Work Text:
It feels late when Chan finally unglues himself from his laptop, frustration running down his throat as he swallows his disappointment. The song he’s been working on had been going fine— great, even— until two hours ago, when he’d hit a wall. He rarely gets creative burnout, but there’s something missing in this one. A certain beat, a harmony, a top note. Something. He knows what he wants from it because he’s talked about it extensively with Changbin and Jisung. Now if he could just figure it out—
He rolls his chair back and looks to the ceiling, deciding to cut his night off here. Running into a wall again and again won’t help him and he knows it. Despite his desire to keep going, he knows it will only end in even worse disappointment.
With great difficulty, he packs up his things. When he checks the clock, it’s still early for him— barely eight in the evening, and he feels stiff. Cooped up too long in this room.
When he gets outside and breathes the cool night air, he itches to do more. His feet carry him to the gym, the path well-worn by now. He has a change of clothes in his bag from when he’d planned to go to the gym two nights ago before he’d been swallowed up in his work and gotten back to the dorm too late and too tired for it, so he’s prepared when he steps into the locker room.
It’s easy to get on the treadmill, easy to set up a nice jog, to feel his blood pumping. It makes him feel better, the progress of it. Forward, forward, forward. But it’s still not enough to get the cogs in his mind to start turning again, the song more stuck than ever.
By the time he’s making his way back to the dorms, he can’t shake the feeling of dread. The song needs to be done for this week. He promised the kids and the company it would be done before anything else. He knows they give him his space for things like this, know he has the final say, but—
He’ll have to try when he gets back to his studio the next morning. Right now, he needs a shower and an attempt at sleep, maybe a movie before—
“Hey,” Changbin greets from the couch when he walks in. Chan almost ducks his head, shame bubbling in his stomach. He’s never been scared of Changbin, never been ashamed in front of him, but the song eats at him.
“Hey,” he greets back, almost shy.
Changbin’s eyes skim over him. “Went to the gym?”
Chan stands up a little straighter. Feels caught, for some reason. “Just for a bit.”
“Taking time for yourself?” The words sound neutral enough. They are neutral. They should be. Not the accusation Chan’s brain tries to twist it into.
He swallows, “Yeah. Sorry about the song, it’s still not—”
Changbin looks back to the TV, shrugging. “Don’t worry about it.”
Even though Changbin’s done nothing but shrug, it cuts into him. Any other words die on his tongue, shoulders slumping as he curls in on himself. He feels like a child, reprimanded and dismissed to his room.
He walks away, though. Gets in the shower and his thoughts spiral down the drain with the suds.
It’s been like this for a bit. Since the new dorms, his kids have been left to their own devices, shut into their rooms at night, split by separate dorms during the days. Chan has felt a little more invisible as a result. Sure, they know he goes to the studio, they text him and drop by every so often, but… they don’t barge into his room at night anymore. Don’t walk into him in his bunk, eyes red-rimmed and hands tired as he tweaks the songs over and over again.
It’s been hard, the adjustment. Chan’s still not used to being alone. Not used to separating himself into a lone entity, apart on his own island without his seven other pieces.
“Good boy, Chan. You’re doing a good job.” He pats his wet head, taking in a shuddery breath. He has to be doing good. He has to. For them.
He forgoes his bed when he gets back to his room, setting up on his desk and plugging in his mini-keyboard. He can’t sleep now— not when he has a duty to them as their leader.
+++
A knock at his door wakes him up, three sharp raps.
Chan lifts his groggy head from his desk, laptop open and screen dark in front of him. He pushes himself back, body aching from his gym trip and the unfortunate sleeping position on his chair.
The voice is muffled through the door. “Channie-hyung?”
“‘M coming.” Chan wipes sleep from his eyes as he stumbles over, opening to reveal Hyunjin.
“Oh.” Hyunjin takes in his sorry state, surprise barely disguised, and Chan gets the irrational urge to cover up. “Sorry! I didn’t know you were still asleep this late.”
Dread runs down his spine, cold and piercing. “What time is it?”
“Around four, almost five?”
Shit. He doesn’t remember at what time he’d crashed last night, has no memory of laying his head down, but he’s sure he heard birds singing when he’d worked his way through another drum line to analyze. “Sorry.”
Hyunjin blinks at him, confused. “Sorry?”
“For uh… never mind. What’s up?”
“Jisungie and I are going to eat and we wanted to see if you’d like to join us?”
“I…” he shifts from one foot to another. “I can’t. I have to finish the song this week.”
“Oh, right! Changbin-hyung mentioned that. Do you want me to tell him to come and help?”
“No, don’t. Please.” The dread in him rises, chokes him. What else has Changbin been saying about the song not being done? Is he disappointed? Chan can’t even bring himself to ask, so he tries a shaky smile. “Have fun. Take Changbinnie with you, if you want! Eat something yummy, okay?”
“Okay.” Hyunjin steps back, bites his lip. In a flash, he leans back in and presses a light kiss to Chan’s cheek before he turns away, and Chan watches him go, warmth turning to shame as he leaves. “Good luck!”
Chan smiles weakly. The place where Hyunjin’s pressed a kiss to him feels like a reminder. Like he’s not worthy of it— not yet.
He shuts the door when Hyunjin’s out of sight and gets back to his laptop, shaking himself awake enough to try again.
+++
He gets a text from Jisung nearly an hour later. Do you need help with the song? Hyunjinnie said you were worried about it.
Hesitation gnaws at him. It’s not that Jisung’s help isn’t appreciated, but Chan’s the one who assured them it would be done sooner rather than later. He told Changbin and Jisung to take the week off, that he’d finish this so they could relax. This is his responsibility. He needs to finish it, to wrap it all up. It’s just this last section before he has to finish the lyrics and guide for it, and has to get it to the kids for recording.
He’s supposed to be able to do this. And he can, if he works hard enough for them, even if they can’t see it.
Chan sighs softly as he types back. No, it’s okay! I’m hard at work here!
Before he can think better, he takes a picture of his setup, throwing up a V with his other hand. When he sends it, it calms him to have tangible proof of his efforts. Photographic evidence shown to someone who can corroborate it.
Okay, hyung. Jisung replies. Just don’t work too hard! ❤
But he has to. For them.
Haha, I won’t! Have fun with Hyunjinnie!
He sets his phone aside and focuses back in on his work.
+++
Despite the fact that he’s been tweaking the song for days now, there’s still something wrong with it. He’s almost got it, he feels, slowly chipping away the progress of it until he’s on the brink of it—
He plays a chord. Another. Pitches it up. Pitches it down. Nothing really sounds right anymore. He’s been doubting himself more lately. He can finish songs, right? This is who he’s supposed to be. If he doesn’t have his music, who is he anymore? What fruit does he have to prove his labor?
Maybe, he thinks, in one last ditch effort, if he sings it through from the beginning, as if he’s making a guide, he can get over the last part. It’ll just come to him. However unlikely, it’s worth a shot.
He rolls his chair back, unpacking the microphone and its stand, and getting to work on assembling it.
His phone rings as he starts, and, despite the fact that he saw Jisung getting in with Hyunjin just as he was leaving for his studio, he thinks it’s him again, offering help. Chan is on the verge of just saying yes, swallowing down his pride for it, when he fishes his phone out of his pocket and sees the caller ID flash Felix’s face up at him. Maybe he just wants to say hi. Or maybe something’s wrong. Either way, Chan answers quickly.
“Hey, ‘Lix.” He sets the phone on his desk on speaker as he works. “What’s up?”
“Chris-hyung! Where are you?”
“Studio,” he answers mindlessly, screwing the mic into its stand. “Song’s almost done.”
“Oh,” Felix sounds deflated suddenly, and Chan stops what he’s doing, attention focused on the call.
“‘Lix? What’s wrong?”
“Um… our date? The art show? It was tonight. I asked you to go with me?”
Panic grips him, a cold vise on his heart. He looks at his computer clock, noting that he’s already twenty minutes late. “Shit. Felix, I’m sorry. I’ll pack up and head over right n—”
“No, no,” Felix cuts in, and Chan can tell he’s trying his best to cover his disappointment. “It’s okay! I’ll ask another member to go with me. You’re almost done with the song, I should’ve known.”
“Felix….” Chan sets his head down on his desk. “I’m so sorry I forgot.”
“Channie. Chris, it’s okay. I promise. You’re working, yeah?”
“I am,” he sighs out, feeling the emotion threaten to swallow him up. “I’m trying.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
Despite Felix’s words, Chan mentally kicks himself again and again. “Go have fun, yeah? Take pictures if you can.”
“Okay, hyung. Good luck with the song.”
The line goes dead. Chan leaves his head on the desk for another moment as he struggles to breathe through the tears that drip from his eyes. It’s only a few stray ones, a blur of feelings overtaking him before he gets it all under control again and sits up shakily.
When he turns to the microphone, he clenches his jaw. He plays the song and goes through the lyrics as best he can.
The part comes up. He gets stuck on it. He goes again.
A few more times, he tries. He stops singing eventually, just letting the song loop over and over, consuming him. At some point, his stomach growls loudly, almost painfully. Chan quickly takes a sip of water to take the edge off, but part of him knows he’s not going to eat for a while. Not until he’s done. If he forgot about Felix for this, he has to finish it now. It has to be worth the pain he’s caused.
+++
In the practice room, Chan stumbles over his own two feet again, frustration bubbling in him. Everyone else has gotten the move except for him, to the point where their dance instructor’s made them move on, assuring Chan that it’s okay. That he’ll get it sooner or later.
Chan nods to himself, knows that this means he’ll have to stay behind and practice it, record and monitor himself until he nails it.
When they’re done, it’s late enough that most of them are talking about going to sleep. The practice room empties slowly while Chan stares at himself in the mirror. Jeongin lingers by the door and Chan wonders if he’s staying behind to practice, too. If he won’t be alone.
“Chan-hyung?”
Chan turns. “Iyen-ah?”
Jeongin looks sheepish as he approaches. He stops so close, Chan almost thinks he’ll ask for a kiss. Instead, he says, “I heard a song recently that I’d like to cover, and I wanted to ask you if you could make me a slower mix?”
Chan’s stomach sinks, for some reason. “Sure, Innie. I can do that for you.”
His smile is blinding, bright like the star he is. “Thanks, hyung.” He takes a step back. “Don’t worry about it getting done soon, okay? I know you have other things to do—”
“It’s okay,” Chan gets out past the weight on his chest. “I’ll do it for you.”
Jeongin nods once, smile soft. “Thanks. I’ll send it on over!”
When he turns away, Chan resists the urge to call him back. Jeongin can’t see him. None of them can see him anymore, so many doors separating them in this new shift.
Another door shuts as Jeongin leaves, the sterile lights of the practice room threatening to choke him. Chan takes a shaky breath and sets up his phone to record himself, walks back to cue the song.
“Good job, Chan. You’re a good boy,” Chan says, but when he turns again, he doesn’t meet his own eyes in the mirror.
+++
When he hands Jeongin a thumb drive a day and a half later, Jeongin blinks up at him, surprised.
“That was fast,” Jeongin says.
Of course it was, he wants to say. It’s for you. It should be fast.
“It was easy,” he says instead. “No worries. Just study up and let me know when you wanna record it, yeah?”
“Okay,” Jeongin says, breathless. “Okay, I will. Thank you.”
The look on his face is why he does it. Why Chan needs to work so hard. They deserve the world, every last one of them. Deserve so much more than what little Chan has to offer them. A chance, a shot. A glimmer of something burning bright. He’ll make them shine. He has to.
+++
It isn’t until he’s about to leave the company that Chan realizes his phone is dead. With a sigh, he plugs it into the wall while he powers off his laptop and his TV, puts away the microphone, and packs his things.
It’s barely charged when he’s done, but it’s enough for him to call a car back to the dorms—
His phone vibrates endlessly with message after message from the group chat. He only catches glimpses as they come in, something about dinner and Minho’s cooking. His heart beats a little funny at the prospect of Minho’s cooking waiting for him at home, making him shoulder his backpack quickly.
He’s taking the elevator when he unlocks his phone to read through the messages. There’s so many it makes him smile. Minho first, declaring that he’s made too much food for just their dorm, and it means the others will have to take some off their hands for them.
As the messages continue, something twinges in him. Their easy back and forth makes his heart sink.
It’s Seungmin who asks, Where’s Chan-hyung?
Changbin who answers, Studio, I think?
And Jisung who continues, What kind of food did you make?
The conversation moves on. No other mention of him. There’s no other messages, either. Nothing asking him to confirm his location, or asking when he’s coming back, or offering him a place among them.
He swallows hard and locks his phone.
He’s toeing off his shoes as quietly as he can when he spots Minho turning away from the kitchen. They blink at each other for a moment, and Chan has the distinct feeling they’ve both been caught.
Minho breaks first, walking towards him. “Jisung has the leftovers, if you want to eat.”
Those could be Jisung’s leftovers. Nothing for him, if the chat’s to be believed. No offerings. His stomach churns. “No! No, it’s okay. I ate before I came back.”
“Okay,” Minho says quietly. His hand twitches at his side, and Chan almost thinks he’s about to touch him. He yearns for it desperately, so much he’s almost ashamed— but Minho looks away, slides into his slippers and nudges past him, opening the door. “Goodnight, hyung. Sleep well.”
As if he’ll even consider sleeping. He feels cold all over.
The door clicks shut.
Laughter sounds from the kitchen.
Chan turns towards his room.
+++
During his live, he finds himself relaxing and recharging. The song breathes down his neck, itches in his mind, but he forgets about it. Focuses on the now.
At some point, before he even registers doing it, he wipes his desk off, words running out of him like breathing. “Good boy, Chan. You’re doing a good job.”
With a sharp inhale, he focuses back in on the comments, on the songs he plays, on the moment. But the second he shuts off the stream, he gets back into it, trying a different approach for the song. He’s not feeling any better with it, but he knows that if something doesn’t change, he’ll lose his mind.
Hours pass while he tries, the song looping so much he feels like it’s burned itself into his skin, wrapped around his mind to constrict his thoughts.
At some point, he falls asleep on his desk, waking up from a fitful, uncomfortable sleep in the midmorning. He’s so exhausted and drained, he can’t even argue with himself about going home and collapsing into his bed, getting up whenever he gets up to keep working.
Downstairs, in the lobby, he feels like a ghost, floating along towards the doors, until—
“Chan-hyung?”
Chan snaps out of his daze, looking up to meet Seungmin’s clearly worried eyes. Chan looks away to avoid being swallowed up in them.
“Hey, Seungminnie.” Chan takes in his clothes instead, stares at his jeans like they’re the most interesting thing to exist. “Here for lessons?”
“Yeah.” He shifts from one foot to the other. “But… are you okay?”
Chan straightens his back, eyes skipping over Seungmin’s face. “Yeah, of course. Long night, you know.”
“Did you spend all night in your studio?” He sounds surprised. Chan winces at the tone, at the obvious concern that colors it.
“I slept a little on my couch—”
“Did you eat?”
If anything, Chan is grateful his stomach doesn’t rumble on cue like something out of a movie. “A little,” he lies. “I’ll eat more when I get home.”
“Please eat something yummy,” Seungmin says, and it sounds like a genuine plea. Like he’s begging for Chan to eat.
“Okay,” Chan mutters, shuffling back. “I will, Seungminnie. Have a good lesson, yeah?”
As he moves back towards the doors, Seungmin takes a step forward, reaching towards him. “Hyung….”
Chan turns away before he gets caught in his orbit, making his way outside. It hurts to leave him, but he doesn’t think he deserves anything less right now.
+++
There’s no one to greet him once he gets home and for that he’s grateful. He collapses into bed the second he sees it and falls into a fitful sleep on top of his covers.
When he gets up and checks his phone, it’s nearly eight at night, and his stomach growls.
Outside, there’s commotion. Voices and rummaging around, doors opening and closing. He can’t face any of them right now, not with shame curling low in his gut. How can he say he’s working hard for them if he can’t finish a single song? How can he ask them to see him and his efforts if he has nothing to show for them?
Thankfully, there’s a bag of chips in his bag. Nothing too filling but enough to take the edge off. He’ll get more food when the commotion dies down, when he has no one to face. And then he’s back at it, setting up his laptop and keyboard, opening the file back up with quickly mounting dismay.
He inhales. Exhales. Inhales again. Gets to work.
He’s barely one full play of the song in when there’s a knock on his door, followed by Jisung’s voice. “Hey, Chan-hyung. Can I come in?”
Chan swallows hard, steels himself to lie to Jisung, and turns his chair towards the door. “Yeah, come in.”
When the door opens, Jisung slips in with Changbin on his heels. The dismay multiplies as they take a seat on his bed, thighs touching. Chan’s eyes are glued to the point of contact, song playing softly in the background.
“Seungmin told us you spent all night in the studio again.” Jisung starts.
“Like you have every night this week,” Changbin adds.
Not every night, he wants to say, but he knows that won’t help his case. He stares at their laps, their joined hands resting on their thighs, gaze unfocusing.
“Felix told us you were worried about the song. And…” Jisung trails off, and still, Chan can’t look up. “And you didn't eat any of Minho's food I saved for you. He made you some but you didn’t eat. Have you been eating anything?”
“A little,” he mumbles, but he knows they can see through it.
“Can you come with us?” Changbin asks. “Please? Can you leave the song alone?”
“I can’t, I haven’t finished—”
“Channie-hyung,” Jisung cuts in. “Please.”
An inhale. An exhale. “Okay,” Chan mutters, eyes on their hands. “Okay, okay.”
When he closes the laptop, he can feel them both exhale in relief. Their touch slips away and Jisung’s hand finds his, fingers lacing as he tugs him out of his chair. Changbin follows them, a presence at his back, as if making sure Chan doesn’t keel over from how shaky his steps feel.
Outside of his room, most of the members are standing by, looking worried. Chan finds himself stunned at their presence, holding Jisung’s hand loosely as Hyunjin throws himself into his arms. Felix follows close behind and Jeongin looks distraught as he joins the pile.
“I should’ve insisted on us helping you,” Hyunjin mutters. “I’m sorry I didn’t—”
“I’m sorry, hyung.” Felix’s voice sounds wet when he overlaps with Hyunjin. “I’m sorry I didn’t check up on you after I called—”
“I’m sorry,” Jeongin joins the chorus. “I shouldn’t have asked for more from you.”
Chan trembles, a leaf in the wind, and he’s not sure if it’s from hunger, exhaustion, or emotion. Maybe the worst mix of all three. He thinks his knees give out, but the way they encompass him makes him hold steady, buttressed by their closeness. He can let himself melt into them.
Changbin moves around their pile, his eyes comforting. “We made dinner for you. Come eat.”
“We?” Jeongin snorts, and Changbin frowns.
“I helped, brat!”
“Not now, you dumbasses.” Hyunjin kicks out without disentangling himself, somehow landing a hit on Changbin’s leg, who stumbles away with a yelp.
Chan chokes out a laugh, tears forming in his eyes. They stay close as they all walk across the hall to the other dorm, and he lets himself be led, Hyunjin on one side and Felix on the other. Changbin leads the way while Jisung and Jeongin trail behind them.
“We got him,” Changbin announces, and Chan sees Minho peek out of the kitchen.
“Ah, good,” Minho’s smile is warm and soft like Chan hasn’t seen in what feels like an eternity. It feels like a dream. “Go sit down before you pass out in our doorway.”
In all honesty, the more Chan thinks about it, the truer it seems. He feels weak, but the warm, steady presence of them around him keeps him up. Keeps him walking until they reach the living room, two low coffee tables pressed together in the middle, cushions and blankets strewn on the floor around them for comfort.
He’s led to the head of the table, helped down, and quickly surrounded by them. The food is already spread out in front of him, steam rising from every hot dish, scents mixing deliciously. Meat and rice cakes, squid and stew, and enough rice to keep Chan happy for a long while.
He looks up when Minho enters, flanked by Seungmin, and watches as he bypasses the open space for another dish, heading straight to Chan. The plate he sets down stuns Chan, the care put into it so obvious— the lamb chops perfectly prepared, pink in the middle, and the curry rice still steaming, colorful and savory. It makes Chan’s throat itch with the need to sob.
A knee digs into his back gently, and Chan looks up to meet Minho’s eyes.
“Eat up, hyung. Before these savages eat everything for you.”
At the mention of the others, Chan turns to look down the tables at them. They look up at him like they’re waiting for something, hesitant to address their clear worry over him.
Chan has to clear his throat before he can speak without feeling like he’s about to start crying. “Thank you. Thank you for this. I’m sorry about the song not being done yet.”
Jisung leans closer, encroaching on his right side. “Don’t worry about that right now.”
On his other side, Hyunjin leans in too, seeking out his hand and squeezing it comfortingly. “We can help you with it later. You know you’re not doing this alone, right? You have us.”
The tears he was avoiding well up in his eyes. A sob chokes its way out of him. “Thank you. Th-thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Felix says. “We want to help. We want you to be happy and healthy.”
“But I’m y-your lead—”
“I swear,” Minho cuts in loudly, moving behind Chan until he’s kneeling behind him and throwing his arms over Chan’s shoulders. “If you say that running yourself ragged is somehow your responsibility as our leader, I’ll eat your food myself.”
Chan sighs, and he can tell most of them want to say more, but Jeongin speaks before any of them can. “Come on, hyung.” He says. “Eat. Please.”
Changbin hands him a spoon and Seungmin passes him a knife and fork. Chan starts to dig into his plate, grateful for the way the others focus on their own meals, chattering idly as they serve themselves. He doesn’t think he could do this if he were the center of attention, if he was being watched. He’s so grateful for the normalcy— and even more grateful when Minho lays a soft kiss to his cheek before he shuffles away and to his spot beside Felix.
The food is better than he could’ve imagined. It tastes something like home, like comfort and care. The conversation that happens around him puts him at ease, their voices lilting, their laughter wrapping him in warmth. By the time the plates are clean, his eyes are drooping, exhaustion a thick blanket. But a thorn of worry still pokes at him.
A hand cups his cheek. Seungmin’s voice warm when he asks, “Do you want to stay here?”
Chan leans into the touch, blinking in his dark gaze. “I….”
“Let’s finish the song,” Changbin determines. “All of us.”
Affection threatens to choke him. It’s like he’s been seen without trying, heard without speaking. The plates are cleared away and left for later, the eight of them walking hand in hand, arm in arm, across the way and back into Chan’s room.
He doesn’t even get a say in it when Felix drags him into bed, tangling their legs together and using him as a human body pillow. Hyunjin follows, spooning Felix closer and setting a hand over Chan’s ribcage. Minho sits by the head of the bed, fingers tangling into Chan’s hair while Changbin, Jisung, and Seungmin make a beeline for the laptop. Jeongin wraps a loose hand around Chan’s thigh from where he sits at the side of the bed, watching Changbin and Jisung split an earbud each with Seungmin wedging himself in the middle of them to listen from the overflow.
He floats while they work, hearing snippets of their conversation but not retaining any of it. His mind feels like a sieve, too tired to be of much use. Their presence leaves and shifts and comes back, bodies pressing against him, hands stroking down his arms, his face. The warmth they provide never leaves for long, and he’s so grateful for it. He’s not alone. They’re here with him.
His door opens and closes, their voices carry into his ears, he smiles when they laugh. He falls into small fits of sleep, losing track of time but never track of them. Cocooned in the moment, minutes pass, or hours. He’s not sure anymore, and none of it matters with how they shift closer, ebbing and flowing around him. Eventually, a hand cups his face, thumb stroking over his cheekbone.
“Hey,” Changbin calls. “The song’s done, hyung. You can rest, okay? The song’s done.”
With difficulty, Chan pries his eyes open. He catches Changbin’s soft gaze, his tender smile.
“Play it,” Chan exhales.
From the first few notes, he can hear them. Their mark on the song. It’s so much better for it, every little tweak they’ve made. Not just the part he was stuck on but they’ve also tweaked the beginning, the middle, and it all rings in his ears, coming together so beautifully that the love in his chest swells and grows impossibly bigger. He feels too big for his body, too much adoration to be contained in him. Chan’s surprised he doesn’t burst like a balloon.
Relief overtakes him. It’s done now. Done with their help. With them here, with him. They’re seeing him, helping him build their future.
“Thank you,” he mumbles, exhaustion weighing over him. The person cuddling him presses dry lips to his neck, and he thinks it might be Jeongin, but he’s not sure when he switched places with Felix. “Thank you.”
“You can rest,” Minho mutters from his other side, tucked under his arm, fingers laced with Jeongin’s over his chest.
“Sleep well, hyung,” Seungmin says somewhere to his right. “We’ll be here when you wake up.”
When he looks around, he notices them all curled up in every inch of his room, blankets and pillows strewn over his floor. A sob threatens to spill from his throat again but he’s too tired to let it go. They’ll be here. All he has to do is trust them.
He lets himself sink into them, calm overtaking his mind.