abandoned the food that was in the corner of the alley, his first crime. His hands, and probably feet, were pale and numb. One foot after another. Over and over and over again, just so that he could make it back to the JYPE building. He figured that it was closer. Just keep moving, one foot after another. Come on, if you can run for so long during cardio with Changbin, you can walk a couple kilometers to JYPE. He couldn’t look up from the pavement, which was now frosted over with a thin layer of snow. It wasn’t particularly noticeable, but he could almost count the little flakes themselves. The snow often reminded him of Jeongin… if only he hadn’t yelled at him earlier today. Or maybe it was yesterday considering how late/early it would be now, a real power move not taking a phone or anything with him really. He really messed everything up, didn’t he? He couldn’t keep anything to himself. 

So the JYPE staff found him, sitting outside with blue lips and a pale face, skin cold to the touch. After a while, Chris stopped crushing his chest, and he felt warm.

Chapter Text

Undesireable
/ˌʌndɪˈzʌɪərəbl/
adjective
Not wanted or desirable because harmful, objectionable, or unpleasant.

Chan was undesirable. It was clear to him the day he got all of his members together that he was the least talented and unworthy member in Stray Kids. Chris lingered in the back of his mind, taunting and mocking him from afar. He didn’t have great dance skills, great rapping or vocals-

Gosh he was repeating himself again.

Over and over and over. Chris’ soft words tells him to leave the world that had shown him kindness but he chose to ignore, unable to requite the sincerity of STAYs or determination of his managers. Gosh how had it come to this? Laying in a private medical room with the fluorescent lights overstimulating his eyes and the smell of antiseptic which Chris tried to claw out of his throat. Just a few days ago, or maybe weeks ago now, he was laying on his bed, fixing all the mistakes he had made for the new album. There wasn’t a looming feeling back then… right? No, this was all new, it's just how it had always been. He couldn’t put a label on something that wasn’t real, considering how there were people out there starving, alone and struggling to survive. How could he have a label of depression if there were other people actually struggling out there? 

Yes. Chan did have scars along his upper thighs. They’re so thin and small that you could barely notice them without makeup on, and they didn’t need that much concealer to hide either. He didn’t find any sadness or joy dragging the blade of a stationary knife along the top of his legs. He actually didn’t want to feel the pain that much at all. But seeing the bloom of red soon after made him realise that he was still indeed human. The cuts weren’t that deep, and Chris reasoned that if they’re not that deep, then you aren’t really self harming at all. Chan didn’t have the same intentions as everyone else, whether it be wanting to feel something or punishing themselves for whatever reason. He didn’t have any motives to feel somewhat satisfied with the amount of cuts on his legs. He just wanted them to be there because… well it felt right to him. Regardless of the reasons why they were there, it wasn’t that big of a deal for the nurse to be asking about them right now. 

Speaking of the nurse, she seemed to have been talking to him for the past half-hour or so. Whatever she was talking about, it wasn’t registering through Chan’s mind. It felt like he was speaking lies to him. He couldn’t be depressed or that nonsense, he was an idol. His life is supposed to be perfect and carefree. Whatever. His kids were entering the room now, their faces blurry, vague shapes of their mouths opening and closing as the sound seemed to go past him, unable to take root in his mind. He’s trying so, so hard to pay attention, but he realised that he’d been staring at the empty spot where the nurse was standing not too long ago. 

“We should have seen the signs.” Someone had said. “It was so obvious that something was wrong wasn’t it? Looking back at it now at least.” 

That made Chan confused. What did they mean it was so obvious? Surely he had been doing a good job at not becoming a burden on the others? Were they already annoyed that he wasn’t acting like he was supposed to, acting normal? Nobody really admits that someone has the ‘signs’ in the first place anyways, since it’s ‘always easier to apologise than to acknowledge something was wrong.’ It was always attention seeking, problematic behaviour or being overly dramatic. Everyone gets sad from time to time after all. It was easier to give someone pills than to actually sit down with them, ask them what's wrong and stop them from dragging the blade across their-

Gosh was he thinking about this again? Why didn’t he just forget about it already? There were even other JYPE staff who were entering just to ask so many questions.

“How are you feeling?”

“What happened?”

“Why didn’t you ask for help?”

“We have psychologists available for you.”

“Are you trying to kill yourself?”

It didn’t matter how desperate they were to receive answers. Because they didn’t really think about it from his perspective. He didn’t exactly want to think like a narcissist, but could they please hold off their personal curiosity and satisfaction for one moment so that he could just breathe and take his time? He wasn’t even really sure of the reason himself, so why was he expected to give an answer in return? 

Nobody is here to help you, are they? 

Chris’ voice was actually softer. There wasn’t a sharp edge to it like there usually was. He wasn’t choking him, or stabbing him in the gut today. He almost sounded sad, or disappointed. But what was there to be disappointed about? If anything, Chan deserved the treatment he was getting. He wasn’t abused or had a difficult life, he had no reason to be acting the way he is? There was no trauma, no significant life-altering event… nothing. 

“You didn’t even think about what would happen to us, did you?” one of the staff had said. They were right. He hadn’t thought about the consequences of the potentially traumatic impact on his members and staff. What would happen to his parents? Hannah? Lucas? He was pretty sure he heard their voices, probably one of the bustling noises that he was so desperately trying to fade into the background. The lights were too bright, everything was too loud, the bedsheets felt more like paper than fabric. He could feel the individual fibers running under his skin and making him uncomfortable. Would they notice if he just stopped dealing with all the stuff that he was supposed to? What if he finally just stopped working, found an actual hobby instead of just pumping out cringe lyrics and false words. He was already so close to just collapsing on stage at a concert, why should he spend time on something that clearly nobody focused on. As long as the beat was good, the non-korean stays wouldn’t know anything. They weren’t worldwide known like BTS, they weren’t played on radio stations back in Australia, they weren’t anyone special.

Yet.

His wrists ache from being on that laptop for the whole week. His eyes hurt from the blue light of his phone and computer, and his legs hurt from just sitting down for so long. He could hear his dance instructor berating him for not showing up in ages. The only ones that don’t really speak are his members. He’s being reprimanded now, for being so careless and distracted, for not making an effort during dance practices and vocal coaching. For not reaching out and asking for help. For not being enough.

Gosh why did he have to be enough? Why couldn’t he just be like everyone else and just get over his sadness? They’re mad because he doubted himself and is pushing everyone away. They’re mad because he wasn’t good enough. They were mad because he wasn’t the perfect idol like he should be on stage. He’s supposed to be reliable and dependable, and he’s crumbling down in his own world just because he can’t live for himself. How was he supposed to love if he can’t even love himself? It was disappointing for the fans to look up to a depressed and anxious idol, no he had to be better than that.

To his relief, the staff left the room, leaving some disappointed and angry Stray Kids members. He didn’t even try to talk to them, to defend his actions because he knew that there was a possible explanation that he could tell them. He could tell by the way that Felix’s lips curved downwards more than usual, that Jeongin his eyes slightly narrowed as if judging his every move. Hyunjin didn’t even dare look at him, opting to look towards Changbin and Minho instead. Jisung spoke up first. 

“Hyung? Why did you do that? We were worried, you know.”

“Everything’s fine. I’m here aren’t I?” Chris’s voice was so much smoother with lies now. He was almost glad that Chris was able to lie for him. He seemed to be leaning against him, like a small warm fire instead of the cold and looming presence that was often following him around. 

“That’s not what he asked.” Minho seemed to always be on the same wavelength as Jisung, no matter what. It's probably why they were always shipped together, and why the managers let them. It brought in more revenue. It wasn’t practical, it was turning their fondness and inseparability into something marketable, but they couldn’t exactly do much about it.

Chan shrugged, not exactly sure on what he should be doing considering how he barely talked to anyone in the past few weeks. He should have found himself by now. Knowing what he likes, doesn’t like, what he wants to achieve. That’s the goal of life isn’t it? To achieve something. But wanting to be everything that you aren’t isn’t practical. Maybe a nice car, or quieter life in the countryside with a family and some friends. But no matter what ‘practical’ goal he could think of, it just wouldn’t work. Even now, answering a question so simple as ‘why did you do that?’ is so difficult to answer. 

He didn’t have a whole life ahead of him. From his perspective, he threw it all away years ago when he decided that he wanted to become an idol. Yes, he met amazing people, got to do some collabs that he could only dream of, but was the recognition worth it? Even now, he used it to get warm coffee and kimbap, which he ended up not even eating. He was manipulative, using his fame for something that he wasn’t proud of. How could he live if all he could do was use his image for selfish reasons?

“Chan. Talk to us. What’s going on?” Felix’s voice was baritone, almost reaching a bass that rang out a soft chord if it was early enough in the morning. It was laced with a slightly higher inflection which raised a concern. Gosh he wasn’t doing this for his kids at all, was he? It was so, so selfish. 

“Sorry. It’s something I have to deal with myself. I shouldn’t burden you guys with something you can’t exactly help with.” 

“It doesn’t matter if we’re burdened or not, it’s clearly affecting you so negatively that you went out into the cold without a phone, wallet, anything. Whatever you’re dealing with, it’s heavier than our problems right now, so each of us helping you won’t affect us as much as you think it would.” He almost looks like he is about to burst into tears. 

Seungmin was already facing a corner, quietly wiping the streams of tears that dampened his sleeves. Minho had already fled to who knows where, but Jisung has his location. They always do. They didn’t need to worry about someone going missing, or staying out in the cold biting air or whatever. No, they were normal, unproblematic. Considering how he had consistently been the issue, being the one getting upset over the recordings, getting stressed about the album and not reaching out. He was the common factor.

Surely you’re not the issue.

Chan was silent for the rest of the night, giving soft nods whenever they asked if everything was alright, the temperature, the clothes, everything. He couldn’t complain about such trivial matters if all he had ever done was mess things up. Minho had gone out of his way to get him some food, not the disgusting food that they had stored in the nurse’s room. It was clear that he had been crying, his eyes were slightly puffy and there was a gloss to them that didn’t seem normal. His lips were tighter than usual and he stared straight on as he offered the food to Chan. He couldn’t deny that he was hungry, but he knew that he would get a taste of it later if he ate it right now. Was he really struggling? Or was he doing it for attention? Was this a cry for help or did he actually need to find a solution? Surely that someone as accomplished as him wouldn’t need to be supported, he already had such a large fanbase, there were people out there who would die to be in his position and people who are dying because they don’t even have food. He doesn’t have the right to be throwing things up when there are people out there with real problems. With real issues that needed to be seen and dealt with. 

His efforts were as shallow and thin like the faint white and harsh red that crossed his upper thighs. He must be doing it for attention. Nobody who actually wanted to die did this to themselves. 

I need to stop being a coward.

Chapter Text

Contradictory
/ˌkɒntrəˈdɪkt(ə)ri/
adjective
Mutually opposed or inconsistent.

Everyone was exhausted. The nurse’s office was now filled with uncomfortable silence, food left untouched. Changbin was nice enough to stay the night, everyone else went to bed. Chan hated being here, they didn’t ask if he needed to talk to someone, they just made their way through all the social media apps to check that nobody had recorded him. He couldn’t be flawed, he was an idol, he didn’t have the right to be sad or angry. There wasn't much to say to Changbin, he didn’t even say goodbye to the rest of his members. They all went to their dorms instead of their houses, so that they could be watched. Observed so that his mistakes cannot be replicated whatsoever. 

“You should leave.” He said to Changbin. His voice had a slight crack,  a waver that wasn’t there whenever Chris had helped him deal with a conversation. He didn’t really mean that, but it was easier to wish that he wasn’t so lonely when nobody was actually there. He wasn’t quite sure how to explain it. Being lonely felt horrible, but it felt unnatural and disgusting when he felt this way even when there was someone around. It made him feel like he wasn’t being a true friend, member or hyung. When other people feel lonely, they’re actually alone. They aren’t doing some twisted, backwards reasoning that Chan uses to give himself some comfort but ultimately ends up feeling as solitary as he was before. He wasn’t even in a real hospital like people who actually have mental illnesses, he was merely sulking about life in a JYPE nurse’s room. If only he could tell them about his thoughts.

That’s the thing isn’t it? You can tell them, you just don’t want to.

Chris was right. He should be telling them. But how could he be so selfish and just talk about his feelings and wanting to have a break from everything when he was the one that fought so hard to debut as an OT8 and not an OT6? He picked his members, he knew what he was getting into and he has counted on them since the beginning. The problem wasn’t that they wouldn’t take it well, it’s that he’s too much of a coward to face the consequences of confessing his thoughts. 

“I’m not leaving you here hyung.” Changbin sternly stated. It was clear that he wasn’t going to leave any time soon. “You still haven’t eaten.”

Why was it that Chan was always wrong? No matter how much he paid attention to the fans or made sure that everyone had had enough water on a scorching day, it was always better to watch everyone from a distance instead of continuing to embarrass himself. He shook his head slightly. No way that Changbin was risking his own health and wellbeing just because he hasn’t eaten?

“It’s not like you guys need to be here, you should go out and have some breakfast or whatever plans you guys have. Maybe get some sleep. I disturbed it after all.” Chan offered Changbin a chance to leave, so why was he so angry? Was it because he wasted his time all for Chan to make a fool of himself once again? Was it-

“Gosh hyung stop being so selfless and think about yourself for once! Have you ever considered that we care about you? We need you here for use, we love you! You can’t just keep doing this to us!” Oh Changbin was really mad now, his eyes had a slight scrunch, he had even turned around. He could almost feel the anger and disappointment radiating off of him, but that wasn’t unusual. Chan was disappointing and irritating. He was more confused than anything. The kids had made it clear that they wanted nothing to do with him the past couple of days, why is Changbin suddenly saying otherwise?

Maybe I’m overthinking it.

Gosh Chris is right again.  Of course Chan is wrong and they need to get some help, not that Chris would ever admit it to anyone else. No, they were too prideful.

They both left shortly after. No matter how desperate Chan was to go back home, he unfortunately had to arrive into their empty dorm room. They must all be talking about him behind his back in a collective dorm sleepover without him. It made sense, considering how you don’t talk about someone to their face. Or maybe they were out somewhere planning to drag him into an intervention program, or filming something or making an announcement to STAYs.

STAYs were relying on him, how could he still sit by and sulk when there was stuff to do and songs to make? He hadn’t even checked on the new updates and feedback for the new album. The countless hours of putting in last minute effort, and for some reason Chan could still hear the endless strains of vocals and reverb. He didn’t want to think about it for now.

—

Maybe a month or so later, Chan had started on another album and the group was recording again. It started small, like how Jisung couldn’t quite get the high note, or how Changbin’s raps weren’t as strong as he would’ve liked. It didn’t usually take this long, but at least it wasn’t as bad as their pre-debut days where there was a constant stress to outperform the other competitors. To top it all off, Chris had been annoying him endlessly about all the minor imperfections that you could hear throughout the song. As he tried drowning his unproductiveness in coffee, yet another ‘addiction’ he had been falling, Jisung tapped on the glass three times. Three times again, gosh did he hate that sound. 

“Hyung, we’ve been doing this for two hours. Can’t we take a break?”

“Just one more, yeah? And make it a bit more of the fluid thing that we talked about earlier, it sounds a bit strained right now.” Chan compromised. He felt a lingering guilt bubbling up in the back of his mind, that he needed to get the rough drafts of this new album so that he can release it and be free for the next couple of weeks again. It wasn’t even deja vu anymore, it was just an endless cycle of dancing, singing and putting up with the capitalism that had overtaken their company and mind. He was in the exact same situation as a couple of weeks ago, and look where that led him. He didn’t even get help for it, just a warning to get his life together or they’ll need to force him into a hiatus. 

“It was fine, Hyung. Hyunjin and Felix are waiting for us, we’re already 20 minutes behind schedule. We have a life outside of this too you know.” Changbin snapped. It was like the hospital conversation all over again. Chan knew that he didn’t mean for it to come out as sharp as it did, but he could see the exhaustion on Jisung’s face, where Felix was sending them messages, asking where they were and if they were still coming to their plans today. Felix made sure that it was alright if they weren’t but who would allow him to be let down by his own members? 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t consider-”

“You NEVER consider our plans, we always have to adjust our timetable to yours. It’s honestly getting tiring, can’t we just do whatever?”

Chan was pretty shocked, but the years of being reprimanded by his seniors had taught him to keep calm. Anger brings more yelling. Fear brings more anger. The studio hadn’t been booked out by anyone else, so he just thought that maybe he could spend a little bit more time, order some jjajangmyon and mess around on set like they used to. But he could feel the weighted silence as the three of them walked out and went to their dorms, the afternoon’s activities cancelled for the day. He awkwardly shuffled to the kitchen island as the conversations died down, those who had been eating a late lunch now stared at their food. They were probably disgusted by his behaviour, and were ignoring him. Surely they would be mad about a couple weeks ago, and considering how he hadn’t changed much, they were definitely within their rights to be mad. 

Maybe he shouldn’t have come in. But he simply grabbed one of the water bottles from the community food stock and went to seek out Young-Hyun. He wasn’t sure where he was, but Day6 usually had Saturday’s off, so he should be somewhere around the common areas for lounging. But after not being able to find him whatsoever, he knocked on their dorm room door. 

“Channie-ah… what are you doing here? Come in, come in.” Young-Hyun was so comforting. It was almost a pity that there wasn’t a real problem for Chan to share with him. But whatever, he was here now, and he was behind, held gently in his arms. He couldn’t have asked for more. It wasn’t like the self-degradation was unusual… if you could even call it that. So why did he feel so useless and powerless now? The days were degrading and there was absolutely nothing he could do to make himself a better person. He was eternally doomed to fail. He should be stronger, stronger for the fans. Stronger for Chris.

“Hyung. Please. I don’t want to be here anymore and I don’t know what to do.”