Archive of Our Own ^beta

Throw away your expectations that tomorrow will be different from today, without expectations, there will be no disappointment.

   Bang Chan reads it for what must have been the 143^rd time since the Q&A interview. Did he see it coming? He isn't sure. There is a part of himself, wedged in the darker, wiser waters of his soul, that isn't surprised at the answer. But that doesn't mean he isn't worried. He glances up at the house Han Jisung and Lee Minho share. He looks down at the image saved on his phone, at the hopeful prompt that reads "A message of encouragement for STAY's future!"; and at Minho's dry response, "Throw away your expectations that tomorrow will be different from today, without expectations, there will be no disappointment."

   He worries his bottom lip. Contrary to what some people may believe, he isn't blind to Minho's situation. If he has to describe it in one word, he isn't sure which would work best. Complicated? Definitely. Unfair? That too, admittedly. Incomprehensible? Precisely so.

   Chan knows Minho is no stranger to being shunned by their label—it has been going on for years now. Chan knows he was the first to be eliminated, notwithstanding being the fastest trainee to master all forty basic JYPE dances (Chan still marvels how he crushed it all in two weeks when it took him years); notwithstanding being a top performer at Souldance studio; notwithstanding having gotten into CUfA with a choreography he invented himself. A small voice in his head reasons, All that showcases Minho is a sublime dancer, but none of it offers evidence of singing talent. You need both to become an idol, not just excellence in one domain. PD-nim wasn't entirely wrong in his choices, and you recognise that, but he ignores it, at least for now. He doesn't want to seem invalidating. Is he invalidating? He hopes not.

   Chan knows about the issue with line distribution: Division 1 (ONE Label, Chan corrects himself. They're called ONE Label now.) has a nasty tendency to give him poor lines. The worst case might be God's Menu. Poor lines, they cut his part out of the music video, and deigned to offer an explanation. Chan is never sure how to feel about that one, particularly since that same song is considered their ultimate ticket to fame. It doesn't help that some of their fans prefer to justify the situation with their own reasoning, which ranges from "Lee Know didn't want lines" to "Lee Know felt like his voice didn't suit the song".

   None of that held water.

   Chan knows about the camera work during performances. About how it would coincidentally zoom out during his parts, focusing on the public or another member. Or how a special effect would kick in front of him just then. Chan knows Minho receives the short end of the stick when it comes to styling. Chan knows the label couldn't be bothered to post any content for his birthday, so Minho chose to upload a mini-vlog himself.

   Chan knows Minho has had hardly any activities since 2025 began, a stark contrast to the rest of the team. Chan knows he complains often of being alone. Chan can even remember his ending ment from a few months back, the one where he'd looked as if he was talking to himself as Grow Up whistled its nostalgia and comfort.

   "Oh, in the year of 2025 I thought, 'When was the last time I laughed like this?' But I couldn't really remember. I spent a lot of time all alone, and it would be a bit weird to just giggle or laugh by myself, right? Since I was alone, there weren't really any funny things that made me laugh. But while preparing, practicing choreo with the members...Seo Changbin kept doing all these useless things that made me laugh. Ah yeah, I think these past three days are the days I've laughed the most this year—where would I even do aegyo? It's not like I'd stand in front of a mirror at home and do it...that would be crazy. Oh no, I just imagined it now: I feel weird.

   "Ah well, my aegyo isn't something that happens often, but for you all, I want it to become something common...ah, but if I do it too often—hold on, this is an emotional time, guys. It's an emotional time! Anyways, where was I? Ah, yeah, I'll try to show you as much as I can, as much as possible within my limits. You're all worried about the tour, right? No? You are worried. It's only three months! But if we take our time, it will pass quickly. Seriously—no one will get hurt, we'll finish the tour safely, and then we'll come back with an amazing comeback. So just wait for us!"

   Chan knows. He knows the neglect has been eating away at Minho. He knows Minho has been chaffing at the loneliness, especially since 3RACHA has lately started hanging out at the house Chan shares with Yang Jeongin. He feels bad that he hasn't been able to do anything, and maybe it is that feeling of guilt that led him here, to this house, to speak to Minho a bit, relieve him a little. He dials Minho up.

   "Let me in, fucker. I'm right outside your door."

   Minho chuckles; Chan can hear the rhythmic slapping of his feet as he jogs down the stairs. The knob turns, and there's Minho on the other side of the door, his dance-leader, co-leader, and co-parent, with that signature smirk crooking his lips. 

   "You're a bold one for interrupting my quality time with my children." He steps aside to let Chan in.

   Chan huffs out a laugh. "Should I come back another time? I thought you'd like some human company for once."

   "Feline company is far superior," Minho retorts, but he closes the door and makes his way to the living room. His hyung follows.

   They sink into one of the few sofas scattered around. Chan lets his eyes roam the room, taking in the softly-toned walls and merelax rug; the framed photos, music albums, and anime figurines on the arched five-tier bookshelf; the double-layer curtains pulled back gracefully to permit sunlight entry.

   "Your home is sweet."

   Minho laughs. "You make the same comment every time, hyung."

   "I do?" Chan shakes his head incredulously. "Damn. I need to find new things to say."

   Minho sucks in air. "I do too, actually. I need to find new things to talk about with my cats. I swear I've exhausted every fucking topic under the sun. It's boring as fuck sometimes, with no voice but my own to listen to, but a change in subject livens things up at least a little. Shit got so bad I started challenging moral themes in Blue's Clues."

   Chan blinks. "Blue's Clues has moral themes?"

   "Nah. I'm just blowing things out of proportion. Like how Mr. Salt and Mrs. Pepper can't seem to stop creating kids. Which wouldn't be a problem if they did the right thing and legalised abortion for pepper shakers or condoms for salt shakers."

   The older man gapes. "Condoms...for salt shakers?"

   "Yeah. I like to think of the salt as semen—"

   "Minho! That's a fucking salt shaker! They sprinkle the salt in that thing on their food."

   "I know, see, that's where the moral questions come in. Mr. Salt might have been using his semen to add flavour to everyone's meals, and I just know that has to be a next-level violation of health codes. Not to mention, he's been feeding his semen to kids all while betraying the trust of everyone in that house. And it honestly makes you wonder—"

   Chan slaps the younger man's shoulder. "Stop. Stop right there." They're both laughing now, and Chan leans down to rest his forehead on the other's shoulder. "All jokes aside, I'm glad you're good at entertaining yourself."

   It surprises him how swiftly Minho's manner changes. One second, he's laughing into Chan's hair. The next, he's pulled back, expression resigned and eyes dim. 

   "I need it, you know," he says softly. "Sometimes I'm scared I might actually drive myself insane, but it's better than the silence. Actually, my cats might drive me insane first. I'm hoping they do. It would be a lot less tragic."

   Chan sobers up. "I...I'm so sorry."

   Minho snorts. "Div1 sucks ass. And JYP, by extension. All the companies and organisational divisions in the world, and we were handed the worst combo."

   Something in Chan's brain, the part of him that is naturally defensive of the label, clicks. "They aren't that bad," he counters. "Honestly, JYP is literally one of the better companies. Might be the only Big4 company that actually cares about its artists, at least to a better extent than the rest."

   Minho rolls his eyes, scoffing. "That's bullshit, hyung. They're scum. Fucking scum. Cares about their artists? I've been wasting away for fucking months—"

   "No."

   Minho snaps around to look at his leader. "No?"

   Chan struggles to find the right words to convey his thoughts, his feelings. "I mean...Minho-ya, look, every company sucks. Look at CUBE. HYBE? SM as a whole? LOONA's label, too—I can't remember the name, but they were horrible. H Music? Woollim Entertainment? They're despicable. All the abuse they put their idols through? Fucking heartbreaking."

   Minho's lips are pressed together in a thin line, head tilted as his eyes take on that feline look, the one that signals he disagrees with what's being said. Chan grasps desperately within his mind.

   "And we all knew, Minho. We knew what getting into K-pop meant for us. We knew what we were signing up for. All these idols did. It's a matter of luck, and honestly? We were—are—lucky to have wound up under JYP, because you can't deny that they treat us better. They're far more lenient, and we, we get freedom. You know that, right? We have so much freedom, so much other idols don't have. And yes, I do agree with you that they could treat us better in certain aspects, but we already have so much, we're off better than a lot of other idols, so I am grateful to them. They aren't the best, but they're better, so much better than everyone else. They care about us, Minho, they really do."

   Silence hangs in the air for a while. Then Minho turns away.

   "You're brainwashed, hyung."

   Chan's head jolts up, stung. "Wh—what?"

   Minho looks him full in the eye. "You're brainwashed, hyung. They've gotten into your head, preached this shit to you until it became lodged in there and you thought of JYP as the paradise of K-pop. It isn't."

   "I—"

   "They care about us?" echoes Minho. "As if. Motherfuckers working directly with JYP leaked my personal information and put my entire family in danger."

   "That was people who worked with JYP!" Chan points out. "Not JYP themselves!"

   "Then what about everything the label has done, huh?" demands Minho. "Remember what they did to Youth? They released it, and then they edited out the credits. The credits. The one thing everyone praised. They got rid of it after the MV was released. And the U. That fucking U was important to the whole video. They cut it out. Cut all of it out after releasing the song. They sabotaged it."

   "You don't know that!" Chan refutes. "Minho, you can't accuse them of sabotage like that. We don't have any supporting evidence, they might have had a reason for all that—"

   "What reason do you have to edit an MV after it's been released? And to cut out all the credits? What reason do you have for all that? It was the fastest solo music video to hit 1 million views. How do you know they didn't want to sabotage it? They hate me, Chan, fucking realise it already! They hate me and they'll just do fucking anything to make me miserable!"

   Chan can't believe how irrational Minho is being. "Minho." He reaches out. "Calm down—"

   Minho bats his hand away. "Don't fucking tell me to calm down. Don't sit there, defend the company that jumps at the first chance to discredit me, and then tell me to calm down when I get upset that you don't understand my plight."

   "Minho, I..." Chan tries to inch closer. "I do understand, Minho. I understand your situation. I do. Honest."

   Crossing his arms, Minho looks away. "Prove it, then. What do you understand?"

   Chan inhales. This is important to Minho. Don't fuck it up. He begins carefully. "I know ONE Label has been pushing you into a corner for years. Since debut, actually. They do you dirty with the line distribution, screen time, styling...which are core components of your identity as an idol. You don't have as many activities as the rest of us. And I think that's very shitty of them, I do. I don't understand. You deserve better, so I just...I don't know why they keep doing this."

   Silence reigns for a while, and Chan wonders with rising panic if he messed up. Then Minho speaks, his voice soft and heavy.

   "It's not just me. We all deserve better, including you."

   Chan blinks. "Me? I'm good. They’re treating me perfectly fine."

   "They're not hyung, they're not."

   "They are, though? I don't really recall—"

   "Chan-hyung." The desperation is back, crackling along the edges of Minho's voice. "You've been under them since you were thirteen. Do you not realise how young and impressionable you were? How vulnerable you were? You were thirteen in a foreign country where you didn't have anyone to depend on. It was just the company. The people there. And I can see it, hyung. I can see how deep they've gotten into you. You've practically been brainwashed to an extent. You don't have an issue with some of the things they do, not like the rest of us. They've gotten to you, hyung, they have."

   Chan laughs at that. He laughs outright. This is by far the most risible claim he's ever had to hear. "Minho, there's nothing like that. I'm perfectly fine, promise. The company does a lot of wrong, yes, but they're not a cult. They're shitty when it comes to managing idols, but no, they wouldn't groom young trainees. You're worrying far too much; there's nothing wrong. Really. I just have very low expectations, so I'm appeased easier than the rest of you." He leans against the back pillow, an amused chuckle slipping from his lips. "How'd you even come to that conclusion, by the way? Do I look brainwashed?"

   Minho doesn't know how to answer. He doesn't know how to say you were defending them a minute ago when I complained of their neglect. He doesn't know how to remind Chan of his Bubble messages a few days before, where he declared that saying bad things to my company is the same as saying bad things to me. He doesn't know how to make Chan realise that he would have spent those 7 years as a trainee adapting himself into the mould the company built, out of mounting desperation to debut. He doesn't know, so he latches onto something else, head bowed as he traces a finger against the leather of the sofa.

   "They don't treat you perfectly fine, hyung. Remember 2023? Chan's Room." He inhales as a shadow flits over Chan's eyes. "You started that because the company wasn't investing in building a solid connection with STAY. Then they shut it down and never addressed it. They never announced that it was their decision, because then the fandom would come after them. Instead, they let you take the hit. And continued to neglect you for the rest of the year. I remember that. I know you do, too." It's all I can remember now. But I know there are more. More times when they've done you wrong but made you feel like you asked for it, that it was your fault.

   Chan's shut his eyes now, and he shakes his head. "No, Minho, that was my fault." Minho's face falls as Chan continues, "I went too far. I was irresponsible with my platform. I handled a situation the wrong way, complained to the public instead of complaining to the idols concerned. Honestly...in retrospect, it was even a cowardly thing to do. I enabled cyber-harassment towards IVE, and I accept the consequences of doing that."

   "I'm not saying you didn't do anything wrong," Minho rejoins. "You fucked up, yes, but to be neglected for an entire year and permanently banned? That's too far, hyung. That's my point. The company...they always respond in extremes."

   Chan considers. "Do they? I don't think so. Maybe they're severe to ensure it doesn't happen again. And honestly, I'm fine with that." 

   He notices Minho's downcast expression, and something in him wilts. Chan doesn't know, doesn't know if he should let Minho see his perspective. He doesn't agree with quite a few things JYPE does, but he has to play it safe. It's all a twisted game of manipulation and counter-manipulation, and he's a player. He needs them to believe he's on their side, or they'll never listen to him. Every time he insists that saying bad things to my company is the same as saying bad things to me, every time he speaks well of the staff in front of a camera...it isn't because he sees them with halos above their heads, or believes all their actions have benign intentions, but because he needs them to believe he does. 

   Be the good idol they expect you to be. Abide by their rules. Accept their criticism. Don't resist. Look docile. Treat them with respect. Don't stir up trouble. Keep the team at bay. Subdue any attempts to fight back. They need to believe they've manipulated you. They need to believe you're on their side; that you think they're gods; that you praise them in front of the team. You need to get inside their heads first, if you want them to do what's best for you, for the team. Manipulation from the inside out.

   Chan doesn't know how to tell Minho. It's his burden to carry, his burden alone. His members have enough preoccupations as is. They shouldn't have to worry themselves with his mental battles, his doubts and concerns. He's their leader, he chose them: he can bear the consequences alone. There was a time, Chan remembers bitterly, when unburdening came easier to him, but he refuses to unravel that memory now.

   Instead, he quirks a smile, slapping his hand on the other's knee. "Look, I know the company does a lot of things you don't agree with, but personally, I don't think they have much of a choice. It's a risky industry; they need to make tough choices to protect our images. They try to do what's best for us, in the long run."

   Minho's pate snaps up. "What's best for us in the long run? Have they seen Yongbok? That herniated disc has been acting up like crazy. He's been limping out of concerts—limping. He was doing five hours of rehabilitation exercise at a point! If they cared about us in the long run, then why does he still have an intense schedule? Why does he even have a herniated disc that gets worse if they cared about us in the long run?"

   Chan makes to answer, but Minho's in full steam. He can feel the acid pooling at the corners of his mouth.

   "Hannie...his anxiety just gets worse. It fucking kills me"—Chan's heart lurches as Minho's voice cracks—"to have to stand by and watch because sometimes I want nothing more than to take him out of here, far away to a place where he'll never have to hear hide nor tail of Div1. Where they and the rest of the world will never find him. And actually, hyung, why is that always the case? Why is it that JYP artists either get diagnosed with anxiety disorder, or it gets worse while they're under the company?"

   Not always, Chan thinks. Minho is exaggerating, but he doesn't dare call him out, not when he's as upset as this. He'll have to talk to Minho when the latter is willing to listen to reason and ration. What Chan doesn't realise is that Minho knows he's exaggerating. He knows well enough, but he worries he won't be taken seriously unless he raises the stakes, recounts the suffering in large and bold lettering.

   "I'm not even surprised, actually. Especially when you consider the ableist bullshit JYP-nim preaches. If you look depressed, you're gonna make everybody uncomfortable; so even in your toughest days, you have to go make a joke, make sure you make everybody comfortable around you," mimics Minho. "Yeah, sure. Brilliant advice. Way to make your idols feel they're the problem for having bad mental health. Pretty sure they appreciate it when they cry to themselves through sleepless nights and no one knows because you tell them to hide it away like it's ugly. Fucking old hag. Makes me want to stuff him into a traffic cone and toss him into a lime kiln."

   Chan mumbles something Minho doesn't quite catch, so he asks again.

   "I just said..." Chan trails off, staring at an indeterminate point on the wall. "PD-nim. I...I don't think he's ableist. C'mon, he literally lets us off when we're in a bad mental state. He might not always word things the right way or make the best choices, but...he's always been a good hyung to us.  He's always been really supportive. To us, to all his idols."

   "...Yeah. I feel his support so much when I remember Div1 has been treating me like shit for seven years, and he hasn't made a move." Minho barks out a humourless laugh. "Not to mention his compliments are usually back-handed when he sounds like a hyena giving birth when he sings. And actually, hyung, you know I've never liked JYP-nim. I'm not the only one. Nothing you say will ever convince me that he's a good person. This whole company is based on his principles, his mindset. All the overworking schedules and extreme diets come from somewhere. He literally enables, allows, and justifies harmful behaviour towards trainees, and has a history of sexualising young female idols. He's a zionist, too.  Don't go around praising a man like that."

   "I'm not praising him," Chan clarifies. "It's not like he hasn't been a nuisance to me. I just pointed out that he's at least a little better than the other founders. That's all."

   "If he's better," Minho says sotto voce, voice loaded, "why hasn't he done anything about my case?"

   Chan can't tell if it's a rhetorical question or not, so he keeps quiet. When silence hovers for longer, he hesitantly tries an answer. "We don't know how much say he has."

   "It's his perspective running this whole shebang. Heck, we can't even eat properly. January was living hell for Sungie...they had him eat just broccoli and egg whites for that DAZED photo shoot with Changbinnie, all while he was jam-packed with cardio and performances for the tour." Minho clenches his jaw. "They kept giving all sorts of rules. No olives. No regular tomatoes, just cherry tomatoes. He was starving every thirty minutes...I'd find him crying as he ate." Minho slumps against the sofa, eyes lost in a foggy mist. "I still remember when I went to the company for the first time in a while, all the way back in February...and the first thing they said was I've become a chubby kitty. What sucks is that they won. I can't believe I forced myself into a two-week diet because of that."

   They both observe their hands for a while, Chan's clasped ones and Mino's ones idling on his thighs, each lost in his own type of silence.

   The younger man makes a noise. "They want us to be insecure so bad. And it's not like JYP-nim doesn't normalise eating disorders."

   Chan draws in air. When he speaks, his voice is resigned. "It's because of beauty standards neither PD-nim nor the staff have control over," he confides in his hands.

   "Oh, for fuck's sake." Minho pushes himself off the seat, trying to catch the other's eye. "Stop making excuses for them!" Chan flinches, but Minho ploughs on. Chan doesn't understand why Minho would raise his voice so much. Minho doesn't understand why Chan won't understand. Why can't he see what Minho can see?

   "We're not fat! None of us are! We have good bodies, and we need to eat healthy. They tried dissuading Changbinnie so much, too. You know that, you saw all of it! You've seen all of this! It's not about the standards, it's not about pleasing the masses! It never was! It was about control, about using standards and fans' expectations, and Stray Kids' image as a rap-based group as justification, as reasons for them to control us, control everything about us! From what we can eat, to what parts of our body we can show, to what songs we can release, to how many lines we get. It was always about control! They love controlling us! They love controlling you. They love controlling me, especially if it means they get to deprive me of damn near anything." Minho huffs out a breath, eyes slightly red. "Sometimes I don't even know if I'd have lines if Woojin-hyung hadn't left."

   It surprises him how swiftly Chan's manner changes. One second, he's staring solemnly at his hands. The next, he's staring at Minho, eyes darkened by a settling shadow.

   "Don't. Mention. His. Name." Chan bites the words off.

   The unexpected spite from his leader's end douses a bit of Minho's fire. No longer certain of the path he meant to take, Minho scratches a thumb against the denim of his jeans. He only dares glance up when he hears the older man breathe out what sounds like fucking selfish.

   "Hmm?"

   Chan doesn't answer. Instead, he swallows heavily, lost deep in a whirlwind of his own. Then—

   "I lost so many people, for so many years. I had to sit back and watch my friends debut and leave me alone, or sit back and watch them all get eliminated and leave me alone. The one thing...the one thing I wanted was to debut with a team of people who would stick by with me, to the very end. Who I wouldn't lose. We even promised as much. When we're together, we live. When we fall apart, we die. But even that...even that was too much to ask for. From some people, at least."

   They sit in thick silence for a while.

   "If you make a promise with a team or the people around you...you need to be responsible and really keep those promises, not break them. While it's okay to make mistakes—everyone makes mistakes; it's fine—but you need to think of the people around you and think very carefully about your future and what you want to do....your dreams and everything. Because your actions and decisions can become a big turning point in your life. He just thought about himself...what happened to thinking about the people around you? That's literally...betrayal. And really, really selfish."

   Minho wants to scream, to yell that Chan's talking exactly like the staff, like the self-victimising management running their label, that this is what he means when he says you're brainwashed. But he has enough thinking capacity to realise that two yelling men will only result in hurt feelings. So he chooses another route.

   "You supported him, though." He can feel Chan's eyes burning into his skin. "When he first proposed it. You supported him throughout the meetings. Heck, you even did it out loud. Chan's Room? That one episode you did, hours after our eighth mini fan-meet at Inkigayo? A week before JYP announced his departure? You damn near cried on live, singing See You Again like that."

   He pauses to swallow. Reminiscing about certain sections of their history is never easy, and this is one of them. He has to force the words around the lump in his throat. "You told us to support him, too. Yaochen-hyung was out there posting all nine of our representative emojis on Weibo hours after the announcement. Hyunjin went against company orders on Twitter to interact with a fan who had Woojin in their display name. Yongbok yelled 'nine or none' when he should have said 'eight.'" I tried to do something, too. But mine came years later. During our Turkish Bench fan-meet. I recommended Reborn Rich to STAY. Woojin-hyung sings an OST in it. But that doesn't matter right now.

   "All that, and then you turned around. At first, I assumed you were just going through denial. But it's been years and...you're still there. It's almost like you're hanging onto the rancour because you want to avoid admitting something to yourself."

   Chan's silent. His eyes are vacant, and Minho can see he's not really here. And he isn't. He's back, back in October of 2019—or November, he can't really remember the time, it's all a blur in his head.

   But he remembers—pain. He remembers watching everything collapse around him.

   Chan remembers Black Summer. I'll be honest, Felix and I have both been having a hard time being aware that Australia is under fatal circumstances. He remembers the bushfires that raged through Australia for months, eating it up. He remembers nights of staring at infernos on social media, reading news article after article, frantically calling his family to confirm their safety, crying into the closest member. Hearing the news about the unfortunate casualties really breaks our hearts and we are praying that Australia can get better soon. He remembers watching his home burn to ashes in front of his eyes.

   And then there is Kim Woojin. Chan rarely thinks of him by name anymore. He's always him, or that person. But he remembers. He remembers when he had a hyung. He remembers how he'd unburden onto Woojin when he felt he couldn't bear it all anymore. It came easily. Maybe it was because Woojin was the only one who'd seen the disastrous aftermath of the eliminations from the survival show.

   "Today, being here all together...it was really...weird, yes, but it wasn't awkward. It's all thanks to Woojin, who's always by my side. Let's continue to support each other. If we continue to work together, we can reach even higher."

   Chan remembers when Woojin first suggested leaving, somewhere in the middle of May. He tried to reason with him, get him to stay. They were a team; they were supposed to cross the finish line together. Why did Woojin even want to leave?

   "It's not good for me here. The body-shaming, the constant comparisons to everyone else, the diets...it's getting to my head. It's turning me into someone I am not."

   "But you have us. We've always been there for you. We'll be there for you. Don't leave us. Don't leave me. I can't lose you."

   Granted, Chan's perpetual pestering resulted in quite a bit of setback, and Woojin seemed on the brink of changing his mind at one point. But he fought a lot. With the managers in particular—he fought back when they yelled (it didn't matter if it was at him or any other member). And he used words, words like fatphobe, homophobe, abuse. Needless to say, it was never well-received, and the managers would yell back. That they did so much for him, gave him the best facilities, enabled him (and the team) to have so many opportunities, but he was ungrateful, selfish, arrogant.

   It culminated in a contract termination that came too soon. He'll leave after Levanter, was what the staff primarily decreed. So they'd made Levanter a vocal-intensive title track, as a final farewell for their main vocalist. And then it all came down.

   "Since you can't seem to bear working with us, and since you feel all the good we do on behalf of your future is damaging, how about we speed up the contract termination, so you can finally be free and do what you want?"

   He isn't sure how much say Woojin had, but he remembers watching Woojin pack. Chan remembers watching as he gave all his donsaengs one last hug. He remembers Woojin walking out the door. We ask for much support for Woojin who will be going on a new path, and we also ask for the warm support of STAY for the eight Stray Kids members who will once again go on the road towards their dreams with their compass. Australia burned that night as Chan cried himself to sleep over what once was, and what will never be. I was very happy when I got to know that we'll debut as nine but I'm sorry I couldn't protect the number 9 until the end. He remembers watching his dream crumble to dust in front of his eyes.

   Chan remembers everything else that happened, all the horrors that unfolded. The suicides. Choi Sulli. Goo Hara. Stray Kids becoming eight. TRCNG becoming eight. MONSTA X becoming six. THE BOYZ becoming twelve. IKON becoming six. He remembers watching the industry fold in on itself in front of his eyes.

   Chan remembers COVID. The deaths, the lockdowns, the sudden cancellation of their schedules, the absence of anything to do, the uncertainty, the sense of no end. He remembers watching the world shut down in front of his eyes.

   He remembers watching everything collapse around him. Everything was falling apart. Everything as he knew it—Australia, Stray Kids, the K-pop industry, the world—broke, became unsteady. Nothing was comforting anymore. He was scared. And he shut down. He didn't know what to think. So he let others talk for him. ONE Label, they talked about Woojin the most. Whenever the members had anything to say, it was usually a different variant of I miss Woojin-hyung or What would hyung be doing if he was with us? ONE Label, on the other hand, had different topics.

   "Don't you see, Chan? It's selfishness. Selfishness and obduracy. How many times, really, how many times, did we tell you, him, and the rest of the team, that we have to keep up a constant stream of music releases, or your fans will leave? That you have to be close to each other, stick together, so that fans won't leave from feeling you've been lying to them the whole time? It's a tough industry, Chan, and we want what's best for you. We want to see Stray Kids being the next big thing in K-pop, we want to see you at the top. And we've been trying everything to help you on your way up. It's a hard race, definitely not easy. And he knew that. He knew what getting into K-pop meant for him. He knew what he was signing up for. Really, why did he even decide to pursue a career path he wasn't cut out for?"

   Over and over again. It was the mantra they chanted to him, and to the other members, but mostly to him.

   "I know you tend to give everyone the benefit of the doubt, but think about everything else. Think about yourself. You worked so hard for this, but it was so easy for him to leave you, hurt you, hurt us. It's always so easy for a liar to break a promise they never meant to keep."

   "Just look at how much work we have to do…there's so much to change, so much to re-record, and your biggest world tour yet is right around the bend. Selfishness. He just thought about himself, and not about how his choices would affect the rest of us. You didn't get any sleep last night, did you, Chan? I didn't either. I couldn't, not with all this shit..."

   "We bore with all his cruel words, even when they hurt us, but he still wouldn't stop. We gave him so many chances. But he took it for granted. He never stopped to think about how he was affecting you."

   Chan knows he started depending on it somewhere along the way. It went from being something he heard every day to something he needed to hear every day. The fandom, their STAY, pinned the sudden break in group dynamics on him. They said he didn't try hard enough, didn't fight for him, failed as a leader.

   It was most likely instigated by his own admission that he'd failed to protect the number nine. A dismaying portion of their fandom lacks critical thinking. But it was too much. Hate has always been too much for him. The last time he was the subject of vitriol, it worried him so much that it ended in nosebleeds. These comments fuelled the voices in his head. He struggled to defend himself. The staff gave him relief. He found comfort in the way they cleared his thoughts, pinned the blame on that person. He believed them because he wanted to believe them; he wanted it to be the truth. The staff made sense. He repeated their mantras to himself, over and over again, until he lived them.

   Chan remembers the looks of concern, confusion, incomprehension on the members' faces at his change in attitude. He remembers the arguments, especially with Changbin and Kim Seungmin, when they pointed out they disagreed with his new outlook. He remembers how they dropped the topic when it became evident that his mind wouldn't change.

   That was years ago. Chan has changed since then. He still clings to ONE Label's outlook, but now for different reasons.

   "I'm not avoiding anything. I just realised it was selfishness. There's no other reason, no other explanation. Our promises were never important to him." It's a curt reply.

   Minho inhales. "Look, hyung...I get that he made a promise and that we were hurt, but this is a job, and just like with any other job in this world, one should be fully allowed to change it if they no longer want to work in a certain field—or company, in Woojin-hyung's case. In a way, you might even say he took the advice we give in our music. There's nothing bad about realising the life you're currently living isn't right for you, and making the choice to change it."

   Minho doesn't say forcing hyung to stay in his job, despite his wishes, is selfish. He doesn't say expecting Woojin-hyung to live a life he doesn't want to live for the sake of a promise is selfish. Minho knows, he knows he should be careful with his words.

   So he says, "Hyung...just because you view it as selfishness, does not mean that's what actually happened. That's your personal truth, but that does not make it the absolute truth. We treat 'selfish' to mean that you only care about yourself, and don't give a fuck if it screws anyone else over...but what if you're the one being screwed over? Of course, I...I think it's important to be careful not to hurt others with the decisions you make. But I think it's also equally important that the people around you evaluate if the reason your choices hurt them is because you're an asshole, or because of their own trauma and issues. We all have issues, and when someone does something that triggers them...it's not always on them, y'know? Sometimes we're the ones who need to look inside and see why we felt that way. And if we're mad because our own needs are not being met, then that right there...is selfish."

   There's a faraway look in Chan's eyes. Minho's stomach caves in. His hyung hasn't processed a word he said.

   "I still think it's important to think carefully about your future and what you want to do with it. We all knew, Minho. We knew what getting into K-pop meant for us. We knew what we were signing up for. He did, too. It's not easy ground. Why would you sign yourself away to an industry if you know you can't cope with it?"

   Minho blinks. "Erm...maybe because it was his dream? We all have dreams, hyung. You didn't spend seven years as a trainee for nothing. And Woojin-hyung...he's wanted to be in an idol group ever since he saw EXO's debut performance. I don't know when EXO-sunbaenims debuted, but yeah, he's had the dream for that long."

   He hoists his legs onto the sofa. "I also think it's reasonable not to expect your company to abuse you. No one willingly puts themselves in that situation." I wish you'd stop saying we knew what getting into K-pop meant for us. Stop making us look like psychos who want to be mistreated by our labels.

   "We had dreams too, Minho! None of us would be here if we didn't want to be in an idol group. We all stuck through just fine. Except him. Why was he the only one not willing to stay? Any of us could have left, probably felt like leaving several times. But we stayed. We stayed for each other. He ditched us because he thought of himself only, that's what's selfish!"

   Minho's tether snaps. "For goodness' sake, hyung. First of all, no one willingly unemploys themselves. Woojin-hyung left his job, his income, everything. And he didn't just leave any group. He left Stray Kids. The group Billboard named as the number one K-pop artist to watch out for in 2018, before we had even debuted. Our survival show was sponsored by fucking Coca-Cola. We were selling out concert venues from debut. We were the group with the most ROTY's. Hellevator hit over 1 million views within 24 hours. District 9 hit over 4 million views within 24 hours. We rocketed off from the very beginning. Our success started before we had so much as debuted. You really think walking away from all that was easy? You really think abandoning all that was selfish? He walked away from fame, walked away from any chance of being a big name in K-pop, abandoned his dreams, and you're gonna sit here and say it's selfish?!"

   "Yeah, because he thought about himself, but not about the people around him! He gave us false hope, hurt so many people—us, STAY, the staff—"

   "Fuck the staff!" yells Minho. "Fuck them! Who do you think treated hyung so inhumanely that he left us all behind? They fucking pushed him to abandon everything! Who had him eating one protein bar a day, for weeks, and nothing else? Who disregarded him every time he wanted to be involved in producing music? Who never missed the opportunity to make him insecure about his own body? Them! And I don't know about you, hyung, but personally, I think that if they can't handle the consequences of losing an artist, they can try a little harder to treat us like humans." And the worst part is, we never found out. We thought he was happy. He hid it all from us. All because JYP makes their idols feel they're the problem for having bad mental health, and tells them to hide it away like it's ugly. I dread to think he may have spent hours crying and none of us were around like we should have been. Nine or none. We should've been there. But we weren't. We broke that promise first.

   "Minho—"

   "Fucking hell, they talk as if they ever looked out for us. Why blame hyung for the hardships and work that followed his departure, when they reinforced that consequence with their crappy management? They sped up the termination to an inconvenient date and then never allowed us time for readjustment and healing! They literally ensured an environment that brought more suffering, regret, and resentment than necessary from hyung's withdrawal."

   "You're—"

   "Just so they could keep profiting and promoting, even when we were clearly suffering and struggling. Losing a member was enough. Imagine if they gave us a few months to change choreography. A few months to plan. A few months to record what's necessary. Time to go home, sort things out and process. Tours and appearances have been cancelled or postponed for less. Full hiatuses taken for less. But no. Instead they whine about his choice of personal well-being being a betrayal."

   Minho realises he says a lot, but it still doesn't cover all the thoughts in his head. That it can echo like a way to emphasise that quitting is evil. That it can act as a pat on the back for tolerating what perhaps they should not. A gold medal for pushing themselves past their limitations. A reason to never leave, no matter the situation.

   "And they act like they didn't take advantage of his whole situation. They didn't even bother editing him out of Astronaut? I'm not surprised. They couldn't even bother editing Jinni's ad-libs out of one of the songs from NMIXX's first album without her—"

   "They aren't—"

   "I know, hyung. I know. I know NMIXX are under another division. But they're still a part of JYP. More or less the same work ethic." He pauses. "And you can't deny it makes absolutely no sense to let hyung appear in Astronaut. He'd left by then....so they can't use him for legal reasons. He could have sued them for that. And that game thing for MIROH? His voice was used there, too. They deleted all his Insta photos and V-Lives, and took down his cards from JYP Superstar. And then they don't edit him out of Astronaut and use his voice in a game. I swear I've never seen a company with more conflicting shit."

   "It all happened without much preamble, Minho. Likely, they didn't have time—"

   "Didn't have time? They can do complex CGI but can't edit hyung's legs and back out of an MV? They even pushed its release back by a few days. That shit would barely take an hour. They can delete all his cards from Superstar but can't delete a few voice clips? Really?"

   "We don't—"

   "Marketing, hyung, don't you see? It's all a marketing tactic. They knew STAY would give anything to see him again, and they preyed on it. Not to mention, their statement when he left? They took their sweet time putting it out, hyung was gone long before. But never mind that. They said, and I quote, that Stray Kids will 'carry the compass'. In their professional announcement of his contract termination. That sounds patronising as fuck, and seriously makes it look like promo. Same goes for letting Hyunjin just barely mention Woojin-hyung in that intro video for Levanter. They were literally out there milking our grief. And the fans'."

   "But we don't know that, Minho," Chan impugns. "You can't accuse them like that. You don't have any supporting evidence. Maybe they just wanted to let STAY see him one more time, maybe they just wanted to give STAY a little bit of closure—"

   "Bullshit," Minho scoffs. "If they care about STAY so much they can begin by not overpricing damn near everything." He presses a knuckle against his nose. "What pisses me off is that Div1 didn't just stop there. Remember the shit they were pulling off circa a year later? When hyung's scandal just dropped out of the blue? They grabbed a bunch of Yongbok's photos and just posted them with a series of hashtags. STAY believe in Stray Kids 8 or whatever. Gotta love how they kept everything in lower case except the 'in'. That was in caps. Just like the name of the album we'd drop in less than a week. IN Life. They really took the first chance to secure fan loyalty by making it look like they were correct about hyung, and tease the album."

   Minho looks down at his jeans. "Yongbok cried to me that night. I don't think he slept. Everyone thought it was him. But it wasn't, was it? Div1 just chose him because he was the only member who used 8 as a hashtag back then. To look legit." He was scared. Scared hyung would commit suicide, and it would be his fault. The next day...I helped him post a video with a bear filter. Bears because they're Woojin-hyung's representative animal. It didn't do much, but it put him at ease. Or maybe he just stopped crying where I could see him. I don't know. But I know you didn't do shit, just told him the company knew what they were doing, and to roll with it.

   "They even cut him out of the thumbnails? MIROH hit 100 million views that day. And then they ran off to change the album to SKZ2020 so it would look like it was the 8-member version that hit the milestone." 

   "They can do that," Chan says decidedly. "He fucked them up with that departure; they have full right to do whatever they want, to get back and appease themselves."

   Minho laughs bitterly. "You really aren't listening, hyung, are you? Think about it. JYP could have just stated the reason for Woojin-hyung's termination if he was guilty of any behaviour that violated their policy. What did they have to fear? A singing tourist and a company whose website was still in the Hello World stages? They had far more power and nothing to lose, only to gain. But they didn't do that. Why? Because he isn't guilty of anything. Instead, they chose vague little gestures that don't make a clear statement, but work in their favour anyway. Because they're shitty people. Shitty people who only care about how much they can milk out of us. Gotta say, they need to be awarded for their consistency."

   Chan shifts on the sofa, angling himself to look straight at Minho. "You realise you're biased, right?"

   Minho chokes on a laugh. "I'm what?"

   "Biased," repeats his leader. "You're inveterately biased against ONE Label, against JYP, so you subconsciously associate all their actions with ill intent. Everything they do is wrong in your eyes because you refuse to give them the benefit of the doubt. You refuse to see that they do care about their artists, they do make choices that benefit us, they do listen to us. Maybe not all the time, but you talk of them as if they're the Devil incarnate. You've twisted everything around so that it fits the perspective you have of them. And as for that person...I don't know, Minho. I can't change your mind, not when you're this hell-bent on villainising the management. But you can't deny they gave him grace. They asked for STAY to support him. They even worded it to look like he was the one who made the choice to leave when he did. So no one would suspect otherwise. They let him off with a clean slate. They respected his privacy. You have to accept that. You can't keep running away from facts."

   Silence reigns for a while, and Chan wonders if his companion finally understands his outlook. Then Minho speaks, his voice soft and incredulous.

   "Like hell I'm biased against them." He stretches his arms above his head, feigning nonchalance, but the stiffness in his movements betrays an underlying spitefulness. "I don't know, Chan-hyung. Maybe if they don't want me to see them as the Devil incarnate, they can try to remember I'm a human who deserves to be treated like one. Proper lines, proper screen time, proper camera focus, proper styling, proper schedule. Sounds reasonable, right? Because, hyung, I'm not about to believe in a kindness I haven't experienced. I'm an atheist for a reason: I don't believe in shit I can't see."

   His voice drops lower. "Many idols are given a chance to write a statement when they leave. Woojin-hyung clearly had things to say, why wasn't he given that opportunity? Not to mention, they even put us on an SNS ban. You had to reach out via Fanship, of all things. Woojin-hyung took a gamble on his privacy and used KakaoTalk. Why was that, hyung? Why prevent both him and us from communicating with STAY?"

   Chan's silent: he doesn't know. Protocol? It could be. A way to protect their image in case they lashed out due to emotion, said something they'd regret? Chan doesn't think any of the members are that irresponsible, but it's a possibility.

   "Funny. It's almost as if they didn't want us saying anything. So the only entity talking about the matter...would be JYP. And of course they worded it to make it look like it was all his choice. They did the same thing to you. Remember 2023? Chan's Room? They shut it down and never addressed it. They never announced that it was their decision, because then the fandom would come after them. Instead, they let you take the hit. How do you know this wasn't the same thing? That they made it look like it was entirely Woojin-hyung's choice so that the fandom would go after him, not them? We all know they rushed it." He swallows. "And you may go on saying I'm accusing them unfairly, but I can't help but wonder at the time they chose."

   Chan's almost afraid to ask. What new conspiracy is Minho's imagination onto now? "How do you mean?"

   "The date, hyung. They finalised the termination on the 20^th of October. He was out by the 23^rd. Days before my birthday. That was one of the worst birthdays of my life. I spent it in tears. The SNS ban meant you couldn't wish me on Insta, so I had to satisfy myself with a wish from"—he grimaces—"the staff, of all people. So yeah. Lee Know of Stray Kids celebrated his 21^st birthday crying over the loss of a hyung, barely able to find time for himself with all the practice, and a birthday wish from his sworn enemy. And I still find it funny that Div1's homophobic asses somehow managed to time the departure in such a way that it sabotaged my birthday."

   Silence is thick in the air now. Chan swears the sunlight is grey, and the shadows on the rug are darker, more deformed, longer. Something falls in the kitchen.

   "And I'll say this, hyung. Woojin-hyung leaving us was more or less an act of self-preservation on his end. And the only people I've seen call self-preservation 'selfish'...are narcissists. Tyrants. Self-pitying people. People who live with a victim complex. Kind of like the staff."

   Minho doesn't know what he was expecting to hear. A fulmination? A scoff of annoyance? Swearing? Most likely. Instead, he hears a choked sob.

   Chan is crying, and Minho doesn't know why. Chan can hear him asking what's wrong, did I say something, but his voice is coming at him through a fog, and he can't form the words to answer. He feels Minho's hands patting him comfortingly. He hears Minho run off. And then there's glass against his lips; and Minho's telling him to drink, it'll cool you down. Blindly, he closes his hand around the glass and sips, Minho caressing his back.

   Minho inadvertently confirmed one of his worst fears. There's a reason he still clings to ONE Label's outlook. There's a reason he won't hear of refutations. There's a reason he says it out loud to the fandom. He wants it to be the truth. 

   "Let's use the new photos, please...We are eight members."

   "This is our beginning."

   Opinions become truths when enough people believe them. The more people believe that version; the more people spread it; the more it becomes the truth. The more it becomes what actually happened. The easier he can convince himself that it was what had actually happened. That he hadn't abdicated, hadn't slipped, hadn't lost his footing, hadn't become victim to one of their attempts at manipulation. 

   It's all a twisted game of manipulation and counter-manipulation, and he's a player. But there are other players, too. He can't afford to fall victim, not in this industry. But there's a voice in his head that sows doubt. What if you fell for them? it asks. What if they just needed you to believe they're on your side, that you see them as a sanctuary during your lowest? What if they just wanted to get inside your head, to get you to do what's best for them? Manipulation from the inside out.

   And Chan's scared. He's scared of the answer.