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"Of course you must learn to love, to love always and love entirely and to be wounded by nothing so much as the violence of your own love. You must learn to be confused but never disappointed by a deficiency of love. You must give up your children and not know why."
Andrew Kane, How To Be a Dog
It takes Chan seven years to debut.
Seven years of being the baby, the runt of every litter he joins, small and scrawny and dripping desperation. He watches his friends come and go, watches everyone pass him by and every chance slip from his greedy hands.
And then one day, like something out of every dream he’s ever had, he’s given a team of his own and a family he built with his own two hands.
He’s 20 years old and feels every minute of it.
“You should come home soon.”
Chan startles with a violent jump, heart lurching when he turns to find Changbin standing over him.
“Shit,” He curses, “Sorry, yeah, I’m coming soon, just need to wrap this up.”
Changbin frowns at him, “It’s 2 am, hyung. Just come back with me, you can finish in the morning, right?”
“Ah, I’m really close to wrapping up. You go, I’ll be home soon.”
It’s a lie, but Chan doesn’t have the mind to care much about it. He knows Changbin knows it’s a lie too, but he doesn’t have the mind to care much about that either.
Changbin sighs, and Chan sees the fight slowly drain from his face.
He’s 18, and he tries to help carry the burden in the best way he knows how.
Chan feels for him so deeply, a cavern in the pit of his stomach he keeps it all in, keeps it hidden and sheltered from his boys. He’s the one who bears their burdens, he’s been doing it for so long it’s all he knows how to do. Changbin tries, but Chan won’t let him. He doesn’t need to feel the ache on his shoulders.
“Promise?”
“Yeah,” Chan lies to his face, “Promise. Go home, get some sleep, yeah?”
“Okay,” Changbin nods, worrying his bottom lip like there’s something else he wants to say. “Goodnight, hyung.”
He exits the studio, and Chan pushes down every emotion that threatens to burst out of him.
There’s too much work to do. Too much time that’s already passed him by and he can’t fuck it up, he can’t risk not being worth it, not being perfect in every way. They debuted a month ago and Chan still feels like he’s never going to stop waiting for it to be ripped away, like it has so many times before now.
It’s another three hours before he makes it back. 5 am warms up slowly, the sun already starting to rise as he creeps through the quiet dorm.
Changbin is asleep in his bed when he pushes the door open, and something horrible cleaves his chest open.
He toes his shoes off by the door and strips down to his boxers, careful as he slides into bed behind Changbin.
“Hyung,” Changbin mumbles, still mostly asleep.
“Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep, Bin,” There’s a lump in his throat that burns when he swallows it down.
“Tried to wait up,” He mumbles, and Chan feels the hot press of tears behind his eyes. He closes them before any can spill.
“It’s okay,” He whispers back, letting an arm slip over Changbin’s waist, “It’s okay, Bin. Go back to sleep.”
Changbin mutters something else that Chan can’t quite make out, but he thinks it would sting just as well.
***
There’s a recurring nightmare Chan has had nearly every night for the last year.
It starts:
SCENE 1 : BONDI BEACH - EARLY MORNING
{Enter stage left: BANG CHAN, age 21. He stands with his feet planted in slowly warming sand, the ocean lapping gently. Beside him: MOTHER.}
CHAN
I’m not supposed to be here.
{CHAN speaks in English.}
MOTHER
Where else is there for you to go?
{MOTHER answers in Korean.}
CHAN
Home. The kids-
MOTHER
Kids?
CHAN
My- my kids. They’re waiting for me.
MOTHER
I don’t see them.
{CHAN looks around, starting to panic. It seems to set in where he is. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, matching the ocean as it begins to roar.}
CHAN
They’re waiting for me. Mom, they’re waiting.
{MOTHER says nothing.}
CHAN
I’m not supposed to be here. They’re waiting for me, I have to get back.
{He tries to lift his feet, but they sink further into the sand. The waves are getting bigger. Tears form in CHAN’S eyes.}
MOTHER
No one is waiting, Channie.
CHAN
They are, they’re waiting. I have to get back- I have to- they need me, mom. I can’t let them down, I have to go home.
MOTHER
You’re already home, honey. You love the beach. You miss it, don’t you?
{CHAN hears a distant call, his name coming from under the water. His feet won’t move. He can’t run.}
CHAN
They’re calling me, mom! Please, I have to get to them, they’re gonna drown, they-
MOTHER
Shh, Channie. It’s okay. They’ll make it without you.
{More shouts under the water. CHAN recognizes FELIX’S voice above the rest. Tears are hot as they run down his cheeks. The sky turns a crushing gray. The waves are the size of skyscrapers now. They crash violently onto the shore, soaking CHAN. The beach begins to fill with water as the tide rises. He shouts back for FELIX. He shouts for CHANGBIN and JISUNG and HYUNJIN and SEUNGMIN and MINHO and JEONGIN. He is met with crashing thunder.}
CHAN
Please!
{He begs MOTHER and turns to find her gone. He is alone on the beach. The water is up to his chin. His feet are stuck in the sand.}
***
It’s a winter of rot.
Once, during a sleep-deprived Wikipedia deep dive, Chan read about something called The Starving Time.
The Starving Time, he remembers, was a period during American colonial times when the settlers had no food during an entire winter and resorted to all kinds of fucked up things like eating leather and horses and on at least one confirmed occasion, people.
This winter sort of feels like that.
It leaves them starving, bone-thin, and clinging to each other like lifelines.
They come out the other side into a chilly spring, and Chan has never quite felt so hollow, but he musters all the strength he has, and they keep pushing. They have their Japanese debut in March. In June, they’ll release their first full-length album. His kids are weary and no one has had a good night’s sleep since last year, but they just have to push through a few more months. A little more time and Chan will have proved that they’re good enough, that he didn’t fail them all even when he went through a long winter with an empty stomach.
He comes into his studio to find Jisung crying on his couch one night.
“Hey,” He rushes to Jisung’s side, frowning, “What’s wrong?”
“Channie-hyung,” Jisung sniffles, looking up with big, wet eyes. His cheeks are puffy and pink, and Chan aches for him.
“What’s wrong, Jisungie?” He tries to be gentle, a soothing hand running down Jisung’s spine.
“This is so embarrassing,” Jising hiccups, but he leans into Chan’s side.
There’s barely an inch of height difference between them, but Jisung feels so small against him, curled up into his own body.
“What’s going on?” He’s careful in the way he touches Jisung. There are invisible lines drawn everywhere, ones that Chan drew carefully.
“It’s kind of dumb,” Jisung whines, tipping his head up to tuck it into the curve of Chan’s neck.
Like this, he can feel every quiet huff of Jisung’s breath against his skin. He suppresses a shiver.
Lines, he reminds himself as his arm slips to wrap around Jisung’s waist.
“I just wanna help, yeah?” He swallows, thick in his throat.
“It’s just been a hard year, you know?” Jisung makes a sad noise, “It’s like- God. I don’t know, I know everything's coming up soon, it all just feels like so much sometimes. Like I wake up and don’t know what to do with myself.”
Chan wishes more than anything he could pull Jisung into his body and take away all his pain. Jisung has always been emotional, not in the same way Felix is, or Hyunjin. Jisung is more prone to depression, to anxiety. Chan has seen it firsthand, the days Jisung can’t pull himself out of bed or the times he crashes in the middle of a rehearsal or after.
“Ah, Sung, it’s not dumb. I understand,” He winds his other arm around Jisung’s middle, pulling him into a hug. It’s more like a pile of awkward limbs on Chan’s too-small couch, but there’s enough room that when Jisung pushes Chan down, they fit easily.
Jisung is half on top of him now, both legs wrapped around one of Chan’s, his face still in the crook of his neck.
“Really?” Jisung whispers.
“Yeah,” Chan takes a slow breath through his nose, “Of course I do. It has been a hard year, but you know, things are getting better, right? When the album comes out, things will get a lot better. We worked so hard on it, it’ll all be worth it.”
It’s awful, listening to Jisung cry.
He’s Chan’s first, and it feels like a stake to his heart as he cries and shakes against Chan’s body.
Chan shushes him and rubs his back, soothing until Jisung starts to calm down.
“Sorry,” Jisung whines, and it stirs something funny in Chan’s gut.
“Don’t be, Sung. It’s okay. You trust me, right? I won’t let anything happen, I promise,” It tastes like bile in his mouth and he flashes through how many times he’s promised the same thing only to have it be broken.
“Of course,” Jisung whimpers anyway.
Jisung pulls his head back and their eyes meet, and Chan’s organs go gooey and soft.
There’s a small mole on Jisung’s cheek. Chan wants to press his lips to it.
“We’ll be okay, Sung,” Chan’s throat clicks. He shakes when he brings a hand up to pet Jisung’s hair.
Jisung’s eyes flicker and Chan swears he looks at his mouth. His blood courses hot through his body, ribs constricting.
“Channie-” Jisung breathes, so small and unsure.
“It’s okay,” Chan whispers, “You’re okay.”
Jisung makes a small noise and then carefully, he dips his head down and presses his lips to Chan’s.
He makes a small squeak when he pulls back, and Chan is stuck.
He reminds himself of the lines.
It's the first time he's kissed any of them, but it's not the first time he's thought about it. Not in the first million, and it hurts so bad to think about how much he's wanted this and hurts worse to think about how rotten he is for it. It's the most selfish thing in the world, to want his boys the way he does and to be so willing to let them take it. Maybe they don't exactly love him the same way he loves them, but maybe at the end of the day love is still love and Chan can be what they need.
Jisung leans forward and kisses him again, kisses him harder this time. There are leftover tears on Jisung’s cheeks that drip down into Chan’s mouth and it’s so much, a voice in his head screaming at him to pull back. Jisung must surely be satisfied now.
There’s another voice though, a louder one, telling him to keep going. To let Jisung take everything he needs, that Chan should be the one to give it to him.
Jisung makes a small noise against Chan’s mouth.
“Hey-” Chan tries to pull back when Jisung starts to squirm against him.
“Please,” Jisung whines back, his hips pressed to Chan’s thigh. It’s so much, so entirely overwhelming to have Jisung against him like this, to have their mouths pressed together.
“What do you need?” He asks against his better judgment. He should call it off now, before it goes too far to come back from.
“Just- this. Please,” Jisung kisses him again, using too much tongue now as he licks into Chan’s mouth.
He knows Jisung has never done this before, and guilt is a rotten stone sinking in his stomach as he lets him lick into his mouth and rock his hips against his thigh.
“Okay,” He breathes, kissing back, “Whatever you need.”
And Jisung takes it. He kisses Chan with too much tongue and too much teeth, making sweet little noises and rutting his hips.
Chan is outside of his own body, experiencing the moment as someone other than himself. It’s all about Jisung. Even if Chan wants this, and he shouldn’t even if he does, Jisung’s desire comes before his own.
It’s about what Jisung needs, not whatever selfish desires Chan shoves down and swallows.
When Jisung cums, he makes a weepy noise and buries his face against Chan’s chest, his little body shaking.
“Good?” Chan asks, petting Jisung’s hair.
Jisung nods, his whole face flushed and embarrassed, and Chan gives him the most comforting smile he can.
“Good,” Chan cups his cheek, “Um, why don’t you get cleaned up and we can get dinner downstairs?”
“Okay, hyung,” Jisung stands up slowly on wobbly legs, excusing himself to the bathroom.
All the work Chan had planned to do gets put on the back burner. He sighs, looking at his laptop abandoned on the desk.
Jisung will ask him to come home after dinner, and Chan will tell him there’s too much work to do, and feel that same guilt bubble up. Too much work, he’ll say, always too much work.
***
There’s a feeling Chan gets, sometimes.
He’d tried to describe it once, the curdling roll of his insides, the way he can feel his organs churning inside his body.
His members hadn’t quite understood, but Chan hadn’t been expecting them to.
Most of his friends hadn’t either.
Until he’d been backstage at an awards show, isolated in the corner and Hongjoong had slid down the wall next to him to ask what was wrong.
Chan told him as best he could, and Hongjoong had understood.
He thinks it has something to do with Hongjoong being a leader in the same way Chan is. He’d understood it when Chan told him that sometimes he could feel the physical weight crushing him, like a flat rock on his chest.
There’s a sort of recognition between them. They aren’t just leaders to their members, they’re leaders of a family, the head of an eight-body powered machine, and the responsibility for it all falls on them.
Most leaders would understand that, Chan reckons, but it differs when it comes to the music.
He gets the feeling most when they have meetings for song releases, Chan had told Hongjoong, that sitting in that meeting room at the JYP building felt like standing on his tip-toes on the edge of a cliff, his body wavering before he drops.
Hongjoong had nodded solemnly and said he understood the feeling.
It’s the fear of rejection, sort of, but mostly Chan thinks he fears not being good enough. He’s been in the game too many years to be naïve enough to think everyone would understand the music they make, but it’s one thing to not be understood and another thing entirely to be bad.
Jisung understands this aspect. He fears failure just as much as Chan does. He goes quiet when he’s scared, makes himself small enough to disappear. He presents his ideas and feels each critique of them like a stab to the very core of who he is.
Changbin goes in the opposite direction. If one of his songs gets rejected, he sticks a smile on his face and tries again. To him, it doesn’t feel like a hit to his soul in the way it does for Jisung. He seethes sometimes, when people who know far less about music than they do try to tell him that something isn’t good enough or needs to be changed, but he takes it and moves on in a way Chan and Jisung haven’t figured out how.
For Chan, it all feels like his guts are being ripped out. Even the positive reception, sometimes.
Music is his gift to the world, this one perfect thing he can take from himself and give to everyone else. Little pieces of his soul, his heart and mind exposed and shelled out to millions. Unlimited in the ears it could reach, and it scares the everloving shit out of him sometimes.
And really, the joke of it all is that it’s everything Chan has ever wanted.
***
They get to go back to Australia as a group for the first time in 3 years.
It’s February, the tail end of summer, and the length of rope around Chan’s neck almost feels non-existent.
They get two full days in Sydney before their back-to-back shows.
He spends the first day with his parents and his siblings and Berry, heals this little piece of himself that feels constantly fractured.
On the second day, he takes the kids to the beach.
Minho and Jisung stay at the hotel, wrapped up in their own little world, and Chan drags the rest of them to the car.
Sitting on the beach and watching the kids splash around in the water is the closest sense of peace Chan has had in a very long time.
It’s an hour before any of them come up, Felix being the first to emerge from the water.
Sunshine personified, golden and dripping and smiling so bright Chan can’t help but feel warm under his gaze.
“You comin’ in?” His accent rolls heavy off his tongue as he collapses onto the chair beside Chan.
“In a bit,” Chan stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling the sun hit his skin.
“You look relaxed,” Felix looks at him, lolling his head to the side. Bleach blonde hair sticks to his cheeks, freckles darker from the sun.
“I am,” Chan admits, and for once he actually means it. “Just nice to be home. Nice to be here with you guys.”
“Mm,” Felix hums. “Are you going back to your family’s again tonight?”
“Ah, I think so. What’s up?”
“I’m going to mine too, was gonna see if you wanted to grab drinks after dinner.”
It’s such an absurd statement that Chan can’t help but let a laugh bubble up, “Grab drinks?”
Felix smiles, “Yup. You can pick me up at 8.”
“Yeah?” Chan laughs again, “Bit cheesy, huh? I’ll pick you up at 8, baby, take you out on the town,” He puts on an exaggerated accent to make Felix laugh, blooming red when it works.
“Nothing wrong with pretending to be normal people for a night,” Felix turns his face back towards the sun and Chan memorizes the slope of his nose.
Isn’t there? He wants to ask.
True to his word, he borrows his dad’s car and picks Felix up outside his house at 7:58.
“Woww,” Felix pretends to be impressed, gasping as he slides into the passenger seat.
“Nice, yeah?” Chan plays along. His hands are sweating against the steering wheel.
“Very impressive,” Felix grins, “Okay, let’s go.”
They chat idly as they drive, the city getting brighter the further into it they go.
It takes a great deal of effort for Chan to not feel guilty for allowing himself this.
“Turn here,” Felix points them down the street until they turn into the parking lot of a small ice cream stand.
“I thought we were getting drinks?” Chan asks as he pulls into a parking space.
“Eh,” Felix gets out of the car and runs around quickly to open Chan’s door for him. “Thought this might be nicer. There’s a park over there, thought we could sit for a bit.”
“You know, I think I took a girl on a date like this in middle school once.”
“Yeah?” Felix laughs, “What a lucky girl I am, then.”
It makes Chan burn down to his core, hot and coiling.
“Go on, order,” His throat is dry, nudging Felix towards the window to pivot the conversation.
Chan orders a single scoop of vanilla in a cup, and Felix gets two scoops of cookies and cream on a cone, grinning when Chan pulls out his card to pay for them both.
They settle on a bench in the park across the street, the air just on the edge of too warm around them.
“I’m glad you came,” Felix tells him, mouth messy with ice cream, and Chan keeps his eyes ahead, focused on the dark grass.
“Sure, ‘course. Wasn’t doing anything at home, anyway.”
“Yeah, I just mean, like,” Felix sighs, “You get in your head sometimes, I dunno, you just don’t always let yourself do stuff like this.”
“It’s just ice cream, Lix,” Chan smiles kindly, trying to soothe them both.
“C’mon, you know that’s not what I mean.”
Chan says nothing, looking down at his shoes. “I’m just busy, you know how it is. Always work to be done. Gotta be the best I can, right?”
Felix hums, understanding.
“I just-” He starts softly, and Chan turns to look at him.
“Just what?”
Felix sighs again, “I just wish you were kinder to yourself, sometimes,” He shrugs.
“Ah,” Chan chokes, uncomfortable suddenly, “I’m- I’m kind to myself. Y’know, kind as I can be. There’s just- I can always be better, right? We all can. So I just, I gotta push myself. It’s a good thing, yeah?”
“Chris,” Felix says sadly.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Lix, really, I’m okay.”
“We love you, you know?”
“Of course I do,” His heart weighs in his chest, “I love you guys too. You’re like, my whole world, haha,” He laughs awkwardly, trying to downplay the weight of the statement despite its truth.
“Just take care of yourself, okay? We’re always here for you, really.”
Chan nods, lips pinched together.
They eat the rest of their ice cream and move on to nicer topics, and Chan tries not to feel sick with contrition.
When he drops Felix off later, he gives him a soft smile.
“Thanks again for coming,” Felix dwindles in the passenger seat.
“Sure,” Chan bops his head once, “See you tomorrow, yeah?”
Felix nods and then blinks, and then he leans across the console to press a quick kiss to Chan’s mouth.
“See you tomorrow,” Felix whispers a millimeter away from Chan’s mouth. He pecks him once more, and then he’s slipping out of the car and back towards the house.
***
Insomnia is a vicious dog.
Sleep is a little animal that Insomnia snaps up with sharp claws and blood dripping from its tongue.
Sleep comes too close and Insomnia snaps its teeth like it’s starving.
For a while, Chan thought he was the little animal, wounded and easy prey that fought off Insomnia like he would die if his eyes stayed open for a second longer. And then he felt the phantom ache in his jaw, the sting of metallic iron in the back of his throat.
Okay, so maybe Chan is the dog.
His office is a nice place to pretend like he isn’t. He can’t bother anyone with his restlessness if there’s no one around besides the thrum of his laptop and his fingers on keys.
Sometimes he pretends in his bedroom.
He lights his candles and settles on the bed with a book, or a movie playing quietly on the TV, and he pretends that he’ll fall asleep soon. No nightmares, no restless sleep. Maybe this time he won’t wake up after an hour feeling like he hadn’t slept at all.
He winds up lying in the dark for hours, listening to the shuffle of quiet feet outside his door, faint snores, and muffled talking until it’s late enough that he’s the only one awake.
That’s when he sneaks out quietly, lives a secret life by himself between the cracks of the days, worms his way into empty spaces and lonely streets.
Most of the time, he walks to the company building in the dark and works until the sun starts to rise; lies to everyone and says he slept fine, he just wanted to get up early and get some work done.
Other times he just walks. He steps onto the street and lets his feet carry him wherever they want to go.
These days, they seem to like the river.
He likes the time to think unbridled, even if his mind is fogged up and clouded with exhaustion.
For just those few moments, there’s nothing in the world except Chan and the water.
He thinks about the kids, each one of them tucked so tightly inside his chest that it feels like a heart attack sometimes. He loves them so much he feels the physical pain of it in his chest when he lets the thought linger.
He craves them in a way that isn’t healthy, and he knows this, he does. He needs to be better about it- he needs to be better at not smothering them in affection, better at leaving them alone but he can’t help it. It’s carved into his ribs, embedded into the very fabric of who he is to take care of them, to give them everything he possibly can.
It’s awful, how much he wants them. All of them. And that’s the part he thinks about so often, standing at the edge of the bridge, looking down into endless black water. Who is he to deserve the love of them all?
And then the sun will start to rise, and Chan will walk home, and the dog will snarl and snap its teeth into another day.
***
“What are you watching?”
Chan’s door creaks open. He looks up from his laptop to find Hyunjin peering in from the doorway, two mugs in his hands. He’s in a fluffy white robe, his hair damp and clean. Chan can smell his shampoo from his desk.
“Hm?” He pauses his video.
“What are you watching?” Hyunjin repeats, slipping further into the door. He shuts the door behind him and sets one mug next to Chan. He takes a seat on the edge of Chan’s bed. “Tea, by the way.”
“Ah, old dance practices. Thanks.” He feels a little embarrassed about it, but he’d come across a playlist of their dance practices and couldn’t resist.
“Can I watch?”
“Sure,” Chan turns the laptop so he can see better, “Good?”
Hyunjin hums and Chan hits play.
The rehearsal that’s playing now is from years ago, Levanter playing softly against the squeak of their shoes as they move around on the screen.
“Oh my God, look how young we were,” Hyunjin gasps, leaning forward.
“Babies,” Chan laughs, “Look how short your hair was.”
“I don’t even remember the last time it was that short. It was so pretty.”
“It’s pretty now, too.”
Hyunjin grins and smacks his shoulder.
For a while they watch in silence, watching their younger selves dance around on a screen.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asks when the videos start running low. Only a few more before they’ve watched them all.
“What?”
“How different we are now.”
“Do you think we’re that different?”
“Of course. Don’t you?”
Chan turns in his chair to watch Hyunjin lean back on his elbows. His robe slips further open and reveals more smooth skin.
“I never really notice it in myself.”
“Isn’t that how it works, though? Day by day you never notice how you change, but when you look back it’s all different.”
“Do you notice the differences?”
“When I look back, sure,” Hyunjin tilts his head, dark hair falling into his eyes.
“Do you miss how things were back then?” Chan lets his legs move him to sit on the bed beside Hyunjin.
Together, they fall back until they’re looking up at the ceiling. Chan sort of wishes they were somewhere besides his bedroom. Somewhere in Australia, maybe, looking up at the stars.
“No,” Hyunjin answers honestly, “Maybe I miss somethings, but I wouldn’t go back. Would you?”
“I don’t know,” Chan’s voice clicks in his throat, “No, I don’t think so.”
“Do you miss it?”
Chan shakes his head, “It was all so heavy then. It’s heavy now, just in a different way, I think. Maybe I’m just more used to it.”
“You could let us help carry it,” Hyunjin suggests, rolling over onto his side. He looms over Chan now, dark eyes and pink lips. Chan wants to kiss the mole under his eye.
“It’s not yours to carry,” He swallows.
“Of course it is,” Hyunjin scoffs. He leans down and kisses Chan like he’s trying to make a point.
He’s always loved how Hyunjin kisses like he knows exactly what he wants.
It becomes dirty fast, as it often does with Hyunjin.
He sheds his robe and works Chan out of his tank top and shorts until they’re both bare.
“Wanna ride you,” Hyunjin moans into his mouth, and Chan nods, kisses him for a little longer.
They all know where the lube is, and Hyunjin never wastes any time when he wants something, pressing his own fingers inside himself before he climbs on top of Chan.
“You’re so beautiful,” Chan groans when Hyunjin sinks onto him, his eyes closed and head tipped back.
Hyunjin moans, big hands groping at Chan’s chest as he starts to rock his hips.
“Hyunjinnie,” Chan holds his waist, traces the drops of sweat that roll down his chest with his eyes.
“So good,” Hyunjin breathes out, “Good boy, hyung.”
It makes Chan moan out a broken noise, hips bucking up.
“Hyunjin-ah,” He groans, squeezing at his hips.
“Feel so fucking good inside me, perfect fit,” He rolls his hips, an expert in how to move his body. He rides him like how he dances, fluid and in-control. His cock drips onto Chan’s stomach and he takes and takes and takes.
He comes first, bending down to kiss Chan as he spills across his stomach, moving his hips until Chan tumbles down after him.
“Are you sleeping in here?” Chan yawns after, cleaning his belly with the toilet paper on his shelf.
“Are you actually going to sleep?” Hyunjin wipes himself down, pushing his robe off the bed and onto the floor.
“I’ll try,” Chan tosses the used tissue into the wastebin and collapses onto the bed, boneless.
“I’ll stay then,” Hyunjin shoves him over to worm his way under the covers, naked and gorgeous.
Hyunjin insists they sleep curled together, his head on Chan’s chest and hand on his heart.
Chan sleeps until the sun rises.
***
It’s a funny feeling when Peniel messages Chan to tell him the group is leaving Cube to start their own sub-label.
It settles funny in his stomach, the same feeling he gets when he talks to BamBam sometimes, like a life that isn’t his flashing before his eyes.
He congratulates him, hesitant when he asks how they decided to leave and make a label for themselves.
Peniel tells him the same thing BamBam did when Got7 left, that their time had just run out and it was this or nothing, and none of them could bear the thought of nothing.
He’s talked about it with Changbin and Jisung once, ages before Stray Kids had set to debut. The idea of forming their own company, 3RACHA Entertainment, they’d smiled and daydreamed about a world that could be entirely theirs.
It has seemed like a silly dream, something to talk about to pass the time between making tracks. They fantasized about a life where they were entirely in control, where they called all the shots.
They lucked out with Stray Kids, with being granted so much freedom with their own music. To write and produce and compose. They help with as much as they’re allowed, which isn’t as much as they want but which is more than some groups ever get, so Chan takes it.
He takes what the company gives him and he smiles through it. He lets them tighten the leash and he thanks them for the freedom.
When he was young, he was better at barking back, but he was untrained and emotional, ended up biting the wrong people in the name of being better. It’s a sting that still hasn’t gone away, regret that he will always carry with him.
At the end of it all, he just loves his boys and he loves music, and the idea of stealing them away from the corporate monster gets stuck in his teeth when he chews on it for too long.
One day, he likes to think, one ne day it will be easy. One day the monster won’t bite back.
***
The secret that no one tells you when you’re 13 and move across an ocean to a new country all by yourself hoping to achieve a dream no one is sure will even happen, is that the ache will never leave.
What no one tells you when you’re 26 and you’re living a life you didn’t know was even possible with a group full of boys who taught you what it means to love, is that feeling will always be there.
Part of being a leader, Chan learns early, is to ache.
He aches when he thinks of his boys, when he sits through meetings with executives who tell him the parameters for how he can live his life, when he’s punished for things that aren’t really his fault but may as well be.
On top of the ache though, there is love. It cuts through it like a sharp knife, soothing like aloe on burning skin. The love makes it all worth it.
He feels it when Changbin crawls into his bed after a long day, when Seungmin makes him a coffee without asking. He feels it when Jisung curls into his side in the studio and when Felix brings over cookies and won’t leave until he watches Chan eat at least two. He feels it when Jeognin pretends to shove him away but lets him pull him into a bear hug anyways, when Minho does the same. He feels it when Hyunjin pushes his door open late at night to set a cup of tea on his desk to sip while he works if he won’t sleep.
It’s a type of love he hadn’t known was possible. They’re his first loves, really, all of them, and it feels like it shouldn’t be possible to love 7 other people as much as he does, to love them all in this way.
He feels selfish for it so much of the time, like he isn’t deserving of them. But Felix presses soft kisses to his mouth when he least expects it and Minho seeks him out for warm touches on cold days, Changbin curls a hand around him under the blankets and mouths at his shoulder.
And then there are nights like this, when they pile up on one couch like they did when they were still trainee’s, too many bodys on a sofa too small for all of them. Limbs tangles with limbs, bodies pressed impossibly close, and Chan thinks maybe the ache is worth it for these fleeting moments in time. He’d keep them in a little box if he could, keep them in his room next to his bottle of sea water like a shoddy museum of all the things he loves.
“What are you thinking about?” Felix whispers too loud, pressing his nose into Chan’s cheek.
“Hm?”
“You look like you’re thinking,” Felix snuggles in closer, draws his legs up to throw them over Chan’s lap.
“Ah, nah, nothing important,” He rubs his thumb along Felix’s ankle bone, feels his smooth skin.
“Shut up, dude,” Seungmin hisses from the floor.
“You shut up,” Felix hisses back, “Tell me anyway.”
“Let’s watch the movie, Lix,” He laughs softly, “I’ll tell you later.”
Felix hums, tucks his head into the crook of Chan’s neck and kisses his collarbone.
“Lix,” Chan breathes when Felix keeps kissing at his skin, snaking a hand up under his shirt to pet at his stomach.
Felix hums again, noses along the line of his shoulder to kiss down his arm.
“Felix,” He tries to keep still to not disturb the others.
“Just let me,” Felix pouts, the hand under Chan’s shirt moving back down to press against the front of his shorts. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, face flushing when he feels his cock twitch.
“Seriously?” Jeongin’s voice cuts through as the sounds of the movie suddenly stops.
“What?” Felix asks casually, not moving an inch.
“You know, some of us were trying to watch this,” Seungmin sighs.
“You can keep watching,” Felix hums, squeezing Chan until he makes another noise. All eyes in the room lock in on him and he feels too warm suddenly, embarrassed under the attention.
“Kind of hard to pay attention when Channie-hyung won’t stop squirming on the couch,” Hyunjin tilts his head, studying the scene. His legs are long and stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.
“Wanna see him squirm more?” Felix asks in that evil voice of his.
“Hey-” Chan starts, but it’s a lost cause once Jisung agrees and scoots closer, pulling Minho with him.
“You want to be good for us, Chris?” Felix asks, voice hot against his ear.
Chan swallows. All eyes are on him. He nods.
“Why does Felix always get to tell him what to do?” Hyunjin wonders out loud, but he moves closer too.
“He’s my dog, right?” Felix opens his mouth to lick a wet stripe on Chan’s cheek. It makes him scrunch his face, sort of disgusted but mostly pleased with some sick sense of contentment.
“He’s a good dog, isn’t he?” Minho speaks for the first time, his voice cool and strong. It makes CHan shiver, his eyes fluttering.
He nods. He is.
Seungmin barks once in solidarity.
“Can someone take his pants off or something?” Jisung whines.
“You have no patience, dude.”
Jisung sticks his tongue out in retaliation, but Felix snaps the elastic of his waistband against his hips once, asking for permission.
Chan lifts his hips.
“Let me?” Changbin asks next, lifting the hem of Chan’s tank top.
Soon enough he is entirely bare, stripped to skin and bone in front of his beautiful boys who look at him with awe. It’s golden light in Chan’s chest, sweltering and overwhelming. His cock is hard against his hip, and he lets Felix guide him the way he wants.
It’s easy to fall into the bliss of being needed, to open his mouth and give himself in his entirety to his boys. It’s the dirtiest part of him, his need to be needed. He craves it like a starving animal, willing to bleed and bend for the chance that someone will call for him, that someone will need him. And here-
“Need you, Chan-hyung,” Jeonging pants, Seungmin’s hand on his cock as he guides it towards Chan’s waiting mouth.
He moans, filled, eyes closed.
“You take it so well,” Felix’s voice rumbles, petting Chan’s stomach. “Such a good puppy.”
From the floor, Jisung whines.
“You want him?” Minho answers.
The world spins once. Pressure and pleasure all around him. Hyunjin is licking at his chest when Jisung settles onto his cock.
“It’s okay,” Minho is behind Jisung, assuring him and helping the rock of his hips, “You can take what you need. He likes it. You like it, don’t you, hyung?”
Chan makes a garbled noise around Jeongin’s cock still in his mouth. His shut eyes brim with tears adn he wish it were possible to make them understand how much he does.
“C’mon, Jisung, stop being so useless,” Seungmin’s hands are in Chan’s hair, keeping his head still as Jeongin starts to move.
“I’m not,” Jisung whines, still letting Minho guide the movement of his hips.
Changbin laughs from somewhere, and Chan reaches a hand out until he finds him. Strong and stable, beside Chan always.
“You good?” Changbin speaks to him only.
He whines, squeezing Changbin’s bicep. He feels the gentle rhythm of it, moving up and down as he touches himself while watching the others.
It makes him laugh again and Jisung whines loudly, Minho smacking the skin of his thigh as he tries to bounce.
They’re all so themselves in this moment, which is to say that Chan loves them wholly and entirely.
Jeongin comes with only a second of warning, and Chan blinks open his bleary eyes just as Seungmin dips down to kiss the cum out of his mouth.
“Hot,” Felix grins, devilish. His boner pokes into Chan’s hip, his hips grinding slowly.
“Pervert,” Hyunjin pulls away from Chan’s nipple where he’d been licking at them and touching himself
“You’re one to talk,” Seungmin rolls his eyes, but he moves to sit by Chan, tipping his head back to present his throat.
Chan places a gentle hand at the base of his neck, catching his throat in the stretch of hand between his thumb and forefinger. He presses gently, just enough to barely cut off his air. Seungmin wheezes, eyes closed in bliss as his hand slips down to work himself over until he spills quickly over his own palm.
Jising is still writhing on his lap with Minho fisting his cock until he cries out and cums, doubled over and whimpering.
The world is bleary in the next few moments, a series of moans and whimpers from so many voices, blending into a harmony worthy of a song. He blinks hard, finds more cum on his stomach than there had been a few minutes ago.
He checks to make sure everyone has cum, a perversion of the millions of times he’s put his boys before himself. Routine, like how he makes sure all 7 are in front of him at the airport, makes sure all 7 have gotten their food, have packed their bags and gotten into the right cars and grabbed the correct microphones and this, making sure all of them are satisfied and complete.
“Good hyung,” Changbin strokes him carefully, “Did such a good job, taking care of all of us.”
He whines, pressing his cheek into Felix’s belly. Small hands pet through his hair and his orgasm is building quickly.
“Good dog,” Minho praises. Seungmin barks again in solidarity.
“Love you so much, Chris,” Felix scratches at his scalp gently, “You’ve done so well, baby.”
When he finally comes, it’s with the people he loves the most coaxing him through it.