Before You Go - Chapter 13 (OT8)
Pairing: Platonic OT8 (might change later)
Word count: 5,7k
Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, idol!Ateez
Summary: When you originally auditioned for KQ, you got rejected, and went back to Australia and your older brother to lick your wounds. For a couple of years you tried to forget your dream and be happy with the humble life you built, but there was always something in you that longed for the stage and the lights. One day you got the call, and left to live your dream. But maybe this dream shouldn't have been chased?
Warning/content labels: 9th member, bullying, sexual harassment/assault, alienation, xenophobia, suicide, regression trope, time travel, mentions of alcoholism, restrictive eating, extreme guilt and second chances, and grave formatting issues that I blame on Tumblr.
A/N: IT'S MY BIRTHDAY SO THIS IS MY GIFT TO YOU!!! And just because I can, send all the kisses to my darling @gooddaykate, she's like ridiculously cute and adorable! As always, let me know if you want to be tagged in rest of this, either by comment or ask. Enjoy!
Before You Go Masterlist
Chapter 12 Chapter 14
"Alright, do you remember the pose?" Kwan asks as he gets his camera ready and watches you put yourself back in position. "That's perfect." He says, snapping a couple of pictures. "You always listen so well, Chan-ssi."
Your face heats underneath the makeup again, and you feel like there might as well be a flashing neon sign pointing out how flustered you are from the way Kwan chuckles.
"Beautiful." He says, snapping a couple of more shots even though your expression is no longer aligned with the concept. "Can you turn your face up a little bit more?"
You do as he says but the lack of sounds from the shutter not going off has you feeling like you've done it wrong, something sharp flaring in your chest at the idea.
"No, like this." Kwan pulls the camera down and angles his own face the way he wants you to pose.
You adjust, trying to mirror him exactly, but the sigh that leaves him makes the sharpness inside you expand.
"May I?" He asks, not moving an inch until you give him permission to, and with a nod you do.
He practically towers over you where you sit, and his hand is warm and steady as he gently moves your face to where he wants it.
It's such a minute adjustment that you catch yourself wondering how it could make a difference, but you quickly turn that thought off. He's the professional photographer, not you.
"That's better, great job." He praises when he looks through the viewfinder again, and the familiar sound of the shutter returning allows you to relax again. "Remember to look at me. Good."
He usually doesn't feel the need to direct you quite this much, but you did interrupt the shoot to talk with Minseok so you can't blame him for wanting to get it perfect in the limited time he has.
"Alright good, now I need you to lean back, kind of like you're arching, okay?"
You nod and do as he asks, noticing the way the rips in your shirt end up revealing most of your bra in the position. It's not that big of a deal, you think as Kwan gets down on one knee and asks you to look down at him. It's just a sports bra, not like it's lingerie.
"Angle your leg out a little bit."
He doesn't say which one, but neither feels natural in the position you're in, so you go with your right one and hope it’s not wrong.
"Hm, can you go a bit more?" He asks, moving a little closer, changing the angle of himself so the camera is level with your face. "Or is that too much?"
You don't know why, but something about the words 'too much' makes you pause. You know he means it as if the more exaggerated angle hurts you. So why does it make the sharp feeling in your chest grow until it’s skewering your insides?
You might be exhausted and still a bit dizzy, but you're not a quitter, and you certainly don't want a photographer like Kwan to see you as such.
"No, it's fine." You say, pushing your leg out more, and thanking director Kim for saying yes to getting rid of the mini-shorts and skirts. If you'd been in them now, your underwear would have been on close to full display.
"Perfect. I knew you could do it."
The praise doesn’t hit the same as before, even though the heat that settles on your face feels somewhat familiar. It’s a strange combination that leaves you confused.
"Now, lean back a little more and look straight at the camera."
If you do what he asks, you'll basically be pushing your tits out and at the camera. You hesitate.
"What's wrong?" Kwan asks but this time he doesn't lower the camera, just keeps snapping pictures while he talks.
"I just, um..." You swallow the weird feeling slowly making its way up your throat, your expression dropping from Chan of Ateez to just plain you. "I'm feeling a little exposed."
"Oh." Kwan snaps a final picture before he drops the camera enough to let you see his face. "You should have said something."
I thought I just did.
"That's okay, we'll just work around that." He says kindly, but his choice of words again makes you feel a bit... off. "Tell you what, why don't you sit like this instead?"
He shows you a less provocative pose, and you force yourself to relax into it as the shoot continues.
You're exhausted and stressed. That's all. You’re just thinking too much.
"No, not like that." Kwan sighs again, and again you feel your anxiety spike at having disappointed him. "You're usually not this bad at taking directions, Chan-ssi."
You know you're not, and that knowledge hurts.
"I'm sorry." You try to say, but your voice breaks into more of a whisper as you watch the photographer approach you. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"I thought you trusted me to make you look your best." Kwan says and he looks so disappointed it borders on heartbroken.
"I do. I promise."
"Then why is it so hard for you tonight? Hm?" His tone is as soft as the hand that comes up to caress your cheek, and you freeze.
It's not that different from the previous touch and yet it makes it difficult to breathe. He didn’t even ask.
"I'm..." Your mouth doesn't work, your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth as if it's forgotten how to move, and the way Kwan is now cupping your face does nothing to help. "I'm sorry."
"What am I going to do with you, Chan-ssi?" He tuts, kissing his teeth when you jump at his other hand coming to rest on your thigh, the position now putting his face mere inches from yours. "You're usually such a good listener."
"P-please," You cringe at the weakness in your own voice and how badly your hand trembles when it tries to push away the one now gripping your thigh. "I don't like this."
"I thought you trusted me to help you relax?" He says, the kindness still in his voice so at odds with the way he's grabbing you. "To stop you overthinking."
Your eyes flit around the room and your stomach turns when you realize you're practically alone with him. The only other people left are packing up their equipment with their headphones on or talking to each other, not paying you an ounce of attention.
"You want to call out to them?" Kwan asks softly, his own eyes flitting between yours, the hand at your thigh squeezing until you're hissing, with his other hand moving to your throat. He doesn't even put any pressure on it. He doesn't have to. You're too afraid to move.
"You know what they'd say about you, don't you?" He chuckles, watching the tears fill your terrified eyes. "Cozying up to the photographer to get more time in front of the camera. I've never been anything but professional with you, who would believe I'd do something untoward? Your own team abandons you any chance they get, do you really think they'd defend you?"
You want to say yes. You want to believe it. You want to scream bloody murder and have everyone come back to rescue you. But there's no one left. No one who’d believe you at least.
The guys are all back at the hotel. Minseok is somewhere checking on his pregnant wife because you told him to. You'd like to think some of the unnies might step in, but per Yi's stupid fucking rules, they've either left or are about to and are paying no attention to anything but packing up.
"P-please, Kwan." You whimper but you don't even know what you're asking for anymore. You're too fatigued to fight him off, and even if you did, who would believe you?
He's a famous photographer, known for being one of the most professional and respectful ones in the business, and you're just an overdramatic idol who no one takes seriously. You’ve even raved about his work publicly.
What's even the point of fighting?
"You're so beautiful like this." Kwan whispers with a smile, watching the tears run down your face. "Now, we're going to continue but these pictures are going to be just for me, and you're going to perform like a good little idol, aren't you?"
One moment he's touching you. The next he's not.
"Get your fucking hands off her."
The voice isn't loud but its terrifying depth is familiar enough to make the hair on your body stand up.
"Mingi-ssi," Kwan hisses through a now forced smile, and it's only when you blink that you register that there's someone standing between you and him. "She was upset, I was just comforting her-"
"What part of comforting has you fucking choking and groping her?" Mingi practically growls, moving forward to push Kwan away from you. He's holding onto his wrist and from what you can see, the photographer's fingers have turned an off-color. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
The yell makes you flinch, and it finally catches the attention of the few people still packing up. You can feel their eyes on you, and you quickly wipe your tears, forgetting all about the makeup caked on your face. You swear you can already hear them whispering about you.
"We're leaving now, and if you're still here tomorrow morning I'm going to kill you, do you understand?"
Kwan doesn't say anything, but Mingi doesn't seem to care as he shoves him to the ground, clearly not giving a fuck if the expensive camera around his neck gets destroyed.
"Come on, Chan-ah." The rapper says, his voice the softest you've ever heard it, as he remains between you and Kwan, ushering you away from the set while making sure he doesn’t touch you.
He walks you to the dressing room in silence, hovering but somehow not crowding you, managing to shield you from view of the few people still in the building.
Minseok shoots up from where he's been leaning against one of the tables, nearly dropping his phone when he sees the state of you.
"Oh my god, Chan-ah." He whispers as he trips over his feet on his way to the couch where Mingi gestures for you to sit down. "What happened?"
You open your mouth to speak, to tell him it's nothing, that you're fine, that he doesn't need to worry. But no words come out. Only more tears.
"Kwan fucking happened." Mingi spits, removing any kind of lie you would have tried to cook up to protect your manager's conscience. "I came back to see if I could get a ride back to the hotel with you, and I saw that asshole assault her. Choking her and everything."
"...What?"
Even in your shocked state you can see the color drain from Minseok's face, and you wish you could reach out to him, to comfort him, but just the thought of touching anyone makes the bile rise in your throat.
"I'm gonna fucking kill him." Mingi says through gritted teeth and he looks like a caged beast aching to go berserk and rip everything to shreds but remains crouched beside you at a safe distance despite it. "Where the fuck were you?"
The words are harsh, and even though you hate yourself for it, your fractured mind is asking the same thing. You'd wanted him to check on his wife. You hadn't expected him to be gone that long.
"I was..." Minseok trails off, looking about as sick to his stomach as you're feeling and you can't blame him. "My wife... She-"
"Is she okay?" You mumble, teary eyes turning to your friend as you try to pull yourself together, only making Minseok cry too.
"She's okay. There was some- some bleeding so they went to the hospital, but the doctor said they're both fine." He stares at you, the guilt shining in his eyes, and you can tell how badly he wants to reach out to you, but thankfully he holds himself back. "Chan-ah, I'm so so sorry."
"It's okay." You whisper, your voice starting to fade again, and no amount of clearing your throat seems to help. "You didn't know."
"That's no excuse." Mingi says as he cracks open a bottle of water to hand to you, and watches as you take tiny sips from it.
"You're right. I should have been there." Minseok takes a shaky breath, tightly clasping his own hands so that he won't reach for yours. "What can we do to help, Chan-ah?"
"I want to change and go to the hotel." You say with a sigh, fidgeting with the bottle cap. "Then shower and sleep."
"Okay. Okay, yeah, we can do that. We'll be just outside the door while you change." Minseok says, both him and Mingi standing up when you nod. "We'll make sure no one comes in."
"Thanks." You mumble as you stand up and go to your bag in the corner of the room, while the two of them head towards the door.
There's an almost eerie numbness settling inside you as you peel off your clothes, taking note of the red splotches on your thigh, but are unable to access enough emotions in you to care.
You get dressed in your own clothes and do your best to take off as much makeup as you can using a packet of wet wipes lying around. Once most of it is off, you grab your bag and let Mingi and Minseok know you're ready to leave.
"We let Hongjoong-ssi know." Minseok says once you're in the car heading back to the hotel. "He said if you're okay with it, he wants to see you when we get there."
"Might as well." You say, watching the lights of the city flash by outside the car.
Mingi has stopped speaking to you, not that there's much conversation happening anyways, but you keep seeing him staring at you out of the corner of your eye.
Out of all of them, you would have assumed Mingi would be the least likely to ever step in to protect you. Maybe he doesn't want to see you drop dead after all. Or maybe death is fine, but he draws the line at sexual assault.
Because that's what this was. It has to be.
You keep on staring out the window until Minseok pulls into the garage of the hotel, time losing all meaning between then and now. You feel almost drunk. Not dizzy or uncoordinated, but like your body is moving without you being in control. Like you're just a passenger, your head full of cotton.
No one touches you when you exit the car, their hands hovering around you, ready to catch you should you collapse but terrified of scaring you.
You take the elevator up to your floor, and while Hongjoong's presence outside your door is expected, you're surprised to see Seonghwa joining him.
The more the merrier, you suppose.
Hongjoong is definitely leaning towards anger, like Mingi, when you recount the events. Unlike Seonghwa who has joined Minseok in worrying, and keeps trying to make you feel physically comfortable with cups of tea, snacks from the fridge, and a blanket to help you stop shivering. The last one has very little to do with being cold but wrapping yourself in something big and soft is the closest thing to a hug that you're able to stomach at the moment, so you allow it.
When you're done with your side of the story, Mingi tells them what he'd seen and heard, and while he still insists that you were being choked, the rest of the details feel like they're mostly the same, or at least similar.
There are talks of calling the police but you're in a foreign country where neither you or the perpetrator are citizens, and you shut it down with the fact that you just want to sleep. And if it even would be considered a police matter, it’s going to have to wait until you get back to Korea. It’s not like there’s any physical evidence to preserve.
When they finally wrap it up, it's with a mountain of apologies, and assurances that you will never have to be in the same room as the photographer again. You know they don't have the power to make that happen, but you thank them nonetheless. It's sweet that they're this angry on your behalf.
Seonghwa looks like he wants to hug you so bad before he leaves but, like the others, he stops himself, and tells you that if you need anything at all during the night, to call or text them and they'll be right there. Mingi lingers by the door but eventually leaves as well, putting you and Minseok alone in the room.
He tries to apologize some more, but you tell him he doesn't have to. Hongjoong himself had cursed the lack of security for you, and how that responsibility shouldn't have fallen on your manager, regardless of whether he'd stayed with you or not.
It takes you too long to convince Minseok to go next door to his own room, but you have a lock on your door, and only the KQ staff and crew have access to this particular floor so you'll be safe. You can tell he doesn't agree, but you shamelessly inform him that his wife will need him rested when he comes home, and that works. You might have also threatened to tell her that he refused sleep, which sent him off to his room fairly quick, being the final nail in the coffin.
The silence that settles in your room after he leaves is both deafening and welcoming. You consider texting Chris or Felix, but you've had enough interactions today, and you'll only worry them when you're still not quite yourself yet. Maybe tomorrow when you have the day off. It was always planned for you to have tomorrow off, but you're so grateful for it now.
You just want to take a shower and sleep.
The shower is exactly what you need, but sleep is absent. You're too tense for even your melatonin to work.
You're just laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing your eyes would just close and you could forget this whole day. But the world keeps spinning and you stay awake.
You finally give up and grab your phone, figuring if sleep is going to avoid you like the plague, you might as well have some entertainment while you suffer.
You find a YouTube video to keep you company and start scrolling your private social media accounts where nothing idol related every exists. Your own little cocoon of normalcy.
But even that gets boring after a while, and you sigh to yourself as put your phone down. You should have brought a book or something.
A soft knock on your door has your pulse skyrocketing, and the chat notification popping up on your phone seconds later does nothing to help.
Mingi 02:36
Sorry. It's me
There's no reason for him to be knocking on your door, even with everything that went on tonight. Or you suppose yesterday now.
Another message.
Mingi 02:38
Your status said active so I figured you couldn't sleep either
I can leave if you want?
You consider it for a moment.
He should be the last person you'd want to see. Given your history, you don't think anyone would blame you for sending him away.
You slip out of bed and into your hotel slippers, silently making your way over to the door. You check the peephole to make sure, and open the door.
He looks a mess, and you have a feeling you aren't fairing much better. His eyes are red and puffy like he’s been crying, and his hair looks like it's had his hands running through it ever since he left your room earlier.
"Hi." He says quietly as he watches you from the hallway, his voice hoarse and gravelly with exhaustion. "Sorry if I scared you. With the knocking."
"It's fine." You mumble, taking in his appearance.
He's in a t-shirt and a hoodie, wearing a pair of pajama pants, socks and his own hotel slippers. He looks domestic, the prescription glasses sitting a bit too low on his nose, really hammering it home.
"Can't sleep?" You eventually ask, breaking the silence, and even though your voice is soft and quiet, it seems to startle him.
"No." He says with a little chuckle that, albeit now joyless, you've seen enough times to know he's feeling embarrassed. "You?"
"Not really." You admit, letting the silence settle between you again. "You want some tea?"
Whatever Mingi had expected you to say, it clearly wasn't that, and you can't help the little lopsided smile on your lips at his comically wide eyes behind his glasses.
"Really? Um, I mean, sure, if- if you're okay with..."
You're not sure what he wants to say. If you were okay with it? With him being in your room again? With being alone with him? Either way, your answer is surprisingly clear.
"Come on in."
You push the door open further and step aside to let him in, and you watch him nod politely as he enters your space once more.
It's the same room he left just a few hours ago and yet it looks completely different. More lived in. Private. Intimate.
"You can sit." You tell him when it's clear he doesn't know what to do with himself, aside from pointedly avoiding looking at the unmade bed that you'd clearly been in when he texted you. It feels wrong, like he's not supposed to see this version of you. He's used to seeing the young woman with the high, impenetrable walls, who acts like everything is normal even when she's dying.
Not this. Not you in your pajamas, looking like you haven't slept in weeks, after he's witnessed you at your most vulnerable, a heavy air about you that makes it harder for him to breathe.
He walks over to the chair by the window and sits down in it like he did before, although this time, he's even more tense.
This is the first time he's been truly alone with you since the morning they came back and you found him out of his mind crying on the floor of your bedroom, and he wonders if you realize.
So much has happened since then that it feels like it was months ago.
The electric kettle is loud once it starts going, and Mingi fidgets with his phone to give himself something to focus on apart from the silence that hangs between you like a wet blanket.
"Do you take milk?" You ask, your soft voice once again startling him, and he feels ridiculous for it.
If anyone has the right to be jumpy, it's you, not him.
"No, just the tea. Thank you."
You nod and turn away from him to start preparing two cups for when the water is ready.
"So, how are you doing?" The words leave him without permission, and he watches you tense, cursing himself for being unable to take the words back. "Sorry. You don't have to answer that."
"It's okay." You say softly, reaching for the kettle. "I guess I should get used to being asked."
"I can tell them not to." Mingi says, the idea of you being pelted with the same invasive question over and over makes him sick to his stomach.
"I'm just glad someone's even asking." You say as you grab the cups and walk towards him, handing him one of them before you sit down on the bed with your own. "Before tonight I wasn't sure anyone would."
"Of course we would!" Mingi exclaims, only to wince when you flinch, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down before he speaks again. "I know we must be monsters in your eyes after everything we've put you through, especially me, but we would have never let that shit slide."
You watch him in silence as you sip your tea, while Mingi's insides are screaming at him to make you believe him.
"You're not monsters." You whisper, voice so quiet you might as well have never spoken at all.
"What?"
"Monsters." You repeat as you look over your cup at Mingi, your tired eyes staring into his soul. "I never thought of you like that. We just started off bad, and then everything just... escalated."
You should be screaming at him, you have every right to. You should tell him to fuck off, to never speak to you again, that he deserves to die for the hell he’s put you through.
"I'm sorry, Chan-ah." He whispers, roughly wiping the tears from his eyes and bumping his glasses out of the way, too ashamed of himself and his actions to allow himself to cry. "For everything."
He forces himself to look at you, and he hates how shocked his apology has you.
"You didn't deserve any of it." He says, trying to keep himself together but the tears keep on falling and he knows he must look so pathetic right now, but he can't stop. "I was weak and insecure, and I was terrified that I was going to be replaced, so I turned the others against you before I even came back. I knew Yunho would never accept you if I didn't, and that the others would just naturally follow. I didn't even have to say anything. It just happened. And before I knew it and things started getting out of hand, it was too late to turn back. I didn’t know how to stop it, so I just didn’t say anything at all."
He puts his tea aside, and reaches for you, only barely stopping himself before he makes contact.
"I don't expect you to forgive me, I don't want you to, but I do need you to know that you did nothing to make us treat you the way we did. You deserve everything good in this world, and I'm so incredibly sorry you've gotten everything but that."
The silence that settles between you when he's finished speaking, is heavy but not tense. It's the kind of weight the truth holds, when everything has been said and it's all out in the open. No expectations, no demands. Just the plain, old truth.
The covers rustle when you reach over the bed to put your mug away, and Mingi can't help but stare when you sit back across from him and take his hands in yours.
"I need you to breathe, Mingi." You say softly, and his heart nearly stops with the way you say his name so simply with such familiarity. "Okay?"
He doesn't realize he's shaking until he looks down at your clasped hands, his head starting to feel lighter than usual while he watches you squeeze his hands.
He's used to the comments about the size of his hands, but he's never realized just how massive they look next to yours. It looks almost comical, and Mingi would have laughed if he could only remember how to draw breath.
"I'm okay." He mumbles, not wanting you to force yourself to touch him, but stays where he is, so he won't startle you again.
"I know." You say, giving his hands another squeeze, keeping eye contact with him. "This is for me."
In the midst of the guilt riddled angst in his mind, he hears your request. For comfort. For closeness. For an anchor.
He doesn't deserve to be that for you, but you've chosen him, so he stays.
It's not just his hands that are shaking. Not just his eyes that are filled to the brim with tears. Not just him carrying around enough pain and anguish to topple an empire.
You were alone tonight without an anchor, and if you've chosen him to be one for you now, he will accept that privilege without question.
"Okay." He whispers, taking a deep breath into his lungs and watches as you do the same. "Whatever you need."
He doesn't know how long the two of you sit there, holding onto each other, but eventually the shaking stops.
You almost look embarrassed when you gently move your hands from his, but you don't say anything, and you don't apologize even though he can see the old habit trying to rear its ugly head again.
"You never answered the question by the way." Mingi says, watching your more relaxed form settle on the bed. "About how you're doing."
"Thought I'd been able to give you the slip." You actually give a little chuckle, which makes him feel both lighter and concerned.
"I'm persistent." He says, watching the realization that your attempt at humor isn't going to make him drop it.
"I’m going to be okay." You settle on, knowing it's not the kind of answer he's looking for. "I just mostly feel stupid."
"Why?"
"Because I trusted hi-" Your voice breaks and you clear your throat as the tears start falling. "I trusted him, and I believed he'd never do anything like that. But he turned out to be the worst of them."
Something about your words and the way you said them, gives Mingi pause.
"Chan-ah... Has this sort of thing happened before?"
Your sudden inability to look him in the eye chills his soul.
"In varying degrees, I guess." You sigh. "Most of it's usually just saying something suggestive, propositions, helping to adjust poses, shit like that. It's always uncomfortable, but I've never been scared like that before... I've never been alone like that before."
"Did they ever do it around Yi?"
"Nothing tangible, it was just bad vibes most of the time. I think everyone's scared of her. So maybe her not being here was why this happened, I don't know. I just know people are going to talk and I'm going to be the whore throwing herself at a photographer."
The need to harm is back. Not you, even when he was at his worst, he never would have laid a hand on you. But his hands are itching, and he wishes he would have punched Kwan when he had the chance.
"We won't let that happen." He says, trying his best not to let you see the dark storm in him even though he's sure it's impossible to miss.
"People saw it, Mingi." You say, and he can't help the way the continued familiar use of his name warms his chest. "They'll do what they always do."
"They saw you crying and terrified, while they did nothing. They have no right to judge anything about you."
"That's not going to stop them." You mumble, lowering your gaze to your lap where you've started picking at your nails.
"Then we make them." He tells you, his very soul imploring you to believe him. "We put out a statement. Send cease and desists. Moderate comments. Tell the truth to those who are willing to listen. We make it impossible for them to ignore the truth. And let's face it, if he was that comfortable doing that shit to you, chances are high that he's done it to others."
You nod but stay silent, and Mingi hopes it's because you're taking in his words, and not because you’re blaming yourself for something that was never your fault.
"You're easy to talk to." You suddenly say, blinking tears out of your eyes as you look at him again, a somber half-smile lingering on your lips. "How ironic is that?"
"I'm sorry." He whispers, adjusting his glasses even though they most definitely don't need adjusting. "Turns out, I actually like talking to you."
"It's kind of sad that we could have had this the whole time, isn't it?" You continue and while Mingi is fairly certain you're not meaning to twist the knife in his heart, you most certainly are.
His mind travels to the mini-bottles of vodka and whiskey in the fridge in his room. Tonight would be a good night for a drink, to go blissfully numb. His shoot is done, he can afford to be hungover tomorrow.
"Mingi?"
The use of his name shakes him out of his thoughts, and he blinks at you while he tries to re-focus.
"Are you okay?" You ask, and fuck him, you actually look worried. "You disappeared."
"Sorry, I- I was just... Thinking about something."
"Something bad?" Your voice is soft and it makes him want to cry again.
"Yeah." He pulls a shaky breath into his lungs. "Something I don't want to do."
"How can I help?"
He stares at you. What is wrong with you? Actually. He's destroyed your life, not that you know the full extent of it, and yet you're sitting here asking him how to help.
"Can we start over?" He blurts out before he has time to think, and by the look on your face, he knows he's caught you by surprise.
You watch him for a couple of moments, and even in his trainee period, he's never had someone evaluate him this hard.
"Sure." You finally say, your voice soft and gentle in a way he will never deserve.
Even so, Mingi reaches his right hand out to you like he should have done two years ago, goosebumps racing down his spine when you slip your smaller hand into it.
"I'm Chan." You say, squeezing his hand as you wipe away the fresh tears running down your face.
"I'm Mingi." He responds, and he's embarrassed to find tears on his face mirroring your own. "Welcome to Ateez."
Chapter 12 Chapter 14
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