Chapter Text
The discordant sound of pots and pans being clattered against each other is the first sensation Wooyoung senses upon waking up, and he is incredibly tempted to scream at his members to prepare their breakfast more quietly. He reaches out to grab his phone from the cabinet beside his bed to check the time, but finds that all he can feel between his fingers with each futile grasp is mere nothingness. Confused, he rubs at his eyes and sits up—and, as he does so, he unceremoniously bashes his forehead against the ceiling. What the fuck? Doesn’t he sleep on the bottom bunk?
“Yeosang, why am I in your bed?” he croaks, sliding over to the steps to climb down onto the ground. He trips over a pair of sneakers he does not recognise, and in his attempt to put them back in the closet, realises that the entire room is unfamiliar to him. He casts his mind back to the previous night, trying to piece together some memories to explain why he has not awoken in his own dorm, but cannot remember anything. Could he have attended some kind of party that got out of hand? That doesn’t seem likely, given that they have a comeback to prepare for and there is no way he would behave that irresponsibly (even if there wasn’t a high likelihood that Hongjoong would murder him). He realises, as he rifles through various artefacts in the room to identify whose room it actually is, that he is actually wearing pyjamas. Is he a ten-year-old at a sleepover all of a sudden?
He is startled from his investigations by the sound of the door opening, and a familiar face appears through the small gap. “Oh, you’re awake. Are you coming to get breakfast? We’ve got to leave soon.”
“Yeonjun?”
“Yes?”
“I—What’s going on?”
Yeonjun chuckles. “Taehyun is making pancakes as a special treat and if you don’t come along in five minutes you’re gonna miss out. Get dressed quickly.”
“No, I mean—why am I here?”
A frown creases Yeonjun’s brow, but his amused smile remains in place. “Now isn’t the time for an existential crisis, Woo. Now, come on—we’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.”
As Yeonjun closes the door, Wooyoung finds, finally, his phone in a drawer. The first notification to greet him as the screen lights up is a calendar reminder: MUSIC BANK. Fuck, that’s today? Okay, Hongjoong will definitely murder him. After the high success of their previous comeback, fans have been eagerly anticipating this new one and he’s about to potentially fuck it up by striding shamelessly into the studio after spending the night at Yeonjun’s? He’s screwed.
Wooyoung eats his breakfast hurriedly, while staring at each of the men around him at the table in turn. Yeonjun, his darling friend, with his inky black hair dangling in front of his face as he shovels more food into his mouth than should be possible, is a comforting companion beside him despite the unease he feels as he keeps glancing at the clock. Taehyun, another familiar face from Wooyoung’s past, having trained with him all those years ago, sits at the end of the table more inclined to watch the others enjoying his culinary handiwork than partake in the meal himself. He is not as acquainted with the other three, who seem to feel far less awkward in his presence than he is in theirs. Beomgyu chats throughout, somehow managing to storm through three separate topics in the short time it takes them to eat; Kai laughs uproariously at varying intervals, startling Wooyoung every time (which only makes him laugh more); and Soobin, the calm and gentle leader, quietly offers his own contributions while keeping his eye trained on Wooyoung almost constantly (quite unnervingly, actually). He remembers, through picking up segments of the conversation between the other men, that TXT are also having a comeback at the same time, which makes him feel marginally less worried.
“I can catch a ride with you guys, right?” he asks as the others begin to rise from their seats to take their plates to the kitchen.
“Hmm?” replies Soobin.
“To Music Bank. Can I go with you?”
To Wooyoung’s chagrin, the boys all laugh.
“Don’t be like that, hyung. You’re not still thinking about that argument from the other night, are you?” Taehyun sighs, tapping Wooyoung on the arm with a little more force than is probably necessary. “You know I didn’t mean what I said. It was just heat-of-the-moment stuff.”
Wooyoung frowns. He really must have drank more last night than he should have, because he has no recollection of any intoxicated row with his old friend; but, as he is fearful of his leader finding out more information about his night than he needs to know, and as the five men surrounding him are regarding him with expectant expressions, he decides it will just be best if disguises the fact that he has absolutely no idea what Taehyun is talking about. “Okay, well… me neither,” he replies, scratching his chin somewhat ashamedly.
“You should hug it out,” Kai announces, placing his hands on Taehyun’s back and practically pushing him forward into Wooyoung’s personal space.
One of the most awkward embraces (if two men patting each other’s shoulders while avoiding eye contact can be considered such) of Wooyoung’s life ensues and, once the others have finished teasing them and declaring that any onlookers would assume the pair had only just met each other, an alarm starts blaring from Soobin’s phone and he begins pushing them all out of the door.
There is enough room in the car for all of them to ride together, and Wooyoung ends up seated in between the two oldest members of the group. During the journey, Wooyoung taps the beat of ATEEZ’s new song, ‘Halazia’, on his knee as he mentally rehearses the choreography while gazing down at the floor. He is only vaguely aware of the conversation happening around him, wherein Soobin is recapitulating with his members the intricacies of their own upcoming performance. As Wooyoung reaches the end of his third run-through of the song, he glances up to find that the car has stopped outside the venue and everyone is looking at him.
“What?” he asks, suddenly self-conscious again.
“Were you even listening to me before?” demands Soobin, with irritation in his voice.
“…Was I supposed to be?”
“It would be helpful,” chuckles Yeonjun; although the humour he’d carried in his voice earlier has somewhat melted away, to the point that even he sounds somewhat peeved.
“Oh, I’m sorry—I was just going through my choreo in my mind. I always do that on the way to a music show, it helps me feel prepared.”
“Well, that’s good and all, but I was going over the little changes we’ve had to make. Beomgyu and Taehyun will be swapping places during the bridge, so I need to make sure everyone is aware of how that will change things for the final chorus.”
“Sorry, Soobin, but what exactly does that have to do with me? Why do I need to know about that?”
Soobin stares at him, his eyes darkening to an almost frightening degree. “Seriously now, what is up with you today? You’ve been distant all morning, and now you don’t even seem to be taking this seriously. What’s happened to your drive? What’s happened to wanting to be the best, every time? Do you even want us to win today?”
Wooyoung looks around at the serious faces and can’t help the chuckle that escapes his lips. “Well… obviously, I’d rather ATEEZ won, but—”
“Keep him away from me,” Soobin snarls to the others, opening his door with force and unceremoniously clambering out of the car.
Thoroughly perplexed, Wooyoung turns to his best friend for some kind of explanation. All Yeonjun can offer him is a slight frown, his eyes tinged with concern, before he nudges Wooyoung with his knee to usher him forward.
Wooyoung climbs out of the vehicle, smiling at the MOAs who are offering praise and compliments in an almost unintelligible stream of voices. He makes sure to wave to all the ATINYs he can recognise, who, strangely, seem not to be completely interested in his presence. He looks out for their placards, but can’t see any with his own face on, and decides that they must not have been expecting him to arrive with a different group and just haven’t registered him properly. Yes, that must be it.
Upon approaching the elevator inside the building and noticing Soobin waiting for it, he decides to take the stairs; and, when he reaches the correct floor, he hears voices which indicate that the rest of ATEEZ have already arrived. He quickly pulls his phone out of his pocket, realising that he hasn’t yet heard it ring or even chime with a new message notification, and is surprised to find that none of his members have contacted him to inquire after where he is or whether he’s even safe after having been missing since the previous night. He knows that a few of the boys often act as though the group chat doesn’t even exist, but surely someone must have been worried about him? Why hasn’t Hongjoong sent him a blistering text? Why doesn’t he have ten missed calls and an equal number of angry voicemails from their manager?
He wanders into the green room to find San and Mingi bickering over a plate of food, while Yeosang sits having his hair and makeup done. Jongho is in the corner of the room scrolling through his phone, Yunho sits beside him trying to show him the new game he’s just downloaded, and Hongjoong is stood by one of the mirrors talking to a camera which must be filming one of their new logbook episodes. The only member who actually notices his entrance is Seonghwa, who gets up from his seat and approaches him with a confused but friendly smile.
“Wooyoung, hi,” Seonghwa says, bowing. “I think you might have the wrong room. Unless you came to see Yeosang?”
“Don’t be silly, hyung, I’ve had enough of people acting weird with me today,” Wooyoung sighs, placing his things down on the nearest table and practically throwing himself onto the softest seat in the vicinity.
“Oh… okay.” Seonghwa turns to leave him alone, but Wooyoung stops him by taking hold of his wrist.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me where I was, or start lecturing me or something?”
Seonghwa laughs somewhat awkwardly. “Why would I do that?”
“Has everyone suddenly just stopped caring about me?” Wooyoung frowns, then realisation dawns on him when he really absorbs the blank expression on his hyung’s face and he begins to clap his hands in mock applause. “Oh, I get it now. This is my punishment, is it? Because I disappeared all night and didn’t tell you where I was, you’ve all decided to act like you don’t know who I am. You’re putting on quite the show, hyung—very convincing. Those acting skills that you barely got the chance to use on ‘Imitation’ are really coming through for you now.”
Seonghwa’s expression changes from confused to downright amazed, with a touch of indignation causing his cheeks to pinken. He’s staring at Wooyoung as though the man has just announced he’s an alien from a newly-discovered planet, and the younger rises from his seat to look around the room. By now, he’s attracted the attention of all seven of the others (and a couple of the stylists), who are watching him with varying levels of alarm, with Yeosang seemingly the only one confident enough to approach him.
“Wooyoungie, what are you doing?” he whispers, taking Wooyoung gently by the hand and pulling him to one side. “Are you drunk?”
“No, I’m not drunk,” Wooyoung hisses. “I just want to know why everyone’s being so aloof with me.”
“Well, we weren’t expecting you.”
“Look, I know I wasn’t at home last night, but you don’t think I’d just bail on you, do you? You don’t think I’d just miss a show like that?”
“You weren’t at home?”
Wooyoung snickers. “Come on, Yeosangie, I know you’re oblivious half the time but even you must have noticed that I wasn’t there. I literally sleep below you.”
Yeosang watches him with worry in his warm expression, and he leaves Wooyoung for a moment to murmur something to their leader. Hongjoong, who looks over at Wooyoung not with the fury he’d expected to see, but with something more akin to sympathy, nods once and in a moment Yeosang is back by his side and leading him carefully out of the room with a firm but compassionate hand on his lower back. He helps Wooyoung into a small plastic chair beside one of the many offices on the floor, kneeling down to look him in the eye.
“Will you wait here for me, Wooyoungie?” he asks gently, as if talking to a small child who has just fallen over and grazed their knee. “We’ve just got to do a pre-record of our performance, but as soon as it’s done I’ll come right back, okay?” He stops Wooyoung from interrupting by placing a hand on his knee. “Promise me you’ll stay here until I come to get you? It’ll only take half an hour at the most. Promise me.”
Wooyoung, desperately wondering what kind of explanation his company is going to provide to explain his absence for their first show of the comeback, but also beginning to feel as though he isn’t quite in the right mind to perform anyway, feels like the only thing he can do right now is to nod at his best friend’s bizarre command. Yeosang appears somewhat satisfied with his response, for the crease in his forehead smoothens out and his pursed lips relax into a slight smile, and he leaves Wooyoung with a reiteration of his assertion that he will return to him as soon as their recording is finished.
As he shoves his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone again, he remembers that he left it on the table in their room and frustratedly murmurs a few expletives. He dares not go back in there, not just because it’ll probably annoy Yeosang but also because he can’t quite forget the eerie expression on Seonghwa’s face when he accosted him. The man seemed truly frightened of him, as though Wooyoung were practically a stranger who had just decided to shout at him out of the blue. He’d had good reason, though, hadn’t he? Wooyoung would be the first to admit he’d behaved irresponsibly, but that didn’t give everyone the right to just give him the cold shoulder. He’d have happily accepted a telling-off from everyone after their appearance on the show—he might even have willingly followed Hongjoong into his room back at their dorm to be mercilessly berated if his leader deemed it appropriate. But this just feels unnecessary, and the more Wooyoung ruminates on it the more angry he feels. He’s about to stand up and march back in there when he hears the group come together to recite their slogan, as they always do before a performance. As distinctly as if he was in the room with them, he hears them shout, “Seven makes one team!” before Hongjoong tells them all to do their best and have fun. With tears filling his eyes, he feels as good as invisible as he watches them all file out of the room down the hallway and head off to the studio area, with only Yeosang having the decency to spare a glance back at him.
It transpires that Wooyoung does not need to wait for Yeosang to return, because no sooner does the sound of ‘Halazia’ begin resonating through the floor than Yeonjun steps out of the elevator beside him and grabs his arm.
“There you are! What are you doing up here? We’re in the room on the second floor,” he barks, lifting Wooyoung to his feet with as little patience as gentleness and dragging him back to the elevator. “Look, if it’s because of Soobin, you don’t need to go hiding. He’s still pissed off, but you know he’s a professional so he’s not gonna jeopardise our comeback by showing any hostility towards you. You know what the fans are like, they’d be able to sense tension from a mile away. So just chill, yeah? You’re lucky you were already last on the list for hair and makeup, otherwise you’d have made him even more annoyed.”
As the doors open, Yeonjun steps out and finally looks over at his friend. “Wait, have you been crying?”
Wooyoung shakes his head and quickly moves away from Yeonjun to enter TXT’s room. Truthfully, there still are tears slipping out and sliding down his cheeks intermittently. He feels utterly bewildered, as though every shred of rationality he possesses is being quickly swiped away from him by all the people he loves the most. He almost expects to see a completely different person when he looks in the mirror, as that surely would be no less extraordinary than everything else that has been happening to him today. However, as he sits down in the chair an unfamiliar stylist is beckoning him towards, he happens to be faced with his own unhappy reflection. The stylist dabs at his cheeks with a tissue, thankfully making no remark, before she begins to apply his makeup. He can still hear the thumping beat of ‘Halazia’ beneath them, and he begins absentmindedly tapping his foot along to the familiar rhythm. He wonders who will be covering his parts, if anyone at all, and who will take his place in the part of the choreography where he has to emerge from behind Jongho and San. He wonders if there are already ATINYs watching them perform and wondering why he isn’t there, or whether KQ has already issued a statement to explain. He wonders what that statement would say. He wonders whether the fans will believe whatever it says. They’ve already seen him outside, haven’t they? They didn’t give him the warmest greeting, but they saw him. Why didn’t they greet him warmly, actually?
As these thoughts flicker around his mind, each serving only to agitate him further, the stylist steps away for a moment and Soobin takes her place. Wooyoung prepares for another snipe, but the younger man actually looks quite apologetic.
“Listen, hyung, I’m sorry about before,” Soobin says, not quite able to make eye contact with him. “I just felt like you weren’t really listening to me, but I guess you were just focusing on preparing for the performance in your own way. I would appreciate it if you’d pay more attention to me in future, though, just so that I know we’re all on the same page.”
Wooyoung nods, lacking any real spirit to argue anymore, especially when he still doesn’t quite know what he’s arguing about. “Okay, Soobin. Thanks.”
Soobin taps him on the shoulder in what Wooyoung assumes must be some kind of conciliatory gesture, and before he has a chance to gather his thoughts again someone steps into the room and announces that it’s their turn to go downstairs for pre-record.
“Good luck, guys,” Wooyoung says, as he suddenly questions why they bothered putting any makeup on him when his group have just performed without him.
“Come on, hyung, put your outfit on,” Beomgyu insists, thrusting a pile of green taffeta at him. “We’re on stage in, like, five minutes!”
Wooyoung truly begins to feel as though he must be in some kind of dream sequence as a different stylist begins to actually help him into the clothes and shoes. They hurry him along and express their dissatisfaction with various clicks of their tongue and rolls of their eyes, before finally tying the laces which adorn the neckline of his shirt and literally pushing him out of the door. He practically floats down to the studio (which is apt as he does seem to be dressed like a fairy) and he only really registers exactly what’s about to happen at the very last moment.
“Hang on, am I supposed to be performing with you?” he asks in astonishment.
“Who else would you be performing with?” asks Taehyun as he fixes his mic in place.
“I don’t know your song, Taehyun. No offence, but I don’t even know what it’s called.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been so focused on ‘Halazia’ that I’ve not been keeping up with anyone else’s comebacks. It has been on my list, but—”
“Seriously, hyung, what are you talking about? You’ve been like this all day, would you just stop messing around? We’re literally about to go out there. MOA are waiting for us.”
Wooyoung creeps closer to Taehyun, desperation in his voice as he urges, “Taehyun, seriously, I can’t go out there. I don’t know your song, I don’t know your choreo, it would be ridiculous. I don’t even know why I’m supposed to be doing it anyway. If it’s for some special Music Bank episode, I’m sorry but I didn’t get the briefing.”
Taehyun just stares at him. His eyes look so round and so full of thunder that Wooyoung fears for a moment that he’s going to hit him, but instead he just turns and tells one of the producers that Wooyoung isn’t himself and it would be best if he sits out the performance. The producer looks perturbed, but ultimately agrees—either because he isn’t paid enough to quibble or because there simply isn’t enough time in their tightly-packed schedule. TXT’s manager soon approaches, speaking to someone on the phone and telling them to inform the social media team that they have to post a notice on Weverse and quickly. Wooyoung hears it all but doesn’t really listen. He just wants to go back to his dorm, so that’s what he does.
He approaches one of the less terrifying staff members and asks if she can prepare a car for him to go home. She assents, asks him if he’d like anyone to accompany him to the dorm (to which he declines) and takes him upstairs to fetch his phone and get changed back into his ordinary clothes before leading him out the back, to where a car is waiting and where there are no fans lurking. He climbs into the back, hoping that upon his return home he’ll be able to revert to a state of normalcy. He recites his address, just in case the driver mistakenly thinks he’s meant to be taken back to TXT’s dorm, and is met with a frown by the driver in the rear-view mirror.
“That’s not what I’ve got written down,” the man says, his voice gruff and somewhat threatening.
“Oh… well, anyway, that’s where I live.”
“Not according to this note.”
“Well, the note must be wrong.”
The man glares at him, evidently not used to being contradicted and not liking it when he is. “I’m afraid I can’t take you anywhere other than the address written here. It would be against the rules, and I’m not putting my job on the line because you want to go and see your little girlfriend or whatever your plan is.”
“I—Where exactly are you being told to take me?”
The man reads from his card, and while the exact location doesn’t sound familiar to Wooyoung’s ears, he deciphers that it must indeed be where TXT live. “Okay, this must be a mistake. I’ll just walk, thank you.”
Before the driver can protest, Wooyoung climbs out of the car and races away from the building as fast as he can, in case anyone decides to follow him.
Wooyoung isn’t as familiar with this area of Seoul as he’d like to be, and after passing the same café three times he realises he must be lost. His phone is little more than useless, refusing to connect to data; so, with no help from the GPS app, he pushes open the door of the eatery, hoping that the friendly-looking girl behind the counter will be able to give him general directions. When he approaches, the woman’s smile beams even wider, her whole face lighting up with recognition. Wooyoung, despite the distress he’s experienced today, can’t help but feel his mood brighten slightly with the ego boost it brings.
“You’re Wooyoung,” she says, more telling him than asking him.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“You’re my bias,” she simpers.
“Oh, really? Thank you so much. Anyway, I was just wondering if you could—”
“I keep your photocard in my phone case. Would you sign it for me? Please?”
Wooyoung pauses and resists the temptation to cry. “Yes, okay.”
While the girl fidgets with her phone, carefully pulling the case off so that she can retrieve the card within, Wooyoung asks her which way he should go if he wants to reach the particular area in which his dorm is situated—taking great care, in the knowledge that she not only knows who he is but is also a big fan, not to give away too many details about where he lives. She excitedly gives him the information he needs, even making gestures with her hands to demonstrate which way he should go, while he uses a pen she has procured from under the counter to carefully autograph the card.
He doesn’t actually recognise which album this photocard comes from, nor does he remember having had pink hair, so he asks her when he has finished signing it.
“Oh, well, I’ve been a fan right from your debut,” she says proudly, turning the card around to reveal the title of the album. “In fact, ‘Crown’ is still my favourite title track. The music video is just so cute! You’ve all grown up so much since then.”
Seeing the name of TXT’s debut album staring at him makes Wooyoung feel nonplussed. For a moment he thinks that she must have mistaken him for someone else, but then she knew him by name and that is his face on the card.
“Would you mind singing a little bit for me, please? Just your part?” the girl asks, her eyes twinkling.
“Sorry?”
“You know, the line after Yeonjun’s in the pre-chorus. It’s my favourite part of the song.”
Wooyoung grimaces without realising he’s doing so. “Oh, see, I’d love to, but… I’ve got to rest my voice, you see. Comeback season. I’m under strict orders. Maybe another time?”
The girl is crestfallen for a moment, but is immediately rejuvenated by the idea—or, as she’d come to tell her friends later, the promise—that Wooyoung would make a return visit to her café. She lets him go only after telling him about her favourite interview (the Buzzfeed one where the boys all played with puppies and one of them just wouldn’t leave Wooyoung alone, to the point where he joked he would have to take it home with him afterwards) and giving him a free coffee and slice of cake to take with him (because, even during a comeback, it is important to have something sweet to enjoy and he works too hard not to allow himself a little indulgence).
Wooyoung practically stumbles out of the café, trying to remember which direction the girl had told him he must follow, and after finding some extra assistance in a few road signs, he finds that he wasn’t actually as far from home as he’d initially thought. With relief flooding through him, he walks up to the door and fishes into his pocket for his keys. He tries the lock, but is unsuccessful each time. This is the only key he carries with him, so it must be the right one, yet every attempt is simply a matter of him poking fruitlessly at an unyielding lock. Eventually, he decides to just knock and hope that the other members have already returned home and have gotten over their grudge enough to at least acknowledge him by letting him in.
The door is eventually opened by San, who looks both surprised and uncomfortable to see Wooyoung standing in front of him.
“I think my key is broken,” chuckles Wooyoung as he pushes past him into the house. “Unless you’ve changed the locks—in which case, that’s ridiculous but also kinda impressive. I bet it was Jongho’s idea.” Kicking off his shoes, he asks, “Where are my house slippers?”
San fixes him with a bemused look, before he starts to chuckle. Wooyoung joins in, pleased that the hostility finally seems to be finished with and that he has been forgiven for his misdemeanour.
“It’s all a practical joke, right?” says San, poking Wooyoung in the arm. “It’s a good one, Wooyoung. You really had us going earlier—we were like, ‘Has the stress of the comeback been getting to him?’. I think you should probably apologise to Yeosang, though, because he was really worried.”
“You’re the ones playing a joke on me, you mean. Look, if you want me to promise I’ll never go out the night before a music show appearance again, then I will. Today’s events have put me off wanting to go out ever again, actually.”
“I knew you were just drunk. I could tell when you were talking to Seonghwa-hyung. Is that what happened, then? You went out last night and drank so much that you were still drunk in the morning? Wow, Hongjoong-hyung would never let us do that. You’re lucky you’ve got Soobin—I mean, I bet he’s still pretty scary when he’s angry, but he can’t be as frightening as hyung.”
“What do you mean I’ve got Soobin?”
“You’ve got Soobin as your leader, I mean. What’s he like? Is he strict?”
“How would I know? He’s not my leader.”
San frowns. “I don’t know if I like that. Don’t you think it’s a bit disrespectful?”
“What?”
“Like, our leaders do a lot for our groups, right? It’s a bit rude to dismiss him like that.”
“I know that, you fool. I wouldn’t dismiss Hongjoong-hyung’s efforts either. Now, seriously, where are my slippers? Actually, it doesn’t matter. I’m going to my room.”
He shuffles through the dorm on socked feet, making his way into the bedroom he shares with Yeosang and Jongho, to discover that one of the beds is actually missing. The former is sat cross-legged on the bottom bunk, with the latter sat playing games at a desk in the space where his bed would usually be. They both turn their heads when Wooyoung walks in, with Jongho immediately lowering his headphones.
“Hey, where’s your bed?” Wooyoung asks Jongho.
Jongho glances at Yeosang first, as if to confirm that Wooyoung truly is standing there and isn’t just a figment of his imagination, before answering, “I have the top bunk.”
Wooyoung laughs. “So where’s Yeosangie gonna sleep? The floor?”
“He sleeps on the bottom bunk.”
“What about me, then?”
“You?”
“Where am I supposed to go? You're not honestly telling me you’ve thrown out your bed just to make some extra space for gaming, and you want to throw me out as well? How’s that fair? You should be the one sleeping outside, you little brat.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Yeosang rises from where he’s sitting, that same concerned look in his eyes again as he approaches Wooyoung like one would an escaped lion. “Wooyoungie, you’ve had a difficult day. Why don’t we order you a taxi home, yeah? I’ll even come with you if you want. Does that sound good?”
“If you all don’t stop acting like I’m something to be scared of, and not a member of this fucking team, then I really am gonna lose it. Why are you all doing this to me? What have I done to deserve this?”
“Wooyoungie, look at me.” Yeosang moves to stand in front of Wooyoung in such an imposing manner that, even if he wanted to, he couldn’t possibly look anywhere else. “You’re not a member of this team, do you understand?”
“Of course I am—”
“I believe that you think you are, but you’re not. ATEEZ has seven members: Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jeong Yunho, me, Choi San, Song Mingi and Choi Jongho. We always have.”
With tears stinging his eyes again, Wooyoung breaks away from Yeosang and grabs Jongho’s phone from his desk. “Put your passcode in, now,” he insists, and Jongho complies out of fear more than respect. Wooyoung snatches it back as soon as he has done so, and types his own name into the internet search bar. He begins to read aloud the first information that pops up, his tone initially victorious, “Jung Wooyoung, born November 26, 1999, is a South Korean singer and dancer under Big Hit Entertainment. He is a member of the boy group Tomorrow by…”
Silently, with his mouth as dry as a desert, he clicks on the ‘Images’ tab and scrolls through the photos of him collected from various websites over the years since his debut. There isn’t a single photo of him with San, or with Seonghwa, or even with Yeosang. There are, however, countless images of him with Yeonjun, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai from music video sets, magazine photoshoots and even concerts. He doesn’t understand how there can be so many memories depicted on the screen of which he has no recollection; he doesn’t understand how there are pictures of him kissing these boys on the cheek, and of them holding him with their arms wrapped around his waist, and yet he barely knows them. His family is here, in this dorm; so why is the world trying to convince him otherwise?
Something must have happened, that much Wooyoung is sure of. He doesn’t yet know what, but he is determined to find out. As his frozen fingers hand back the phone to Jongho with a mumbled apology, he stares at Yeosang, who looks like he’s about to cry. Looking intently at his face, Wooyoung feels, deep in his very soul, that the man in front of him—the one man in the house who can currently be said to actually know him, with the kind eyes and the compassionate smile—is the only person who he can trust to be able to help him get back to how he should be.