The world doesn't end when you're alone, but it's much more bearable when there are people you can call home.
"He held me when I thought I was dying-and I was holding him when he begged me to let him die."
A soulmate AU in which everything you write...
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Changbin
Changbin learned early on in his struggle to become a musician, even when you have nothing left to give, you have to give more. Most people couldn't stand it mentally or physically. Those are the people who ended up packing their bags and leaving the trainee dorms.
He rubbed his eyes, struggling to keep them focused against the harsh light of his computer screen. Muscle memory grabbed ahold of him, making him save his files and shut down his computer instinctively. When it reached the point of night he could barely hold eyes open, it was time to go to the practice room.
His lyric revisions could wait.
There was faint music coming from the practice room, a foreign song he thought he recognized, letting him know he wouldn't be alone tonight. The company was busy around the clock, but the young trainee who suddenly lived in his practice room was a new addition. Changbin wasn't sure how to feel about it yet.
The kid intrigued him. He was good enough at dancing, but he wasn't here for dance. Changbin was sure of that. Whether he was a singer or a rapper, he hadn't quite figured out. They had been sharing the room at night for weeks and Changbin still knew almost nothing about him.
As he stepped into the room, the light smell of sweat probably greeted him. Truthfully, he had stopped noticing the smell ages ago, but he could tell it was there the way his body responded to it. The ache of exhaustion seeped through his bones before he could even set his training bag down.
He almost snorted when he thought about his aches being triggered by the smell, much like that one experiment with the dog and the bell. He was conditioned to feel like this.
It vaguely reminded him that he no longer felt like a person, not really. It was a stereotype the people who defended the system seethed over. But it wasn't inaccurate, the media play about Kpop trainees and idols resembling robots and machines more than living, breathing people. It often felt true. Changbin was trained into numbness and exhaustion. A side effect of the system doing its job. He should have minded it more than he did.
The boy did not greet him, not that he expected him to. It was rude of him to not even bow and he should have been pissed, but Changbin didn't have the energy to waste on being pissed. A trainee being aloof or an asshole wasn't his problem anyway. Most trainees were. The competition was too fierce, too cruel, to feel anything but apathy for the people around them. His own curiosity about the boy was a dangerous feeling on its own, because at any moment he could be gone.
Getting close to other trainees only for them to go home or get cut was excruciating. And it was almost certain they would. Eventually.
He didn't expect a conversation, or even acknowledgement from the kid, but he had expected him to be practicing. Changbin rarely saw him take breaks. Instead, he was curled up in the corner of the room with his back against the wall, forehead resting on his knees. The bright red headphones that lived around his neck on, and a worn down t-shirt two sizes too big. Tired, but too stiff to be sleeping.
