Chapter Text
It was strange how gradual the change was.
Despite his overworking habits - the way he sat at his laptop for hours, replaying the same track until it was perfect; his long nights at the studio, re-recording his own lines until his voice went raspy - Chan still noticed things about his friends. Little rituals his group members had, both within and outside of work. He noticed Han’s eyes lingering on the desserts at every coffee shop; when Hyunjin arrived to dance practices with sunken eyes and raw hands, scrubbed too harshly from a long night of anxious painting; how Changbin grew restless when his workouts couldn’t fit into his schedule. Even with Chan drowning in work, he still noticed.
So, when one day he walked into the studio, fully expecting another semi-productive session with Changbin and Han, he couldn’t help his shock when he opened the door.
Because he should have noticed.
Yet for once, he didn’t.
A soft gasp echoed in the room - a light, sweetened sound from pretty lips. Chan’s eyes were drawn to the sight: the way Han reacted to Changbin’s touch, to the hand grasping in his hair, pulling more delicate sounds from his throat. Han squirmed in Changbin’s lap, their lips pressed together firmly - an action smooth enough for Chan to assume this wasn’t the first time such an activity occurred.
Chan took a small step back.
This-
How long did they keep this from him?
Chan didn’t know whether to leave the room or make his presence known. The two on the couch were still wrapped together - an affectionate embrace for a love Chan wasn’t aware existed.
They were all close. Really close. Having years of experience with each other - living in the same house, sharing clothes, cuddling on long nights - Chan knew his friends.
At least, he thought he did.
A slow ache grew in his chest, but he attempted to push it down.
It hurt. Changbin and Han were entangled in each other’s arms, lips locked tight as if the tiny puffs of air exchanged between them were enough, as long as they had one another.
Chan was an outsider, distant.
He ignored the burning in his heart, the way his eyes blurred as Han’s breaths got louder and louder - echoing in Chan’s ears as a taunting temptation for what he desired all these years.
Because as much as he hated to admit it, Chan also kept a secret from his group.
He was in love with them. All of them.
Chan was the type of person to focus on the positive, to work harder because his role required it, to push down his pain when he first realized his love for the others. Throughout his long career, he held onto the slight hope that his group may feel some sort of way towards him, maybe love, even if Chan doubted they truly felt his devotion towards them, but at least more than friendship. The hope Chan had was small, but with every laugh and hug and air kiss thrown between his friends, it still shined in his heart.
Now, that hope shattered.
Chan was stupid to not have seen it - to not recognize Han’s obvious affection for Changbin, how his eyes sparkled with teasing, his hands resting over strong shoulders with gentle squeezes.
And Changbin returned those efforts, those emotions. He held onto Han when the other was falling into his mind, forced him to workout and eat when his motivation hit rock bottom.
Chan noticed these things. He just didn’t put the pieces together.
How did he not tell?
More importantly, why didn’t they tell him?
Chan turned around, needing to leave the room before they noticed his shallow breaths, the tears threatening to spill down his cheeks. However, his foot caught on the half-open door, and he stumbled into the wall.
The noise caught the attention of the two on the couch.
For a moment, only silence rang in the air.
Chan’s lungs were frozen, panicked. He couldn’t see their expressions with his back towards the room, still facing that godforsaken door.
Chan swallowed, blinking rapidly to push away the moisture in his eyes.
“Chan,” It was Changbin’s voice, a gentle call.
Chan dared to turn around. “Yes?”
As Chan met their eyes, he saw them in the same position on the couch: Han hovering on Changbin’s lap, hands on his shoulders. Now, though, the peace of their moment was broken - Han’s eyes were glazed over, his expression more panicked than anything else. Changbin held tight fingers around his hips, likely settling Han down. Chan noticed these things now.
But it was too late.
“We-” Changbin cleared his throat. “-were going to tell you.”
Chan forced a small, strained smile. “Tell me what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Chan.”
Chan took a deep breath, steadying himself, removing his personal grief from the moment. He just smiled again, forcing the expression to be more authentic, to portray the happiness he should feel at his friends’ love, rather than the bitter hurt in his chest.
Changbin continued carefully, “Han and I, we’re-” He gestured between them, and Chan saw Han force an unnatural calmness. “-together. Uh- all of us are.”
Chan’s heart deflated.
“What- what do you mean, all of you are together?”
This time Han chimed in, his voice shaky yet serious. “Us, we’re, um, dating. Me and Changbin, but also the others. One big relationship, y’know?”
“Right,” Chan breathed out. He couldn’t say anything else. All this time, Chan thought he would never have a chance with his group members, that they wouldn’t interfere with their friendly dynamic or risk the scandals of such a relationship. Chan held back because they obviously weren't interested in dating another member, because they were all friends.
It turned out that Chan was the only friend.
He was right to think he never had a chance, because he didn’t.
They were willing to face the scandals, the criticism if anyone found out. Yet, they couldn’t stand to include Chan, whether it be in the relationship or with the knowledge of their love.
Chan was the estranged one.
Maybe he didn’t deserve love after all.
And with the knowledge came a sense of guilt from being a burden.
How many times did Chan interrupt them with his presence? When he entered the room, greeting them all with a smile, throwing himself onto them with a back hug, playfully attempting to kiss their cheeks - was it all Chan inserting himself into a space he never belonged?
Chan noticed things, but maybe he missed the ways their eyes would dart to one another, exchanging annoyed expressions while silently waiting for Chan to leave. When he hugged them, they probably clenched their fists against his back, counting down the seconds until Chan released them from his toxic embrace.
Because they all chose each other, just not him.
“Are you-” Han swallowed. “Are you okay? Is this okay?”
“Yeah- uh, I mean, I’m surprised is all,” Chan let out a short, stunted laugh. “But, uh, congrats, I guess?”
Han slowly nodded, a tense smile on his face. Changbin eyed Chan, and Chan knew the other didn’t believe it.
But it didn’t matter, Chan was never really anything to them after all.
“I think,” Chan paused, pushing past the sudden dryness in his throat. “-maybe we should finish this another time. There’s a lot to be done, but I can finish it at home?” His words trailed off, tone more like a question than a statement.
Changbin and Han exchanged a glance that Chan didn’t want to read into. There was an understanding between them, one that Chan would never really comprehend, with that subtle communication. Chan swallowed, slowly stepping backwards towards the door.
“Okay,” Changbin spoke at last. “We need to talk about this later though. All of us.”
Chan nodded and fled the room, leaving behind the ghost of his awkwardness - another flaw for Changbin and Han to discuss in the otherwise empty room.
All without him.
————
Chan arrived back at the dorm in record time. He didn’t bother waiting for their manager’s car or public transportation to arrive. Instead, he closed his eyes and ran. He was sweaty and overheating and definitely needed a cold shower to wash off the pain from today, but the run was nice, therapeutic. It allowed Chan to think about nothing, to ignore the emotions swirling inside his mind and focus on the burn in his calves - the beads of liquid dripping down his forehead.
All in all, it was desperately needed.
Unpleasantly, yet unsurprisingly, there were people waiting for Chan’s arrival.
Of course, Chan thought. Han and Changbin definitely sent an emergency text explaining everything.
His chest throbbed again, and Chan closed his eyes against the pain. He knew they would have a group chat without him. Of course they did. They were dating; Chan was outside the loop.
It still stung when he thought about it, though.
How he gave his all to his friends, fully expecting nothing in return. Chan didn’t know when his lack of expectation turned into isolation - into him intruding a space where he wasn’t wanted.
He shot down the dull pain for now, opening his eyes and willing them to shine with honest excitement, instead of the lifeless haze threatening to take over.
Chan had issues of shutting down in the past, of stealing everyone’s pain and worries, taking it into himself until he eventually lost his own light.
It wasn’t their fault this time, for unknowingly powering down the switch in his mind - the one controlling his joy and excitement and everything positive about him, because his mood depended more on the people around him than he wanted to admit.
Chan forced the dullness away for the moment. His group deserved his attention - the excitement he was supposed to feel for their love.
Chan smiled, his now-dried sweat uncomfortably setting into his skin. “How is everyone?”
It was their off-day. Chan wanted to get ahead in their schedule - his reason behind the scheduled meeting with the rest of 3RACHA. It made sense that everyone else was still at the dorm, enjoying their time with one another, patiently waiting for Changbin and Han to return, and likely hoping Chan stayed late at the studio - allowing them more time together without his onerous influence.
Chan was another reminder of their job, their work. Perhaps his need to stay on-track, to work ahead of schedule was yet another reason why he couldn’t be with them, why he wasn’t wanted.
It was funny, how every group had one person lying outside the circle, encroaching the edges but not yet making it into their hearts.
Chan was just glad he took on that role, rather than someone else he loved experiencing that same hurt.
“Good,” Minho stated, eyes baring into Chan’s face.
Chan glanced at the others. He could see the apprehension in their faces - the paleness of Felix’s skin, Hyunjin’s hand on his arm, gentle fingers trying to soothe his mind; Seungmin’s attempted stillness, yet the slight trembling of his hand revealing his true anxieties; Jeongin’s fidgeting, the way his feet could never stay still under pressure. It was all there in front of Chan’s eyes - their discomfort towards him.
Truly, Chan was the issue here.
“Well,” Chan stepped towards the kitchen. “I’m glad. It’s been a long day of resting, I’m sure.”
“Not for you though, right?”
“Hm?”
Minho continued: “I heard there was an impromptu studio session.”
Chan paused, but then continued towards the kitchen, the entire room following in his footsteps. “Right. There was.”
“How did that go?” Minho’s stare was direct. It made Chan sweat again.
“Uh, well, it was a session.” Chan needed to do something with his hands, so he opened the fridge, turning his back on the others and searching for something to eat.
“Cut the act, hyung.” Minho’s voice was firm, but not harsh. “Changbin texted.”
“Ah.” Chan pulled out the carton of eggs, moving to the stove to start his dinner. “I’m not- I’m not mad at you guys. It’s okay that- well, y’know, that you’re together,” his last word was soft, almost wistful.
“That’s it?” Seungmin questioned, and Chan was glad he couldn’t see the younger’s face.
Chan took a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry we kept it from you!” Felix blurted out, voice slightly shaking. “We were just scared and we wanted to tell you, but this type of relationship isn’t really normal and we just-” Felix paused. “I was scared.”
Oh, how that burned.
Felix was scared.
He was fucking scared of Chan.
How did he go wrong? Did he give that impression, of being a judgemental, frightening leader who would hurt his own group, his own friends?
They were scared - not of the press, not of the company.
Of him.
Chan swallowed, flipping his eggs in the pan. “It’s- it’s okay,” his voice cracked. “I’m sorry I made you scared to tell me. You know I love you guys.”
It was the pure truth, yet they didn’t realize how deep honesty lied within those words.
Felix’s voice was a little calmer now, “That’s not- we know you love us, hyung. It’s just scary to tell someone about this.”
We know you love us.
Did they?
Did they really understand the depths of Chan’s passion for them? How he lied in bed at night, mapping out his schedule for the next day, making sure he could sneak Felix protein bars when he “forgot” to eat, planning the grocery order to take some weight off Minho’s shoulders when he made food for the group, moving his own schedule around to join Changbin in the gym because he said he felt lonely in the mornings.
Did they understand his love?
If they truly did, then this was their way of rejecting him - of giving Chan an easy way out.
Because they knew about his love, they just didn’t feel the same.
“Well,” Chan put his meal onto a plate, finally facing the others, but not meeting their eyes. “I support you all. No matter what happens, I’ll always be there.”
“We know, hyung. You’re always there for us.” Jeongin spoke softly.
And this time, those words hit differently. Chan was always there for them, but perhaps that was the problem. They needed time alone - away from Chan so they could enjoy each other’s company without the threat of awkwardness. Because now that Chan knew, how could he act the same without thinking about entrenching himself upon their boundaries? Chan was a touchy person. He showed his love through hugs and gentle touches, but his group members didn’t need that - didn’t want that.
Was this their way of telling Chan to back off?
Probably.
Chan started eating his meal in front of them, each mouthful tasting like the leftover ashes from his scorched heart. Eventually, they left the room, acknowledging the end of the conversation.
Chan acknowledged the end of normalcy. How could he ever act the same again, with this knowledge of his own unwantedness and burdening?
Chan washed his plate without thinking about his actions. He scrubbed with effort until his hands began cracking, only really realizing the pain when blood pooled into one of the cracks, following the path of Chan’s own destruction.
He set the plate aside with a sigh. It would air-dry. It was fine.
He was fine.
He just needed some quiet, to give the others peace for once.
Chan walked to his room, ignoring the gentle laughter from his group only feet away from him on the couch. He imagined their positioning: the way they were cuddled together, sharing a blanket, and poking fun at each other. Chan couldn’t bear to look, but he knew without the threat of being found out, they were going to be more comfortable with each other, more open.
Chan hated himself for preventing that weightless love from existing before.
When Chan shut the door to his room, his heart closed with it. The darkness that greeted him illustrated his life without his group, without his friends. Chan needed to kill this love in his heart, to allow his group the future they wanted.
Chan wasn’t a part of that future, but it was okay.
He would survive.