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2019
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Hongjoong wasn't used to not knowing where San was at all times.
The younger was always either creeping around his studio door or begging him for food, hands grabby and childish where they were constantly trying to pull at Hongjoong's arms, get him to open up and talk to him even when it was 2 o'clock in the morning and they had practice the next day.
It was unnerving to see his bed empty that morning.
Hongjoong threw on the nearest pair of pants and padded out into the living room, bare feet miraculously paler than the rest of him.
He was used to waking up last and being the one to rush around the towering bodies of seven other boys to get to practice, but the dorm was entirely too empty for his liking and he found himself rounding the corner into the kitchen with a troubling feeling in his stomach.
Much to his brief relief, Hongjoong found Wooyoung in the kitchen leaning heavily against the sink, eyes focused on the bowl he held with an almost amusing amount of delicacy.
He was eating cereal, small colorful crisps that were regretfully not part of their diet, and were most likely smuggled in by Yeosang.
Hongjoong drew closer, confused as he watched Wooyoung study a spoonful carefully before dropping the portion right back into the bowl where the milk sprung up to splash across his cheek.
Wooyoung cursed.
"Where the hell is everyone?" Hongjoong asked, tired eyes widening when Wooyoung's head jerked up at the sound of his voice.
"Where's San? We're supposed to be riding together for practice today." He explained, words loud in the quiet of the room as he moved to search through the fridge, absentmindedly reaching for a reused bottle of water.
He briefly glanced at the lid, noticing Jongho's initials scrawled messy and small at the top.
Hongjoong slammed the fridge door closed with his elbow and twisted the cap off without hesitation.
Wooyoung slowly placed his bowl of cereal down, sending the glass rattling across the counter top.
"Practice is cancelled." He said, and Hongjoong abruptly stopped his hand from raising the bottle to his lips, mouth falling open.
"What the fuck? Since when is that an option?"
"The company has been... reconsidering San's spot on the team."
"What?" Hongjoong snapped, unable to stampen off the immediate rush of heat he felt pool to the surface of his skin.
His eyebrows twitched upward and a sickening laugh broke free from his chest.
"We're five months into our debut, they can't just-"
Wooyoung nodded, sympathetic and exhausted, appearing as though he had been suffering through this same conversation all morning.
"They can. And they will, if that's what they decide. Nothing has been confirmed yet but San's already packed his things. He figured it would be easier that way."
Hongjoong's heart broke a little.
The very center of his chest caved in around a sudden pressure that convulsed against his lungs and dug deep into his limbs.
He almost couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"You've talked to him?" He asked, sounding hurt despite himself, but he didn't care.
San was leaving, getting kicked out, and he hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.
Wooyoung scratched at his neck, nails leaving a track of red lines across his skin.
"Briefly. I caught him on his way out."
The elder's breath lurched in his throat.
He swallowed down the ache he could feel building in his stomach, but his crushed expression was enough to make Wooyoung's head fall dejectedly to the floor.
"Why didn't you wake me up? Why didn't he...?" Hongjoong didn't know whether to be heartbroken or pissed beyond belief.
He wasn't prone to getting emotional, and he didn't necessarily enjoy taking care of any of the other members during tough times, but for San to go through years of training only to be 'recast' now was devastating.
Hongjoong now found himself desperate for some sort of resolution, a way to show San what he meant to the group, make it up to him if at all possible.
He didn't want to hear about San packing and leaving and disappearing.
He wanted to be able to see it, offer San any form of consolation he could because the boy had worked so hard for absolutely nothing, and Hongjoong couldn't comprehend the unfairness of it all.
Wooyoung prodded at his eyes from beneath his glasses, not bothering to push them up and out of the way first.
"I'm sorry, hyung. He didn't want to wake anyone if he didn't have to." He frowned deeply, dimples appearing as voidless divots rather than adorable slits that curled around the edges of his mouth.
Wooyoung gave the explanation almost like he was forced to, but didn't really see the reason in it much like Hongjoong, who gaped at him doubtfully.
Hongjoong didn't see the sense in anything at that moment.
He didn't see the sense in banning cereal or labeling water bottles or kicking out a kid who had done nothing but work with the sort of chaotic induced passion that surged through each and every one of them.
The company could say all they wanted, but when the stakes were high and the tension was palpable, Hongjoong was the one who had watched San get up at ungodly hours of the night to practice.
Hongjoong was the one who had found San passed out and hunched over his knees in the bathtub, soaked with sweat that he had meant to rinse off but hadn't had the energy to accomplish.
Hongjoong was the one who fetched him his clothes when he was too tired to move, scolded him gently when he found bruises littering his knees, and walked him through vocals with each song because 'you don't look worried when you're helping me like Jongho does, you believe in me more than anyone, Hongjoong-hyung.'
Panic settled high in Hongjoong's shoulders.
He took a quick drink of water before putting the bottle back into the fridge with twitchy fingers.
Jongho wouldn't notice.
"What are we gonna do?" He asked, unbearably tense.
Wooyoung shrugged.
"Nothing. We don't have a say in who leaves and who stays. They made their final cuts, and now they're thinking about making one more."
Hongjoong felt a prick of irritation press between his eyebrows, forehead creasing.
"How the hell are you so calm about this?" He demanded, judgement surging forward before he could really even consider Wooyoung's stature.
Which was his mistake, because Wooyoung retaliated back with just enough bite in his words to make Hongjoong's gaze weaken.
"How else am I supposed to act, huh? Jesus, Hongjoong. You think I didn't try and fight for him?"
"Sure as hell seems like it."
"Being the one who talked with them first doesn't mean I have a say in-"
"You have a say in everything here, Wooyoung. We all do." Hongjoong shook his head violently, wide eyed and slack jawed and so close to screaming that the pulse in his neck was a far away warning that travelled all the way up to his ears.
He wanted answers.
Solutions.
Anything.
Because San couldn't leave.
"You're the company's precious gem, they'd do anything to make sure you stick around."
Wooyoung's smile was crooked, loose and painfully sarcastic.
It held a little bit of pain too, shaken attachment flashing through his eyes.
"If only it were that easy." He mumbled.
With his chest burning and his motives scattered, it was easy for Hongjoong to forget that San leaving affected so much more than just himself.
When he pushed away the sorrow, the mind numbing despair that when boiled down left a sudden gaping hole in his stomach, he was able to forget about himself.
About his attachment and his ridiculously absurd fondness that had latched on so viciously to his heart the moment San spoke, voice like wind chimes and candy and sunlight.
It was all compacted into one single body and mind and adorably sweet boy that laughed with his entire being, danced like his limbs had been swept up in a breeze, and existed in his own world of untouchable innocence.
He was unbearable, unfathomable, absolutely impossible in the greatest way imaginable, and it was easy for Hongjoong to forget that he hadn't been the only one caught in the scorching light of San's presence.
It was so much harder to decipher someone else's pain than his own, and it wasn't until that moment, in the darkness of the dorm with the refrigerator wheezing and the sink filled to the edges with dishes, that Hongjoong realized the group wouldn't be able to survive this.
This loss.
This betrayal of the company.
If San left they would all fall apart, and that's when Hongjoong got a good look at Wooyoung, face hidden behind the fabric of his dark hoodie.
Wooyoung was chewing on his drawstrings, eyes squeezed shut with an agonizing furrow that almost made Hongjoong step forward, gaze impossibly sympathetic.
Wooyoung might be loud and present himself confidently, but he was unbelievably gentle.
When he wasn't existing through a misty haze of suppressed hatred and torturous agony that was found scribbled in the crevices of his notebooks and hidden far away at the back of his mind, Wooyoung was calm.
He was quiet but explosive, animated when you'd least expect it and beautifully foolish when his sharp teeth and dimples appeared.
He was the most interesting man Hongjoong had ever met, the greatest pick for a leader he could have asked for.
If it were his way.
And Hongjoong knew that Wooyoung had discovered his realization quicker than anyone else.
San had to stay.
"Do the others know?" He wondered, briefly interested in whether San bothered telling anyone at all.
Maybe Hongjoong wasn't an exception, and Wooyoung had just lucked out in seeing him when he did.
It was a sliver of hope that Hongjoong couldn't bring himself to let go of quite yet.
Not until he saw the way Wooyoung's expression grew hesitant.
"Yeah. I woke up this morning and found Yeosang crying in the bathroom. San was packing and Yunho was just sitting up in bed, watching him. We didn't know what the hell to say."
Hongjoong glared.
"And you just let me sleep?"
"Since when have you ever wanted to be woken up?" Wooyoung mocked, but he quickly decided to steady himself when he saw how upset Hongjoong really was, hands stiff and unmoving by his sides.
"I told you. San didn't want to wake you." He repeated, and Hongjoong looked at him for a long moment, the remnants of anger flaring back up where they licked hotly down his sides.
He couldn't possibly think of a reason why San wouldn't want to see him before he left.
It made Hongjoong's insides itch in horrifying discomfort.
Wooyoung watched the torment morph the shape of Hongjoong's face, pressing jagged lines and a moping scowl over his fragile lips.
He sighed deeply, eyes droopy, and squeezed Hongjoong's shoulder as he passed him on his way out of the kitchen.
"If you think it'll help at all then go talk to management. I've already been. I think Seonghwa-hyung has too. Maybe a few different opinions will help sway their minds."
Hongjoong was dressed and out the door before Wooyoung could even think about convincing him further.
It wasn't at all needed, because even when the smallest glimpse of a chance made itself visible, Hongjoong was already on the move, charging up through management and producers and a room full of people who could kick Hongjoong to the curb in an instant.
All the way up to the main office, where their CEO sat heavy and authoritative, expression morphing with only slight interest when Hongjoong appeared at his door.
Hongjoong wasn't quiet as he stepped into the room, closed the door, and bowed with barely any respect, back straight and shoulders hunched.
"Why are you planning on cutting Choi San out of our team?" He asked thickly, tension running clear where it rose in his throat in a silent challenge.
It vaguely registered to Hongjoong that he was standing in front of his superior.
His elder, employer, his boss, and his posture was much too prodigious, much too aggressive and pretentious for his own good.
Hongjoong knew the simmer in his eyes was undermining and the bitter lock of his jaw was pushing it, but he couldn't even begin to stamp it down or wash it clean.
It consumed him, corrupted and boiled from the very center of his chest where his rage was always stored, locked away where it waited patiently for one of its many triggers.
San just happened to be one of them.
The CEO gave Hongjoong a relentful look, kind eyes softening around tuffles of worn skin.
"He's not progressing at all." He sighed, looking guilty enough for Hongjoong's anger to flicker with uncertainty.
He wasn't by any means a selfish man or a horrible boss.
He was awfully good at convincing people to bend over backwards for him, but his intentions were helpful and he had a heart that was visible behind a few layers of hardened skin.
Hongjoong used to hate him, despise him even.
He had been promised a spot in a rapper group, and had found himself lodged tight and permanent in an idol group instead, expected to dance and perform in tight clothes and makeup rather than baggy pants and chains.
His dream had been altered, twisted and manipulated in a way that had been convenient for everyone but Hongjoong, and for a long time it had been something he wasn't sure he would ever really get over.
Hongjoong still supposed he never would have if he had been put into any other group and forced to bond with any other pick of members.
Hongjoong hesitated, staring briefly across the office where a few managers sat silently at the back of the room, voices hushed and secretive as they threw Hongjoong numerous lingering glares.
It was enough to make Hongjoong speak up.
"And that's all on him?" He retorted, earning a roomful of raised eyebrows.
"What do you mean?" The CEO encouraged, ignoring the shuffling discomfort that had begun to stir at the table behind him.
Hongjoong didn't let his eyes wander, instead focusing hard and favorable towards the CEO.
"No one's teaching him properly."
"What are you suggesting?"
"It's not a secret that most of you don't want him here. We're less than six months out from debut and none of you have even bothered to try and get him the training he needs." Hongjoong explained around a mouthful of sarcasm, desperation forcing heat to rush over the plains of his face, forehead glistening in the brutal office lights.
His hands were frantic, unable to decide whether to stay curled and heavy by his sides or to brush up the meat of his thighs where he could feel his skin bristling with flaming pressure.
The back table screeched across the floor as a manager stood, chair rattling behind him.
"How do you think this works, Kim Hongjoong? We are sustaining a business here, we can't afford to buy private lessons for every talentless rat-"
"He's an asset, and we need him in our group." Hongjoong seethed, practically vibrating where he stood.
The CEO raised a hand towards the group behind him, eyebrows lowered in scornful disapproval as he shook his head.
The manager that had raised his voice took a tentative step back, stumbling as he sat down.
Hongjoong could still feel his pulse pounding through the column of his neck.
"There's only so much we can do from here. San has shown no real proof that he can be of any use on stage." He said, restating the facts as though they were permanent and unacceptable, and Hongjoong felt anxiety like never before constrict his insides, tongue swelling at the bottom of his mouth.
Hongjoong quickly became desperate.
"Can he rap?"
"Not at all."
"Then teach him how to sing. Really sing. His voice could be amazing if he just knew how to use it."
The CEO let out a frustrated sigh, eyes closed as he pinched the frame of his glasses and tossed them across the desktop.
He folded his hands together, eyes narrowed in both silent contemplation and pestering annoyance.
"There's not enough time, Hongjoong. We have to find a replacement so we can do the final recordings for the album." He explained, but Hongjoong wasn't planning on giving up anytime soon, and the conviction at which he leaned over the desk and clenched his teeth was enough to make every man in the room fall still in their seats.
"Then make time, god knows he'll work day and night for it. Just for a chance. Find a teacher, set up lessons- I don't care. But get him ready, because we need him." Hongjoong insisted, heart set and longing for the happiness of an innocently sweet dark haired boy.
They still had memories to make, fans to see, their promise to keep.
There was still so much to do.
"This is it, sir. The eight of us, no one else. This is Ateez."
For a long time, no response was given.
The managers had been arrogant and vicious since the moment Hongjoong walked in, but now they were abnormally silent, rigid and avoidant where they refused to meet Hongjoong's demanding gaze.
When the CEO finally responded, his stance was nothing short of impending curiosity, body leaning back in his chair as he studied Hongjoong carefully.
He pressed a pen against the roof of his mouth, gaze slightly challenging.
"And what if we can't make any of that possible?"
It was an honest question, a mindful proposal that was made to test the waters, see where Hongjoong stood and what limits he held with great importance.
It was to prodd at his weakest point, maybe even his breaking point, and it made Hongjoong speak without the slightest hint of refrain.
Hongjoong's mouth quirked, hands curling stubbornly against the edge of the desk where his nails scraped against wood.
"Then I don't think I want to work for a company that sends a kid like San running for the hills."
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[ A/N: next chapter is coming out today. i will be proofreading then posting, so stick around for that! love you guys, thank you for your support on this book so far🧡 ]