Ship/Member: platonic scoups/dino Tags: canon divergent, what if chan left svt to be the leader of pledis' new boy group that never came to fruition, mentions of seungcheol's anxiety Permission to remix: Please ask
it is four am on a work night. apologizes in advance if this makes no real sense.
things are meant to be fairly canon-compliant as far as timeline, so it's generally set in late 2019. the specificities of what happened in late 2019, though, have been altered a bit and left deliberately vague for the sake of fiction. will leave a comment if i xpost on ao3.
***
lee chan is fourteen years old.
lee chan is fourteen years old, but you'd never guess it from the way he's standing in front of seungcheol, jaw set, eyes determined.
"hyung, i'm not going to be part of seventeen project anymore."
seungcheol's never considered himself particularly close to chan - that honor goes to soonyoung, wonwoo, and some of the other younger trainees - but they've bonded in the way you can only bond when you're crammed into a basement practice room with lurid green walls and no windows and asked to be on live camera for hours on end, six days a week.
"oh?" he raises an eyebrow. he's not entirely sure why chan's telling him this. there's a bit of a running joke amongst the trainees that if (big if, because their debut has already been pushed three times in two years and seungcheol's already had one debut project fall through) they debut, he's going to be the leader, but that's mostly because he's the oldest and he's been training the longest. even so, seungcheol is confident in his own abilities as someone squarely in the middle of the pack. it would make much more sense for jihoon or soonyoung to lead the group. it's not like he's particularly interested in leadership, either, much more comfortable with being directed by someone who knows better.
chan nods. "daepyo-nim called me into the office a few weeks ago and asked me if i wanted to be the leader of pledis' next group instead."
"did you tell anyone?"
"no." chan gnaws on his lower lip, and the illusion breaks instantly - he looks every bit the child he is. seungcheol isn't very old, either, but eighteen feels like generations away. "i wanted to think about this on my own and make sure it was the right choice."
it's not that seungcheol is irresponsible, but taking on responsibility has never been one of his strong suits. his own brother is three years older, and his family treated him like the maknae he is. even amongst the other trainees, he's prone to roughhousing and playing around more often than he's quick to give direction.
but looking at chan, with his too-long hair and his too-big shirt and the gangliness of his limbs he has yet to grow into, stirs something oddly protective in him.
"and you're sure?" seungcheol asks. "that this is the right choice?"
there's a second where chan seems to falter, taking a half-second too long to say yes, hyung, this is exactly what i want.
"i'm sure," chan says, squaring his shoulders.
seungcheol stands, and even at full height chan is still a full head shorter than him.
"okay." seungcheol reaches out, pulls chan into a hug, because it feels like the right thing to do. he feels so tiny in seungcheol's arms. "i'll miss you, chan."
"thanks, hyung. i'll see you onstage someday."
chan grins as they untangle themselves, gives a full ninety-degree bow, and leaves the room.
seungcheol watches him go, and wonders why something doesn't feel entirely right.
even so, chan should be fine. he's driven and talented and has years ahead of him.
lee chan is twenty-one years old.
lee chan is twenty-one years old, but he carries himself like someone much older - there's a heaviness to his eyes that seungcheol doesn't think he had at twenty-one.
pledis has yet to show any signs of debuting a new boy group - pristin was left to fizzle out barely two years into their debut, and seungcheol's been halfway looped in on conversations that pledis might get acquired by another company, making every other trainee's future even more uncertain.
the forever trainee, he's heard others call chan. chan's still not the record-holder for longest idol training period, but seven years is no short period of time. more than once, seungcheol's wondered why chan didn't quit, or move to another agency at the very least. maybe get his military service out of the way.
the lee chan seungcheol knew seven years ago, though, would never quit until he reached his goals.
seungcheol doesn't interact with the trainees much, given that he spends nearly every waking moment being the leader of a relatively successful idol group (have you heard of seventeen? they're on a world tour right now), but he's a month into treatment for his fucked-up brain and everyone else is gone and he couldn't think of anything else to do besides loiter around the company building, because his ten of his brothers in all but blood are an ocean away, jeonghan's back home in hwaseong trying to fix his own medical issues, and he doesn't think he can face his real family right now.
it's in the hallway in front of the dance practice rooms where he finds chan, because where else would he be? some things never seem to change.
"hey, lee chan," seungcheol calls out, and he doesn't exactly mean to say anything else but maybe he's lonelier than he thought: "are you busy tonight?"
chan shakes his head. he doesn't seem entirely surprised to see seungcheol here, and he has to know that the rest of the group is on tour. word must get around quick.
"wanna get a drink? hyung's treat."
"if you asked me to pay for you, i'd be so offended," chan scoffs, but there's no heat behind it.
technically, seungcheol isn't supposed to be drinking right now, but he forgot to take his meds today (it's a hard habit to remember, especially when he doesn't have seungkwan talking his ear off about taking daily supplements at large), so he figures a beer or two won't kill him.
they end up going to the empty dorms, because seungcheol is more-or-less meant to be on some form of house arrest, and being in private means that they don't need to be so careful. seungcheol doesn't need some sasaeng fan snapping a picture of him in front of a club, and if chan wants to have a career in the industry then he doesn't either.
this is how the two of them end up sitting on the floor in the living room, empty takeout boxes and glass bottles scattered between them. things had been a little awkward at first - seungcheol doesn't think he's had an extended conversation with chan in at least a year - but alcohol helps get things going and chan tends to talk a lot, which takes care of the rest.
it's nice enough to catch up for a bit, even though they both know they're talking circles around what's actually going on. chan talks about some of the younger trainees he's gotten close with, how he's taken to teaching them and giving them tips on their monthly evaluations, and seungcheol fills him in on what the other members were up to and tries to avoid talking about himself.
the cluster of bottles next to chan continues to grow, and chan continues to slump harder against the sofa.
"hyung," chan slurs, "i don't think i should've done it. i should've stayed with you."
it takes a second for seungcheol to realize what he's referring to, and he finds his fingers clenching too-hard around the glass bottle in his hand.
why did you think it was a good idea to ask me for advice? seungcheol almost cuts back. i barely knew anything more than you did. between the two of us, i thought you had a better head on your shoulders.
it takes more alcohol than the two of them have drunk combined to get him to truly lose his head, so he holds his tongue.
"i'm sorry, chan," he says instead. "i wish i knew."
"do you wish it were different?" chan asks. "do you ever wish you weren't the leader?"
all the time, he wants to say. sometimes, i don't think i'm strong enough for this. i wake up and i think someone else should be doing my job.
but to say that would be to tell chan that he's wasted the past seven years of his life chasing a dream that turns into a nightmare that you never know when you'll be able to wake up from.
so instead, he shrugs. "it's hard. but i'm not sure that anyone else could lead the group and have it work."
chan raises his beer, tipping the neck toward seungcheol in a mock toast before he finishes it off, and seungcheol knows that chan knows he's lying through his teeth.
Re: blasting the aloneness wide open [FILL]
Tags: canon divergent, what if chan left svt to be the leader of pledis' new boy group that never came to fruition, mentions of seungcheol's anxiety
Permission to remix: Please ask
it is four am on a work night. apologizes in advance if this makes no real sense.
things are meant to be fairly canon-compliant as far as timeline, so it's generally set in late 2019. the specificities of what happened in late 2019, though, have been altered a bit and left deliberately vague for the sake of fiction. will leave a comment if i xpost on ao3.
***
lee chan is fourteen years old.
lee chan is fourteen years old, but you'd never guess it from the way he's standing in front of seungcheol, jaw set, eyes determined.
"hyung, i'm not going to be part of seventeen project anymore."
seungcheol's never considered himself particularly close to chan - that honor goes to soonyoung, wonwoo, and some of the other younger trainees - but they've bonded in the way you can only bond when you're crammed into a basement practice room with lurid green walls and no windows and asked to be on live camera for hours on end, six days a week.
"oh?" he raises an eyebrow. he's not entirely sure why chan's telling him this. there's a bit of a running joke amongst the trainees that if (big if, because their debut has already been pushed three times in two years and seungcheol's already had one debut project fall through) they debut, he's going to be the leader, but that's mostly because he's the oldest and he's been training the longest. even so, seungcheol is confident in his own abilities as someone squarely in the middle of the pack. it would make much more sense for jihoon or soonyoung to lead the group. it's not like he's particularly interested in leadership, either, much more comfortable with being directed by someone who knows better.
chan nods. "daepyo-nim called me into the office a few weeks ago and asked me if i wanted to be the leader of pledis' next group instead."
"did you tell anyone?"
"no." chan gnaws on his lower lip, and the illusion breaks instantly - he looks every bit the child he is. seungcheol isn't very old, either, but eighteen feels like generations away. "i wanted to think about this on my own and make sure it was the right choice."
it's not that seungcheol is irresponsible, but taking on responsibility has never been one of his strong suits. his own brother is three years older, and his family treated him like the maknae he is. even amongst the other trainees, he's prone to roughhousing and playing around more often than he's quick to give direction.
but looking at chan, with his too-long hair and his too-big shirt and the gangliness of his limbs he has yet to grow into, stirs something oddly protective in him.
"and you're sure?" seungcheol asks. "that this is the right choice?"
there's a second where chan seems to falter, taking a half-second too long to say yes, hyung, this is exactly what i want.
"i'm sure," chan says, squaring his shoulders.
seungcheol stands, and even at full height chan is still a full head shorter than him.
"okay." seungcheol reaches out, pulls chan into a hug, because it feels like the right thing to do. he feels so tiny in seungcheol's arms. "i'll miss you, chan."
"thanks, hyung. i'll see you onstage someday."
chan grins as they untangle themselves, gives a full ninety-degree bow, and leaves the room.
seungcheol watches him go, and wonders why something doesn't feel entirely right.
even so, chan should be fine. he's driven and talented and has years ahead of him.
lee chan is twenty-one years old.
lee chan is twenty-one years old, but he carries himself like someone much older - there's a heaviness to his eyes that seungcheol doesn't think he had at twenty-one.
pledis has yet to show any signs of debuting a new boy group - pristin was left to fizzle out barely two years into their debut, and seungcheol's been halfway looped in on conversations that pledis might get acquired by another company, making every other trainee's future even more uncertain.
the forever trainee, he's heard others call chan. chan's still not the record-holder for longest idol training period, but seven years is no short period of time. more than once, seungcheol's wondered why chan didn't quit, or move to another agency at the very least. maybe get his military service out of the way.
the lee chan seungcheol knew seven years ago, though, would never quit until he reached his goals.
seungcheol doesn't interact with the trainees much, given that he spends nearly every waking moment being the leader of a relatively successful idol group (have you heard of seventeen? they're on a world tour right now), but he's a month into treatment for his fucked-up brain and everyone else is gone and he couldn't think of anything else to do besides loiter around the company building, because his ten of his brothers in all but blood are an ocean away, jeonghan's back home in hwaseong trying to fix his own medical issues, and he doesn't think he can face his real family right now.
it's in the hallway in front of the dance practice rooms where he finds chan, because where else would he be? some things never seem to change.
"hey, lee chan," seungcheol calls out, and he doesn't exactly mean to say anything else but maybe he's lonelier than he thought: "are you busy tonight?"
chan shakes his head. he doesn't seem entirely surprised to see seungcheol here, and he has to know that the rest of the group is on tour. word must get around quick.
"wanna get a drink? hyung's treat."
"if you asked me to pay for you, i'd be so offended," chan scoffs, but there's no heat behind it.
technically, seungcheol isn't supposed to be drinking right now, but he forgot to take his meds today (it's a hard habit to remember, especially when he doesn't have seungkwan talking his ear off about taking daily supplements at large), so he figures a beer or two won't kill him.
they end up going to the empty dorms, because seungcheol is more-or-less meant to be on some form of house arrest, and being in private means that they don't need to be so careful. seungcheol doesn't need some sasaeng fan snapping a picture of him in front of a club, and if chan wants to have a career in the industry then he doesn't either.
this is how the two of them end up sitting on the floor in the living room, empty takeout boxes and glass bottles scattered between them. things had been a little awkward at first - seungcheol doesn't think he's had an extended conversation with chan in at least a year - but alcohol helps get things going and chan tends to talk a lot, which takes care of the rest.
it's nice enough to catch up for a bit, even though they both know they're talking circles around what's actually going on. chan talks about some of the younger trainees he's gotten close with, how he's taken to teaching them and giving them tips on their monthly evaluations, and seungcheol fills him in on what the other members were up to and tries to avoid talking about himself.
the cluster of bottles next to chan continues to grow, and chan continues to slump harder against the sofa.
"hyung," chan slurs, "i don't think i should've done it. i should've stayed with you."
it takes a second for seungcheol to realize what he's referring to, and he finds his fingers clenching too-hard around the glass bottle in his hand.
why did you think it was a good idea to ask me for advice? seungcheol almost cuts back. i barely knew anything more than you did. between the two of us, i thought you had a better head on your shoulders.
it takes more alcohol than the two of them have drunk combined to get him to truly lose his head, so he holds his tongue.
"i'm sorry, chan," he says instead. "i wish i knew."
"do you wish it were different?" chan asks. "do you ever wish you weren't the leader?"
all the time, he wants to say. sometimes, i don't think i'm strong enough for this. i wake up and i think someone else should be doing my job.
but to say that would be to tell chan that he's wasted the past seven years of his life chasing a dream that turns into a nightmare that you never know when you'll be able to wake up from.
so instead, he shrugs. "it's hard. but i'm not sure that anyone else could lead the group and have it work."
chan raises his beer, tipping the neck toward seungcheol in a mock toast before he finishes it off, and seungcheol knows that chan knows he's lying through his teeth.
he almost wishes chan would say it out loud.